Almost daily, since then, Heraklas had sought some Christian who taught him more perfectly the way of the Lord.

Today, as Heraklas sat in a house, secretly studying another portion of the Book than was written on his own papyrus, a Christian woman came hastily to him, and told him the tidings concerning his brother.

"He hath a.s.suredly come!" affirmed the woman. "Vitruvius saw him carried to the ship with other Christians!"

The before eagerly-read papyrus dropped from Heraklas' hand. He grew weak and faint. The woman looked at him pityingly.

A wild impulse seized Heraklas. He rushed from the house to the street. His brother, his Timokles, back again! Back from the desert!

Back in his city-home of Alexandria! And not to be allowed to draw one free breath, to come back to the house, to see Cocce, to see him, Heraklas! What could be done! What could be done! To be taken to Rome to meet the lions!

Heraklas ran toward the northern gate. He bethought himself of caution, and tried to go with his usual step. He pa.s.sed through the Gate of the Sun, and by discreet inquiries discovered which ship the Christians were on. Then he hid himself near one of the docks, and watched the ship.

Two days! One of the days partly gone already! Timokles would go away never to return, surely, this time.

"I also am a Christian!" cried Heraklas aloud.

Only the swaying of the water against the dock answered him. He sprang up and walked out on the d.y.k.e that stretched toward the isle of Pharos. Opposite him, the ship showed still more plainly than from the docks. Heraklas made out the prayer inscribed on the vessel: "Do thou, O Isis, preserve in safety this ship over the blue waves."

"O Timokles! Timokles!" cried Heraklas, as he stretched his hands toward the ship.

Heraklas walked the d.y.k.e till the burning sun of noon forced him to find shelter. He went back to his hiding place at the docks. He watched and waited through the long hours.

At length the day departed. When the darkness covered the surface of the harbor, Heraklas rose and girt about him the ample dress he wore, of fine linen, that descended to his feet.

He slipped softly into the water, and swam toward the ship. Reaching the small boat that floated by the ship, Heraklas drew himself up into the little craft.

He listened to the lap of water on the side of the ship. A sudden joy shot through Heraklas that they were so near together, Timokles and, himself. It was for this he had stayed outside Alexandria till the gates were shut. It were better to be a homeless Christian on this water than to linger in G.o.dless Alexandria!

He heard sounds of revelry on shipboard. Heraklas pulled on the rope that fastened the small boat to the ship. The rope was stout and well-fastened.

In the dark, he began to climb the rope with trembling fingers. Now he hung by the side of the ship, and now, one hand above another, he drew himself higher, higher, till he grasped the ship's side. He struggled over it, and dropped down on board in the darkness. He waited. No one came. He heard sounds of men that laughed and talked loudly.

He crept a little distance. A rope dangled in his face. He found himself under the aperture where the buckets for bailing were worked. After long and careful groping, Heraklas concealed himself in the vessel's hold, and waited. He suspected that the Christians were in the hold, but he was afraid to search far.

He had not been long hidden before he heard near him the sound of a great sigh and the rattling of a chain, as of some animal half-wakened from sleep.

"It is some wild animal that is to be taken to Rome," suspected Heraklas, not without a little uneasiness at his own proximity to the beast.

It was likely that the creature was well secured, yet the lad crept farther away. He could hear the sound of feet above him and the laughter of men who, no doubt, were drinking on this almost their last night in port.

A sound came from another portion of the hold, and Heraklas listened, trying to discover whether the living being in that direction were a beast or a person. While he listened, a faint light began to shine in the hold. There descended softly into the hold two men, one bearing a light. Heraklas drew back farther into the darkness. The men pa.s.sed on, their light held so that Heraklas did not see their faces. But the hasty glimpse that the lad had of his surroundings told him that the beast he had crept away from was a lion that was securely caged in one portion of the hold.

Softly the two men proceeded toward the direction from which Heraklas had heard sounds. Stealthily Heraklas rose. He surmised where the two men were going. He wished, yet hardly dared, to follow.

The light swung one side. One man turned to speak to the other, and the light fell full on the speaker's face.

Heraklas leaped softly forward, and followed without hesitation. For the face he had seen was the face of Athribis!

There were eight of the Christians. Heraklas, peering from a distance behind, saw the light held high, as the men paused beside the Christians. Absolutely exhausted, most of them, by the forced march of the desert, and by the lack of enough food, they were asleep, and Heraklas noted with a great pity their gaunt faces.

Athribis bent eagerly forward, scanning one worn countenance after another.

"Hold the light this way--more this side--here!" he said.

Athribis laid his hand on one sleeper's shoulder, and turned him, slightly.

"This is he!" joyfully exclaimed Athribis. "This is he! I had feared he was not among these, after all. This is he! I would know him anywhere! I never saw that brand, though. That is what made him look differently to me at first. But this is he! This is he!"

"Cease thy prating!" warned his companion, fearfully. "If the men of this ship were not so drunk, thou wouldest have little time to talk!

Thinkest thou I care nothing for my head? Hasten! Wake him, if thou wilt, but hasten! Thinkest thou the petty coin thou gavest me will pay me for my head? Hasten! They think I am guarding these prisoners safely."

"Small time wilt thou spend guarding them, if thou knowest where aught is to drink!" responded Athribis sarcastically. "How much hast thou drank today?"

The wearied Timokles slumbered on, regardless of the light and talking.

Back in the dark, Heraklas clasped his hands. A mighty sob rose in his throat. The Christian was indeed Timokles! How worn he was! And that brand upon his cheek!

Athribis bent forward. Timokles' eyes were opening.

"Athribis!" exclaimed Timokles faintly, as, after a prolonged gaze, he recognized the slave.

"Ah, my Christian master! My Christian master!" jeered Athribis, "I see you once again. My Christian master!"

The hands of the unseen Heraklas clinched at that tone.

Timokles looked around, bewildered. A quiver pa.s.sed over his lips.

Athribis reminded him of home.

"Is my mother here?" asked Timokles. A sorrow deeper than tears looked from his eyes.

Athribis smiled. "Thy mother!" he said.

The tone was a sufficient answer. Timokles' eyes fell.

"Thou wilt never see her again," went on Athribis. "Thy mother hateth thee! She is faithful to Egypt's G.o.ds, if thou art not! I came here only to be certain thou wert on the ship."

"Camest thou from her to me on that errand?" asked Timokles calmly.

Athribis laughed, and turned to go.

"Farewell, my Christian master! Farewell!" said the slave, mockingly.

There was an instant's silence. The great lion sighed from his cage.

Then answered Timokles' low voice, "O Athribis, may my G.o.d become thine, also!"

A laugh came, as the slave's reply. Athribis and his conductor went away. The light faded from the hold.

Heraklas crept near the Christians.