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.