“It is well for the lad that my lord arrived just when he did,” he said to himself as he sat down by the side of Amuba and listened to his heavy breathing--for all in the house had heard from the charioteer of the rescue of the lad from the hands of furious peasants. “He must have been very near death when he was saved from their hands. Maxis said that his assailants shouted out that he was the slayer of the Cat of Bubastes about which such a turmoil has been made. Had it been so I do not think that my lord would have aided him thus to escape; though for my part I care not if he had killed all the cats in Egypt, seeing that in my native Libya we worship not the gods of the Egyptians.” Several times during the night the old man got up and plucked large handfuls of grass wet with dew and placed them on Amuba’s head, and when he perceived the first faint gleam of morning in the sky he aroused him. Amuba sat up and looked round with an air of astonishment. “Where am I?” he exclaimed. “You are at present in an orchard, my young friend, though to whom it may belong I know not; but finding that you were unable to continue your journey I drew you aside here, and you have slept well all night, and I hope feel better for it and able to proceed.” “I remember now,” Amuba said; “it seemed to me that I walked for hours leaning on your arm.” “It was but an hour,” the slave replied; “we are not yet two miles from my lord’s house.” “And you have watched over me all night,” Amuba said; “for it was, I know, but an hour after sunset when we started. Truly I am deeply indebted to you for your kindness.” “Speak not of it,” the old man replied. “My lord gave you into my charge, and I cannot return until I can tell him that you are in safety. But if you are able to walk we must pass on, for there may be a search for you as soon as it is light.” “I am perfectly able to go on,” Amuba said; “thanks to the wet grass I see you have been piling round my head, the heat seems to have passed away and the throbbing to have ceased.” Amuba was indeed now able to walk at a brisk pace. “Which way do you want to go?” the slave asked him in a short time. “It is getting light enough now for me to see your face, and it will never do for you to meet any one. Your head is still swollen, and there are marks of bruises and cuts all over the scalp. Your appearance will attract attention at once, and if any saw you who had heard of last evening’s doings you would be at once suspected.” “I will make direct for the hills,” Amuba said. “They are not far distant, and I can easily conceal myself among the rocks until sunset.”