A PRINCE OF EGYPT.
When Amuba recovered his senses he was lying in a heap at the bottom
of the chariot. Two men were standing in the car beside him. The one
he supposed to be the driver, the other the owner of the chariot.
In a few minutes the chariot turned off through a stately gateway. The
driver leaped down and closed the gates, and then led the horses to
the steps leading up to a splendid mansion. The man beside him called
out, and two or three slaves ran down the steps. Then he was lifted
out, carried into the house, and laid upon a couch. A cup of wine was
placed to his lips, and after he had drunk a slave bathed his head
with cold water, and bandaged up the numerous cuts from which blood
was flowing.
This greatly refreshed him, and he raised himself on his arm. An order
was given, and the slaves left the apartment, and Amuba looking up saw
a tall and stately figure standing before him. He recognized him at
once, for he had seen him following the king in one of the processions
among the princes of Egypt.
“Who are you? and is it true what those men whom I found maltreating
you averred, that you are the slayer of the Cat of Bubastes?”
“My name is Amuba, my lord,” the lad said, striving to stand upright,
but his questioner signed to him to remain seated. “I am a Rebu taken
prisoner of war, and handed as a slave to Ameres, high priest of
Osiris. I am not the slayer of the cat, but it is true that I was
present at its death, and that it might just as well have been my
arrow that accidentally pierced it as that of him who did so.”
“Then it was an accident?” the noble said.
“It was wholly an accident, my lord. We fired at a hawk that had been
thinning the pet birds of my master’s daughter. One of the arrows
struck a tree, and glancing off entered the house in which the cat was
kept and unfortunately caused its death. We regretted the accident
bitterly, knowing how sacred was the animal in the sight of the
Egyptians.”
“And not in your sight, young man? You are not yet a follower of the
gods of the Egyptians?”
“I am not, my lord,” Amuba answered; “but at the same time I would not
upon any account have willfully done aught to offend the religious
opinions of others, although I myself have not been taught to consider
the life of a cat as of more value than that of other animals.”
“Then you worship the gods of your own people?”
Amuba was silent for a moment.
“I would answer frankly, my lord, and I hope that you will not be
displeased. Since I have come to Egypt I have come to think that
neither the gods of the Egyptians nor the gods my fathers worshiped
are the true gods. I believe that there is one great God over all, and
that the others are but as it were his attributes, which men worship
under the name of gods.”
The Egyptian uttered an exclamation of surprise.
“Whence did you obtain such a belief as this?” he asked.
Amuba was silent.
“It must have been from Ameres himself,” the noble went on, seeing
that the lad was reluctant to answer. “I knew him well, and also that
he carried to an extreme the knowledge he had gained. But how came it
that he should speak of such matters to you--a slave?”
“My master was good enough to make me a companion and friend to his
son rather than a servant to him,” Amuba replied, “partly because he
thought that I should lead him to a more active life, which he needed,
for he was overstudious; partly because I had high rank in my own
country, of which my father was the king. But he never spoke of this
matter until after the accident of the cat. My friend Chebron was
utterly cast down at the sin that he thought he had committed, and
would at once have denounced himself, preferring death to living with
such a burden upon his mind. Then his father, seeing that his whole
life would be imbittered, and that he would probably be forced to fly
from Egypt and dwell in some other land, told him the belief which he
himself held. I believed this all the more readily because I had heard
much the same from an Israelite maiden who served my master’s
daughter.”
Again Amuba’s listener uttered an exclamation of surprise.
“I knew not,” he said, after a pause, “that there was an Israelite who
still adhered to the religion of their ancestors.”
“The maiden told me that for the most part they had taken to the
worship of the Egyptians, and indeed, so far as she knew, she was the
last who clung to the old belief. She had been brought up by a
great-grandfather who had been driven from his people and forced to
dwell apart because he reproached them for having forsaken their God,
and he instructed her in the faith he held, which was that there was
but one God over all the earth.”
“Do you know who I am?” the noble asked abruptly.
“I know that you are one of the princes of the land, my lord, for I
have seen you in a procession following closely behind the king with
his sons and other princes.”
“I also am an Israelite. It seems strange to you, doubtless,” he went
on, as Amuba started in astonishment at hearing a prince of Egypt
declare himself as belonging to the hated race. “Many years ago, at
the time I was an infant, there was a great persecution of the
Israelites, and as is supposed my father and mother, fearing for my
life, placed me in a little cradle and set me afloat on the water. It
chanced--or was it chance or the will of God?--that the water took me
to the spot where the Princess Thermuthis, the daughter of the then
king, was bathing with her maidens. She had compassion upon me and
adopted me, and as I grew up I had all the rights and privileges of
her son, and rank, as you say, with the princes of Egypt. She called
me Moses; for that was the name, as it seems, that was writ upon a
piece of papyrus fastened to my cradle. I was instructed in all the
learning of the Egyptians, and grew up as one of them. So I lived for
many years, and had almost forgotten that I was not one of them; but
now--” And here he stopped and began thoughtfully to pace up and down
the apartment.
“What has become of the maiden of whom you spoke?” he asked, suddenly
stopping before Amuba.
“That I know not, my lord. Upon the day that Ameres was murdered by
the mob his little daughter was carried off, and Ruth, for that is her
name, has also been missing ever since. It is for that reason we have
lingered here, otherwise we should have fled at once.”
“You and the son of Ameres?”
“Yes, my lord, and another Rebu, one of my father’s warriors, who was
a fellow-captive with me, and also slave of Ameres. The high priest
had great confidence in him, and committed to him the mission of
aiding Chebron to escape and of conducting us if possible back to my
own land; but when we found that my young mistress was missing we
decided to remain to search for her.”
“What will you do when you find her?”
“If we can rescue her from those who have carried her away we shall
hand her over to her mother, and then leave the land as we had
intended. Unless, indeed, you, my lord, in your goodness, could obtain
for Chebron a pardon for an offense which was wholly accidental.”
“That I can never do,” Moses said. “This is wholly beyond my power;
the king himself could not withstand the demand of the populace for
his life. Until lately I might have in some way aided you, but I have
no longer influence and have myself fallen into disgrace at court.”
After again pacing the apartment for some time, Moses went on:
“If you find this little Israelite maiden tell her that she is not the
last of the Israelites who believes in the God of Abraham, our
ancestor; tell her that Moses also holds to the faith. You again look
surprised, young man, and you may well be so, seeing that I have from
the days of my infancy been separated from my people.
“But our priests keep accurate records of all things connected with
the countries and religion of the people with whom we come in contact.
Thus, then, it was easy for me, who have access to all the stores of
knowledge, to examine the rolls recording the first coming of my
people, the rule of Joseph, the great governor, the coming of his
relations here and their settlement in the country. Thus I learned
that they worshiped one God, whom they believed to be the only God,
in the world. I have been interested deeply in the learning of the
priesthood, and have long seen that behind all the forms and mysteries
of the Egyptian religion this central idea seemed to be hidden. None
with whom I have spoken acknowledged boldly that it was so; but I
heard reports that Ameres was bold enough to entertain the idea that
there was but one God, and that our far-back ancestors, who had first
worshiped him under the various attributes they ascribed to him, came
in course of time to lose the truth altogether and to regard shadows
as substances. Therefore, I said to myself, I too will believe in the
one God worshiped by my forefathers, hoping that in time it may be
that I may learn more of him.
“Until the last two or three years I have been content to live as one
of the Egyptian princes; but of late my heart has turned much to my
oppressed people, and I have determined upon doing what I can to
relieve their burden. I have even raised my voice in the council in
their favor, and this has created a coldness between the court and
myself. They consider that I, having had the honor of adoption into
the royal family, should myself forget, and allow others to forget,
what they regard as my base origin. Sometimes I own that I myself
wonder that I should feel so drawn toward them, and even wish that I
could forget my origin and give my whole mind to the duties and
pleasures of my present rank; but I feel moved by a spirit stronger
than my own. But we must talk no longer; I see that you are now
stronger. Do you think that you can walk?”
“Oh, yes,” Amuba replied, getting up and walking across the apartment.
“I have not lost much blood, and was only dizzy from their blows.”
“Then it is better that you should leave at once. The people from whom
I snatched you will have carried the news speedily to the city, and
officials will doubtless soon arrive here to demand that you be given
up to them. Take, therefore, another draught of wine and a piece of
bread. I will then give you in charge of a trusty slave, who will lead
you through the garden and through a small door at the back, and will
guide you to any spot where you may wish to go. Even now, doubtless, a
watch is being kept up in the front of the house. When the officials
arrive I shall tell them the truth--that coming, as I drove, upon a
lad who was being attacked and murdered by a number of brutal
peasants, I carried him off in my chariot. As to the shouts I heard,
that you were the slayer of the Cat of Bubastes, I regarded it as an
invention designed to hinder me from interfering on your behalf; that
I questioned you upon your arrival here, and finding that, as I had
supposed, you were entirely innocent of the offense charged against
you, I urged you to leave at once, letting you depart by the garden
gate in order to escape the fury of your persecutors. As you are not
an Israelite, no one can suppose that I could have any motive for
shielding an offender from the punishment of his crimes. Do not thank
me, for time presses, and you must be moving, so as to be well away
before it is known that you have left. May the God we both worship,
though as yet in ignorance, guide and preserve you and carry you and
your friends through the dangers that beset you.”
Moses drew back the curtains from before the entrance to the chamber
and clapped his hands, and ordered the servant who answered the call
to tell Mephres to come to him. An old slave speedily appeared, and
Moses ordered him to take Amuba out by the private way and to guide
him by quiet roads back to the city. Then cutting short his guest’s
expressions of thanks for the great kindness he had rendered him, he
hurried him away, for he knew that at any moment the officials might
arrive from the city.
It was well that Amuba had been supplied with a guide, for upon
issuing into the night air--for by this time darkness had fallen--he
found that he could with difficulty direct his steps; his head
throbbed as if it would split from the blows that had been dealt him,
and every limb ached. The old slave, however, seeing that he stumbled
as he walked, placed his staff in one of Amuba’s hands, and taking him
firmly by the arm led him steadily on. It seemed to the lad that he
went on walking all night, and yet it was less than an hour after
starting when his conductor found that he could go no further, and
that he was wholly unable to answer his questions as to whither he
wished to be guided. He determined to stop with him until he should be
able to proceed again. He therefore led Amuba aside into an orchard,
and there laid him down under the shelter of a tree, covering him with
one of his own garments.
“It is well for the lad that my lord arrived just when he did,” he
said to himself as he sat down by the side of Amuba and listened to
his heavy breathing--for all in the house had heard from the
charioteer of the rescue of the lad from the hands of furious
peasants.
“He must have been very near death when he was saved from their hands.
Maxis said that his assailants shouted out that he was the slayer of
the Cat of Bubastes about which such a turmoil has been made. Had it
been so I do not think that my lord would have aided him thus to
escape; though for my part I care not if he had killed all the cats in
Egypt, seeing that in my native Libya we worship not the gods of the
Egyptians.”
Several times during the night the old man got up and plucked large
handfuls of grass wet with dew and placed them on Amuba’s head, and
when he perceived the first faint gleam of morning in the sky he
aroused him. Amuba sat up and looked round with an air of
astonishment.
“Where am I?” he exclaimed.
“You are at present in an orchard, my young friend, though to whom it
may belong I know not; but finding that you were unable to continue
your journey I drew you aside here, and you have slept well all night,
and I hope feel better for it and able to proceed.”
“I remember now,” Amuba said; “it seemed to me that I walked for hours
leaning on your arm.”
“It was but an hour,” the slave replied; “we are not yet two miles
from my lord’s house.”
“And you have watched over me all night,” Amuba said; “for it was, I
know, but an hour after sunset when we started. Truly I am deeply
indebted to you for your kindness.”
“Speak not of it,” the old man replied. “My lord gave you into my
charge, and I cannot return until I can tell him that you are in
safety. But if you are able to walk we must pass on, for there may be
a search for you as soon as it is light.”
“I am perfectly able to go on,” Amuba said; “thanks to the wet grass I
see you have been piling round my head, the heat seems to have passed
away and the throbbing to have ceased.”
Amuba was indeed now able to walk at a brisk pace.
“Which way do you want to go?” the slave asked him in a short time.
“It is getting light enough now for me to see your face, and it will
never do for you to meet any one. Your head is still swollen, and
there are marks of bruises and cuts all over the scalp. Your
appearance will attract attention at once, and if any saw you who had
heard of last evening’s doings you would be at once suspected.”
“I will make direct for the hills,” Amuba said. “They are not far
distant, and I can easily conceal myself among the rocks until
sunset.”
“Let us hurry on, then,” the slave said; “it is but half an hour’s
walk. But as we may at any moment now meet peasants going to their
work, I will go on ahead; do you follow a hundred yards behind me. If
I see any one coming I will lift my hand above my head, and do you at
once step aside from the road into the vineyard or orchard, and lie
there until they have passed.”
Amuba followed these instructions, and it was more than an hour before
he reached the foot of the hills, so often did he have to turn aside
to avoid groups of peasants. At last he reached the foot of the rugged
ascent. Here he took leave of his guide with many warm thanks for his
kindness and services, and with a message of gratitude to his lord.
Then Amuba ascended the hill for a short distance, and laid himself
down among some great bowlders.
Although greatly refreshed by his night’s rest he was still weak and
shaken, and felt altogether unequal to making his way along the hills
for the four miles which intervened between himself and the
hiding-place of his friends among the tombs above the city. He was
soon asleep again, and the sun was already some distance down the sky
when he awoke. He waited until it sank behind the brow of the hill
above him, and then climbing some distance higher made his way along
the hillside, having little fear that his figure would be noticed now
that the hillside was in shadow. Darkness had just fallen when he
arrived at the tomb they used as their shelter. A figure was standing
there in deep shadow. As he turned the path and approached, it
advanced to meet him. Then there was a cry of joy, and Jethro sprang
forward and clasped him in his arms.
“My dear Amuba, I never thought to see you in life again!”
A moment later Chebron ran out, and in his turn embraced Amuba.
“I shall never forgive you and I shall never forgive myself,” he said
reproachfully. “What right had you to take my danger upon yourself? It
was wrong, Amuba; and I have suffered horribly. Even though we are as
brothers, why should you sacrifice yourself for me, especially when it
is my life and not yours that is forfeited? I told myself a thousand
times last night that I was base and cowardly in allowing you and
Jethro to risk your lives for me, when by giving myself up the rage of
the people will be satisfied, and you could make your way out of this
land without great danger. It was bad enough that you should share my
risk, but when it comes to your taking it all upon your shoulders that
I should escape free, I can accept such sacrifice no longer; and
to-morrow I will go down and surrender myself.”
Amuba was about to burst into remonstrance, when Jethro touched him as
a sign to be silent. The Rebu knew how acutely Chebron had suffered
and how he had spent the night in tears and self-reproaches, and felt
that it was better to allow his present agitation to pass before
arguing with him.
“Are you hungry, Amuba?” he asked.
“That I am, Jethro. I had nothing save a mouthful of bread since our
meal here yesterday; and you will get no news out of me until I have
eaten and drunk.” A meal of cakes and cool fish and a draught of wine
was soon taken; and Amuba said, “Now I will tell you all about it.”
“We know the first part,” Jethro said. “When I returned here yesterday
evening I found Chebron almost beside himself with anxiety. He told me
how he had been discovered by one of the slaves of Ptylus who knew him
by sight; how you had attacked the slave, rescued him from his hands,
and then joined him in his flight; how you insisted that you should
separate; and how the pursuers had all followed on your track, leaving
him to return here unmolested. He had been here upward of two hours
when I arrived, and as the time had passed on without your return he
had become more and more anxious. Of course I at once started out to
gather news, and had the greatest difficulty in persuading him to
remain here, for he scorned the idea of danger to himself from the
search which would be sure to be again actively set on foot. However,
as I pointed out it was necessary that if you returned you should find
somebody here, he at last agreed to remain.
“When I got into the town I found the whole city in the streets. The
news had come that the slayers of the cat had been discovered; that
one had escaped, but that the other had been overtaken after a long
chase; and that he had been set upon and would have been slain, as he
well deserved, had not one of the princes of the royal house arrived
and carried him off in his chariot. This news excited the greatest
surprise and indignation, and two officers of the city had gone out to
the prince’s mansion, which was six miles away from the city, to claim
the fugitive and bring him to the town, when he would be at once
delivered to the just anger of the populace.
“As soon as I learned this I started out along the road by which they
would return, and hurried on past the people already gathered there. I
had brought my sword with me, and my intention was that as the chariot
returned with you I would leap upon it, surprise and slay the
officials, and drive off with you; for I knew you would be able to
take no part in making the escape, as I had heard that you were
already insensible when carried off in the chariot. There were groups
of people all along the road with torches, but I thought that a sudden
surprise would probably be successful.
“At last I heard the chariot approaching. It was being driven more
slowly than I had expected. As it came to a large group of people some
distance ahead of me it stopped for a moment, and the official
addressed the people. There was no shout or sound of exultation, and I
felt convinced at once that either upon their arrival they had found
that you were already dead, or that in some miraculous way you had
escaped. I therefore hurried back to the next group. When the chariot
came up there was a shout of, ‘What is the news? Where is the
malefactor?’ The officials checked their horses and replied: ‘A
mistake has been made. The prince assures us that the lad was a poor
slave and wholly innocent of this affair. He has satisfied himself
that in their jealousy for the honor of the gods the peasants who
attacked the lad committed a grievous wrong and fell upon a wholly
innocent person. After assuring himself of this he had had his wounds
bound up and suffered him to depart. The prince intends to lay a
complaint before the council against the persons who have cruelly
maltreated and nearly murdered an innocent person, who, he stated,
interfered in the matter because he saw a slave attacking a young lad,
and who fled fearing trouble because of the punishment he had
inflicted upon the aggressor.’
“The announcement was received in silence; but when the chariot had
driven on again there was much murmuring. This account had certainly
the appearance of truth; for it was already known by the narrative of
the slave who recognized Chebron that the person who rescued him was a
youth and a stranger to him, and that it was this youth who had been
pursued while Chebron himself had escaped. Still there was murmuring
that the prince should in so important a matter have suffered the
youth to depart without a more searching examination. Some said that
even if the boy’s story was true he deserved punishment for attacking
the slave who had arrested Chebron, while others said that as he had
certainly been beaten almost to death, he had been punished
sufficiently. All agreed that no doubt the whole affair would be
investigated.
“I hurried back again with the news, and all night we watched for you,
and when morning came without your arrival we were almost as anxious
as before, fearing that you had been too badly injured to rejoin us,
and that to-day you would almost certainly be recaptured. As the
search for Chebron would assuredly be actively carried out, I insisted
on his remaining quiet here while I made frequent journeys down to the
city for news; but beyond the certainty that you had not been
recaptured, although a diligent search had been made for you as well
as for Chebron, I learned nothing. Now, Amuba, I have relieved you of
the necessity for much talk; you have only to fill in the gaps of the
story and to tell us how it was that you persuaded this Egyptian
prince of your innocence.”
“It is rather a long story, Jethro; but now that I have had a meal I
feel strong enough to talk all night, for I have had nearly
twenty-four hours’ sleep. First, I will tell Chebron that when I took
the pursuers off his track I had no idea of sacrificing myself, for I
made sure that I should be able to outrun them, and I should have done
so easily had it not been for fresh people constantly taking up the
pursuit and at last running me down.”
Amuba then related the whole story of his flight, his attack with
the peasants and his rescue, and then recited the whole of his
conversation with his rescuer and his proceedings after leaving his
house. “So you see,” he concluded, “that strangely enough it was the
teaching of your father, Chebron, and the tale that Ruth told us, and
that her grandfather before told you, of the God of their forefathers,
that saved my life. Had it not been that this prince of Israelitish
birth also believed in one God, it could hardly be that he would have
saved me from the vengeance of the people, for as he says he is in
disfavor with the king, and his conduct in allowing me to go free
merely on my own assertion of my innocence is likely to do him further
harm. This he would assuredly never have risked had it not been for
the tie between us of a common faith in one great God.”
“It is a strange story,” Jethro said when Amuba brought his narrative
to a conclusion, “and you have had a marvelous escape. Had it not been
for the arrival of this prince upon the spot at the very moment you
must have been killed. Had he not have been of a compassionate nature
he would never, in the first place, have interfered on your behalf;
and had it not been for your common faith, he would have held you
until the officials arrived to claim you. Then, too, you were
fortunate, indeed, in the kindness of your guide; for evidently had it
not been for your long rest, and the steps he took to reduce the heat
of your wounds, you must have fallen into the hands of the searchers
this morning. Above all, I consider it extraordinary that you should
at the critical moment have been rescued by perhaps the one man in
Egypt who would have had the will and the courage to save you.”
Upon the following morning Jethro and Amuba succeeded with some
difficulty in dissuading Chebron from his determination to give
himself up, the argument that had the most powerful effect being that
by so doing he would be disobeying the last orders of his father. It
was resolved that in future as a better disguise he should be attired
as a woman, and that the watch upon the house of Ptylus should be
recommenced; but that they should station themselves further away. It
was thought, indeed, that the search in that neighborhood was likely
to be less rigorous than elsewhere, as it would not be thought
probable that the fugitives would return to a spot where they had been
recognized. Amuba’s disguise was completely altered. He was still in
the dress of a peasant, but, by means of pigments obtained from
Chigron, Jethro so transformed him as to give him, to a casual
observer, the appearance of advanced years.
They had had a long discussion as to the plan they would adopt, Amuba
and Jethro wishing Chebron to leave the watching entirely to them. But
this he would not hear of, saying that he was confident that, in his
disguise as a woman, no one would know him.
“We must find out which way he goes, to begin with,” he said. “After
that none of us need go near the house. I will buy a basket and some
flowers from one of the peasant women who bring them in, and will take
my seat near the gate. By three o’clock Plexo will have finished his
offices in the temple, and may set out half an hour later. I shall see
at least which road he takes. Then, when you join me at dusk, one of
you can walk a mile or two along the road; the other twice as far. We
shall then see when he returns whether he has followed the road any
considerable distance or has turned off by any crossroads, and can
post ourselves on the following day so as to find out more.”
“The plan is a very good one, Chebron, and we will follow it. Once we
get upon his trail I will guarantee that it will not be long before we
trace him to his goal.”
Accordingly that afternoon Chebron, dressed as a peasant woman, took
his seat with a basket of flowers fifty yards from the entrance to the
house of Ptylus. At about the time he expected Plexo and his father
returned together from the temple. Half an hour later a light chariot
with two horses issued from the gate. Plexo was driving and an
attendant stood beside him. Chebron felt sure that if Plexo was going
to visit Mysa he would take the road leading into the country, and the
post he had taken up commanded a view of the point where the road
divided into three--one running straight north along the middle of the
valley, while the others bore right and left until one fell into the
great road near the river, the other into that on the side of the
valley near the hills. It was this last that Plexo took; and although
he might be going to visit acquaintances living in the many villas
scattered for miles and miles along the roadside, Chebron felt a
strong hope that he was going to Mysa’s hiding-place. As soon as it
was dark he was joined by Jethro and Amuba.
“He started at three o’clock!” Chebron exclaimed as they came up to
him, “and took the road leading to the foot of the hills.”
“We will go on there at once,” Jethro said. “He may return before
long, and we must hurry. Do you walk quietly on, Chebron, and stop at
the point where the road ahead runs into the main road. Amuba shall
stop two miles further; I will go two miles further still. If he comes
along the road past me we will begin at that point to-morrow.”
Jethro had but just reached the spot at which he proposed to wait when
he heard the sound of wheels approaching, and a minute later the
chariot drove along. The moon was not up, but the night was clear and
bright; and, advancing as close he could to the passing chariot, he
was able to recognize Plexo. The latter gave an angry exclamation as
his horses shied at the figure which had suddenly presented itself,
and gave a cut with his whip at Jethro. A minute later the chariot had
disappeared and Jethro returned toward the city, picking up on his way
Amuba and Chebron.
The next night Amuba took up his station a mile beyond the spot at
which Jethro had seen the chariot, Jethro another mile ahead, while
Chebron watched the crossroads near the town; but this time it did not
come along, although Chebron had seen him start the same hour as
before.
“I hardly expected to see him to-night,” Jethro said when he joined
the others after fruitlessly waiting for three hours. “He will hardly
be likely to visit her two days in succession. He will be more likely
to leave her for a week to meditate on the hopelessness of refusing to
purchase her liberty at the price of accepting him as her husband.
Doubtless he has to-day merely paid a visit to some friends.”
It was not, indeed, until the fourth night of waiting that Plexo came
along. This time he did not pass Jethro at all, and it was therefore
certain that he had turned off from the main road either to the right
or left at some point between the post of Jethro and that of Amuba.
When this was determined they agreed, after a consultation, not to
return to their hiding-places near Thebes that night, but to lie down
under some trees by the roadside until morning broke, and then to
examine the road carefully. It was not likely that another chariot
would pass before morning, and they might be able to follow the tracks
along the dusty road.
In this way they discovered the road where he had turned off; but
beyond this the tracks did not show, as the road was hard and almost
free from dust. It lay, as they expected, toward the hills; but there
were so many country mansions of the wealthy classes dotted about, and
so many crossroads leading to these and to the farmhouses of the
cultivators, that they felt they were still far from attaining the
object of their search.
After some discussion it was agreed that they should ascend the hills
and remain there during the day, and that Jethro should return to the
town as soon as it became dark to obtain a store of provisions
sufficient to last them for a week. This was done, and the next day
they separated at dawn and took up their places on the hills at a
distance of about a mile apart, choosing spots where they commanded a
view over the valley, and arranging to meet at a central point when
night came on.