The senses, too, are limited in their grasp, even as the brain has bounds upon its conception.  The dimensions, movement and sound of the multitude over-taxed the eye and ear.

Was it the storm or the army that had frightened them?

Slipping and sliding in his haste, he descended the slope without care for the sound he made.  The hillocks and hollows that interposed irritated him.  His impatience made him forget his great weariness.  Israel’s helpless ones to the sword, Israel’s treasure open to the enrichment of a traitor, Israel’s fighting-men driven to rally to his standard—­Rachel’s people, to be mastered by Har-hat!

Great was his intent and its scope, and how cheaply attained if it cost but two lives—­his enemy’s and his own!  How much depended upon him!  His enthusiasm and zeal put out of his sight all his young reluctance to surrender life and the world.  He could have explained, truthfully, from his own feelings, what it is that enables men to suffer an eager martyrdom.

Two Hebrews outside the limits of the camp halted him.

“I bring tidings to your captain,” he explained.  The answer was swept from the speaker’s lips and carried astray by the wind, but he caught these words.

“Thou art an Egyptian.  Thy kind hath no friendship for Israel.”

“I am of Egypt, but I am one with you in faith.  Conduct me to the prince, I pray you.”

“Take him,” said one to the other.  “He is but one.”

The Hebrew, thus addressed, motioned Kenkenes to follow him, and turned toward the encampment.

They passed through a lane between two tribes.  Kenkenes guessed, looking first upon one and then the other, that there were one hundred thousand in the two.  Strip a city of her plan and shape, her houses, her pleasures and commerce; leave only her people, their smallest possessions, and all their fears; beset such a city with an army on three sides, the sea on the fourth and a furious hurricane over all—­and in such state and of such appearance were these two tribes.

Kenkenes fortified himself and resisted with all his might the contagious panic that seemed about to attack him.  As well as he might, he concentrated his mind upon other things.  He noted that the shadows were long like those of afternoon.  Turning his head, he saw that the pillar stood behind the encampment and that its light was thrown forward and downward, not backward and outward.  Very manifestly, the benefits of the miracle were only for the believers in Jehovah.  The marvel brought into the young man’s mind some natural speculation concerning the great miracle-worker to whom his guide was leading him.  What manner of man was he about to look upon,—­a sorcerer, a trafficker in horrors, a confounder of men?

Ahead, particularly illumined by the celestial light, was a group of elders—­great, grave men, misted in the flying fleeces of their own beards.  They bent firmly against the blast and the broad streaming of their ample drapings added much to the idea of supernatural power and resistance they inspired.