There was the soft pad-pad of a camel-hoof behind him and a servant of the aristocrat that he had passed drew up at his side. With a light leap the man dropped from the beast's neck and bowed low. The ease of his salaam and the purity of his speech were strong evidences of training among the loftiest classes of the time. The attitude asked permission to address the Essene. Marsyas signed him to speak. "I pray thee accept my master's apologies," the man said, "for interrupting thy journey. He bids me say that he is a stranger and unfamiliar with the land. We have found no water for the meal. Wilt thou direct us to a pool?" Marsyas checked his impatience. "Save that I am in great haste I would tarry to direct him. But let him send hence into the country to the westward, half a league to the hill of the flat summit. There is a grove by a well of sweet water." "Nay, the country is as obscure to us as the whereabouts of the pool," the servant protested. "We are Alexandrians and as good as lost in these hills. If thou wilt speak to my master, he will understand better than his foolish servant." Irritation forced its way up through the Essenic calm. The servant salaamed again. "The Essenes are noted even in Alexandria for their charity," he said deftly. Marsyas turned with him and went back to the fringed tent. The old aristocrat still lounged gracefully, as no thirsty man does, on his pallet of rugs, but the girl had drawn farther away and her eyes were veiled. "I perceived by thy garments that thou art an Essene," the old man said, "and therefore a safe guide in this land of few milestones." Marsyas thanked him and waited restlessly on the inquiry. "We have not found a well since mid-morning and I crave fresh drink. The water we bear is brackish." "Bid thy servants go westward without deviation for less than half a league, until they come unto a hill with a flat summit, which can be seen afar off. They will find there a grove with a well." "And none is nearer?" the old man asked idly. "There is none nearer." "My servants were bred to the desert; they are ill mountaineers. Thou wilt show them the way?" "They can not lose the way," Marsyas protested; "it is the flock's well and all the hill paths lead to it. Think not ill of me, that I can not go, for I am in haste." The old man smiled a little. "An Essene, and he will not stop to give an old man water?" Marsyas frowned resentfully, but turned to the servant at hand. "Get thy fellows and the water-skins and follow!" He turned off the Roman road and struck into the hills to the west. The servitors of the Alexandrian caught up amphoras and hastened after him. In less than an hour he reappeared before the man under the fringed tent. "Thy servants are returned. Peace and farewell." "Nay, but it is the noon. Wilt thou not tarry and rest?" "I go," Marsyas said resolutely, "to save a life."