hearts can be light that go forward to meet the unknown
fortunes of bond-people.

As they moved out, one of the older Hebrews in the forward ranks began
to sing, in a wild recitative chant, of Canaan and the freedom of
Israel. The elders in the line near him took it up and every face in
the long column lighted and was lifted in silent concord with the
singers. Atsu in his chariot, close by, scanned his lists absorbedly,
but one of the drivers hurried forward with a demand for silence. A
young Hebrew, who had tramped in agitated silence just ahead, worked up
into recklessness by the fervor of the singers, defied him. His voice
rang clear above the song.

"Go to, thou bald-faced idolater! Israel will cease to do thy bidding
one near day."

The driver forced his way into the front ranks and began to lay about
him with his knout. Instantly he was cast forth by a dozen brawny arms.

"Mutiny!" he bawled.

A group of drivers reinforced him at once.

"By Bast," the foremost cried, as he came running. "The sedition of
the renegade, Mesu,[1] bears early fruit!"

But the spirit of rebellion became contagious and the men of Israel
began to throw themselves out of line. At this moment, Atsu seemed to
become conscious of the riot and drove his horses between the
combatants.

"Into ranks with you!" he commanded, pressing forward upon the Hebrews.
The men obeyed sullenly.

"I have said there was to be no use of the knouts," he said sharply,
turning upon the drivers. "Forward with them!"

The first driver muttered.

"What sayest thou?" Atsu demanded.

The man's mouth opened and closed, and his eyes drew up, evilly, but he
made no answer.

"Forward with them," Atsu repeated, without removing his gaze from the
driver.

Slowly, and now silently, the hereditary slaves of the Pharaoh moved
out of Pa-Ramesu. And of all the departing numbers and of all that
remained behind, none was more stricken in heart than Atsu, the stern
taskmaster over Israel.

[1] Moses.

CHAPTER II

UNDER BAN OF THE RITUAL

Holy Memphis, city of Apis, habitat of Ptah!

Not idly was she called Menefer, the Good Place. Not anywhere in Egypt
were the winds more gentle, the heavens more benign, the environs more
august.

To the south and west of her, the Libyan hills notched the horizon. To
the east the bald summits of the Arabian desert cut off the traveling
sand in its march on the capital. To the north was a shimmering