t the unelect for study. And with
these, his search ended.

Thereafter he made innumerable heads in clay, and covered linen scrolls
with drawings. But it was the semblance he gained and not the spirit.
The light eluded him.

On the day after Mentu's return from On, Kenkenes paid the first visit
to Masaarah since the incident of the collar,--and the last he thought
to make until he had won that for which he strove. He went to bury the
matting in the sand and to hide other evidences of recent occupancy
about the niche. He left the block of stone undisturbed, for the
transgression was not yet apparent on the face of Athor. The scrolls,
which had been concealed under the carpeting, were too numerous for his
wallet to contain, but he carried the surplus openly in his hand.

It was sunset before he had made an end. To return to the Nile by way
of the cliff-front would have saved him time, but there was a boyish
wish in his heart to look again on the lovely face that had helped him
and baffled him. So he descended into the upper end of the ravine and
slowly passed the outskirts of the camp, but the bond-girl was nowhere
to be seen. The spaces between the low tents were filled with feeding
laborers and there was an unusual amount of cheer to be noted among
Israel of Masaarah. Kenkenes heard the talk and laughter with some
wonderment as he passed. He admitted that he was disappointed when,
without a glimpse of Rachel, he emerged into the Nile valley. But he
leaped lightly down the ledge, crossed the belt of rubble, talus and
desert sand, and entered the now well-marked wagon road between the
dark green meadow land on either side. Egypt was in shadow--her sun
behind the Libyan heights,--but the short twilight had not fallen.
Overhead were the cooling depths of sky, as yet starless, but the river
was breathing on the winds and the sibilant murmur of its waters began
to talk above the sounds of the city. To the north, the south and the
east was pastoral and desert quiet; to the west was the gradual
subsidence of urban stir. Frogs were beginning to croak in the
distance, and in the long grain here and there, a nocturnal insect
chirred and stilled abruptly as the young man passed.

Within a rod of the pier some one called:

"My master!"

The voice came from a distance, but he knew whom he should see when he
turned. Half-way across the field toward the quarries Rachel was
coming, with a scroll in her lifted hand.