"Come along!" said Manasseh, impatiently. "I shall not hurt you; I shall merely look after you for awhile."
Thus consoled, the peddler hopped on with alacrity. A hasty mount was made and the party set out for the camp of Abu Sofian.
Yusuf then had a chance to ask the question burning at his heart. "How comes it, Manasseh, that you again fight against the prophet? When last I saw you, you wore the green of the Moslem."
"I!" said the youth in astonishment. "You jest, Yusuf!"
"It was surely you who met me on the field of Bedr."
"Yusuf, are you mad? It was never I."
"Then who can it have been? It was your very face."
"For once, Yusuf, your eyes have played you false. How could you have believed such a thing of Manasseh?"
"A strange resemblance!" mused Yusuf; then—"Whom see I before me yonder?"
"Manasseh's eyes do not play him false, and he declares it to be Amzi," said the youth.