'Smite all, Abner. Spare none, remember Amalek,' exclaimed their
youthful leader, waving his bloody scimitar.
'They are down; one, two, there goes the third. My javelin has done for
him.'
'Your horse bleeds freely. Where's Jabaster?'
'At the gates; my arm aches with slaughter. The Lord hath delivered them
into our hands. Could I but meet their chieftain!'
'Turn, bloodhound, he is here,' exclaimed Hassan Subah.
'Away, Abner, this affair is mine.'
'Prince, you have already slain your thousands.'
'And Abner his tens of thousands. Is it so? This business is for me
only. Come on, Turk.'
'Art thou Alroy?'
'The same.'
'The slayer of Alschiroch?'
'Even so.'
'A rebel and a murderer.'
'What you please. Look to yourself.'
The Hebrew Prince flung a javelin at the Seljuk. It glanced from the
breastplate; but Hassan Subah staggered in his seat. Recovering, he
charged Alroy with great force. Their scimitars crossed, and the blade
of Hassan shivered.
'He who sold me that blade told me it was charmed, and could be broken
only by a caliph,' said Hassan Subah. 'He was a liar.'
'As it may be,' said Alroy, and he cut the Seljuk to the ground. Abner
had dispersed his comrades.
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