Enraged at this treatment, the reptiles commenced a mortal combat among themselves, a spectacle which was witnessed by the white slaves with about the same interest as that between the two Arabs in the morning. In other words, they did not care who got the worst of it. A battle between two scorpions would commence with much active skirmishing on both sides, each seeking to fasten its claws on the other. Whenever one of the reptiles succeeded in getting a fair grip, its adversary would exhibit every disposition to surrender, apparently begging for its life. But all to no purpose, as no quarter would be given. The champion would inflict the fatal sting; and the unfortunate individual receiving it would expire upon the instant. After all the scorpions had been killed, except one, the Krooman himself finished the survivor with a blow of his stick. When rebuked by Harry, for what the young Englishman regarded as an act of wanton cruelty, he answered that "it was the duty of every man to kill scorpions." In the afternoon the kafila reached a place called the Jews' Leap. It was a narrow path along the side of a mountain, the base of which was washed by the sea. The path was about half a mile long and not more than four or five feet broad. The right-hand side was bounded by a wall of rocks, in some places perpendicular and rising to a height of several hundred feet. On the left-hand side was the Atlantic Ocean, about four hundred feet below the level of the path. There was no hope for any one who should fall from this path--no hope but heaven. Not a bush, tree, or any obstacle was seen to offer the slightest resistance to the downward course of a falling body. The Krooman had travelled this track before, and therefore knew it. He informed his companions that no one ever ventured on the path in wet weather; that it was at all times considered dangerous; but that as it saved a tiresome journey of seven miles around the mountain, it was generally taken in dry seasons. He further told them that the name of the "Jews' Leap", was given to the precipice from a number of Jews having once been forced over it. It was in the night-time. They had met a numerous body of Moors coming in the opposite direction. Neither party could turn back; a conflict arose, and several on both sides were hurled over the precipice into the sea. On this occasion as many Moors as Jews had been thrown from the path; but it had pleased the former to give the spot the name of the "Jews' Leap", which it still retains. Before venturing upon this dangerous road, Rais Mourad was careful to ascertain that no one was coming from the opposite direction. After shouting at the top of his voice, and getting no reply, he led the way along the ledge, bidding his followers to trust more to their animals than to themselves.