astonishment just as those whom he had hurt were once more inciting the
mob to fight just as a boy, whose hand he had crushed, was crying out:
"He is not a priest, he is a sword's-man. Down with the liar!"

A voice from the crowd exclaimed:

"Make way for my white robe, and leave the preacher Pentaur alone, he is
my friend. You most of you know me."

"You are Nebsecht the leech, who set my broken leg," cried a sailor.

"And cured my bad eye," said a weaver.

"That tall handsome man is Pentaur, I know him well," cried the girl,
whose opinion had been overheard by Bent-Anat.

"Preacher this, preacher that!" shouted the boy, and he would have
rushed forward, but the people held him back, and divided respectfully at
Nebsecht's command to make way for him to get at those who had been hurt.

First he stooped over the old paraschites.

"Shame upon you!" he exclaimed.--You have killed the old man."

"And I," said Pentaur, "Have dipped my peaceful hand in blood to save his
innocent and suffering grandchild from a like fate."

"Scorpions, vipers, venomous reptiles, scum of men!" shrieked Nebsecht,
and he sprang wildly forward, seeking Uarda. When he saw her sitting
safe at the feet of old Hekt, who had made her way into the courtyard, he