er of reason through his murderous insanity was the
consciousness of a rain of blows upon his head and shoulders, and a
blackening face settling back to the earth before him.

He released his grip on the throat of the strangling servitor and flung
off his other assailants. For a moment, stunned by the hard usage at
the hands of the reinforcing men, he staggered, and seemed about to
succumb. The men pursued him to finish their work, but as he eluded
them, it seemed that a third person--a woman all in white with extended
arms--came into their view.

Kenkenes saw the foremost, a tall Nubian in a striped tunic, stop in
his tracks, and the second, smaller and lighter but a Nubian also,
following immediately behind, bumped against his fellow.

Mouths agape, eyes staring, they stood and marveled. The strange
presence, they discovered at once, was neither a human being nor an
apparition. It was stone--a statue.

"Sacrilege!" the first exploded. "A--a--by Amen, it is the slave
herself!"

In the little pause, Kenkenes recovered himself, but he knew that he
gave Rachel to her fate, if the pair overcame him. He caught her hand
and with the whispered word, "Run!" fled with her toward the front of
the cliff facing the Nile. It was a desperate chance for escape but he
seized it.

Immediately they were pursued and at the brink of the hill, overtaken.
The stake was too large for the young artist to risk its loss by
adhering to the unwritten rules of combat. He released Rachel, whirled
about, and as the foremost descended on him, ducked, seized the man
about the middle, and pitched him head-first down into the valley. The
second, the tall Nubian that wore the striped tunic, halted, dismayed,
and Kenkenes, catching Rachel's hand, prepared to descend. But she
checked him with a cry. "Look!"

His eyes followed her outstretched arm. At regular intervals along the
Nile, the distant figures of men were seen posted. Escape was cut off.
He mounted to the top of the cliff and led Rachel out of view from the
river. The second man retreated, and raged from afar. The sculptor
turned up the shingly slope toward the sun-white ridge of higher hills
inland. Here, he would hide with Rachel, till his strength returned
and the ache left his head clear to plan a safe escape. The Nubian
called on all the gods to annihilate them and started in pursuit. The
sculptor did not pause, and, emboldened by the indifference of the man
he dog