Again the string sang, again the shaft sped forth, and a barbarian king
fell from his chariot as a diver plunges into the sea, and his teeth bit
the sand.
"Dive deep, thou sea-thief!" cried the Wanderer, "thou mayest find
treasures there! Drive on, thou charioteer, so should lions die while
jackals watch."
Now the barbarians looked on the Wanderer and were amazed. For ever his
chariot rushed to and fro, across the mustering ground of the camp, and
ever his grey shafts carried death before them, and ever the foemen's
arrows fell blunted from his golden harness. They looked on him amazed,
they cried aloud that this was the God of War come down to do battle for
Khem, that it was Sutek the Splendid, that it was Baal in his strength;
they fled amain before his glory and his might. For the Wanderer raged
among them like great Rameses Miamun among the tribes of the Khita; like
Monthu, the Lord of Battles, and lo! they fled before him, their knees
gave way, their hearts were turned to water, he drove them as a herdsman
drives the yearling calves.
But now at length a stone from a sling smote the charioteer who directed
the chariot, and sunk in between his eyes, so that he fell down dead
from the chariot. Then the reins flew wide, and the horses rushed this
way and that, having no master. And now a spear pierced the heart of the
horse on the right, so that he fell, and the pole of the chariot snapped
in two.
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