Yet it did not, for so curious, or so hungry were they, that the lions crept and crept nearer, and still more near, till at length they lay lashing their tails in the distance almost within springing distance of the rock, while on the farther side of these, like a court waiting on its monarch, gathered the hyenas and other beasts.
"They will spring presently," whispered Tua.
"Did the Spirits of the divine Pharaoh your father, and of Mermes my lord, bring us here in the Boat of Ra that we should be devoured by wild animals, like lost sheep in the desert ?" asked Asti.

Then, as though by an inspiration, she added, "Lady, take that harp of yours, and play and sing to it." So Tua took the harp and swept its golden chords, and, lifting up her lovely voice, she began to sing.

At first it trembled a little, but by degrees, as she forgot all save the music, it grew strong, and rang out sweetly in the silence of the forest, and the great, slow-moving river.
And lo! as she sang thus, the wild brutes grew still, and seemed to listen as though they were charmed.

Yes, even a snake wriggled out from between the rocks and listened, waving its crested head to and fro.
At length Tua ceased, and as the echoes died away the brutes, every one of them, turned and vanished into the forest or the river, all save the snake that coiled itself up and slept where it was.

So stillness came again, and Tua and Asti slept also, nor did they wake until the sun was shining in the heavens.
Then they arose wondering, and went down over the patch of sand that was marked with the footprints of all the beasts to the river's brink, and drank and washed themselves, peering the while through the mists, for they thought that perchance they would see that golden ship with the veiled crew which had carried them from Memphis, returned and awaiting them in midstream.
But no ship was there; nothing was there except the river-horses which rose and sank, and the crocodiles on the mud-banks, and the wildfowl that flighted inward from the sea to feed.