he barren steppe east of
the sacred river. Opposite them they saw the upper limit of the
old palm lands of Jericho, stretching off to the hill-country
of Judea. Ben-Hur's blood ran quickly, for he knew the ford was
close at hand.

"Content you, good Balthasar," he said; "we are almost there."

The driver quickened the camel's pace. Soon they caught sight
of booths and tents and tethered animals; and then of the river,
and a multitude collected down close by the bank, and yet another
multitude on the western shore. Knowing that the preacher was
preaching, they made greater haste; yet, as they were drawing
near, suddenly there was a commotion in the mass, and it began
to break up and disperse.

They were too late!

"Let us stay here," said Ben-Hur to Balthasar, who was wringing
his hands. "The Nazarite may come this way."

The people were too intent upon what they had heard, and too busy
in discussion, to notice the new-comers. When some hundreds were
gone by, and it seemed the opportunity to so much as see the
Nazarite was lost to the latter, up the river not far away they
beheld a person coming towards them of such singular appearance
they forgot all else.

Outwardly the man was rude and uncouth, even savage. Over a thin,
gaunt visage of the hue of brown parchment, over his shoulders and
down his back below the middle, in witch-like locks, fell a covering
of sun-scorched hair. His eyes were burning-bright. All his right side
was naked, and of the color of his face, and quite as meagre; a shirt
of the coarsest camel's-hair--coarse as Bedouin tent-cloth--clothed
the rest of his person to the knees, being gathered at the waist by
a broad girdle of untanned leather. His feet were bare. A scrip,
also of untanned leather, was fastened to the girdle. He used a
knotted staff to help him forward. His movement was quick, decided,
and strangely watchful. Every little while he tossed the unruly
hair from his eyes, and peered round as if searching for somebody.

The fair Egyptian surveyed the son of the Desert with surprise,
not to say disgust. Presently, raising the curtain of the houdah,
she spoke to Ben-Hur, who sat his horse near by.

"Is that the herald of thy King?"

"It is the Nazarite," he replied, without looking up.

In truth, he was himself more than disappointed. Despite his
familiarity with the ascetic colonists in En-Gedi--their dress,
their indifference to all worldly opinion, their constancy to
vows wh