nothing but weeds and mud, so we must strike out
through the forest, whither the gods may lead us."

Asti nodded, and, clad in the light warm clothes of camel-hair, they set
the baskets upon their heads after the fashion of the peasant women of
Egypt and started forward, the harp of ivory and of gold hanging upon
Tua's back.

For hour after hour they marched thus through the forest, threading
their path between the big boles of the trees, and heading always for
the south, for that way ran the woodland glades beyond which was dense
bush. Great apes chattered above them in the tree tops, and now
and again some beast of prey crossed their path and vanished in the
underwood, but nothing else did they see. At length, towards midday, the
ground began to rise, and the trees grew smaller and farther apart, till
at last they reached the edge of a sandy desert, and walked out to a
little oasis, where the green grass showed them they would find water.
In this oasis there was a spring, and by the edge of it they sat down
and drank, and ate of their store of food, and afterwards slept a while.

Suddenly Tua, in her sleep, heard a voice, and, awaking with a
start, saw a man who stood near by, leaning on a thornwood staff and
contemplating them. He was a very strange man, apparently of great age,
for his long white hair fell down upon his shoulders, and his white
beard reached to his middle. Once he must have been very tall, but now
he was bent with age, and the bones of his gaunt frame thrust out his
ragged garments. His dark eyes also were horny, indeed it seemed as
though he could scarcely see with them, for he leaned forward to peer at
their faces where they lay. His face was scored by a thousand wrinkles,
and almost black with exposure to the sun and wind, but yet of a
marvellous tenderness and beauty. Indeed, except that it was far more
ancient, and the features were on a larger and a grander scale, it
reminded Tua of the face of Pharaoh after he was dead.

"My Father," said Tua, sitting up, for an impulse prompted her to name
this wanderer thus, "say whence do you come, and what would you with
your servants?"

"My Daughter," answered the old man in a sweet, grave voice, "I come
from the wilderness which is my home. Long have I outlived all those of
my generation, yes, and their children also. Therefore the wilderness
and the forest that do not change are now my only friends, since they
alone knew me when I was young. Be p