Ahead of her was a sagging limestone wall,
with no gap, but Masanath, hardly sane, would have dashed herself
against it, if hands had not detained her.
"Blood! Blood!" she shrieked. "Holy Ptah save us!"
"Peace!" some one made answer. "God is with us."
The voice was calm and reassuring, the hands firm. Here, then, was one
who was strong and unafraid, and therefore, a safe refuge. No longer
called upon to care for herself, Masanath fell into the arms of the
brave unknown and ceased to remember.
Consciousness returned to her slowly and incompletely. Horror had
dazed her, and her surroundings, but faintly discovered in an
all-enveloping gloom, were not conducive to mental repose and clearness.
She became aware, first, that she was somewhere hidden from the
sunshine and beyond reach of the strange odor from the Nile.
Next she realized that she was sheltered in a cave; that slender lines
of white daylight sifted through the interstices of a door; that a lamp
was burning somewhere behind a screen; that a hairy thing sat in a
corner and looked at her with half-human eyes, and that, as she shrank
at the sight, the warm support under her head moved and a fair face,
framed with golden hair, bent over her.
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