He was as tall as the Egyptian and as lean, but his structure was heavy, stalwart and powerful.  His forehead was broad and bold, his eyes deep-set, steel-blue and keen.  He had the fighting nose, over-long and hooked like an eagle’s beak.  The inexorable character of his features was borne out by the mouth, thin-lipped and firm in its closing.  Even his beard, scant and touched with gray, was intractable.  Here was an Israelite who was a warrior, a rare thing—­but splendid when found.

After a pause he turned, and the camel knelt at his command.  The litters had halted a little distance away under two palms that leaned their leafless crowns together.  The attendant was hastening toward the well.

“Joshua!” he cried joyously.

“Even I,” the Hebrew soldier said, walking around the kneeling beast.  “Peace to thee, Caleb.”

The two men embraced; the warrior imperturbably, the attendant tearfully.

“What dost thou away from Goshen?” Joshua asked, disengaging himself.  “The faithful of Israel have been summoned thither from the remotenesses of Mizraim.”

But Caleb did not hear, having caught sight of the Egyptian.  The recognition startled him as it had all the others, but he did not hold his peace.

“Atsu!” he exclaimed.  Joshua checked him.

“Vex him not with attention,” he said in a lowered tone.  “His fall hath been great, but it hath not killed his pride.  He would speak if it hurt him to be unremembered.”

“Hath he a grudge against us?” Caleb asked in astonishment.

“Nay, look thou at the writing on the tablet.  He would hide its command from us.  Is he not a friend to Israel still?”

He indicated the characters on either side of the soldier.  The words were disconnected, but the sense was easily guessed.  The command for prayers to the Pantheon of Egypt was not hidden, beyond conjecture, from the discerning.  Caleb saw the meaning of the inscription, but looked to Joshua for further enlightenment.

“He would spare us,” the abler Israelite said.  “Let us return the kindness and see him not.”

All this had the Egyptian heard, but his eyes, fixed so absently on the horizon, seemed to indicate that he was not conscious of his surroundings.

Joshua repeated his question.

“I was sent forth with Miriam,” Caleb made answer.  “She hath been abroad, gathering up the scattered chosen.”

His eyes brightened and he clasped his hands with the gesture of a happy woman.

“Deliverance is at hand!  Doubt it not, O Son of Nun!  We go forth!” he exclaimed.

On the camel were hung a shield, a javelin and a quiver of arrows.  Joshua jostled the arrows in their case before answering.

“Not as the moon changes,” he said grimly.  “The time for mild departure is past and the word of the Lord God unto Moses must be fulfilled.”

“So we but go,” Caleb assented, “I care not.  And such is the temper of all Israel—­nay,” he broke off, conscientiously; “there is an exception, an unusual exception.”