On reaching the temple the little band of captives were again drawn up, and the high priest, Ameres, a grave and distinguished-looking man, walked along the line scrutinizing them. He beckoned to Amuba to step forward. “Henceforth,” he said, “you are my servant. Behave well, and you will be well treated.” He again walked down the line, and Amuba saw that he was going to choose another, and threw himself on his knees before him. “Will my lord pardon my boldness,” he said, “but may I implore you to choose yonder man who stood next beside me? He has been my friend from childhood, he covered me with his shield in battle, he has been a father to me since I have lost my own. Do not, I implore you, my lord, separate us now. You will find us both willing to labor at whatsoever you may give us to do.” The priest listened gravely. “It shall be as you wish,” he said; “it is the duty of every man to give pleasure to those around him if it lies in his power, and as your friend is a man of thews and sinews, and has a frank and honest face, he will assuredly suit me as well as another; do you therefore both follow me to my house.” The other captives saluted Amuba as he and Jethro turned to follow. The priest observed the action, and said to the lad: “Were you a person of consequence among your people that they thus at parting salute you rather than your comrade, who is older than you?” “I am the son of him who was their king,” Amuba said. “He fell in action with your troops, and had not our city been taken, and the nation subdued by the Egyptians, I should have inherited the throne.” “Is it so?” the priest said. “Truly the changes and fortunes of life are strange. I wonder that, being the son of their king, you were not specially kept by Thotmes himself.” “I think that he knew it not,” Amuba said. “We knew not your customs, and my fellow-captives thought that possibly I might be put to death were it known that I was a son of their king, and therefore abstained from all outward marks of respect, which, indeed, would to one who was a slave like themselves have been ridiculous.” “Perhaps it is best so,” the priest said thoughtfully. “You would not have been injured, for we do not slay our captives taken in war; still maybe your life will be easier to bear as the servant of a priest than in the household of the king. You had better, however, mention to no one the rank you have borne, for it might be reported to the king, and then you might be sent for to the palace; unless indeed you would rather be a spectator of the pomp and gayety of the court than a servant in a quiet household.” “I would far rather remain with you, my lord,” Amuba said eagerly. “You have already shown the kindness of your heart by granting my request, and choosing my comrade Jethro as my fellow-slave, and I feel already that my lot will be a far happier one than I had ventured to hope.”