“Here is the river,” said Khian, “but I see no boat.”
“As all the rest of the tale has proved true, Brother, doubtless the boat will appear also. Faith, have faith!” answered Temu to whom the gods had given a trusting soul, and when they had waited half an hour or more, he repeated his words.
“I hope so,” answered Khian, “since otherwise we must swim before dawn and hereabout are many crocodiles that feed upon the refuse from the palace.”
As he spoke they heard the sound of oars and in the deep shadow of the wall saw a small masted boat creeping towards them. This boat came to a halt beneath their hole. There was a man in it who threw out a fishing line, looked upwards and whistled very softly. Temu whistled back, whereon the man began to hum a tune, such as fishers use, then at the end of it sang softly:
“Leap into my boat, O Fish.”
Khian scrambled out of the hole and climbed down the surface of the rough wall, which, being accustomed to such work, was easy to him, and presently was safe in the boat. Temu, having first thrown the lamp into the Nile lest it should be found in the tunnel, followed after him, but more awkwardly; indeed, had not Khian caught him he would have fallen into the river.
“Help me to hoist the sail. The wind blows strongly from the north, therefore you must fly southwards; there is no choice,” said the man.
As he obeyed, Khian saw his face. It was that of the jailer himself.
“Be swift,” he went on. “I see lights moving; perhaps the dungeon has been found empty. Many spies are about.”
Then Khian bethought him of the glowing eyes he had seen at the grating.