so, to which their
spokesman replied that they were my slaves to do what I commanded.

"Do you desire to come?" I inquired.

"O Lord Shabaka," answered their spokesman, "we do, though some of us
must leave wives and children behind us."

"Why?" I asked.

"For two reasons, Lord. Here we are men disgraced, though through no
fault of our own and if you were to leave us in this land, soon the
anger of the King would find us out and we should lose not only our
wives and children, but with them our lives. Whereas in another land we
may get other wives and more children, but never shall we get another
life. Therefore we would leave those dear ones to our friends, knowing
that soon the women will forget and find other husbands, and that the
children will grow up to whatever fate is appointed them, thinking of
us, their fathers, as dead. Secondly we are hunters by trade, and we
have seen that you are a great hunter, one whom we shall always be proud
to serve in the chase or in war, one, too, who went out of his path to
save our lives, because he saw that we had been unjustly doomed to a
cruel death. Therefore we desire nothing better than to be your slaves,
hoping that perchance we may earn our liberty from you in days to come
by our good service."

"Is that the wish of all of you?" I asked.

Speaking one by one, they said that it was, though tears rose in the
eyes of some of them who were married at the thought of parting from
their women and their little ones, who, it seemed might not be brought
with them because they were the people of the King and had not been
named in the bet. Moreover, horses could not be found for so many, nor
could they travel fast.

"Come then," I said, "and know that while you are faithful to me, I will
be good to you, men of my own trade, and perhaps in the end set you free
in a land where brave fellows are not given to be torn to pieces by wild
beasts at the word of any kind. But if you fail me or betray me, then
either I will kill you, or sell you to those who deal in slaves, to work
at the oar, or in the mines till you die."

"Henceforth we have no lord but you, O Shabaka," they said, and one
after another took my hand and pressed it to their foreheads, vowing to
be true to me in all things while we lived.

So I bade them begone to bid farewell to those they loved and return
again within half an hour of noon, never expecting, to tell the truth,
that they would come. Indeed I did this to