waist with intent to kiss her. Much terrified, she tried to free
herself. But Ja-khaz, holding her fair chin with his other hand, had
brought his lips almost to hers when the old man raised his heavy
staff and brought it down upon our comrade's head with cruel
swiftness. This falling stick upon a solid skull resounded about the
dome and echoed through the empty corridors.

Bhoz-ja-khaz blinked and staggered back.

Then, with fury in his face, he sprang savagely toward the aged man.

But here the younger Mehrikan interfered. Rapidly approaching them
and shutting tight his bony hand, he shot it from him with startling
velocity, so directing that it came in contact with the face of
Ja-khaz who, to our amazement, sat roughly upon the marble pavement,
the blood streaming from his nostrils. He was a pitiful sight.

Unaccustomed to such warfare we were seriously alarmed, and thought
him killed perhaps. Ad-el-pate, a mighty wrestler, and of powerful
build, rushed furiously upon the Mehrikan for whom I trembled. But his
arm again went out before him, and Ad-el-pate likewise sat. A mournful
spectacle, and every Persian felt his heart beat fast within him.

By this time Ja-khaz was on his feet again, purple with rage. With
uplifted scimitar he sprang toward our host. The old man stepped
between. Ja-khaz, with wanton cruelty, brought his steel upon the
ancient head, and stretched him upon the floor. For an instant the
younger one stood horror-stricken, then snatching from the floor the
patriarch's staff--a heavy stick with an iron end--he jumped forward,
and, quicker than words can tell it, dealt a frightful blow upon the