At times the floor seemed to rock beneath him, and once he heard a rattle in the walls, but it was too dark to see anything except for the vivid lightning. When morning dawned the tempest died away, and the knight sat up and looked about him. In one corner some stones had fallen down, and among them lay a sort of iron pickaxe covered with rust. It must have been left in a niche on the other side by some workmen of former days, and forgotten.

At this sight hope, which he had thought to be long dead, revived in his heart. Without losing a moment he fell to work, and though from weakness he was often obliged to pause and rest, in the course of a few days he had, by aid of the pickaxe, hewn a hole in the loosened masonry big enough to pass through. Then he waited till night came.

When everything was quiet St. George crept through his hole, and found himself in a passage leading into a large court which formed part of the palace. Before venturing out of the shadow he listened carefully, so as to make sure in which direction he had better turn, for having been cast into the dungeon the very evening of his arrival in the Persian city, he only knew the road by which he had come. For awhile all was silent, but at last he heard voices on the other side of the courtyard, and stole cautiously in that direction. He soon gathered from the talk that in two or three hours the King of Persia was setting out on a hunting expedition, and that the horses were being watered and got ready. Rushing in, he laid about him with the pickaxe so vigorously that the grooms, taken by surprise, one after another fell before him. As soon as all were dead, St. George put on a suit of armour and a sword that hung in the furnishing room, and, mounting the strongest horse he could find in the stable, rode boldly to the nearest gate.

'Open, porter, in the king's name,' cried he. 'Know