it keenly. It would be delicious to
see that girl Taia bared to the knife. It would please the god: seldom
did his hands hold such a beautiful sacrifice. And the queer stranger,
too--he would probably die very noisily. When he saw the knife sliding
down, he would regret his blasphemy and shriek for forgiveness!

For along time Hapu sat quite motionless. He was a good watchdog.
Hours passed; his vigil was nearing its end; the priests would soon
come. Soon--

A slight noise came from the cell behind him.

He whirled around. The noise came again, louder. A voice cried out.

"Water! Water! I am dying!"

Hapu grunted. It was the stranger's voice. The stranger must not die;
it would spoil the ceremony; Aten would be wroth. He stared into the
hole.

One of the figures was tossing, writhing painfully. The agonized cry
echoed again. "Water! Please! I am dying!"

Hapu strode into the cell.

For a moment he stood still, peering down at the tossing figure. His
brain suddenly shouted alarm. This was no human body! "What--" he
began.

But the question was never finished. Something hard crashed into the
back of his skull; his spear dropped with a clank, and he slumped to
the floor.

* * * * *

Out of the shadows, behind, a man emerged and bent down over the
outstretched figure of the guard. A smile appeared on the man's lean
face: the guard was out--cold. It took Wes Craig just a moment to
ascertain this; then he tiptoed over to a dark form that lay on the
floor--the girl, whose pale, anxious face peered up out of the
shadows. Craig cut her bonds with the guard's sword and raised her to
her feet. She stood close to him, clinging to him, trembling, almost
not believing she was free.

Her eyes were filled with awe as she looked up into the American's
eyes. "First thou didst restore me to life," she whispered, "and now
thou hast broken thy bonds. Surely, thou must be a god!"

Wes smiled. "It was simple, Taia. Look! This buckle on my belt--'tis
sharp. I edged it round and cut the rope. It was slow work, else we
would have been free long before."

"But I saw thee toss and writhe on the floor, and cry out for water!"

Craig kicked a pile of furs that had been heaped one on top of the
other, and tied together with thread from an unraveled woolen mitten.
"This was my body," he said coolly. "Furs. The cell must be a
storeroom for them--lucky for us. I was standing with a rock in my
hand near