Cheta
or bandits roosting there. You people must wait, we will soon call you
to come under shelter."

Pentaur closely followed his guide, pushing his way through the dripping
brushwood, crawling through a low passage in the rock, and at last
emerging on a small rocky plateau.

"Take care where you are going!" cried Kaschta. "Keep to the left, to
the right there is a deep abyss. I smell smoke! Keep your hand on your
axe, there must be some one in the cave. Wait! I will fetch the men as
far as this."

The soldier went back, and Pentaur listened for any sounds that might
come from the same direction as the smoke. He fancied he could perceive
a small gleam of light, and he certainly heard quite plainly, first
a tone of complaint, then an angry voice; he went towards the light,
feeling his way by the wall on his left; the light shone broader and
brighter, and seemed to issue from a crack in a door.

By this time the soldier had rejoined Pentaur, and both listened for a
few minutes; then the poet whispered to his guide:

"They are speaking Egyptian, I caught a few words."

"All the better," said Kaschta. "Paaker or some of his people are in
there; the door is there still, and shut. If we give four hard and
three gentle knocks, it will be opened. Can you understand what they are
saying?"

"Some one is begging to be set free," replied Pentaur, "and speaks of
some traitor. The other has a rough voice, and says he must follow his
master's orders. Now the one who spoke before is crying; do you hear? He
is entreating him by the soul of his father to take his fetters off. How
despairing his voice is! Knock, Kaschta--it strikes me we are come at
the right moment--knock, I say."

The soldier knocked first four times, then three times. A shriek rang
through the cave, and they could hear a heavy, rusty bolt drawn back,
the roughly hewn door was opened, and a hoarse voice asked:

"Is that Paaker?"

"No," answered the soldier, "I am Kaschta. Do not you know me again,
Nubi?"

The man thus addressed, who was Paaker's Ethiopian slave, drew back in
surprise.

"Are you still alive?" he exclaimed. "What brings you here?"

"My lord here will tell you," answered Kaschta as he made way for
Pentaur to enter the cave. The poet went up to the black man, and the
light of the fire which burned in the cave fell full on his face.

The old slave stared at him, and drew back in astonishment and terror.
He threw himself on the earth, howl