strong Pedro, springing toward him, would have caught him by the beard, had not his gentle sister restrained him.
"I do believe he is no king, my Pedro," she said, "but only, as he says, a poor Morisco beggar. Let us rather try to help him. He hath no castles I am sure, and as for his armies"
"His armies! there they come; look, sister!" cried little Pedro, breaking into his sister's words; "now will you believe me?" and following his gaze, Theresa herself started as she saw dashing down the mountain highway what looked to her unpractised eye like a whole band of Moorish cavalry with glimmering lances and streaming pennons.
Pedro faced the charge with drawn sword. Theresa knelt on the ground with silver crucifix upraised, expecting instant martyrdom, while the old Moorish tramp, Abd-el-'Aman, believing discretion to be the better part of valor, quietly dropped down by the side of the rocky roadway, for well he understood who were these latest comers.
The Moorish cavalry, which proved to be three Spaniards on horseback, drew up before the young crusaders.
"So, runaways, we have found you," cried one of them, as he recognized the children.
"Come, Theresa, what means this folly? Whither are you and Pedro bound?"
