Sohrab suspected that his foe was Rustem, and when they met begged him to tell his name, but Rustem refused. Twice they fought, and twice Sohrab conquered. But he was moved by a strange love for his foe, and, though victor, spared his life. And now the third and last day of the struggle arrived. As Sohrab was putting on his armour he looked at the Persian hero, and said to Human, "See how strong and brave my foe appears! just such a man as my mother said that Rustem is. He surely is Rustem." "Not at all," replied Human, "I know Rustem's appearance well. That horse, it is true, looks like Rakush, but is less strong and beautiful." The champions now approached each other. Sohrab, again in doubt, spoke, "Let us sit here as friends, for my heart is drawn to you. Be as generous as I am, and tell me who you are! Say, are you Rustem, whom I long to know?" "Away with your excuses!" cried Rustem. "We meet to fight. I claim the struggle." "Old man," said Sohrab, "you refuse to listen to me. Then take care for yourself!" Each now tied his horse, tightened his belt, and rubbed his arms and wrists in angry excitement, for the struggle was to be by wrestling. And now the heroes meet and clasp; in the terrible strain they seem like raging elephants. The ground grows black with the blood and sweat that drops from their straining bodies. Sohrab threw himself forward with a sudden spring and seized his enemy around the belt. Rustem, feeling his strength give way, fell heavily to the ground. Sohrab leaned over to kill him, but Rustem cried out, "Hold! Do you not know the law? It gives the beaten man a second chance." This was a crafty lie. Sohrab believed it. He left his foe, and went proudly back to the cheering ranks of his friends. Careless he waited, and made no preparation for the next fight. But Rustem went to a stream, and bathed his limbs, and prayed for the strength that once had been his. The two then met again. Sohrab scornfully exclaimed, "You dare to meet me, do you? Are you looking for a death with honour, because you have been beaten so often? But you care not, old man, for the truth, and perhaps you have another trick to try. Twice already have I spared you just because you are old." "You are young and haughty," replied Rustem, "but perhaps my aged arm will yet subdue your pride." Then they rushed to the fight, tugging and bending, and twisting their great limbs, until Rustem with a mighty effort grasped Sohrab. Bending his back, he hurled him to the ground. But he knew that he was not strong enough to keep him there, so he quickly drew his dagger and stabbed him.