Again the repetition of a proper name caught the ears of his listeners. Amonasis. Another of those true men of Amrath’s tale. Only to Mr. Hampton, with his partial knowledge of Athensian, was the import of the conversation between Jepthah and Amonasis understandable, however. “Let us halt a moment and await him,” said Amonasis to his two comrades, and they nodded. All drew their horses toward the grassy terrace of the plateau, and the animals, dropping their heads, begun to nibble the grass. Not six feet from the screen of bushes behind which lay Mr. Hampton, to whom they were nearest, were they. An illuminating idea which had been struggling for birth in his mind from the first sight of the horsemen burst into full being. These were not Athensian Janissaries. On the contrary, they were revolutionaries exiled to Korakum. Simultaneously with the thought came the decision to speak to them, and Mr. Hampton called cautiously in the Athensian tongue: “Don’t move, Amonasis. Our rifles cover you. See.” He poked the barrel of his rifle through the screen of bushes almost into the face of the stupefied man who he addressed. “Call Jepthah,” Mr. Hampton continued. “I have word for you two and for a third man, Shilluk, from your friend Amrath.” “I am Shilluk,” spoke up another of the three, while Amonasis beckoned Jepthah to approach and rapidly repeated what Mr. Hampton had said, “Besides,” added Shilluk, “this is my brother, Shedrach”—pointing to the fourth. “We be all true men. What sayeth Amrath?” “Come forth that we may see you,” said Amonasis. “Be not afraid.” “What of the others who have gone before?” asked Mr. Hampton, with difficulty mastering all this Athensian. “They be true men, too,” said Jepthah, in a tone of satisfaction. “Amrath should have been with us these last two days. There was a great hunting out of spies and informers in Korakum. Now all are hanged.” At these words, Mr. Hampton arose and stepped forth, at the same time beckoning his companions to do likewise. Deepest astonishment was visible on the faces of the four Athensians at this unexpected sight. “Who among you speaks French, Spanish or English?” Mr. Hampton asked. “Or Arabic, either?” he added, thinking of Ali. If Amrath had spoken truly in saying the revolutionaries all were young men of the priest clan who had been sent abroad in the world to study among various civilized peoples, it was possible that one of the four was capable of conducting the necessary conversation in a language more familiar to Mr. Hampton than Athensian. Jepthah smiled. “You are an Englishman?” he asked, in English with only a trace of accent. “I have served in the Egyptian armies of England and know the language, perhaps a trifle better than you, sir”—with a deprecatory bow—“know our native tongue.” “Not English,” said Mr. Hampton smiling, “but American. However, our tongue is the same and I’m mighty glad to meet a man who can speak it.”