mokles slumbered on, regardless of the light and
talking.

Back in the dark, Heraklas clasped his hands. A mighty sob rose in
his throat. The Christian was indeed Timokles! How worn he was! And
that brand upon his cheek!

Athribis bent forward. Timokles' eyes were opening.

"Athribis!" exclaimed Timokles faintly, as, after a prolonged gaze,
he recognized the slave.

"Ah, my Christian master! My Christian master!" jeered Athribis, "I
see you once again. My Christian master!"

The hands of the unseen Heraklas clinched at that tone.

Timokles looked around, bewildered. A quiver passed over his lips.
Athribis reminded him of home.

"Is my mother here?" asked Timokles. A sorrow deeper than tears
looked from his eyes.

Athribis smiled. "Thy mother!" he said.

The tone was a sufficient answer. Timokles' eyes fell.

"Thou wilt never see her again," went on Athribis. "Thy mother
hateth thee! She is faithful to Egypt's gods, if thou art not! I
came here only to be certain thou wert on the ship."

"Camest thou from her to me on that errand?" asked Timokles calmly.

Athribis laughed, and turned to go.

"Farewell, my Christian master! Farewell!" said the slave,
mockingly.

There was an instant's silence. The great lion sighed from his cage.

Then answered Timokles' low voice, "O Athribis, may my God become
thine, also!"

A laugh came, as the slave's reply. Athribis and his conductor went
away. The light faded from the hold.

Heraklas crept near the Christians.

"Timokles!" he whispered. "Timokles! O Timokles, my brother!"

CHAPTER VIII.

From the bound Christians came no answer to Heraklas' cry, though
there was a startled movement among them.

"O my brother! my brother!" murmured Heraklas, the tears running
down his face in the dark, "I am Heraklas! I, too, am a Christian!"

"Heraklas!" cried Timokles, "Heraklas! How camest thou hither?"

"Peace!" whispered Heraklas in terror. "Thou wilt be heard!"

Heraklas cast his arms about his brother and clung to him.

"How art thou bound, my Timokles?" asked Heraklas, when they had
embraced and wept together.

"My feet are bound with naught but cords, but a chain about my body
fasteneth me to a hook in the wall," answered Timokles. "Thou canst
not release me, my brother! Flee, while thou canst!"

"Nay, but I will try," whispered Heraklas resolutely.

He drew his knife from his girdle, and feeling of the cords that
bound his brother's ankles, cut t