house of Commandant  of  the shehne  and  killed the
soldiers resting there after the guard had been changed.
     On the  walls  above  the struggle was even  more  desperate.  The nine
sentries on  the wall had noticed the attacking slaves in good  time. Arrows
whistled  through the air  and the silence  of the night was broken  by  the
moans of the wounded and the thud of bodies falling from above.
     Nine Egyptians, however,  could not long resist a hundred of infuriated
slaves, who flew directly on to the spears of the  soldiers  and rolled down
from the wall together with them.
     In the meantime the soldiers  and  officials had been dealt with in the
narrow confines between the two walls: the keys of the outer gates  had been
found  on the dead  Commandant and the screech of  the rusty hinges  as  the
gates opened was like a cry of victory in the night.
     Spears, shields, daggers, bows-everything was  taken from the soldiers,
clown to the last arrow.  The  armed slaves headed the crowd of runaways and
all of them, in deep silence, made their way to the river.
     Every boat, barge or  raft they could get hold of was used to begin the
river crossing. Several  men perished in  the river, falling victims  to the
huge crocodiles that guarded the waters of Tha-Quem,
     Before two  hours had  elapsed  the  vanguard  of the column reached  a
shehne  situated   on  the  other  bank  of   the  river  on  the   road  to
Zesher-Zesheru.
     Cavius, Pandion and  two  Libyans went openly to the gates and  knocked
while about a hundred other slaves  pressed  close against the wall near the
gates,
     A soldier shouted down from the wall, asking  them  what they wanted. A
Libyan who spoke  the  language of Tha-Quem fluently demanded the Commandant
of the shehne, saying that he had a letter from the Director of Royal Works.
Several voices were heard behind the door; a torch was lighted, and the door
opened, showing them a courtyard between two walls similar to  that they had
just left. The Captain of the Guard stepped forward from a group of soldiers
and demanded the letter.
     Cavius rushed at him with a  howl  of fury and  plunged Yakhmos' dagger
into his breast while Pandion and the Libyans rushed at the other  soldiers.
The  other  armed  slaves,  who  were  standing  prepared  for action,  took
advantage of the  confusion and burst into the shehne with terrifying cries.
The torches  went out and  the darkness was filled with  suppressed  groans,
howls and  martial  shouts. Pandion  made short work  of two  opponents  and
opened  the  inner door. The call to revolt resounded throughout the shehne,
now awakened by the noise of battle, as slaves darted here and there calling
to their astounded fellow-countrymen in their native  language. The compound
hummed like a beehive; the howls  grew  in  volume until they merged  into a
deep  roar.  The  soldiers on  the  walls dashed  back and forth, afraid  to
descend; they  shouted threats at the  slaves  and from time to time let fly
arrows  at random. The fight  in the corridor between the  walls  died down;
well-aimed arrows flew from the courtyard at the clearly visible soldiers on
the walls and the second shehne was liberated.
     The crowd  of  liberated slaves, puzzled and inebriated by their sudden
liberty,  streamed through the doors and spread in all directions, paying no
attention to  the shouts of their liberators. In a  short time  savage howls
came from the direction of the houses and fires broke out in several places.
Cavius  advised  the  other  leaders  to  assemble  those  of  their  shehne
companions  who were already acquainted with discipline.  The Etruscan stood
deep in thought, running  his fingers through his beard; in his eyes, turned
westwards  in  the  direction  to  be  followed,  there  was a red glint-the
reflection of the fires.
     Cavius  was thinking that  they had most  probably  made a  mistake  in
liberating the slaves  from the second  shehne without any preparatory  work
amongst them. His own followers were already familiar with the conception of
a common purposeful struggle and  it was possible that  more  harm than good
would  come of  joining them  to a mass  of people who were unprepared,  who
acted  as individuals and were  intoxicated by the  possibility of vengeance
and liberty.
     Such proved to be the case. A large number of the slaves from the first
shehne were  also attracted  by the idea  of plunder and  destruction. Apart
from  that, time  had been  lost,  every minute  of which was  of the utmost
importance. The  smaller column moved on  towards the third shehne  situated
some eight thousand cubits from the second, in the immediate vicinity of the
Temple of Zesher-Zesheru.
     There  was no time to change the plan of the revolt and  Cavius foresaw
very great difficulties.  And as  they  approached the  shehne  the Etruscan
noticed the silhouettes of soldiers  drawn up on the  walls and heard shouts
of "A'atu, a'atu!" (insurgents) followed  by the  whistle of the arrows with
which the Egyptians greeted the approaching column from a long distance.
     The insurgents halted to discuss a plan of attack. The shehne, prepared
for defence, was a good fortress, and  its capture would occupy considerable
time. The insurgents raised  a tremendous noise to awaken the slaves in  the
shehne and encourage them to attack the guards on the wall from within.
     Cavius, who was already hoarse, shouted at the top of his  voice to the
other leaders, trying to persuade them to abandon the attack. They would not
agree; the easily obtained victory had  given them confidence, and it seemed
to them  that it would be possible to liberate all the slaves  in  Quemt and
conquer the country.
     Suddenly  the Libyan, Akhmi, let out a penetrating howl and hundreds of
heads turned in his  direction. The  Libyan waved his arms,  pointing in the
direction of the river. From  the high bank  that  rose steeply  towards the
cliffs, the  river  that  washed the numerous landing places  of the capital
could be seen over a long distance. Everywhere the lights of  torches flared
up,  merging into  a  dully  flickering  line;  flickering points  of  light
appeared in the middle of the river and were gathering in two  places on the
bank on the side of the insurgents.
     There could be no doubt-large detachments of soldiers were crossing the
river, hurrying to  surround the place where there were fires and  where the
escaped slaves were concentrated.
     And here the insurgents were still dashing from  place to place seeking
a  means of attacking the shehne; some  of  them  had tried  to approach the
enemy by following the bed  of an irrigation  canal, others  were  expending
valuable arrows.
     A glance cast over the indefinite outlines  of the dark  mass of people
told Cavius that  there were not more than three hundred  men  in the column
capable of  giving battle; of these less than  a  half had knives or spears,
while only about thirty bows had been captured.
     But a short time would elapse before  hundreds of 'the terrible archers
of the Black Land  would send clouds  of long arrows into them  from a great
distance and thousands of well-trained troops would draw a tight ring around
slaves who had only just tasted liberty.
     Akhmi, his  eyes flashing in anger, shouted that  it  was already  past
midnight and that if they did not start immediately it would be too late.
     It cost the Akhmi, Cavius and Pandion many precious minutes to  explain
to the crowd, inflamed and eager for battle,  the uselessness of any attempt
to stand up  against the  troops of the capital. The leaders  insisted on an
immediate march into the desert and, in case  of necessity, were prepared to
start out themselves, leaving behind those who were distracted by the search
for weapons, by plunder  and revenge. A  number of slaves  who did not agree
left the column and  set off along the river towards the rich estate of some
aristocrat  whence came loud noises and the light of torches. The remainder,
a little more than two hundred men, agreed to go.
     Soon the long dark column, winding like a snake through a narrow canyon
between steep cliffs still hot  from the daytime sun, made  their way to the
level edge of the valley. The runaways were confronted with an endless plain
of sand and stones.  Pandion looked back for the last time at the huge river
gleaming faintly below  them.  How many days  of  sorrow,  despair, hope and
wrath he had spent beside that  calmly  flowing  waterway! Joy  and infinite
gratitude to  his trusty comrades filled the  heart of the young Hellene. In
triumph he turned his  back on the land of slavery and increased his already
fast pace.
     The band of insurgents had marched some twenty thousand cubits from the
rim of the valley  when  the Libyan halted  the column. Behind them, in  the
east, the sky had begun to grow light.
     The  contours of  the rounded  sand-dunes, some  of them  as much as  a
hundred and  fifty cubits high, stretching far away to  the vague,  scarcely
visible line of the horizon, were but faintly perceptible in the dull leaden
light of early morning. At the  hour of  dawn the desert was silent, the air
was motionless, the jackals and hyenas had ceased their howls.
     "You've been  hurrying us  all the time, why do you linger now? What do
you want?" impatient slaves in the back rows asked the Libyan.
     He explained that the most difficult part of the  journey  was about to
begin-endless ridges of sand-dunes, one  after  the other, each ridge higher
than the  last  until they reached a height  of  three  hundred cubits.  The
slaves were reformed  into a column two deep and  were told that  they would
have to keep going without halt, without dropping back, paying  no attention
to fatigue; those who fell behind would  never  reach their destination. The
Libyan would go ahead and seek a path between the dunes.
     It turned  out that  hardly anybody had found an opportunity  to  drink
before leaving and many  of them were already tormented by  thirst after the
heat of battle. Not everybody had a mantle, cloth or even rags with which to
cover his  head and shoulders from the sun, but there was nothing they could
do about it.
     Strung out in a column two hundred cubits long, the  slaves moved on in
silence, their  eyes fixed on their feet dragging through the soft sand. The
leading  files zigzagged right and left winding their way through  the dunes
to avoid slopes of shifting sand.
     A wide purple strip glowed in the sky to the east.
     The crescent-shaped  and  sharply  serrated ridges  of  the  sand-hills
turned  to  gold. In the sunlight the desert appeared before  Pandion's eyes
like  a sea  with  high  frozen  waves  whose  smooth  slopes  reflected  an
orange-yellow light. The excitement of the night gradually died down and the
men grew calmer. Liberty, the expanse of the desert, the gold of the distant
dawn-all served to revive men weary of captivity. Joy filled their hearts in
place of malice and fear, sorrow and despair.
     The morning light grew  brighter and the sky  seemed to recede into its
bottomless blue depths.  As the sun rose higher its rays at first gave  them
friendly warmth but  soon began to burn and sear them. The  slow,  dragging,
toilsome path through the labyrinth of deep gullies  between high sand-hills
became more and  more difficult.  The shadows of the hills grew shorter;  it
became painful to walk over the burning hot sand, but the men went on, never
stopping,   never  looking  back.  Ahead  of  them  lay  endless  ridges  of
sand-hills,  all  exactly  the  same,  that  cut  off  all  view  of   their
surroundings.
     As time went on the air, sunlight and sand merged into one  huge sea of
flame, that blinded, asphyxiated and burned like molten metal.
     The  journey  was  especially  difficult  for  those  who came from the
northern countries like Pandion and the two Etruscans.
     Pandion felt that  his  head was squeezed in an iron  band,  the  blood
throbbing furiously at the temples, causing him great pain.
     He was almost blinded;  before his eyes floated patches and  stripes of
the most  astoundingly brilliant colours that flowed  and  whirled, changing
their  combinations  in  wonderful  kaleidoscopic patterns.  The  unbearable
strength of the sun turned the sand into golden dust permeated with light.
     Pandion  was in a delirium, hallucinations  grew  out  of his  maddened
brain.  The colossal  statues  of Aigyptos  moved through flashes of crimson
fire and  sank into  the waves of a  purple sea. Then the sea  fell back and
packs  of strange creatures, half-beast  and  half-bird, flew down  from the
steep  cliffs at amazing speed. And once more the  granite Pharaohs  of  the
Black Land formed into battle order and advanced towards Pandion.
     Staggering on,  he rubbed his eyes and slapped  his cheeks in an effort
to  see what was really  there-the heat-breathing slopes  of the  sand-dunes
that piled  one on the other in the blinding, grey-gold light. But again the
whirling vortices of coloured fire appeared and Pandion was  lost in a heavy
delirium. Nothing  but the  fervent desire  for freedom could have made  him
keep moving in step  with Kidogo,  leaving thousands of  sand-dunes  behind.
Fresh chains of hills confronted the  runaways and  between them  were huge,
smooth-sided craters at the bottom of which could be seen coal-black patches
of soil.
     The hoarse imploring moans that  passed along the column  grew more and
more frequent; here and  there exhausted men dropped  to their knees or fell
face  down in  the scorching sand, begging their comrades  to put  an end to
their suffering.
     The others turned morosely away from them and continued their way until
the pleas died  away  behind them and beyond  sand-hills  so  soft  in their
configuration.  Sand,  burning  hot  sand;  monstrous  quantities  of  sand,
stretching to infinity; silent and evil sand that seemed to have drowned the
whole universe in its stifling, treacherous flames.
     Ahead of them a  patch of  silver in the  golden fire of the sun's rays
appeared in  the  distance. The Libyan gave a brief shout  of encouragement.
Clearer  and clearer, against the brownish background,  appeared patches  of
ground  covered with salt  crystals that shone with an intolerably brilliant
blue gleam.
     The sand-dunes  grew  smaller and  soon gave way to  hard,  well-packed
sand; the feet of the marchers moved more freely, liberated from the cloying
embrace  of the friable  sand. The hard  yellow  clay,  furrowed  with  dark
cracks, seemed to them like the stone-paved path of some palace garden.
     The sun was still a  hand's breadth from the zenith  when the insurgent
slaves  reached a low,  cliff-like ledge  of stratified brown stone and from
there turned sharply to the  left, to the south-west. In a short re-entrant,
that  bit into the cliff at a  wide angle so that  from a distance it looked
like the black entrance to a cave, was an ancient well,  a spring with cool,
fresh water.
     In  order  to prevent disorder  amongst people already mad with thirst,
Cavius placed  the  strongest  of the slaves  to  guard  the entrance to the
gully. The weakest were allowed to drink first.
     The sun  had long passed the zenith  and  the men kept on  drinking  as
though they would never stop; they lay for a while in the shade of the cliff
with  distended  bellies and  then  crawled  'back to  the  water again. The
runaways gradually regained their vitality and soon the rapid speech  of the
hardy Negroes could be heard accompanied by occasional laughter  and jocular
altercation. . .  . No joy, however, came to the men with returning life-too
many of their faithful comrades had remained behind  to die in the labyrinth
of sand-dunes, comrades  who had only  just entered the path to freedom, who
had fought  bravely, with  contempt for 'death, comrades  whose efforts  had
merged in the supreme common effort with those who had been spared.
     Pandion was astonished at the  change  that  had taken  place  in those
slaves  with  whom he  had spent such a long  time in the shehne. That  dull
indifference to  their surroundings that  gave the  same  expression to  all
their tired, worn-out faces, was gone.
     Eyes that had  been dull and listless were now looking  round them full
of  life and interest and the features of the sombre faces seemed to be more
sharply defined.  They  were already  people  and  not  slaves  and  Pandion
remembered  how  right  Cavius  had been in his  wisdom when  he  reproached
Pandion  with contempt  for  his  companions. Pandion  had  had  too  little
experience of life to be able to understand people. He had the mistaken view
that the inhibition born of long captivity was natural in them.
     The men crowded on to  the  small patches of  life-giving  shade in the
gully. In a  short  time they were all overcome by deep  sleep; there was no
fear of the pursuit  overtaking them on that day-who  but people prepared to
face death for the sake of liberty could pass through the fiery hell of that
sea of sand in daytime?
     The  runaways rested until  sunset by  which time their tired feet were
again ready for  the journey. The small  quantity of food that the strongest
had managed to carry through the desert was carefully shared out amongst ail
of them.
     There was  a long journey to be made to the next well; the  Libyan said
that they would have to keep on all night, but that at dawn, -before the day
grew hot, they  would  find water. After  that the road  again  lay  through
sand-hills, the last between them and the big oasis. Fortunately the stretch
of  sand-hills was not  of great width, no  more than that they  had already
passed, and  if they set  out  in the  evening,  when  the  sun was  in  the
south-west, they  would reach the big  oasis during the  night and find food
there. They would only have to go twenty-four hours without, food.
     All this did not seem  so very terrible to  people who had  suffered so
much. The chief  thing that encouraged them  and gave them strength was  the
fact that they were free and were moving  farther and  farther away from the
hated  Land of Quemt, that  the possibility  of  their  being overtaken  was
diminishing.
     The sunset died away, grey ash covered its flaming red embers. Drinking
their fill for the last time the runaways moved on.
     The  depressing  heat had  gone, scattered by the black wings of night,
and  the  darkness tenderly caressed skin that had been burned by the flames
of the desert.
     Their way lay  across a  low,  level plateau covered  with  sharp-edged
stones that cut the feet of the less cautious.
     By midnight the runaways dropped down into a wide valley sprinkled with
grey, round boulders. These strange stones, between  one and three cubits in
diameter, lay about  like stone balls with  which some unknown gods had been
playing.  The men were no longer in  a column  but  walked  on  without  any
formation, cutting diagonally across the valley towards a rise that could be
seen some distance in front of them.
     After a terrible stupefying day that had shown the weakness of man with
such  ruthlessness,  the  quiet  calm of the  night  gave  rise to  profound
meditation. It seemed to Pandion that the endless desert rose up to the bowl
of the sky, the  stars seemed quite  near  in the transparent air, permeated
with a  kind of glow. The moon rose  and a silver carpet of light lay on the
dark earth.
     The  party  of  runaway  slaves  reached  the  rise.  The gentle  slope
consisted of blocks of limestone, polished by the fine sand until they shone
and  reflected  the  light of  the  moon in what looked like  a  blue  glass
staircase.
     When Pandion set foot on their cold,  slippery surface it seemed to him
that he had only to go a little higher and he would reach the dark blue bowl
of the sky.
     The rise  came to  an  end, the staircase vanished and the long descent
began  into the dark valley,  covered with coarse sand, that lay black below
them. The valley was  encircled with a  chain of serrated  crags that jutted
out of the sand at all angles,  like the stumps  of gigantic tree-trunks. By
dawn the  party had reached the cliff and for a long time wandered through a
labyrinth  of crevasses until their Libyan leader  found the well.  From the
cliff  could  be seen  the serried ranks  of a  new army of sand-dunes  that
formed  a hostile ring around the rocks amongst which the runaways had taken
refuge.  Shadows of deep  violet  lay between the rosy slopes  of  the  sand
hills.  While they were close to water there was nothing terrible  about the
sea of sand.
     Kidogo  found a place protected from the sun  by a huge stone cube that
hung over walls of sandstone cut away  on the  northern side by a deep,  dry
watercourse.  There  was sufficient  shade for  the  whole party between the
rocks and they lay down to rest until sunset.
     The tired men immediately  dropped off to sleep-there was nothing to do
but wait until the sun,  raging  in the  high heavens, became more amenable.
The sky that had seemed so close to them during the night had now receded to
an unfathomable distance and from  that great height blinded and  burned the
men as though in revenge for the breathing space given them during the hours
of darkness. Time went on, the peacefully sleeping people were surrounded by
a sea of fiery sunlight that  cut them off from their native lands where the
sun did not destroy all living things.
     Cavius was  suddenly  awakened by  faint, plaintive groans. The puzzled
Etruscan raised his  heavy head  and listened.  From time to  time  he heard
sharp  cracks  coming from  different  directions  and  then long  drawn-out
plaintive moans  filled with  sorrow. The  sounds grew louder and he  looked
round  him in fear.  There was  no  sign of  movement  anywhere  amongst the
sun-baked  rocks;  all  his  comrades occupied their former places and  were
either sleeping or listening. Cavius roused the  calmly  sleeping Akhmi. The
Libyan sat up, yawned and  then  laughed right in the face  of the astounded
and alarmed Etruscan.
     "The stones  are crying  out from the heat of the sun,"  explained  the
Libyan, "and that's a sign that the heat is subsiding."
     The cracking  of the stones greatly disturbed the other runaway slaves.
The Libyan  climbed on to a high rock, looked through the crack between  his
folded hands and announced that soon they could set out on the last march to
the oasis; they must drink their fill for the march.
     Although  the  sun  had  sunk far  to  the  west,  the sand hills still
radiated heat. It seemed an  impossible feat to leave the shade  and go  out
into that sea of fire and  sunlight. Nevertheless the  men formed  a column,
two by two, and without a single protest followed the Libyan- so strong  was
the call of freedom.
     Pandion and Kidogo formed the third pair behind the Libyan, Akhmi.
     The inexhaustible  endurance and joviality of the Negro were a frequent
encouragement  to  the  Hellene who felt little  confidence  in himself when
confronted with the might of the desert.
     The  fiery,  hostile  breath of the desert again forced the men  to bow
their heads  low  before  its  savage face. They had journeyed no less  than
fifteen thousand cubits when Pandion  noticed that their Libyan guide seemed
somewhat distressed. Akhmi had  halted  the column  twice while he mounted a
sand-hill, sinking up to his knees in the soft sand, to examine the horizon.
The Libyan, however, did not answer any questions.
     The  sand-hills  grew  lower  and Pandion  asked Akhmi in a glad  voice
whether the sand was coming to an end.
     "We've still a  long way to go; there's a lot  more  sand yet," snapped
the guide gloomily and turned his head towards the north-west.
     Pandion  and  Kidogo  looked in  the same  direction  and saw  that the
burning sky was covered with a leaden haze.  A dark wall  that rose straight
up had conquered the fearful might of the sun and the glow of the sky.
     Suddenly  they  heard resonant,  pleasant  sounds-high, singing, purely
metallic notes, like silver trumpets playing an enchanting melody behind the
sand-dunes.
     The sounds were repeated, grew more frequent and louder and hearts beat
more rapidly, affected by  some  unconscious  fear  brought  by those silver
notes that  were like  nothing on earth  and far removed  from  all that was
mortal.
     The  Libyan  stopped  and fell on to his knees  with  a plaintive  cry.
Raising his hands  towards the heavens he prayed to his gods to protect them
from an awful calamity. The frightened  runaways cowered together in a crowd
between three sand-hills. Pandion looked inquiringly at Kidogo and staggered
back-the Negro's black skin  had  turned grey. Pandion  had seen  his friend
frightened for the  first time and  did not know that a Negro's  skin  turns
grey with pallor. Cavius  seized the guide  by the shoulders, lifted  him to
his feet without an effort and asked him angrily what had happened.
     Akhmi turned towards him, his face distorted with fear and covered with
beads of perspiration.
     "The sands of the desert  are singing; they call to the wind,  and with
the wind death will come flying-there will be a sand-storm. . . ."
     An oppressive silence hung over the party broken only by  the sounds of
the singing sand.
     Cavius stood still in bewilderment-he did not know what to do and those
who realized the degree of danger that threatened them kept silent.
     At last Akhmi came to himself.
     "Forward, forward, as quickly as possible! I saw  a  stony  place where
there's no sand:  we must get there before the storm reaches  us. If we stay
here  death is certain, we'll all be buried  in the sand,  but  over  there,
maybe some of us will be saved. . . ."
     The frightened men ran after the Libyan guide.
     The leaden haze had changed to a ruddy gloom that spread over the whole
sky. Menacing wisps of sand whirled round the hill-tops  like smoke; the hot
breath of the  wind swept tiny particles of  sand  into  the men's  inflamed
faces. There was no  air to breathe; it  was as though  the atmosphere  were
filled with some  corrosive  poison.  The  sand-hills  opened  out  and  the
runaways found  themselves  on  a  small  patch  of  stony ground, black and
smooth. All round them the rumble and roar of the oncoming wind increased in
fury, the ruddy cloud darkened  on its lower side  as though a black curtain
were being drawn across the sky. Its upper side remained a dark  red and the
disc of  the sun  was  hidden by  that  awful cloud.  Imitating  their  more
experienced  comrades  the  men  tore off their  loin-cloths and  rags  that
covered  their  heads  and  shoulders,  wrapped them  round their  faces and
dropped on to the stony ground, pressing close against each other.
     Pandion  was  slow  in making his preparations.  The last thing he  saw
filled  him with  horror. Everything around him was in motion. Stones as big
as his fist  rolled over the black ground like dry leaves in an autumn wind.
The sand-hills threw out long tentacles in  the direction  of the party; the
sand was moving and was soon flowing all  round them like water thrown up by
a storm  on  to a low beach. A whirling mass of sand rushed  at Pandion; the
youth fell face down and saw nothing  more. His heart beat furiously and its
every  beat resounded in his head.  His mouth and throat seemed to be coated
with a hard crust that prevented his panting breath from escaping.
     The whistling  of  the  wind  reached  a  high  note but that, too, was
drowned by the roar of the moving sand; the desert howled and rumbled around
him. Pandion's head went dizzy, he struggled against unconsciousness towards
which the stifling, withering  storm  was driving him. Coughing desperately,
he freed his throat  of sand and again  began his rapid breathing. Pandion's
bursts of resistance were repeated at ever-growing intervals  until at  last
he lost consciousness.
     The  thunder  of the storm grew ever  more  insistent and menacing,  it
rumbled in peals across the desert like huge bronze wheels. The stony ground
gave forth an answering  rumble like a  sheet of  metal, and clouds of  sand
swept  over it. Grains of sand,  charged  with electricity, burst  into blue
sparks giving the whole  mass of moving sand a bluish glow as it rolled over
the desert. It seemed that  at  any moment  rain would fall  and fresh water
would save the people, dried up by the overheated air and lying unconscious.
But there was no rain  and the storm raged on. The dark pile of human bodies
was covered  by an ever-thickening layer of  sand that hid the weak movement
and stifled the rare moans. . . .


     Pandion  opened his eyes  and saw  Kidogo's black head outlined against
the stars.  Later  Pandion learned that the Negro had  been working over the
motionless bodies  of his friends, Pandion  and  the Etruscans,  for  a long
time.
     People were busy in the darkness, digging out their comrades from under
the sand, listening to the feeble signs of life in their  bodies  and laying
aside those who would breathe no more.
     The  Libyan,  Akhmi,  with  some  of  his  fellow-countrymen,  who were
accustomed  to  the desert,  and a few  Negroes  had  gone back  to the well
amongst the  rocks for water. Kidogo had remained  with Pandion,  unable  to
leave his friend who was scarcely breathing.
     At last fifty-five half-dead men, led by Kidogo, finding the  road with
difficulty  and supporting each  other as they walked along, followed in the
tracks of those who had left earlier. Nobody gave a thought to the fact that
they ware going back, that they would meet with a possible pursuit; the mind
of  every one of  them  was concentrated on one thing-water. The craving for
water swept aside all will to struggle; it was stronger than any other urge-
water was a lodestone in the dull fever of their inflamed brains.
     Pandion had lost all conception of time; he had forgotten that they had
journeyed not  more  than twenty  thousand  cubits  from  the  well;  he had
forgotten everything except that he must hold on to the shoulders of the man
in front and keep step with those plodding ahead. About halfway  to the well
they  heard voices in front of  them that  sounded unusually loud: Akhmi and
the twenty-seven men  who  had gone with him  were hurrying  to  meet  them,
carrying rags steeped in water and  two old  gourd bottles they had found at
the well.
     The men  mustered strength enough to refuse the water  and  propose  to
Akhmi that he  go  back  to  those  who  had remained  at the  scene  of the
catastrophe.
     Superhuman efforts were needed  to keep going as far as the well; their
strength  grew  less with  every  step,  nevertheless  the men  allowed  the
water-carriers to pass in silence and continued to plod on.
     A wavering  black haze spread  before the eyes of the stumbling people;
some  of  them  fell, but encouraged by  the  others and supported  by their
stronger comrades they continued on their way. The fifty-five men  could not
remember the last hour of their journey-they walked on almost unconsciously,
their  legs continuing their slow, stumbling movements. But reach their goal
they did; the  water revived  them, refreshed their bodies and enabled their
congealed blood to soften their dried muscles.
     No sooner had the travellers fully recovered than they remembered those
left behind.  Following  the example  of  the first  party they  went  back,
carrying rags, dripping with water-the  source of life-to those wandering in
the desert. This  help was invaluable because  it came in time.  The sun had
risen. The last  group of those still alive  was given strength by the water
brought by  the Libyans.  The  people  had halted  amidst the sand-dunes and
could  not  muster  strength  enough  to  continue  their  way  despite  all
persuasion, urging and even threats. The wet rags enabled them to keep going
for another hour which proved sufficient to reach the well.
     In this  way  another  thirty-one men reached the  water; altogether  a
hundred and fourteen were saved, less than half the  number that had set out
into the desert  two days  before. The weakest had perished during the first
day's desert march arid now the awful catastrophe had taken toll of the best
and strongest fighters. The future  seemed more indefinite than  before. The
forced inactivity was depressing; there was no strength left to continue the
planned  journey;  weapons  had  been  abandoned  in  the  place  where  the
sand-storm had overtaken them.  If the insurgents  had  had  food they could
have  recuperated  much  more  easily,  but   the  last  remnants  had  been
distributed the night before and there was nothing left.
     The  sun  was blazing  in the clear  unclouded  sky  and  those who had
remained  at the scene of  the  catastrophe, even if there had  been a faint
flicker of life in them, had by now, no doubt, perished.
     The survivors hid in  the gully between the rocks where  the day before
they had lain together with  those who were no longer amongst the living. As
on the previous day the people awaited sundown, but although the heat of the
day had died down and night  had  already fallen, they still  waited, hoping
that  the cool night  air  would enable  the weaker  men  to  continue their
struggle with the desert that stood between them and their native land.
     This last hope, however, was fated never to be fulfilled.
     As night drew on  the runaways felt that they could  continue their way
slowly  forward  and were about  to  set.  out when suddenly they  heard the
distant braying of an ass and the barking of dogs. For a time they  hoped it
might  be  a  merchant  caravan or the party  of a tax-collector, but  soon,
however, horsemen appeared in the semi-darkness of the plain. The well-known
cry of "A'atu!"  resounded  over the desert. There  was  nowhere to flee to,
they had no weapons  to fight with  and  hiding  was useless-the sharp-eared
dogs would soon find them.  Some of the insurgents sank to the ground, their
last  ounce  of strength  gone;  others  dashed about  aimlessly amongst the
rocks. Some  of them  tore their hair  in  desperation. One  of the Libyans,
still a young man,  groaned plaintively and tears  filled his eyes. The  Amu
and  the Heriusha stood with bowed heads and  clenched teeth. Several of the
men began involuntarily to run away but were immediately halted by the dogs.
     The more self-restrained stood still  where they were, as  though  in a
trance,  their  minds,  however,  actively  seeking  ways  of salvation. The
soldiers of the Black Land  were fortunate in their chase-they had caught up
with the runaways at a moment when they were very weak. If they had retained
but half of their former energy many of them would have preferred death to a
second captivity. Their  vitality, however, had been sapped and the runaways
did not  offer any resistance  to  the soldiers approaching with drawn bows.
The struggle for freedom was over-those who slept their eternal sleep amidst
the  abandoned  weapons  were a  thousand  times  more  fortunate  than  the
survivors.
     Worn  out,  all hope of liberty gone,  the slaves became submissive and
indifferent to their fate.
     Very soon the hundred and fourteen  men, their hands bound behind their
backs and chained together by their necks in parties of  ten, straggled back
across  the  desert to  the east  under  the blows  of whips. A  few  of the
soldiers visited  the scene  of the catastrophe to make sure there were none
left alive there.
     The pursuers  expected a reward  for every slave they brought back-only
this saved the runaways from  a horrible death. Not one of them  died on the
awful journey back  when they  dragged along  tied together, lashed by whips
and without food. The caravan moved slowly, keeping to the road and avoiding
the sands.
     Pandion  dragged  along,  never daring to look at his  companions,  and
unreceptive to outside impressions. Even  the  blows of  the  whip could not
arouse him from his  state  of  torpor. The only thing he  remembered of the
journey back  to slavery was the moment when they reached the Nile, near the
city of Abydos. The Captain of  the  escort halted the party to examine  the
wharf where a  barge  should have awaited the  captives. The  prisoners were
huddled together on the crest of the descent into the  valley, some  of them
sank to  the ground. The morning breeze brought  with  it the smell of fresh
water.
     Pandion,  who  had  remained  on  his  feet,  suddenly noticed  pretty,
delicately blue flowers on the very edge of the desert. They swayed on their
long stems spreading a fine aroma all around and Pandion  felt that this was
a last gift sent to him from his lost liberty.
     The young Hellene's lips, cracked and bleeding, quivered  and uncertain
weak  sounds escaped his throat. Kidogo,  who  had been watching his  friend
with some  alarm during halts-he was chained to a different group during the
march-turned to listen.
     "... Blue." He  heard only the last word and Pandion  again sank into a
coma.
     The runaways were freed of  their bonds and driven on to the barge that
was to take them to the suburbs  of  the  capital.  Here they  were kept  in
prison as particularly dangerous and persistent rebels and would  inevitably
be sent to the gold mines.
     The prison was a huge hole  dug in hard, dry  ground, faced with  brick
and roofed by  a number of steep vaults. Four narrow  slits cut in  the roof
served as  windows and the entrance was  a  sloping  trap-door  in the  roof
through which food and water were lowered.
     The constant  gloom of the prison  proved a mercy to the runaways: many
of them had  inflamed eyes caused by the terribly harsh light of the desert,
and had they remained in the sunlight they would undoubtedly have lost their
sight.
     But how tormenting was their captivity in a dark, stinking hole after a
few days of liberty!
     The  captives were  completely cut off from the world and  nobody cared
what they felt or experienced.
     Despite the  hopelessness of their position, however,  they again began
to hope for something as soon as  they had begun to recover from the effects
of their awful journey.
     Cavius, somewhat  brusquely as usual, again began to outline ideas that
all could understand. Kidogo's laughter was heard again as were the piercing
cries of the Libyan Akhmi. Pandion recovered  more slowly,  the collapse  of
his hopes had made a deeper impression on him.
     Many times he had felt the stone hidden in his loincloth but it  seemed
like sacrilege to him to take out Yakhmos' wonderful gift in that foul, dark
hole.  The stone, moreover, had deceived him, it  possessed no magic; it had
not helped him obtain his liberty and reach the sea.
     At  last, however, Pandion did  take the blue-green crystal out  of its
hiding place and carry it stealthily to the pale ray that  shone through the
slit in the roof but did not reach the ground. With the first glance he cast
at the joyous iridescence of the stone the desire to live and fight returned
to him. He had been deprived of everything; he did not even dare to think of
Thessa; he did not dare to evoke memories of his native shores. All that was
left  to him was the stone-the stone that was like a  dream of  the  sea, of
another  life, the real life he had  known in the past. And Pandion began to
gaze frequently  at the stone,  finding in its transparent depths  that  joy
without which it would have been impossible to live.
     Pandion  and  his companions did not spend more  than ten days in their
underground prison. Without any  sort  of interrogation or trial the fate of
the runaway  slaves was decided  by the authorities  up there  in  the world
above. The trap-door  opened suddenly and a wooden  ladder  was lowered into
the prison. The  slaves were led out and, blinded  by the  glaring sun, were
immediately bound and chained together in groups of  six. They were then led
down to the Nile and loaded on to a  big barge sailing  upstream. The rebels
were being sent to the southern frontiers of the Black Land, to the Gates of
the South, from  where  they would begin that last journey  from which there
was no return-to the terrible gold mines of the Land of Nub. (* Gates of the
South-the towns of Neb and Swan, the modern Syene  and Aswan, on the islands
of Elephantine and Philae.
     Nub (Egypt, gold)-the collective