ided the western declivity of the Holy Mountain from the
shore, the blue-green waters of the sea, and the distant chain of hills
on the African coast.

Whatever approached the tower, whether from afar or from the
neighborhood, was at once espied by them, and the side of the rock which
was turned to the roadway was so precipitous and smooth that it remained
inaccessible even to the natives of the desert, who, with their naked
feet and sinewy arms, could climb points which even the wild goat and
the jackal made a circuit to avoid. It was more accessible from the
other side, and in order to secure that, a very strong wall had been
built, which enclosed the level on which the castle stood in the form
of a horseshoe, of which the ends abutted on the declivity of the short
road. This structure was so roughly and inartistically heaped together
that it looked as if formed by nature rather than by the hand of man.
The rough and unfinished appearance of this wall-like heap of stones was
heightened by the quantity of large and small pieces of granite which
were piled on the top of it, and which had been collected by the
anchorites, in case of an incursion, to roll and hurl down on the
invading robbers. A cistern had been dug out of the rocky soil of
the plateau which the wall enclosed, and care was taken to keep it
constantly filled with water.

Such precautions were absolutely necessary, for the anchorites were
threatened with dangers from two sides. First from the Ishmaelite hordes
of Saracens who fell upon them from the east, and secondly from the
Blemmyes, the wild inhabitants of the desert country which borders
the fertile lands of Egypt and Nubia, and particularly of the barren
highlands that part the Red Sea from the Nile valley; they crossed the
sea in light skiffs, and then poured over the mountain like a swarm of
locusts.

The little stores and savings which the defenceless hermits treasured
in their caves had tempted the Blemmyes again and again, in spite of the
Roman garrison in Pharan, which usually made its appearance on the scene
of their incursion long after they had disappeared with their scanty
booty. Not many months since, the raid had been effected in which old
Stephanus had been wounded by an arrow, and there was every reason to
hope that the wild marauders would not return very soon, for Phoebicius,
the commander of the Roman maniple in the oasis, was swift and vigorous
in his office, and though he had not