he wished he could help them to
a dinner as good as his. Ha! an idea came to him. Why should he not
indeed send them a dinner--many dinners? It should be done.

So the next morning he had loaded seventy camels with provisions, five
of them with bales of hay for the camels themselves. And taking them to
the border of the desert, without driver or any one to guide them, he
had sent them out into the sea of sand, the great ships of the desert,
to find the right harbor by themselves. For somehow he felt sure that
the Lord would guide them safely to the monks. Here the letter of
Glaucus ended.

Oh, how good that breakfast tasted to the poor, famished monks! There
were all kinds of fruit,--fresh figs and olives and dates, citrons and
juicy grapes and yellow pomegranates. There were bread and oil which the
monks loved, and nuts and combs of the most delicious golden honey such
as it makes one's mouth water to think of. Glaucus had sent them a
breakfast fit for a king. And they all sat down on the sand in a happy
circle and had the finest picnic that was ever seen in that desert.

When they had eaten they went out once more to visit the camels who had
saved their lives, and to thank them with caressing words. The camels
seemed to understand, and looked at them with gentle eyes, chewing their
cud earnestly as if thinking: "You see, the Lord was looking out for you
all the time. We are only poor, dumb beasts; but we came straight to you
across the desert without any fear or wandering, because we trusted. Why
were you not trustful, too?"

And again the monks were very much ashamed, and went back to Fronto to
beg his forgiveness, promising never again to be faint-hearted nor to
lose faith.

The next morning they made ready to send back the camels to Alexandria.
For they knew Glaucus would be anxious to hear how his ships of the
desert had fared on their errand. And half the provisions they returned,
for they had more than enough to last them a year, according to their
simple meals. Then, with tears in their eyes, the monks sent the great
beasts forth again into the desert, confident that as they had come so
they would find their way back to Alexandria, safe and sound. Each in
his cell door the monks stood and watched them slowly winding away over
the yellow sand, disappearing at last behind the hills which rose like
great waves between them and the world of cities.

Now it was eight days since Glaucus had sent out the camels