But she spoke no more until they were beside the outermost circle of coals that had been a cooking fire for the camp. Here they met a man, whom, by his superior dress, Kenkenes took to be the taskmaster. They were almost upon him before he was seen.
"Rachel!" he exclaimed.
"Here am I," she answered, a little anxiously.
"Thou wast gone long—" he began.
The sculptor interposed.
"She hath done me a service and it was my pleasure to talk with her," he said complacently. "Chide her not."
The glow from the fire lighted the young man's face, and the taskmaster, standing in deep shadow, scanned it sharply but did not answer. Kenkenes turned and strode away down the valley.
Rachel snatched a thick sycamore club which had been left over in the construction of the scaffold and ran after him. But the young sculptor had disappeared in the dark.
"Kenkenes," she cried at last desperately. He answered immediately.
She slipped off the mantle.