“Run!” commanded Binit again, when Ruth still dragged helplessly. And at the word she relaxed for a trifle her grasp. In an instant the Jewess had glided out of it, and wheeled, as if in bewildered terror, straight toward the robbers. “Ten talents lost!” And Binit gave the loudest screech of all her noisy life. By instinct she and Tabni turned to recover their prisoner, but arrows flew out to greet them, and in a moment Binit was moaning in a heap, as a shaft grazed her shoulder, while ten rough hands were securing the charmer, and as many more were holding Ruth. Then twenty tongues wagged all together, shouting, cursing, laughing, questioning; until, the breath of the robbers having failed, they dragged their three captives back to the barge, which they speedily rifled with a thoroughness born of long experience. Only when the first flush of victory had spent itself did some order become apparent, and the late kidnappers, with their victims, were ranged before an enormous Amorite, rings in nose and ears, jewels all over his tawdry dress, a tremendous spiked mace flourishing in his fingers. Binit was so frightened that she had ceased howling; Tabni held down his head as if avoiding scrutiny; while Ruth remained in perfect silence, as if dumbness were her last refuge. “Well, my brothers,” commented the leader, surveying the three, and pulling reflectively at his nose ring, “the gods reward us for the morning’s toil. These good folk seem to be worth little for ransoms, but, praised be Moloch! there are Arabian caravan merchants in the next village ahead, who, if they have not started for Egypt, will give silver shekels for three such likely slaves.” The announcement drew forth a new spasm of screams from Binit, who cast herself at the Amorite’s feet. “Oh, kind, handsome, generous lord!” she entreated, “do not sell to Egypt. See, I am wounded; I cannot work; I shall die under the whip!” “Now, by the Maskim,” swore the giant, “this is the first time for long I have been ‘kind or handsome’ to man or maid!” And he with his fellows brayed together with laughter. “Pity us,” thrust in Tabni, stretching forth his hands beseechingly. “I cannot labour. Alas! I am old; soon I must make my peace with Ea, and prepare to die.” But as he spoke, a bandit leaped forth before the rest. “Do you not know me, Tabni, you half-blind coney?—Eri-Aku the Elamite, whom you drove into this life by your false accusations of murder. Great mercy if I do not commit murder in truth! Give me leave, comrades—” He brandished his sword over the quivering charmer’s head, but his companions plucked him back, while the leader set eyes on Ruth. “Comely for a swart peasant maiden,” he remarked, “but her limbs are frail as lily stems. She cannot work.” “Deliver her to me, noble captain,” suggested Eri-Aku; “my hut in the marshes needs a likely wench like her.”