at the brick-kiln travellers, soldiers, and trains of merchandise
had stopped to wait for the end of the cloud-burst.

In front of the farmhouse, too, which Hermon and his companion next
reached, they saw dozens of people seeking shelter, and the Midianite
urged his master to join them for a short time at least. The wisest
course here was probably to yield, and Hermon was already turning his
horse's head toward the house when a Greek messenger dashed past the
beckoning refuge and also by him.

"Do you dare to ride farther?" the artist shouted in a tone of warning
inquiry to the man on the dripping bay, and the latter, without pausing,
answered: "Duty! On business for the King!"

Then Hermon turned his steed back toward the road, beat the water from
his soaked beard with the edge of his hand, and with a curt "Forward!"
announced his decision to his companion. Duty summoned him also, and what
another risked for the King he would not fail to do for his friend.

The Midianite, shaking his head, rode angrily after him; but, though the
violence of the rain was lessening, the wind began to blow with redoubled
force, beating and lashing the boundless expanse of the quickly formed
lake with such savage fury that it rolled in surges like the sea, and
sweeping over it dense clouds of foam like the sand waves tossed by the
desert tempests.

Sometimes moaning, sometimes whistling, the gusts of the hurricane drove
the water and the travellers before it, while the rain poured from the
sky to the earth, and wherever it struck splashed upward, making little
whirlpools and swiftly breaking bubbles.

What might not Myrtilus suffer in this storm! This thought strengthened
Hermon's courage to twice ride past other farmhouses which offered
shelter. At the third the horse refused to wade farther in such a
tempest, so there was nothing to be done except spring off and lead it to
the higher ground which the water had not yet reached.

The interior of the peasant hut was filled with people who had sought
shelter there, and the stifling atmosphere which the artist felt at the
door induced him to remain outside.

He had stood there dripping barely fifteen minutes when loud shouts and
yells were heard on the road from Pelusium by which he had come, and upon
the flooded dike appeared a body of men rushing forward with marvellous
speed.

The nearer they came the fiercer and more bewildering sounded the loud,
shrill medley of their frantic