Laodice, assisted by Momus, took up the condemned supplies and flung
them one at a time upon the roaring fire. Little by little, with
growing reluctance, the heap of spare belongings was examined and
condemned, until finally only the garments they wore, the tents that
were to shelter them and the essential harness of the camels were
left. Then Momus drew from his wallet a fragment of aromatic gum and
cast it on the blaze. While it ignited and burned with great vapors of
penetrating incense, he unstrapped the precious casket, set it down
between his feet, stripped off his comfortable woolen tunic and passed
it through the volumes of white smoke piling up from the fire.

And while he stood thus a deft hand seized the casket from behind.
There was a sharp, warning cry from Laodice. The old man staggered
only a moment from the tripping that the wrench gave him, but in that
instant of hesitation the pillager vanished.

The old mute shouted the infuriated, half-animal yell of the dumb and
started in pursuit, but at his second step he saw the fleeter camel
swing down the declivity, at top-speed, with the other trailing with
difficulty at full length of its bridle behind. The next instant the
muffled beat of the padded hooves drummed the solid bed of the Roman
road, and the shapes of camels and fugitive were lost in blue darkness
beyond the town.

There was no need for the pair left behind to await a realization of
all that the loss meant to them. One running swiftly as a fine young
creature can run when spurred by desperation, and the other, lamely
but doggedly, as an old determined man, rushed down the rough side of
the slope, leaped into the roadway and ran irrationally after the
fugitive mounted upon a camel, fleeter than the fastest horse.