"By all that's good, there is something written here! it is written in Phœnician."
I snatched the strap away from him in my eagerness, and discerned in a moment that it was covered with characters apparently traced in blood. Without waiting to read it all, I cried out:
"Hanno is alive! old Gebal has brought us the news. Hanno has written to us himself."
After I had deciphered the writing carefully, I said:
"Now, listen, my friends—this is what he says: 'We are prisoners, alive and well: Jonah's trumpet saved us; savages would not give us up to Bodmilcar; their chief wanted a Phœnician trumpeter. Another chief wants a trumpeter before he will give his daughter in marriage to this chief. I am spared as well. We are to be sent off at once to the northern chief. Keep up your spirits. We will soon escape. Beware of Bodmilcar; he is laying an ambush. He means to cut you off from the river.' There, my men, that's what he says. We will hope to see him yet."
As I ceased to read, Chryseis threw herself into Abigail's arms, and wept for joy; Gisgo flung his cap into the air; Himilco took a liberal draught from his goat-skin; and Hannibal manifested his emotion by sneezing seven times in succession. As for Bichri, he took the monkey in his arms, and fairly hugged it, a piece of attention which Gebal acknowledged by plucking out a handful of his hair.
"O, Gebal, shame upon you! would you be pulling out my hair when you know how much I love you? Brave old Gebal! I was only congratulating you on distinguishing yourself so well."
The others were all equally anxious to pet the creature, and gave it quantities of almonds and raisins, which it took without leaving its perch upon Bichri's shoulder.
"Come, come!" I said, "no time for this trifling. Our water is gone; we must get to the river; we must be beforehand with Bodmilcar. But there is one piece of business that we must settle first. Bring Hazael here."
The eunuch was brought before me, and addressing him very sternly, I said: