The man was an ideal soldier of Egypt. He was tall and
broad-shouldered, but otherwise lean and lithe. In countenance, he was
dark,--browner than most Egyptians, but with that peculiar ruddy
swarthiness that is never the negro hue. His duskiness was accentuated
by low and intensely black brows, and deep-set, heavy-lidded eyes.
Although his features were marked by the delicacy characteristic of the
Egyptian face, there was none of the Oriental affability to be found
thereon. One might expect deeds of him, but never words or wit.

He wore the Egyptian smock, or kamis--of dark linen, open in front from
belt to hem, disclosing a kilt or shenti of clouded enamel. His
head-dress was the kerchief of linen, bound tightly across the forehead
and falling with free-flowing skirts to the shoulders. The sleeves
left off at the elbow and his lower arms were clasped with bracelets of
ivory and gold. His ankles were similarly adorned, and his sandals of
gazelle-hide were beaded and stitched. His was a somber and barbaric
presence. This was Atsu, captain of chariots and vice-commander over
Pa-Ramesu.

His subordinates parted and gave him respectful path. He delivered his
orders in an impassive, low-pitched monotone.

"Out with them, and mark ye, no lashes now. Leave the old and the
nursing mothers."

The drivers disappeared into the narrow ways of the encampment, and
Atsu, with the scribes at his wheels, drove out where the avenue of
sphinxes would have led to the temple of Imhotep. Here was room for
three thousand. He alighted and, with the scribes who stood, tablets
in hand, awaited the coming of the Israelites.