CHAPTER XVI.
A FIGHT OF HEROES.
The horse was a good and spirited one, and when he had once descended to the plains, Cuthbert rode gaily along, exulting in his freedom, and in once again possessing arms to defend himself should it be needed.

His appearance was so exactly that of the horsemen who were continually passing and repassing that no observation whatever was attracted by it.
Through villages, and even through camps, Cuthbert rode fearlessly, and arrived, without having once been accosted, near the main camp of the Saracens, which extended for miles parallel to the sea.

But at a distance of some three leagues beyond, could be seen the white tents of the Christian host, and Cuthbert felt that the time of trial was now at hand.
He dismounted for an hour to allow his steed to rest itself, fed it with dates from his wallet, and gave it a drink of water at the stream.

Then, when he felt that it had thoroughly recovered its strength and freshness, he re-mounted, and rode briskly on as before.

He passed unchallenged, attracting no more notice than a person now-a-days would do in walking along a crowded street.