y.

At last the conversation ended and while the youth saw the gigantic
figure of Moses go with slow, yet firm steps among the leaders of the
Hebrews down to the shore of the sea, Nun, supported by one of his
shepherds, was working his way with difficulty, but as rapidly as
possible toward the camp. He wore a mourning-robe, and while the others
looked joyous and hopeful when they parted, his handsome face, framed by
its snow-white beard and hair, had the expression of one whose mind and
body were burdened by grief.

Not until Ephraim called him did he raise his drooping leonine head, and
when he saw him he started back in surprise and terror, and clung more
firmly to the strong arm of the shepherd who supported him.

Tidings of the cruel fate of his son and grandson had reached him
through the freed slaves he had left in Tanis; and the old man had torn
his garments, strewed ashes on his head, donned mourning robes,
and grieved bitterly for his beloved, noble, only son and promising
grandson.

Now Ephraim was standing before him; and after Nun had laid his hand on
his shoulders, and kissed him again and again, he asked if his son was
still alive and remembered him and his people.

As soon as the youth had joyfully assured him that such was the case,
Nun threw his arms around the boy's shoulders, that henceforth his own
blood, instead of a stranger, should protect him from the violence of
the storm.

He had grave and urgent duties to fulfil, from which nothing might
withhold him. Yet as the fiery youth shouted into his ear, through the
roar of the hurricane, on their way through the camp, that he would
summon his shepherds and the companions of his own age to release Hosea,
who now called himself Joshua, old Nun's impetuous spirit awoke and,
clasping Ephraim closer to his heart, he cried out that though an
old man he was not yet too aged to swing an axe and go with Ephraim's
youthful band to liberate his son. His eyes sparkled through his tears,
and waving his free arm aloft, he cried:

"The God of my fathers, on whom I learned to rely, watches over His
faithful people. Do you see the sand, sea-weed, and shells yonder at the
end of the estuary? An hour ago the place was covered with water, and
roaring waves were dashing their white spray upward. That is the
way, boy, which promises escape; if the wind holds, the water--so the
experienced Phoenicians assure us--will recede still farther toward
the sea. Their god o