mfort, the second of his peace, and there was the
smell of dawn on the breeze before he fell asleep.

After sunset the next day Deborah roused him. He awoke restored in
strength and hungry. The old Israelite had prepared some of the
gazelle-meat for him, and this, with a draft of wine from an amphora,
refreshed him at once. Provisions had been put in his wallet, and a
double handful of golden rings, with several jewels, much treasure in
small bulk, had been wrapped in a strip of linen and was ready for him.
By the time all preparations were complete the night had come.

He bade Deborah farewell and took Rachel's hand. It was cold and
trembled pitifully. Without a word he pressed it and gave it back. He
had reached the entrance, when it seemed that a suppressed sound smote
on his ears, and he stopped. Deborah, her face grown stern and hard,
had moved a step or two forward and stood regarding Rachel sharply.
Neither saw her.

"Did you speak, Rachel?" Kenkenes asked. He fancied that her arms had
fallen quickly as he turned.

"Nay, except to bid thee take care of thyself, Kenkenes," she faltered,
"more for thine own sake than for mine."

He returned and, on his knee, pressed her hand to his lips.

"God's face light thee and His peace attend thee," she continued. The
blessing was full of wondrous tenderness and music. He knew how her
face looked above him; how the free hand all but rested on his head,
and for a moment his fortitude seemed about to desert him. But she
whispered:

"Farewell."

And he arose and went forth.

[1] The tombs of the Orient in ancient times were common places of
refuge for fugitives, lepers and outcasts.

CHAPTER XXI

ON THE WAY TO THEBES

The moon was ampler and its light stronger. The Nile was a vast and
faintly silvered expanse, roughened with countless ripples blown
opposite the direction of the current. The north wind had risen and
swept through the crevice between the hills with more than usual
strength, adding its reedy music to the sound of the swiftly flowing
waters.

After launching his bari, Kenkenes gazed a moment, and then, with a
prayer to Ptah for aid, struck out for the south, rowing with powerful
strokes.

At the western shore lighted barges swayed at their moorings or
journeyed slowly, but the Nile was wide, and the craft, blinded by
their own brilliance, had no thought of what might be hugging the
Arabian shore. Yet Kenkenes, with the ino