Come here, Gagabu, and examine Paaker's wound, which is no disgrace to him--for it was inflicted by a prince." The old man loosened the bandage from the pioneer's swollen hand.
"That was a bad blow," he exclaimed; "three fingers are broken, and--do you see ?--the emerald too in your signet ring." Paaker looked down at his aching fingers, and uttered a sigh of rehef, for it was not the oracular ring with the name of Thotmes III., but the valuable one given to his father by the reigning king that had been crushed.

Only a few solitary fragments of the splintered stone remained in the setting; the king's name had fallen to pieces, and disappeared.
Paaker's bloodless lips moved silently, and an inner voice cried out to him: "The Gods point out the way! The name is gone, the bearer of the name must follow." "It is a pity about the ring," said Gagabu.

"And if the hand is not to follow it--luckily it is your left hand--leave off drinking, let yourself be taken to Nebsecht the surgeon, and get him to set the joints neatly, and bind them up." Paaker rose, and went away after Ameni had appointed to meet him on the following day at the Temple of Seti, and the Regent at the palace.
When the door had closed behind him, the treasurer of the temple said: "This has been a bad day for the Mohar, and perhaps it will teach him that here in Thebes he cannot swagger as he does in the field.

Another adventure occurred to him to-day; would you like to hear it ?" "Yes; tell it!" cried the guests.
"You all knew old Seni," began the treasurer.

"He was a rich man, but he gave away all his goods to the poor, after his seven blooming sons, one after another, had died in the war, or of illness.