On the third morning, the army was again engaged in the mournful task of removing their fallen comrades from the field. The space of a mile between the two lines was strewn with them. [Sidenote: Burial of the dead.]The wounded were made over to the women to nurse, if perchance they might survive--or rather, in the language of Islam--‘until the Lord should decide whether to grant, or to withhold from them, the crown of martyrdom.’ The dead were borne to a valley in the rear towards Odzeib, where the women and children hastily dug graves for them in the sandy soil. The wounded, too, were carried to the rear. For the suffering sick it was a weary passage under the burning sun. A solitary palm-tree stood on the way, and under its welcome shade they were laid for a moment as they passed by. Its memory is consecrated in such plaintive verse as this: Hail to the grateful palm that waves between Câdesîya and Odzeib. By thy side are the wild sprigs of camomile and hyssop. May dew and shower water thy leaves beyond all others. Let there never want a palm-tree in thy scorching plain! [Sidenote: Fighting resumed. Arrival of Syrian troops.] A day and a night of unceasing conflict were still before the combatants. The spirit of the Persians, whose dead troops lay unburied on the field, flagged at the disasters of the preceding day. But much was looked for from the elephants, which, now refitted, appeared anew upon the field, each protected by a company of horse and foot. The battle was about to open, when suddenly Hâshim came up with the main body of the Syrian troops. Sweeping across the plain, he charged right into the enemy, pierced their ranks, and having reached the river bank, turned and rode triumphantly back, amidst shouts of welcome. The fighting was again severe, and the day balanced by alternate victory and repulse. Yezdegird, alive to the crisis, sent his own body-guard into the field. The elephants were the terror of the Arabs, and again threatened to paralyse their efforts. [Sidenote: The elephants put to flight.]In this emergency, Sád had recourse to Cacâa, who was achieving marvels, and had already slain thirty Persians in single combat; so that the annalists gratefully acknowledge, ‘if it had not been for what the Lord put it into the heart of Cacâa to do, we had surely in that great battle been discomfited.’[273] Sád learned from some Persian refugees that the eye and trunk were the only vulnerable parts of the elephant: ‘Aim at these,’ he said, ‘and we shall be rid of this calamity.’ So Cacâa took his brother Asim, and a band of followers as a forlorn hope, and issued on the perilous undertaking. There were two great elephants, the leaders of the herd. Dismounting, they boldly advanced towards these, and into the eye of one, the ‘great White elephant,’ Cacâa succeeded in thrusting his lance. Smarting at the pain, it shook fearfully its head, threw the mahout, and swaying its