And haste they did, human feet pacing against the tread of the waters. They stood erect despite the deadly air, and ran—ran, while the swirling behind them grew to a roaring; and of a sudden the slimy pools at their feet, through which they stumbled, began to swell from their soles to their ankles; and all the water, once chill, grew warm, rushing fresh from the sun-loved current. Then all around the air began to whistle past them in stifling blasts, heralds of the conquering river, blowing as swift as the waters chased them, and hurrying the fugitives onward. The roaring behind rose to reëchoing thunder, cavern answering to cavern, till it seemed that all the demons of the deep were howling after as for their prey. The stream had risen from ankle to knee—now higher. Isaiah stumbled; his lamp was quenched, and all was noise and utter darkness. Darius’s voice sounded above the swirl, his firm spirit bent at last: “Let us make our peace with Ahura! That only is left!” But the Jews caught him by the hand; he saw nothing, but under foot he felt a stairway. They were rising, rising; the waters raved after them, loath to quit their spoil. But the air—praised be the Merciful!—was growing sweet. The crash of the element was dimming below. The Jews were halting on a platform, and groping about for a keyhole. A rattle of bolts, a creaking of the pivot—Isaiah was withdrawing the huge wooden key and relocking. The three trod the embankment on the eastern side of the river. The moon was creeping up above the tracery of the tower of Bel-Marduk, and spreading her mellow light over the sleeping city. For a moment it seemed still—still as the peace of the Most High. They saw no one, they feared no one; but each fell on his knees, and after his own manner prayed. Yet they had scarce risen before Isaiah was plucking the Persian’s mantle, while Zerubbabel stretched a finger toward the river. Gliding from the royal quay, now hid in shadow, now clear in the glistening moonlight, was something black, crawling,—a huge beetle as it were upon the glancing river—a boat and their pursuers. But Isaiah was calm as the heavens above him. “Fear nothing. We have by far the start. The gates are open. My friends are ready with the horses. Jehovah, who has saved us out of the clutch of the great Euphrates, shall He not much more save from the feebler wrath of man?” “I fear nothing,” answered Darius; for after that journey what were swords and spears for him to dread? “Come, then; we go the Gate of Kisch.”