Suddenly a thought struck him.  Travelers and sea-faring men had told him that there were settlements along the Red Sea.  Might he not go forward, on his way after Israel, till he found one of these?

He led the largest horse past the dead servitors, and persuading it to stand, lifted the body of Atsu upon its back.  With difficulty he mounted, and supporting the limp burden with one arm, turned again toward the southeast.

As he went forward, Kenkenes meditated on the signs of this recent and tragic event.  He had searched throughout the length and breadth of Goshen for Rachel and none had seen her or heard of her since she had fled from Har-hat into the desert, eight months before he had seen her last.  Israel was more ignorant of the whereabouts of Rachel than he.  He could not tell whether Har-hat knew where she was, nor could he guess from the position of the fighters in which direction the servants had meant to ride.  The tracks of their horses were not to be discovered in the great trampled roadway Israel had made.

Of this thing Kenkenes was sure.  If Rachel were with Israel she had joined it after he had left Goshen.  In that case he was going to her, to ask after her safety, when he inquired after all Israel.  If she were still in Egypt he would stop Har-hat’s search for ever.  This recollection added to his determination and intensified his zeal.

At the beginning of the great fields of sea-grass he came upon a little hamlet.  It was a considerable distance inland, and the chief industry of the people could have been only the gathering of sedge for hay, or the curing of herb and root for medicines.  Some of the villagers were in sight but the most of them were out in the direction of the lakes, laboring in the marsh grass.

In the course of the past year’s events Kenkenes had learned to be a cautious and skilful fugitive.  He did not care to be caught and taxed with the death of the man whose body he bore.  The village shrine was the structure nearest to him.  It was built of sun-dried brick, with three walls, the fourth side open to the sunrise.  Kenkenes dismounted and reconnoitered.  The shrine was empty, and none of the villagers was near.

He lifted the dead man from the horse and bore the body into the sanctuary.  Before the image of Athor was a long table overlaid with a slab of red sandstone.  Here the offerings were left and here Kenkenes laid Atsu, a true sacrifice to the love deity.  Reverently the young man closed the eyes and straightened the chilling limbs.  Going into his patrimony of jewels sewn in his belt, he took an emerald, and putting it in the hands, crossed them above the breast.  Then he laid his mantle over the bier.

At the threshold he found a soft stone and with that he wrote upon the head of the long table the name of the dead man, and Mendes, his native city.  Under this he wrote further to the villagers, charging them, in the name of the goddess, to care for the body reverently and return it to the tomb of Atsu’s fathers.  Having made note of the emerald as remuneration for their labors, he completed the inscription without signature.