They stood together, son and father, in that great solitude, as in a sense they did also in the greater solitude of the world. The father was one of those men of whom it is impossible to say he belongs to such and such a type, or, he is cast in such and such a mould. Rather was he hand-hewn, as by the Great Artist's own chisel. He was tall, spare, wiry, with a cheek as brown as southern skies could make it, dark hair and beard showing early threads of grey, dark eyes full of fire, and a mouth as sensitive as a woman's. The boy had inherited his mother's blue eyes and fair hair, but he was very like his father, both in expression and in the cast of his features, especially the shape of his forehead and the moulding of his fine mouth and chin. Slight as was the shadow of rebuke conveyed by his father's words, he felt it--it was so rare. He said simply, "I am sorry." "Did you think Euphrates worth the trouble when you found it?" asked his father, who had seen the far-famed and disappointing river long ago. "Very much the reverse, father. An uglier, muddier, blacker kind of a river I never saw." "I suppose we are quite close to it? I will go on and have a look, as there is no hurry about our start. Stay here, if you are tired, with one of the Arabs." "I will come back with you. I should like it." "Come along, then." A short walk brought them to the bank, the two Arabs following at a respectful distance stately and indifferent. The sun was setting now, and, behold! a wonder met their eyes. The dark stream was transfigured, as if by the wand of an angel. It poured rejoicing on its way, a torrent of liquid gold; for it had taken to its heart of hearts all the glory of the setting sun, and gave it back to the beholder in a marvel of radiance. So might look to mortal eyes the river of God, the river of the water of life, that runs through the shining streets of the New Jerusalem. The boy uttered a cry of wonder and delight. The father gazed in silence. At last he said, "_So the dark river turns to gold._" "But come, my boy," he added presently, "before the sun sets. Let us take away with us in memory this look of the Euphrates." Chapter II FATHER AND SON "I cannot rest from travel, I will drink Life to the lees." --_Tennyson._ While the travellers go back to their encampment, now in full preparation for the start, it may be well to introduce them formally by name. In this respect they were exactly alike; the father's name in full was John Frederick Pangbourne Grayson, and so was the son's. His friends, however, generally called him John, Johnnie, or Jack, by preference the latter, which was his father's custom also.