The Worthington advance. [volume] (Worthington, Minn.) 1874-1908, 1899-03-09

tain Of the caliph's guard) md Ne
looked keenly at the hard pressed man
for the signs by which the famous
satrap was to be distinguished. But he
looked in vain. The strangers cloak
was gone, fand his helmet so battered
and stained that the keenest eye could
not have told the color Of its metal.
"Persian!" cried the captain, at
length, tart thou Harmosan, the satrap
of Yezd? If so, our swords have no
edge against thee, if thou wilt but yield
to the caliph's mercy /.
But the Persian answered only with
a blow. which, had it hit it's mark, would
have ended the captains wars once for
all. A gigantic Yemenee rushed for
ward only to fall dead beneath another
of those irresistible strokes; but now
the Persian's sword snapped close to
the hilt, and he was left defenseless.
eve have him now!" shouted the cap
tain. "Seize him and bind him fast!"
Despite the strangers tremendous
struggles, he was overpowered by num-
beers, and securely bound. But to all
the taunts of his captors he deigned not
a word of reply, and maintained the
same stern silence, even when he was
dragged into the presence of the caliph
himself.
As he listened to the recital of his
prisoners exploits, Omar eyed him with
Look of grim approval; and the cap,
tive, in his turn, surveyed with equal
admiration this prince of the desert,
who, master as he was, of nine powerful
Kingdoms, was sitting cross-legged up
on the bare ground, in a rough cloak of
camel's hair, and supping on handful
of dates and parched corn.
"Knowest thou" said Omar, at
length, with a stern look, "what fate
awaits him who hath shed the blood of
the faithful?''
II have fought for my country an
swered the prisoner. lam in thy pow
er, and ask no mercy. Let the fate that
awaits me be what it may, it is all one
to me-"
Omar's eyes sparkled; for, brave as a
lion himself, he loved nothing better
than a brave man, whether friend or
foe.
''Methinks there is but one man in
Persian host who could speak to me So"
cried he. cart thou Harmosan, the
satrap of Yezd?''
II am,'' replied the Persian, drawing
himself up proudly. II would not tell
my name in the battle, lest it should
seem that did so because thou hadst
hidden thy men spare me; but it mat
tiers little who knows it now. am Har-
mosan, the soldier of Persia, and thine
eremy!"
Even the fierce Arabs around him
smiled approvingly at the fearless
words, and more than one voice was
heard to mutter:
"This is IL bold fellow, and worthy to
be one of the Faithful! Pity that he
must die!'
"Persian," said Omar, II may not give
thee thy life; but to show how the
prophets followers honor courage, any
other request thou canst make is
granted before it is uttered!''
"Give me cup of water then," an
swered Harmosan; ''for since this days
fight began, my thirst hast not been
quenched.'
Omar nodded, and black slave
brought forward large silver cup,
filled to the brim with clear, sparkling
water; but, instead of drinking, the
prisoner held it doubtfully in his hand.
"What now, friend?'' cried the caliph,
impatiently. "If thou fearest treach-
cry, be easy; for pledge thee my word
that none shall harm thee till thou hast
drank that water''
Quick as lightning, Harmosan dashed
the cup to the ground and said, with
mocking smile:
IBID thy men, then, gather up that
water from the sand; for. by thine own
pledge L am safe till drink it!''
There was a moment of amazed ST.
lence, and then the outwitted Arabs
rushed at him with savage yell; but
high above the uproar was heard the
commanding voice of Omar:
"a caliph's word is sacred, my chill
dren. Bring the brave Persian another
cup of water, and as I once babe him
drink and die, so now I bid him drink
and live. Golden Days.