“Aye, so hast thou been taught, Nari.”

“Our gods, and the gods of every nation like them?” the serving-woman persisted.

“The gods of Egypt are so, and each nation boasts its gods equally potent.”

“Mayhap the Hebrews’ God will help them,” Nari ventured.

Masanath was silent for a moment.  “He hath deserted them for long,” she said at last, “but they are hard-pressed.  Mayhap their loud supplications will reach Him in His retreat.”

“They boast that He hath returned.”

“Let Him prove Himself,” Masanath insisted stoutly.

When next she spoke there was no hint of the past serious talk in her voice.

“A pest on the ban,” she exclaimed.  “Look at the Marsh of the Discontented Soul.  It fairly swarms with teal and coot, and see the snipe on the sand.”  She stood up and watched the sandy strip they were nearing.  They were a goodly distance out from the shore, but Pepi poled nearer midstream.  “The pity of it,” she sighed; “but I doubt not the place swarms with crocodile, also.”

She sat down again, and looked at the decoy birds.  Their timidity had increased into actual fear.  Masanath reached a soothing hand toward one of them and it fled.  The motion of the poling-arm of Pepi frightened it again, and with a flirt of its wings it retreated toward Masanath.

“Stop a moment, Pepi,” she said.  “Let me quiet this frightened thing.  I can not fathom its terror.”

“The unquiet soul, my Lady,” Nari whispered, in awe.

“Strange that the gods gifted the creatures with keener sight than men,” Masanath answered, somewhat disturbed.  She moved toward the bird, talking softly, but the persuasion was as useless as if the decoy had been a wild thing.  At the nearer approach of the small hand it took wings and flew.  The mate followed, unhesitating.  The shining distance toward the west swallowed them up.

The trio on the raft looked at one another.

“Nay, now, saw ye the like before?” Masanath exclaimed, the tone of her voice divided between astonishment and irritation at the loss of her pets.

“Let us leave this vicinity,” Pepi said, suiting the action to the word, “it is unholy.”  He seized the sweep and drove the raft about, poling with wide strokes.  At that moment, a cry, which was more of a hoarse whisper, broke from his lips.

“Body of Osiris!  The river! the river!”

Masanath leaned on one hand and looked over the side of the raft.  With a bound and a shivering cry, Nari was cowering beside her, the little craft tossing on the waves at the force of the leap.  Instantly, Pepi was at her other side, on his knees, praying and shaking.  And together the trio huddled, but only one, Masanath, was brave enough to watch what was happening.