Now Ephraim was standing before him; and after Nun had laid his hand on his shoulders, and kissed him again and again, he asked if his son was still alive and remembered him and his people.

As soon as the youth had joyfully assured him that such was the case, Nun threw his arms around the boy’s shoulders, that henceforth his own blood, instead of a stranger, should protect him from the violence of the storm.

He had grave and urgent duties to fulfil, from which nothing might withhold him.  Yet as the fiery youth shouted into his ear, through the roar of the hurricane, on their way through the camp, that he would summon his shepherds and the companions of his own age to release Hosea, who now called himself Joshua, old Nun’s impetuous spirit awoke and, clasping Ephraim closer to his heart, he cried out that though an old man he was not yet too aged to swing an axe and go with Ephraim’s youthful band to liberate his son.  His eyes sparkled through his tears, and waving his free arm aloft, he cried: 

“The God of my fathers, on whom I learned to rely, watches over His faithful people.  Do you see the sand, sea-weed, and shells yonder at the end of the estuary?  An hour ago the place was covered with water, and roaring waves were dashing their white spray upward.  That is the way, boy, which promises escape; if the wind holds, the water—­so the experienced Phoenicians assure us—­will recede still farther toward the sea.  Their god of the north wind, they say, is favorable to us, and their boys are already lighting a fire to him on the summit of Baal-zephon yonder, but we know that it is Another, Who is opening to us a path to the desert.  We were in evil case, my boy!”

“Yes, grandfather!” cried the youth.  “You were trapped like lions in the snare, and the Egyptian host—­it passed me from the first man to the last—­is mighty and unconquerable.  I hurried as fast as my feet could carry me to tell you how many heavily-armed troops, bowmen, steeds, and chariots....”

“We know, we know,” the old man interrupted, “but here we are.”

He pointed to an overturned tent which his servants were trying to prop, and beside which an aged Hebrew, his father Elishama, wrapped in cloth, sat in the chair in which he was carried by bearers.

Nun hastily shouted a few words and led Ephraim toward him.  But while the youth was embracing his great-grandfather, who hugged and caressed him, Nun, with youthful vivacity, was issuing orders to the shepherds and servants: 

“Let the tent fall, men!  The storm has begun the work for you!  Wrap the covering round the poles, load the carts and beasts of burden.  Move briskly, You, Gaddi, Shamma, and Jacob, join the others!  The hour for departure has come!  Everybody must hasten to harness the animals, put them in the wagons, and prepare all things as fast as possible.  The Almighty shows us the way, and every one must hasten, in His name and by the