"And does it happen that sparks flash from people's bodies?" "It is always so when the wind blows from the desert," answered the Libyan. "Just now we saw sparks jumping not only from men, but from horses." In his voice there was such conviction that the prince approaching an officer of his cavalry whispered,-- "But look at the Libyans." When he had said this some one made a noise in the darkness, and after a while tramping was heard. When a flash lighted up the desert they saw a man escaping on horseback. "Bind these wretches!" cried the prince, "and kill any one who resists you. Woe to thee, Tehenna, if that scoundrel brings thy brethren against us. Ye will perish in dreadful tortures, thou and thy men here." In spite of rain, darkness, and thunder the prince's soldiers hurried to bind the Libyans, who made no resistance. Perhaps they were waiting for Tehenna's command, but he was so crushed that he had not even thought of fleeing. The storm subsided gradually, and instead of that heat of the daytime a piercing cold seized the desert. The men and horses had drunk all they wanted; the bags were full of water; there were dates and cakes in abundance, so a good disposition prevailed. The thunder grew weak; at last even noiseless lightning flashed less and less frequently; on the northern sky the clouds parted; here and there stars twinkled. Pentuer approached Rameses,-- "Let us return to the camp," said he. "In a couple of hours we shall be there, before the man who has escaped can lead forth an enemy." "How shall we find the camp in such darkness?" asked Rameses. "Have ye torches?" asked the priest of the Asiatics. Torches, or long cords soaked in an inflammable substance they had; but there was no fire, for their wooden fire-drills were rain soaked. "We must wait till morning," said Rameses, impatiently. Pentuer made no answer. He took a small instrument from his bag, took a torch from one of the soldiers, and went to one side. After a while there was a low hissing, and the torch was lighted. "He is a great magician, that priest," muttered the old Libyan. "Before my eyes thou hast performed a second miracle," said the prince. "Canst thou explain to me how that was done?" The priest shook his head. "Ask of me anything, lord, and I will answer. But ask not to explain temple secrets." "Not even if I were to name thee my counsellor?" "Not even then. Never shall I be a traitor, and even if I desired to be one I should be terrified by punishment." "Punishment?" repeated Rameses. "Aha! I remember in the temple of Hator, that man hidden under the pavement, on whom the priests were pouring burning pitch. Did they do that, indeed, and did that man die really in tortures?"