CHAPTER XXXV.

The hours passed gaily with the drinkers, then they grew more and more
sleepy.

Ere the moon was high in the heavens, while they were all sleeping, with
the exception of Kaschta and Pentaur, the soldier rose softly. He
listened to the breathing of his companions, then he approached the poet,
unfastened the ring which fettered his ankle to that of Nebsecht, and
endeavored to wake the physician, but in vain.

"Follow me!" cried he to the poet; he took Nebsecht on his shoulders, and
went towards the spot near the stream which Uarda had indicated.
Three times he called his daughter's name, the young Amalekite appeared,
and the soldier said decidedly: "Follow this man, I will take care of
Nebsecht."

"I will not leave him," said Pentaur. "Perhaps water will wake him."
They plunged him in the brook, which half woke him, and by the help of
his companions, who now pushed and now dragged him, he staggered and
stumbled up the rugged mountain path, and before midnight they reached
their destination, the hut of the Amalekite.

The old hunter was asleep, but his son aroused him, and told him what
Uarda had ordered and promised.

But no promises were needed to incite the worthy mountaineer to
hospitality. He received the poet with genuine friendliness, laid the