"Let every soldier face them who has strength to stand!" commanded the prince. "Put everything to the front, and if they fly give them every possible encouragement." The order was obeyed, and the fourth day of battle began; but it was spiritless and slow. The Bedouins, with their constantly thinning ranks, stood with grim determination where their feet rested, but they made no effort to advance. The wearied out and starving Grecian phalanx simply held its ground. The prince was not there to urge his soldiers on. The voice of Kahled did not sound among the Mussulmans. An hour went by. Suddenly there was an uproar in the rear of the army of Heraclius. There was a wild shout, a clash of arms, and the watch-word of Islam rang above the tumult, in every direction. Ten thousand horse and twenty thousand war-camels poured in upon that defenceless rear, and, even as Kanana had declared, in just one hour there were thirty thousand Arabs wielding their savage swords in the army of Heraclius. Another hour went by. The battle cry of Kahled ceased. The shout of victory rang from the throats of the Mussulmans. Manuel and all his officers were slain. The magnificent army of Heraclius was literally obliterated. Treasure without limit glutted the conquered camp. Arabia was saved. Quickly the soldiers erected a gorgeous throne and summoned Kahled to sit upon it, while they feasted about him and did him honor as their victorious and invincible leader. The veteran warrior responded to their call, but he came from his tent with his head bowed down, bearing in his arms a heavy burden. Slowly he mounted the platform, and upon the sumptuous throne he laid his burden down. It was the bruised and lifeless body of Kanana. With trembling hand the grim chief drew back the sheepskin coat, and all men then beheld, bound about the Bedouin boy, the sacred girdle! "I gave it to him," said Kahled solemnly; "and upon the fragments you have returned to me, he wrote the information by which we conquered Jababal and Manuel. You saw him throw this lance at me; you called him 'traitor!' but about the hand-rest there was wound this strip. See! In blood--in his blood--these words are written here: 'Do not retreat. The infidels are starving and dying. Strike them in the rear.' It was his only means of reaching me. It was not the act of a traitor. No! It was the Lance of Kanana that rescued _Arabia_." [Illustration: "I GAVE IT TO HIM," SAID KAHLED, SOLEMNLY.] THE END * * * * * American Heroes and Heroines By PAULINE CARRINGTON BOUVÉ Illustrated