e--I will call upon Him and praise him!"

And throwing up his arms he cried aloud: "Thou only One! Thou only One!
Thou only One!" He said no more; but a tide of song welled up in his
breast as he spoke--a flood of thankfulness and praise.

When he rose from his knees, a man was standing by him; his eyes were
piercing and his tall figure had the dignity of a king, in spite of his
herdsman's dress.

"It is well for you!" said the stranger in deep slow accents. "You seek
the true God."

Pentaur looked steadily into the face of the bearded man before him.

"I know you now," he said. "You are Mesu.--[Moses]--I was but a boy when
you left the temple of Seti, but your features are stamped on my soul.
Ameni initiated me, as well as you, into the knowledge of the One God."

"He knows Him not," answered the other, looking thoughtfully to the
eastern horizon, which every moment grew brighter.

The heavens glowed with purple, and the granite peaks, each sheathed
in a film of ice, sparkled and shone like dark diamonds that had been
dipped in light.

The day-star rose, and Pentaur turned to it, and prostrated himself as
his custom was. When he rose, Mesu also was kneeling on the earth, but
his back was turned to the sun.

When he had ended his prayer, Pentaur said, "Why do you turn your back
on the manifestation of the Sun-god? We were taught to look towards him
when he approaches."

"Because I," said his grave companion, "pray to another God than
yours. The sun and stars are but as toys in his hand, the earth is his
foot-stool, the storm is his breath, and the sea is in his sight as the
drops on the grass."

"Teach me to know the Mighty One whom you worship!" exclaimed Pentaur.

"Seek him," said Mesu, "and you will find him; for you have passed
through misery and suffering, and on this spot on such a morning as this
was He revealed to me."

The stranger turned away, and disappeared behind a rock from the
enquiring gaze of Pentaur, who fixed his eyes on the distance.

Then he thoughtfully descended the valley, and went towards the hut
of the hunter. He stayed his steps when he heard men's voices, but the
rocks hid the speakers from his sight.

Presently he saw the party approaching; the son of his host, a man
in Egyptian dress, a lady of tall stature, near whom a girl tripped
lightly, and another carried in a litter by slaves.

Pentaur's heart beat wildly, for he recognized Bent-Anat and her
companions. They disap