The 22 Letters Read Free Page B

were surrounded by them,” said Kaph.
    â€œBut where had they come from?”
    â€œOver the mountain pass, where they’re taking us back now, of course.”
    â€œWhat are they, though?”
    â€œHow should I know?” Kaph growled. “Foreigners. All I know is, our slaves who used to be log carriers—good workers they were though—downed tools and started hugging and kissing these soldiers like they were long-lost sisters. Then they have the nerve to come to me and say Pharaoh needs men, and the oxen and the tools and gear and all, and off they march us up the mountain.”
    â€œPharaoh!” Aleph exclaimed. “But these men aren’t Egyptians.”
    â€œDon’t ask me! They’re foreigners, and from the South, anyway, they say. What’s the difference? I’m a slave and you’re a slave now. We can’t choose our masters.”
    Aleph did not think he could sleep, but exhaustion, depression, and the thinness of the mountain air overcame him and he passed the night somehow in a state of frozen semi-consciousness. He dreamed, or at least he imagined very vividly the warm house by the seashore at Gebal, which he might never see again. But also among his dreams or imaginings were visions of fabulous Egypt. There was, perhaps, a future for him, even a life to live, in Egypt.
    The prisoners were roused in the early dawn, while the sunrise was only a faint glow over the crest of the mountain range to the East. The soldiers seemed to have a little bread and water to share round and break their fast, but there was no food for the prisoners.
    â€œOne pigeon among the lot of us,” growled Kaph, looking at the bird in the cage. “Not much, but it may save us from starvation yet.” Aleph clutched the birdcage defensively, but the march moved off at once. Some of the soldiers scouted ahead, some of them guarded the prisoners and drove them on, and Aleph was too numbed and stupefied by the altitude and the cold to think of anything but the next step up the stony slope.
    The sun rose above the crest as they climbed toward it. On the very top they all halted to rest and take their breath. Before and below them appeared a deep broad valley, still in the shadow of yet another range of saw-toothed mountains on the far side. Aleph turned back to look toward the sea and the coast. He was not even to be granted a last glimpse of his home.
    He stood there wretchedly, holding the caged bird. If he let the bird go, he thought, it would probably find its way home through the clouds, planing down in almost a matter of minutes. Was not this the time to do it? And yet what had his sister said? His numb brain remembered slowly. “When you’ve got to where you’re going, let him loose! He’ll fly back and let me know you’re there.” But he was not there yet. This windswept mountain pass was not where he was going. It was not yet time to release his messenger.
    The descent down the other side was steep, but direct. Aleph had hoped it would be much easier than climbing, but he soon felt that his leg muscles would collapse every time they took the weight of his body. However, the sun at least was warming, and as they went down the air, too, lost its bite, and they came again to a belt of forest where there was soil and soft vegetation underfoot.
    There was a clearing in the forest, and in it were tents and huts, and lumbermen at work, and transport wagons and soldiers. The leader of their guards paraded the prisoners in front of a tent, and out of it came the person who Aleph supposed was the officer in charge of the camp.
    The officer looked over the prisoners and the oxen without great interest, until his eye fell on Aleph: then he walked over and stood in front of him, looking him up and down. Aleph’s heart turned over. There was no way of telling from the haughty countenance of the officer whether it was in his favor to be singled out from the