"You could be ill spared, my brother," shouted a well-known voice, as Garth stooped and grasped the Englishman by the hand. "Thanks!" replied Reeves shortly but nevertheless gratefully; and recovering and reloading his pistol he followed his comrade-in-arms once more into the fray. Suddenly, with a terrific, ear-splitting detonation, two guns upon the wall sent their death-dealing charges of grapeshot into the thickest of the Arab assailants. The result was similar to that of a sharp scythe cutting wheat, and a double line appeared in the compact, howling, surging press. With redoubled shouts of encouragement and triumph the Croixilians swept away those of their foes who were immediately opposed to them, and before the discomfited Arabs on the outer side of the sloping bank of stone rubble could rally, they too were forced back across the choked moat. Now there was room for the archers, and from the walls, the houses behind the breach, and the deadly gap itself flights of arrows sped into the Moslem ranks. Once again the guns, reloaded with desperate haste, added to the carnage. This was more than fanatical courage could stand; the repulse became a disorderly retreat. Many of the Croixilian knights besought Sir Jehan to let them lead the cavalry in pursuit, but to their entreaties he turned a deaf ear. Enough lives had been lost already, although not thrown away, and he knew the risk of following a fierce and wily foe too far into the open country. But, though the attack had been beaten off, there was no rest that night for the harried and wearied defenders. Knights, commoners, and serfs all worked with a will, clearing the moat and piling up the dislodged masonry so as to form an efficient breastwork should daylight bring with it another desperate onslaught. With the dawn the magnitude of the sanguinary conflict became visible. Within and without the breach the ground was covered with corpses, many lying in ghastly heaps. Outside the gate, which the Arabs all but succeeded in carrying, the carnage had been almost as great; while in the direction of the main Arab encampment a long line of dead men and horses showed how stubbornly the gallant five hundred Croixilian horse had fought in the endeavour to regain the city. Perhaps the strangest view of all was that of the site of the hostile camp. Every tent had vanished, and only the sinister line of trenches and more still and silent bodies marked the former position of the foiled invaders. They had taken the opportunity afforded by the few remaining hours of darkness to strike their tents and beat a retreat eastwards. It was the same with the other encampments. The Arabs, disheartened by their losses, had once more fallen back from before the walls of the city that for centuries had defied their efforts.