loud shouts, uproar, and clashing greeted the travellers in the valley of
the mines, which was wont to be so silent, the captain of the guards
thought that the prisoners' greatest festival was being celebrated in an
unusually noisy way and communicated this conjecture to the other guards
who had paused to listen.

Then the party pressed forward without delay, but no one raised his head;
the noon-day sun blazed so fiercely, and the dazzling walls of the ravine
sent forth a reflected glow as fierce as if they were striving to surpass
the heat of the neighboring smelting furnaces.

Spite of the nearness of the goal the prisoners tottered forward as if
asleep, only one held his breath in the intensity of suspense.

As the battle-charger in the plough arches his neck, and expands his
nostrils, while his eyes flash fire, so Joshua's bowed figure, spite of
the sack that burdened his shoulders, straightened itself, and his
sparkling eyes were turned toward the spot whence came the sounds the
captain of the guards had mistaken for the loud tumult of festal mirth.

He, Joshua, knew better. Never could he mistake the roar echoing there;
it was the war-cry of Egyptian soldiers, the blast of the trumpet
summoning the warriors, the clank of weapons, and the battle-shouts of
hostile hordes.

Ready for prompt action, he bent toward his yokemate, and whispered
imperiously:

"The hour of deliverance is at hand. Take heed, and obey me blindly."

Strong excitement overpowered his companion also, and Hosea had scarcely
glanced into the side-valley ere he bade him hold himself in readiness.

The first look into the ravine had showed him, on the summit of a cliff,
a venerable face framed in snowy locks--his father's. He would have
recognized him among thousands and at a far greater distance! But from
the beloved grey head he turned a swift glance at the guide, who had
stopped in speechless horror, and supposing that a mutiny had broken out
among the prisoners, with swift presence of mind shouted hoarsely to the
other guards:

"Keep behind the convicts and cut down every one who attempts to escape!"

But scarcely had his subordinates hurried to the end of the train, ere
Joshua whispered to his companion:

"At him!"

As he spoke the Hebrew, who, with his yoke-mate, headed the procession,
attacked the astonished leader, and ere he was aware of it, Joshua seized
his right arm, the other his left.

The strong man, whose powers were doubled by his rage, struggled
furiously to escape, but Joshua and his companion held him in an iron
grasp.

A single rapid glance had showed the chief the path he must take to join
his people True, it led past a small band of Egyptian bow-men, who were
discharging their arrows at the Hebrews on the opposite cliff, but the
enemy would not venture to fire at him and his companion; for the
powerful figure of the captain of the guards, clearly recognizable by his
dress and weapons, shielded them both.

"Lift the chain with your right hand," whispered Joshua, "I will hold our
living buckler. We must ascend the cliff crab-fashion."

His companion obeyed, and as they advanced within bow-shot of the
enemy--moving sometimes backward, sometimes sideways--they held the
Egyptian before them and with the ringing shout: "The son of Nun is
returning to his father and to his people!" Joshua step by step drew
nearer to the Hebrew combatants.

Not one of the Egyptians who knew the captain of the prisoners' guard had
ventured to send an arrow at the escaping prisoners. While the fettered
pair were ascending the cliff backward, Joshua heard his name shouted in
joyous accents, and directly after Ephraim, with a band of youthful
warriors, came rushing down the height toward him.

To his astonishment Joshua saw the huge shield, sword, or battle-axe of
an Egyptian heavily-armed soldier in the hands of each of these sons of
his people, but the shepherd's sling and the bag of round stones also
hung from many girdles.

Ephraim led his companions and, before greeting his uncle, formed them
into two ranks like a double wall between Joshua and the hostile bow-men.

Then he gave himself up to the delight of meeting, and a second glad
greeting soon followed; for old Nun, protected by the tall Egyptian
shields which the sea had washed ashore, had been guided to the
projecting rock in whose shelter strong hands were filing the fetters
from Joshua and his companion, while Ephraim, with several others, bound
the captain.

The unfortunate man had given up all attempt at resistance and submitted
to everything as if utterly crushed. He only asked permission to wipe his
eyes ere his arms were bound behind his back; for tear after tear was
falling on the grey beard of the warder who, outwitted and overpowered,
no longer felt capable of discharging the duties of his office.

Nun clasped to his heart with passionate fervor the rescued son whom he
had already mourned as lost. Then, releasing him, he stepped back and
never wearied of feasting his eyes on him and hearing him repeat that,
faithful to his God, he had consecrated himself to the service of his
people.

But it was for a brief period only that they gave themselves up to the
bliss of this happy meeting; the battle asserted its rights, and its
direction fell, as a matter of course, to Joshua.

He had learned with grateful joy, yet not wholly untinged with
melancholy, of the fate which had overtaken the brave army among whose
leaders he had long proudly numbered himself, and also heard that another
body of armed shepherds, under the command of Hur, Miriam's husband, had
attacked the turquoise mines of Dophkah, which situated a little farther
toward the south, could be reached in a few hours. If they conquered,
they were to join the young followers of Ephraim before sunset.

The latter was burning with eagerness to rush upon the Egyptians, but the
more prudent Joshua, who had scanned the foe, though he did not doubt
that they must succumb to the fiery shepherds, who were far superior to
them in numbers, was anxious to shed as little blood as possible in this
conflict, which was waged on his account, so he bade Ephraim cut a palm
from the nearest tree, ordered a shield to be handed to him and then,
waving the branch as an omen of peace, yet cautiously protecting himself,
advanced alone to meet the foe.

The main body were drawn up in front of the mines and, familiar with the
signal which requested negotiations, asked their commander for an
interview.

The latter was ready to grant it, but first desired to know the contents
of a letter which had just been handed to him and must contain evil
tidings. This was evident from the messenger's looks and the few words
which, though broken, were pregnant with meaning, that he had whispered
to his countryman.

While some of Pharaoh's warriors offered refreshments to the exhausted,
dust-covered runner, and listened with every token of horror to the
tidings he hoarsely gasped, the commander of the troops read the letter.

His features darkened and, when he had finished, he clenched the papyrus
fiercely; for it had announced tidings no less momentous than the
destruction of the army, the death of Pharaoh Menephtah, and the
coronation of his oldest surviving son as Seti II., after the attempt of
Prince Siptah to seize the throne had been frustrated. The latter had
fled to the marshy region of the Delta, and Aarsu, the Syrian, after
abandoning him and supporting the new king, had been raised to the chief
command of all the mercenaries. Bai, the high-priest and chief-judge, had
been deprived of his rank and banished by Seti II. Siptah's confederates
had been taken to the Ethiopian gold mines instead of to the copper
mines. It was also stated that many women belonging to the House of the
Separated had been strangled; and Siptah's mother had undoubtedly met the
same fate. Every soldier who could be spared from the mines was to set
off at once for Tanis, where veterans were needed for the new legions.

This news exerted a powerful influence; for after Joshua had told the
commander that he was aware of the destruction of the Egyptian army and
expected reinforcements which had been sent to capture Dophkah to arrive
within a few hours, the Egyptian changed his imperious tone and
endeavored merely to obtain favorable conditions for retreat. He was but
too well aware of the weakness of the garrison of the turquoise mines and
knew that he could expect no aid from home. Besides, the mediator
inspired him with confidence; therefore, after many evasions and threats,
he expressed himself satisfied with the assurance that the garrison,
accompanied by the beasts of burden and necessary provisions, should be
allowed to depart unharmed. This, however, was not to be done until after
they had laid down their arms and showed the Hebrews all the galleries
where the prisoners were at work.

The young Hebrews, who twice outnumbered the Egyptians, at once set about
disarming them; and many an old warrior's eyes grew dim, many a man broke
his lance or snapped his arrows amid execrations and curses, while some
grey-beards who had formerly served under Joshua and recognized him,
raised their clenched fists and upbraided him as a traitor.

The dregs of the army were sent for this duty in the wilderness and most
of the men bore in their faces the impress of corruption and brutality.
Those in authority on the Nile knew how to choose soldiers whose duty it
was to exercise pitiless severity against the defenceless.

At last the mines were opened and Joshua himself seized a lamp and
pressed forward into the hot galleries where the naked prisoners of
state, loaded with fetters, were hewing the copper ore from the walls.

Already he could hear in the distance the picks, whose heads were shaped
like a swallow's tail, bite the hard rock. Then he distinguished the
piteous wails of tortured men and women; for cruel overseers had followed
them into the mine and were urging the slow to greater haste.

To-day, Pharaoh's birthday, they had been driven to the temple of Hathor
on the summit of the neighboring height, to pray for the king who had
plunged them into the deepest misery, and they would have been released
from labor until the next morning, had not the unexpected attack induced
the commander to force them back into the mines. Therefore to-day the
women, who were usually obliged merely to crush and sift the ores needed
to make glass and dyes, were compelled to labor in the galleries.

When the convicts heard Joshua's shouts and footsteps, which echoed from
the bare cliffs, they were afraid that some fresh misfortune was
impending, and wailing and lamentations arose in all directions. But the
deliverer soon reached the first convicts, and the glad tidings that he
had come to save them from their misery speedily extended to the inmost
depths of the mines.

Wild exultation filled the galleries which were wont to witness only
sorrowful moans and burning tears; yet loud cries for help, piteous
wailings, groans, and the death-rattle reached Joshua's ear; for a
hot-blooded man had rushed upon the overseer most hated and felled him
with his pick-axe. His example quickly inflamed the others' thirst for
vengeance and, ere it could be prevented, the same fate overtook the
other officials. But they had defended themselves and the corpse of many
a prisoner strewed the ground beside their tormentors.

Obeying Joshua's call, the liberated multitude at last emerged into the
light of day. Savage and fierce were the outcries which blended in
sinister discord with the rattling of the chains they dragged after them.
Even the most fearless among the Hebrews shrank in horror as they beheld
the throng of hapless sufferers in the full radiance of the sunlight; for
the dazzled, reddened eyes of the unfortunate sufferers,--many of whom
had formerly enjoyed in their own homes or at the king's court every
earthly blessing; who had been tender mothers and fathers, rejoiced in
doing good, and shared all the blessings of the civilization of a richly
gifted people,--these dazzled eyes which at first glittered through tears
caused by the swift transition from the darkness of the mines to the
glare of the noon-day sun, soon sparkled as fiercely and greedily as
those of starving owls.

At first, overwhelmed by the singular change in their destiny, they
struggled for composure and did not resist the Hebrews, who, at Joshua's
signal, began to file the fetters from their ankles; but when they
perceived the disarmed soldiers and overseers who, guarded by Ephraim and
his companions, were ranged at the base of a cliff, a strange excitement
overpowered them. Amid shrieks and yells which no name can designate, no
words describe, they broke from those who were trying to remove their
fetters and, though no glance or word had been exchanged between them,
obeyed the same terrible impulse, and unheeding the chains that burdened
them, rushed upon the defenceless Egyptians. Before the Hebrews could
prevent it, each threw himself upon the one who had inflicted the worst
suffering upon him; and here might be seen an emaciated man clutching the
throat of his stronger foe, yonder a band of nude women horribly
disfigured by want and neglect, rush upon the man who had most rudely
insulted, beaten, and abused them, and with teeth and nails wreak upon
him their long repressed fury.

It seemed as though the flood-tide of hate had burst its dam and,
unfettered, was demanding its victims.

There was a horrible scene of attack and defence, a ferocious, bloody
conflict on foot and amid the red sand of the desert, shrieks, yells, and
howls pierced the ear; nay, it was difficult to distinguish individuals
in this motley confusion of men and women, animated on the one side by
the wildest passion, a yearning for vengeance amounting to
blood-thirstiness, and on the other by the dread of death and the
necessity for self-defence.

Only a few of the prisoners had succeeded in controlling themselves; but
they, too, shouted irritating words to their fellows, reviled the
Egyptians in violent excitement, and shook their clenched fists at the
disarmed foe.

The fury with which the liberated serfs rushed upon their tormentors was
as unprecedented as the cruelties they had suffered.

But Joshua had deprived the Egyptians of their weapons, and they were
therefore under his protection.

So he commanded his men to separate the combatants, if possible without
bloodshed; but the task was no easy one, and many new and horrible deeds
were committed. At last, however, it was accomplished, and they now
perceived how terribly rage had increased the strength of the exhausted
and feeble sufferers; for though no weapons had been used in the conflict
a number of corpses strewed the spot, and most of the guards were
bleeding from terrible wounds.

After quiet had been restored, Joshua asked the wounded commander for the
list of prisoners, but he pointed to the clerk of the mines, whom none of
the convicts had assailed. He had been their physician and treated them
kindly-an elderly man, he had himself undergone sore trials and, knowing
the pain of suffering, was ready to alleviate the pangs of others.

He willingly read aloud the names of the prisoners, among which were
several Hebrew ones, and after each individual had responded, many
declared themselves ready to join the wandering tribes.

When the disarmed soldiers and guards at last set out on their way home,
the captain of the band that had escorted Joshua and his companions left
the other Egyptians, and with drooping head and embarrassed mien
approached old Nun and his son, and begged permission to go with them;
for he could expect no favor at home and there was no God in Egypt so
mighty as theirs. It had not escaped his notice that Hosea, who had once
been a chief in the Egyptian service, had raised his hands in the sorest
straits to this God, and never had he witnessed the same degree of
resolution that he possessed. Now he also knew that this same mighty God
had buried Pharaoh's powerful army in the sea to save His people. Such a
God was acceptable to his heart, and he desired nothing better than to
remain henceforward with those who served Him.

Joshua willingly allowed him to join the Hebrews. Then it appeared that
there were fifteen of the latter among the liberated prisoners and, to
Ephraim's special delight, Reuben, the husband of poor melancholy Milcah,
who clung so closely to Miriam. His reserved, laconic disposition had
stood him in good stead, and the arduous forced labor seemed to have
inflicted little injury on his robust frame.

The exultation of victory, the joy of success, had taken full possession
of Ephraim and his youthful band; but when the sun set and there was
still no sign of Hur and his band, Nun and his followers were seized with
anxiety.

Ephraim had already proposed to go with some of his companions in quest
of tidings, when a messenger announced that Hur's men had lost courage at
the sight of the well-fortified Egyptian citadel. Their leader, it is
true, had urged them to the assault, but his band had shrunk from the
peril and, unless Nun and his men brought aid, they would return with
their mission unfulfilled.

It was therefore resolved to go to the assistance of the timorous. With
joyous confidence they marched forward and, during the journey through
the cool night, Ephraim and Nun described to Joshua how they had found
Kasana and how she had died. What she had desired to communicate to the
man she loved was now made known to him, and the warrior listened with
deep emotion and remained silent and thoughtful until they reached
Dophkah, the valley of the turquoise mines, from whose center rose the
fortress which contained the prisoners.

Hur and his men had remained concealed in a side-valley, and after Joshua
had divided the Hebrew force into several bodies and assigned to each a
certain task, he gave at dawn the signal for the assault.

After a brief struggle the little garrison was overpowered and the
fortress taken. The disarmed Egyptians, like their companions at the
copper mines, were sent home. The prisoners were released and the lepers,
whose quarters were in a side-valley beyond the mines--among them were
those who at Joshua's bidding had been brought here--were allowed to
follow the conquerors at a certain distance.

What Hur, Miriam's husband, could not accomplish, Joshua had done, and
ere the young soldiers departed with Ephraim, old Nun assembled them to
offer thanks to the Lord. The men under Hur's command also joined in the
prayer and wherever Joshua appeared Ephraim's companions greeted him with
cheers.

"Hail to our chief!" often rang on the air, as they marched forward:
"Hail to him whom the Most High Himself has chosen for His sword! We will
gladly follow him; for through him God leads us to victory."

Hur's men also joined in these shouts, and he did not forbid them; nay,
after the storming of the fortress, he had thanked Joshua and expressed
his pleasure in his liberation.

At the departure, the younger man had stepped back to let the older one
precede him; but Hur had entreated grey-haired Nun, who was greatly his
senior, to take the head of the procession, though after the deliverance
of the people on the shore of the Red Sea he had himself been appointed
by Moses and the elders to the chief command of the Hebrew soldiers.

The road led first through a level mountain valley, then it crossed the
pass known as the "Sword-point ", which was the only means of
communication between the mines and the Red Sea.

The rocky landscape was wild and desolate, and the path to be climbed
steep. Joshua's old father, who had grown up on the flat plains of Goshen
and was unaccustomed to climbing mountains, was borne amid the joyous
acclamations of the others, in the arms of his son and grandson, to the
summit of the pass; but Miriam's husband who, at the head of his men,
followed the division of Ephraim's companions, heard the shouts of the
youths yet moved with drooping head and eyes bent on the ground.

At the summit they were to rest and wait for the people who were to be
led through the wilderness of Sin to Dophkah.

The victors gazed from the top of the pass in search of the travellers;
but as yet no sign of them appeared. But when they looked back along the
mountain path whence they had come a different spectacle presented
itself, a scene so grand, so marvellous, that it attracted every eye as
though by a magic spell; for at their feet lay a circular valley,
surrounded by lofty cliffs, mountain ridges, peaks, and summits, which
here white as chalk, yonder raven-black, here grey and brown, yonder red
and green, appeared to grow upward from the sand toward the azure sky of
the wilderness, steeped in dazzling light, and unshadowed by the tiniest
cloudlet.

All that the eye beheld was naked and bare, silent and lifeless. On the
slopes of the many-colored rocks, which surrounded the sandy valley, grew
no blade of grass nor smallest plant. Neither bird, worm, nor beetle
stirred in these silent tracts, hostile to all life. Here the eye
discerned no cultivation,--nothing that recalled human existence. God
seemed to have created for Himself alone these vast tracts which were of
service to no living creature. Whoever penetrated into this wilderness
entered a spot which the Most High had perchance chosen for a place of
rest and retreat, like the silent, inaccessible Holy of Holies of the
temple.

The young men had gazed mutely at the wonderful scene at their feet. Now
they prepared to encamp and showed themselves diligent in serving old
Nun, whom they sincerely loved. Resting among them under a hastily
erected canopy he related, with sparkling eyes, the deeds his son had
performed.

Meanwhile Joshua and Hur were still standing at the top of the pass, the
former gazing silently down into the dreary, rocky valley, which
overarched by the blue dome of the sky, surrounded by the mountain
pillars and columns from God's own workshop, opened before him as the
mightiest of temples.

The old man had long gazed gloomily at the ground, but he suddenly
interrupted the silence and said:

"In Succoth I erected a heap of stones and called upon the Lord to be a
witness between us. But in this spot, amid this silence, it seems to me
that without memorial or sign we are sure of His presence." Here he drew
his figure to a greater height and continued: "And I now raise mine eyes
to Thee, Adonai, and address my humble words to Thee, Jehovah, Thou God
of Abraham and of our fathers, that Thou mayst a second time be a witness
between me and this man whom Thou Thyself didst summon to Thy service,
that he might be Thy sword."

He had uttered these words with eyes and hands uplifted, then turning to
the other, he said with solemn earnestness:

"So I ask thee Hosea, son of Nun, dost thou remember the vow which thou
and I made before the stones in Succoth?"

"I do," was the reply. "And in sore disaster and great peril I perceived
what the Most High desired of me, and am resolved to devote to Him all
the strength of body and soul with which He has endowed me, to Him alone,
and to His people, who are also mine. Henceforward I will be called
Joshua . . . nor will I seek service with the Egyptians or any foreign
king; for the Lord our God through the lips of thy wife bestowed this
name upon me."

Then Hur, with solemn earnestness, broke in: "That is what I expected to
hear and as, in this place also, the Most High is a witness between me
and thee and hears this conversation, let the vow I made in His presence
be here fulfilled. The heads of the tribes and Moses, the servant of the
Lord, appointed me to the command of the fighting-men of our people. But
now thou dost call thyself Joshua, and hast vowed to serve no other than
the Lord our God. I am well aware thou canst accomplish far greater
things as commander of an army than I, who have grown grey in driving
herds, or than any other Hebrew, by whatever name he is known, so I will
fulfil the vow sworn at Succoth. I will ask Moses, the servant of the
Lord, and the elders to confide to thee the office of commander. In their
hands will I place the decision and, because I feel that the Most High
beholds my heart, let me confess that I have thought of thee with secret
rancor. Yet, for the welfare of the people, I will forget what lies
between us and offer thee my hand."

With these words he held out his hand to Joshua and the latter, grasping
it, replied with generous candor:

"Thy words are manly and mine shall be also. For the sake of the people
and the cause we both serve, I will accept thy offer. Yet since thou hast
summoned the Most High as a witness and He hears me, I, too, will not
withhold one iota of the truth. The Lord Himself has summoned me to the
office of commander of the fighting-men which thou dost desire to commit
to me. It was done through Miriam, thy wife, and is my due. Yet I
recognize thy willingness to yield thy dignity to me as a praiseworthy
deed, since I know how hard it is for a man to resign power, especially
in favor of a younger one whom he does not love. Thou hast done this, and
I am grateful. I, too, have thought of thee with secret rancor; for
through thee I lost another possession harder for a man to renounce than
office: the love of woman."

The hot blood mounted into Hur's cheeks, as he exclaimed:

"Miriam! I did not force her into marriage; nay I did not even purchase
her, according to the custom of our fathers, with the bridal dowry--she
became my wife of her own free will."

"I know it," replied Joshua quietly, "yet there was one man who had
yearned to make her his longer and more ardently than thou, and the fire
of jealousy burned fiercely in his heart. But have no anxiety; for wert
thou now to give her a letter of divorce and lead her to me that I might
open my arms and tent to receive her, I would exclaim:

"Why hast thou done this thing to thyself and to me? For a short time ago
I learned what woman's love is, and that I was mistaken when I believed
Miriam shared the ardor of my heart. Besides, during the march with
fetters on my feet, in the heaviest misfortune, I vowed to devote all the
strength and energy of soul and body to the welfare of our people. Nor
shall the love of woman turn me from the great duty I have taken upon
myself. As for thy wife, I shall treat her as a stranger unless, as a
prophetess, she summons me to announce a new message from the Lord."

With these words he held out his hand to his companion and, as Hur
grasped it, loud voices were heard from the fighting-men, for messengers
were climbing the mountain, who, shouting and beckoning, pointed to the
vast cloud of dust that preceded the march of the tribes.




CHAPTER XXV.

The Hebrews came nearer and nearer, and many of the young combatants
hastened to meet them. These were not the joyous bands, who had joined
triumphantly in Miriam's song of praise, no, they tottered toward the
mountain slowly, with drooping heads. They were obliged to scale the pass
from the steeper side, and how the bearers sighed; how piteously the
women and children wailed, how fiercely the drivers swore as they urged
the beasts of burden up the narrow, rugged path; how hoarsely sounded the
voices of the half fainting men as they braced their shoulders against
the carts to aid the beasts of burden.

These thousands who, but a few short days before, had so gratefully felt
the saving mercy of the Lord, seemed to Joshua, who stood watching their
approach, like a defeated army.

But the path they had followed from their last encampment, the harbor by
the Red Sea, was rugged, arid, and to them, who had grown up among the
fruitful plains of Lower Egypt, toilsome and full of terror.

It had led through the midst of the bare rocky landscape, and their eyes,
accustomed to distant horizons and luxuriant green foliage, met narrow
boundaries and a barren wilderness.

Since passing through the Gate of Baba, they had beheld on their way
through the valley of the same name and their subsequent pilgrimage
through the wilderness of Sin, nothing save valleys with steep precipices
on either side. A lofty mountain of the hue of death had towered, black
and terrible, above the reddish-brown slopes, which seemed to the
wanderers like the work of human hands, for the strata of stones rose at
regular intervals. One might have supposed that the giant builders whose
hands had toiled here in the service of the Sculptor of the world had
been summoned away ere they had completed the task, which in this
wilderness had no searching eye to fear and seemed destined for the
service of no living creature. Grey and brown granite cliffs and ridges
rose on both sides of the path, and in the sand which covered it lay
heaps of small bits of red porphyry and coal-black stones that seemed as
if they had been broken by the blows of a hammer and resembled the dross
from which metal had been melted. Greenish masses of rock, most peculiar
in form, surrounded the narrow, cliff circled mountain valleys, which
opened into one another. The ascending path pierced them; and often the
Hebrews, as they entered, feared that the lofty cliffs in the distance
would compel them to return. Then murmurs and lamentations arose, but the
mode of egress soon appeared and led to another rock-valley.

On departing from the harbor at the Red Sea they had often found thorny
gum acacias and an aromatic desert plant, which the animals relished; but
the farther they entered the rocky wilderness, the more scorching and
arid the sand became, and at last the eye sought in vain for herbs and
trees.

At Elim fresh springs and shade-giving palms were found, and at the Red
Sea there were well-filled cisterns; but here at the camp in the
wilderness of Sin nothing had been discovered to quench the thirst, and
at noon it seemed as though an army of spiteful demons had banished every
inch of shade cast by the cliffs; for every part of the valleys and
ravines blazed and glowed, and nowhere was there the slightest protection
from the scorching sun.

The last water brought with them had been distributed among the human
beings and animals, and when the procession started in the morning not a
drop could be found to quench their increasing thirst.

Then the old doubting rancor and rebelliousness took possession of the
multitude. Curses directed against Moses and the elders, who had led them
from the comfort of well-watered Egypt to this misery, never ceased; but
when they climbed the pass of the "Swordpoint" their parched throats had
become too dry for oaths and invectives.

Messengers from old Nun, Ephraim, and Hur had already informed the
approaching throngs that the young men had gained a victory and liberated
Joshua and the other captives; but their discouragement had become so
great that even this good news made little change, and only a flitting
smile on the bearded lips of the men, or a sudden flash of the old light
in the dark eyes of the women appeared.

Miriam, accompanied by melancholy Milcah, had remained with her
companions instead of, as usual, calling upon the women to thank the Most
High.

Reuben, the husband of her sorrowful ward whom fear of disappointment
still deterred from yielding to his newly-awakened hopes, was a quiet,
reticent man, so the first messenger did not know whether he was among
the liberated prisoners. But great excitement overpowered Milcah and,
when Miriam bade her be patient, she hurried from one playmate to another
assailing them with urgent questions. When even the last could give her
no information concerning the husband she had loved and lost, she burst
into loud sobs and fled back to the prophetess. But she received little
consolation, for the woman who was expecting to greet her own husband as
a conqueror and see the rescued friend of her childhood, was
absent-minded and troubled, as if some heavy burden oppressed her soul.

Moses had left the tribes as soon as he learned that the attack upon the
mines had succeeded and Joshua was rescued; for it had been reported that
the warlike Amalekites, who dwelt in the oasis at the foot of Mt. Sinai,
were preparing to resist the Hebrews' passage through their well-watered
tract in the wilderness with its wealth of palms. Accompanied by a few
picked men he set off across the mountains in quest of tidings, expecting
to join his people between Alush and Rephidim in the valley before the
oasis.

Abidan, the head of the tribe of Benjamin, with Hur and Nun, the princes
of Judah and Ephraim after their return from the mines--were to represent
him and his companions.

As the people approached the steep pass Hur, with more of the rescued
prisoners, came to meet them, and hurrying in advance of all the rest was
young Reuben, Milcah's lost husband. She had recognized him in the
distance as he rushed down the mountain and, spite of Miriam's protest,
darted into the midst of the tribe of Simeon which marched in front of
hers.

The sight of their meeting cheered many a troubled spirit and when at
last, clinging closely to each other, they hurried to Miriam and the
latter beheld the face of her charge, it seemed as though a miracle had
been wrought; for the pale lily had become in the hue of her cheeks a
blooming rose. Her lips, too, which she had but rarely and timidly opened
for a question or an answer, were in constant motion; for how much she
desired to know, how many questions she had to ask the silent husband who
had endured such terrible suffering.

They were a handsome, happy pair, and it seemed to them as if, instead of
passing naked rocks over barren desert paths, they were journeying
through a vernal landscape where springs were gushing and birds carolling
their songs.

Miriam, who had done everything in her power to sustain the grieving
wife, was also cheered by the sight of her happiness. But every trace of
joyous sympathy soon vanished from her features; for while Reuben and
Milcah, as if borne on wings, seemed scarcely to touch the soil of the
wilderness, she moved forward with drooping head, oppressed by the
thought that it was her own fault that no like happiness could bloom for
her in this hour.

She told herself that she had made a sore sacrifice, worthy of the
highest reward and pleasing in the sight of God, when she refused to obey
the voice of her heart, yet she could not banish from her memory the
dying Egyptian who had denied her right to be numbered among those who
loved Hosea, the woman who for his sake had met so early a death.

She, Miriam, lived, yet she had killed the most fervent desire of her
soul; duty forbade her thinking with ardent longing of him who lingered
up yonder, devoted to the cause of his people and the God of his fathers,
a free, noble man, perhaps the future leader of the warriors of her race,
and if Moses so appointed, next to him the first and greatest of all the
Hebrews, but lost, forever lost to her.

Had she on that fateful night obeyed the yearning of her woman's heart
and not the demands of the vocation which placed her far above all other
women, he would long since have clasped her in his arms, as quiet Reuben
embraced his poor, feeble Milcah, now so joyous as she walked stoutly at
his side.

What thoughts were these?

She must drive them back to the inmost recesses of her heart, seek to
crush them; for it was a sin for her to long so ardently to meet another.
She wished for her husband's presence, as a saviour from herself and the
forbidden desires of this terrible hour.

Hur, the prince of the tribe of Judah, was her husband, not the former
Egyptian, the liberated captive. What had she to ask from the Ephraimite,
whom she had forever refused?

Why should it hurt her that the liberated prisoner did not seek her; why
did she secretly cherish the foolish hope that momentous duties detained
him?

She scarcely saw or heard what was passing around her, and Milcah's
grateful greeting to her husband first informed her that Hur was
approaching.

He had waved his hand to her while still afar, but he came alone, without
Hosea or Joshua, she cared not what the rescued man called himself; and
it angered her to feel that this hurt her, nay, pierced her to the heart.
Yet she esteemed her elderly husband and it was not difficult for her to
give him a cordial welcome.

He answered her greeting joyously and tenderly; but when she pointed to
the re-united pair and extolled him as victor and deliverer of Reuben and
so many hapless men, he frankly owned that he had no right to this
praise, it was the due of "Joshua," whom she herself had summoned in the
name of the Most High to command the warriors of the people.

Miriam turned pale and, in spite of the steepness of the road, pressed
her husband with questions. When she heard that Joshua was resting on the
heights with his father and the young men and refreshing themselves with
wine, and that Hur had promised to resign voluntarily, if Moses desired
to entrust the command to him, her heavy eye-brows contracted in a gloomy
frown beneath her broad forehead and, with curt severity, she exclaimed:

"You are my lord, and it is not seemly for me to oppose you, not even if
you forget your own wife so far that you give place to the man who once
ventured to raise his eyes to her."

"He no longer cares for you," Hur eagerly interrupted; "nay, were I to