ome of them jumped
up and down and clapped their hands like children, they were so glad.
And tears stood in the eyes of nearly all.

There were seventy camels, soft-eyed gentle creatures, whose flat feet
held them up on the soft sand like snowshoes. They bore packs upon their
backs which promised good things, and they came straight to the cell of
Fronto, where they stopped. And what a welcome they received! The monks
threw their arms about the beasts' necks, as they knelt on the sand, and
kissed the soft noses as though they were greeting long-lost brothers.
They were so glad to see the camels themselves that they almost forgot
to wonder whence they came, or what they were bringing. But Fronto was
looking for their owner, for the man who drove them. There was no one
to be found. They had come all alone across the desert, without any one
to guide them. Fronto's face was full of joy. "The Lord has sent them!"
he said. And the other monks bowed their heads, and were ashamed because
they had doubted.

Hungry though they were, first of all the good monks tended the tired
beasts who had come so far to save them. They relieved them from their
heavy loads, and tenderly washed their hot, weary feet, and gave them
draughts of the spring water. Some of the starving monks skurried away
to gather the green grass of the oasis for their hungry friends, and
others unfastened the bales of hay which some of the camels had brought,
and made beds for the animals to lie on. Then they all fell to and built
a fold for the seventy camels in the shade of the palm-trees. And here
they left the patient creatures to rest and chew their cud with a sigh
of relief that the long, hot journey was over.

Then the monks hurried back to Fronto, wondering if it were not now
almost time for their breakfast. They came upon him reading a letter
which he had found on the harness of the foremost camel. It was written
from the city of Alexandria, and it explained how the camels had been
sent.

Four nights before this, Glaucus, the rich merchant, had been resting on
a couch in his summer house. He had just finished an excellent dinner,
with all his favorite fishes and meats and fruits and sweets, and he was
feeling very happy. When suddenly he thought of the seventy monks who
had gone out from Nitria many days before to live in the desert with the
help which the Lord should send. And a pang smote him. Perhaps they were
starving now, while he was feasting. And