Presently the bolder began to whisper and conjecture among themselves, hushing the sibilant surmises of the humbler with a cautioning frown.  An old man, who could not lower his voice, quavered a resolve to “ask and discover,” and started toward the soldier to put his resolution into effect.  A wiry old woman seized him and drew him back.

“Wilt thou humiliate him with thy notice, meddler?” she demanded in a fierce whisper.  “See him not, and it will be a mercy to him in his hour of abasement,—­him who hath been balsam to the wound of Israel!”

She turned about and took the road toward Pa-Ramesu, the unprotesting old man trotting after her.  The crowd followed, silent at first, then softly talkative, and finally, in the distance, singing and noisy once again.

A careening camel, almost white in the early morning sunshine, broke the sky-line far up the road leading from Tanis in the north.  Very much nearer, to the west, two single litters, with a staff-bearing attendant, were approaching.

The camel rider was a Hebrew by the beast that bore him.  Egypt had no liking for the bearer of the Orient’s burdens and small acquaintance with him.  Likewise the litters were Hebraic, for the attendant was bearded.  The soldier kept his place before the stela and contemplated the distance.

The time was not long, though in that land of distances the camel had far to come from the horizon to the well, until by the soft jarring of the earth the motionless sentinel knew that the swifter traveler had arrived.  Haste is not common in tropical countries, and the camel had been put to his limit of speed.  A commoner spirit than the soldiers could not have resisted the impulses of curiosity concerning this hot haste.  But he did not turn his eyes.

The traveler alighted before his mount ceased to move, and undoing his leathern belt with a jerk, he struck the camel a smart blow on the shoulder.  There was the protesting buzz of a large fly and an angry, disabled blundering on the sand, silenced by the stamp of a sandal.

“Thou wouldst have it, pest!” the traveler exclaimed.  “Thy kind is not to be persuaded from its blood-sucking by milder means.  Ye mind me of the Pharaoh!”

He turned toward the well, and his glance fell on the man-at-arms for the first time.  He started a little to find himself not alone, and a second time he started with sudden recognition.  The well was between him and the soldier.  He leaned upon his hands on the top of the curb and gazed at his opposite.  Once he seemed about to speak, but the studious disregard of the soldier deterred him.  Slowly his eyes fell until they were directed thoughtfully through his own reflection into the green depths of the well.

Although there were ten years in favor of the Egyptian, there was a certain similarity between the two men.  Both were soldiers, both black and stern.  But one was a Hebrew, no less than forty-five years of age.  He wore a helmet of polished metal, equipped with a visor, which, when raised, finished the front with a flat plate.  The top of the head-piece was ornamented with a spike.  His armor was complete—­shirt of mail, shenti extending half-way to the knees, greaves of brass and mailed shoes.