Immediately before the arrival of the Crusaders, the Mohammedans deliberated whether they should slaughter all the Christians in cold blood, or only fine them and expel them from the city. It was decided to adopt the latter plan; and the Crusaders were greeted on their arrival not only by the flying squadrons of the enemy’s cavalry, but also by exiled Christians telling their piteous tales. Their houses had been pillaged, their wives kept as hostages; immense sums were required for their ransom; the churches were desecrated; and, even worse still, the Infidels were contemplating the entire destruction of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. This last charge, at least, was not true. But it added fuel to a fire which was already beyond any control, and the chiefs gave a ready permission to their men to carry the town, if they could, by assault. They had neither ladders nor machines, but, covering themselves with their bucklers, rushed against the walls and tried to tear them down with pikes and hammers. Boiling oil and pitch, the best weapons for the besieged, were poured upon their heads, with huge stones and enormous beams. In spite of heavy losses, they managed to tear down and carry a portion of the outer wall, and the besieged retired to their inner works, which were impregnable, at least to hammers and pikes. One ladder, and only one, was found. Tancred, with his usual hardihood, was the first to place his foot on the ladder, but he was forcibly held back by his knights, who would not allow him to rush upon certain death. Two or three gained the wall, and were thrown from it dead. Night put an end to the fight, and the Christians, dejected and beaten back, retired to their camp. Heaven would work no miracles for them, and it was clear that the city must be taken according to the ordinary methods of warfare. Machines were necessary, but there was no wood. Chance threw into their possession a cavern, forgotten by the Saracens, filled with a store of timber, which went some way. There were still some beams in the houses and churches round Jerusalem not yet burned. All these were brought into the camp, but still there was not enough. Then a Syrian Christian bethought him of a wood six miles off, on the road to Samaria, whither he led the Crusaders. The trees were small, and not of the best kind, but such as they were they had to suffice, and all hands were employed in the construction of towers and engines of assault. They worked with the energy of men who have but one hope. For, in the midst of a Syrian summer, with a burning sun over their heads, they had no water. The nearest wells, except the intermittent spring of Siloam, were six or seven miles away. To bring the water into the camp, strong detachments were daily sent out; the country was scoured for miles in every direction for water; hundreds perished in casual encounters with the enemy, while wandering in search of wells; and the water, when it was