Just opposite the place where the Spanish cavaliers were concealed, was
a small fountain in the rock, beside the road, to which the horse turned
to drink; the rider threw the reins on his neck, and continued his song.

The Spanish cavaliers conferred together; they were all so pleased with
the gallant and gentle appearance of the Moor, that they resolved not to
harm, but to capture him, which, in his negligent mood, promised to be
an easy task; rushing, therefore, from their concealment, they thought
to surround and seize him. Never were men more mistaken. To gather up
his reins, wheel round his steed, brace his buckler, and couch his
lance, was the work of an instant; and there he sat, fixed like a castle
in his saddle, beside the fountain.

The Christian cavaliers checked their steeds and reconnoitered him
warily, loth to come to an encounter, which must end in his destruction.

The Moor now held a parley: "If you be true knights," said he, "and seek
for honorable fame, come on, singly, and I am ready to meet each in
succession; but if you be mere lurkers of the road, intent on spoil,
come all at once, and do your worst!"

The cavaliers communed for a moment apart, when one, advancing singly,
exclaimed: "Although no law of chivalry obliges us to risk the loss of a
prize, when clearly in our power, yet we willingly grant, as a courtesy,
what we might refuse as a right. Valiant Moor! defend thyself!" So
saying, he wheeled, took proper distance, couched his lance, and putting
spurs to his horse, made at the stranger. The latter met him in mid
career, transpierced him with his lance, and threw him headlong from his
saddle. A second and a third succeeded, but were unhorsed with equal