us that he cried in anguish;
but, recovering his composure, he continued in a more valiant strain.
"Mere human beings," he said, "were the envoys who were then sent.
There was no god among them (as there now is)."

The prince had recently ordered an engraver to write a commemorative
inscription upon a stone tablet recording the fact that the king of the
gods had sent Amon-of-the-Road to Byblos as his divine messenger and
Wenamon as his human messenger, that timber had been asked for and
supplied, and that in return Amon had promised him ten thousand years of
celestial life over and above that of ordinary persons. Wenamon now
reminded him of this, asking him why he should talk so slightingly of
the Egyptian envoys when the making of this tablet showed that in
reality he considered their presence an honour. Moreover, he pointed out
that when in future years an envoy from Egypt should read this tablet,
he would of course pronounce at once the magical prayers which would
procure for the prince, who would probably then be in hell after all, a
draught of water. This remark seems to have tickled the prince's fancy,
for he gravely acknowledged its value, and spoke no more in his former
strain. Wenamon closed the interview by promising that the High Priest
of Amon-Ra would fully reward him for his various kindnesses.

Shortly after this the Egyptian paid another visit to the sea-shore to
feast his eyes upon the logs. He must have been almost unable to contain
himself in the delight and excitement of the ending of his task and his
approaching return, in triumph to Egypt; and we may see him jauntily
walking over the sand, perhaps humming a tune to himself. Suddenly he
observed a fleet of eleven ships sailing towards the town, and the song
must have died upon his lips. As they drew nearer he saw to his horror
that they belonged to the Sicilians of Dor, and we must picture him
biting his nails in his anxiety as he stood amongst the logs. Presently
they were within hailing distance, and some one called to them asking
their business. The reply rang across the water, brief and terrible;
"Arrest Wenamon! Let not a ship of his pass to Egypt." Hearing these
words the envoy of Amon-Ra, king of the gods, just now so proudly
boasting, threw himself upon the sand and burst into tears.

The sobs of the wretched man penetrated to a chamber in which the
prince's secretary sat writing at the open window, and he hurried over
to the prostrate fig