ed like a dog that fawns at the feet
of his angry master, and cried out:

"He ordered it--Spirit of my master! he ordered it." Pentaur stood
still, astounded and incapable of speech, till he perceived a young man,
who crept up to him on his hands and feet, which were bound with thongs,
and who cried to him in a tone, in which terror was mingled with a
tenderness which touched Pentaur's very soul.

"Save me--Spirit of the Mohar! save me, father!" Then the poet spoke.

"I am no spirit of the dead," said he. "I am the priest Pentaur; and I
know you, boy; you are Horus, Paaker's brother, who was brought up with
me in the temple of Seti."

The prisoner approached him trembling, looked at him enquiringly and
exclaimed:

"Be you who you may, you are exactly like my father in person and
in voice. Loosen my bonds, and listen to me, for the most hideous,
atrocious, and accursed treachery threatens us the king and all."

Pentaur drew his sword, and cut the leather thongs which bound the young
man's hands and feet. He stretched his released limbs, uttering thanks
to the Gods, then he cried:

"If you love Egypt and the king follow me; perhaps there is yet time to
hinder the hideous deed, and to frustrate this treachery."

"The night is dark," said Kaschita, "and the road to the valley is
dangerous."

"You must follow me if it is to your death!" cried the youth, and,
seizing Pentaur's hand, he dragged him with him out of the cave.

As soon as the black slave had satisfied himself that Pentaur was the
priest whom he had seen fighting in front of the paraschites' hovel, and
not the ghost of his dead master, he endeavored to slip past Paaker's
brother, but Horus observed the manoeuvre, and seized him by his woolly
hair. The slave cried out loudly, and whimpered out:

"If thou dost escape, Paaker will kill me; he swore he would."

"Wait!" said the youth. He dragged the slave back, flung him into the
cave, and blocked up the door with a huge log which lay near it for that
purpose.

When the three men had crept back through the low passage in the rocks,
and found themselves once more in the open air, they found a high wind
was blowing.

"The storm will soon be over," said Horus. "See how the clouds are
driving! Let us have horses, Pentaur, for there is not a minute to be
lost."

The poet ordered Kaschta to summon the people to start but the soldier
advised differently.

"Men and horses are exhausted," he said, "and we