“River thieves?” groaned Binit, leaping up as if she had sat on an adder. “Their boats are hard after us. Two skiffs, ten men in each. The bargemen are straining to make for shore. Then they will only lose the boat. Woe! woe! If we are taken—” A prolonged screech from Binit, who practised her art in very earnest now, drowned out Tabni’s own noise. In the first instant of silence the voice of the barge captain thundered: “Up, all of you, if you would save liberty. Fling these wine-jars overboard, as quickly as if the Maskim were following!” With feverish haste Binit led or rather carried the Jewess to the deck. A glance told the whole story. Out from the bank of gray morning mist that clung over a stagnant lagoon near the eastern bank were shooting two long reed boats, full of armed men, who came straight on toward the luckless barge. The boatmen had dropped the sail, as useless in the morning calm, and were pulling with despairing energy toward the western shore, in hopes of escaping to land, where they could save their freedom, though the barge was doomed as plunder. “Every plague-fiend pounce on you, woman,” was the captain’s greeting to Binit, while he sweated over his oar; “it was waiting for you that delayed us and gave these scorpions their chance.” And even while he spoke, a whoop of triumph pealed across the glassy river, and two arrows splashed under the barge’s stern. Yet, despite all the master’s cursings and rage, Binit would not aid Tabni in thrusting the cargo overboard, but simply sat on a bale, clutching tight hold of Ruth. “Ten talents,” the wailer was repeating, even while her knees beat together, “ten talents, if only I can hold you fast!” A third arrow dug into the deck, and the boatmen put forth their last strength. But the two skiffs were flying three cubits to their two. Already they could see the white teeth and wolfish bright eyes of the bandits. “Yield, yield as you love your lives!” bawled many shrill voices. A new flight of arrows smote down a rower, but at this instant the barge thumped on a mud-bank close to the western shore, and stuck fast. “Save yourselves!” was the last shout of the captain, and he with his remaining men dashed through the shallow water, and, scrambling up the low bank, were soon on shore, flying inland at full speed, leaving their passengers to the mercy of fate. “Come, little lady!” Binit commanded; but Ruth hung perfectly limp on her arms, and Tabni and the woman lifted her and tugged her to the shore. “Run!” exhorted they, setting the Jewess on her feet. There was no time to be lost. The bandits, leaving the barge to plunder later, paddled straight up to the embankment, and were in pursuit in a twinkling. “Three prizes! After them!” was the general yell.