quiver, on which he had written 'death to Mena,' another little roll of
writing. I tore it open, and my blood ran cold when I saw to whom it was
addressed."

"To the king of the Cheta?" cried Pentaur in excitement.

"To his chief officer, Titure," continued Horus. "I was holding both the
rolls in my hand, when Paaker came back into the cave. 'Traitor!' I
cried out to him; but he flung the lasso, with which he had been catching
the stray horses, threw it round my neck, and as I fell choking on the
ground, he and the black man, who obeys him like a dog, bound me hand and
foot; he left the old negro to keep guard over me, took the rolls and
rode away. Look, there are the stars, and the moon will soon be up."

"Make haste, men!" cried Pentaur. "The three best horses for me, Horus,
and Kaschta; the rest remain here."

As the red-bearded soldier led the horses forward, the moon shone forth,
and within an hour the travellers had reached the plain; they sprang on
to the beasts and rode madly on towards the lake, which, when the sun
rose, gleamed before them in silvery green. As they drew near to it they
could discern, on its treeless western shore, black masses moving hither
and thither; clouds of dust rose up from the plain, pierced by flashes of
light, like the rays of the sun reflected from a moving mirror.

"The battle is begun!" cried Horus; and he fell sobbing on his horse's
neck.

"But all is not lost yet!" exclaimed the poet, spurring his horse to
a final effort of strength. His companions did the same, but first