He glanced at the sleeper as he passed and continued to the farther

side where the opposite hill sloped down into the depression. Here he

found for himself a comfortable spot and lay down, prepared to watch

all day. From time to time he looked across at the motionless figure

in the grass and commented to himself that it was a weary man who

slept so soundly, and then lost interest in the maze of dreams that

can entangle the wits of a shepherd who is a boy.

The march of the Passover pilgrims continued to Jerusalem.

In mid-afternoon there came interruption. Along the level highway came

the rapid beat of hooves and the musical jingle of harness. Every soul

within sound of that un-Jewish mode of travel turned apprehensively

and looked back. Bearing down upon them from the west came a stampede

of Roman cavalry scouting. The sunshine on their brass armor

transformed them into shapes of gold, and the recklessness of their

advance swept the pilgrims out of their path as far as could be seen.

Right and left the Jews scattered; some ran into the hills and hid

themselves; others merely stepped aside and with darkening faces

waited defiantly for the approach of the oppressor. The young shepherd

full of excitement sprang to his feet.

Neither the fleeing Jews nor the Jews that had stood their ground

attracted the attention of the approaching legionaries. It was the

close-packed, avid-feeding sheep, deep in the grass, that won their

instant and enthusiastic notice. The decurion in charge of the squad

brought up his gray horse with such suddenness that the animal's feet

slid in the gravel.

"Sheep, by the wings of Mercury!" he shouted. "Dismount, fellows!

Here's for a feast this night and an offering to Mars to-morrow!"

The ten in brazen armor threw themselves from their horses with the

enthusiasm of boys and spread a panic of whooping and of waving arms

about the startled flock. The young shepherd, too long a fugitive from

the encroachments of this same army to misunderstand the nature of the

attack, ran into the thick of the shouting Romans. His valiant dog

with exposed teeth flew straight at the nearest legionary.

"Cerberus!" the soldier howled, dodging. "Your pike, Paulus! Quick! By

Hector, it is a wolf!"

But the quickest soldier would not have been quick enough to elude the

enraged beast had not the shepherd with a spring and a warning cry

seized his dog by the ears and stopped him mid-bound.

"Down, Urge!" he cried. "Take away your men!" he shouted to the

decurion. "I can not hold him long."

"Only so long," Paulus growled, raising his pike over the snarling

dog.

"Drop it!" the decurion ordered him peremptorily. "We are ten to one

and a dog. No blood-letting this day. It is Titus' order. Boy, get you

gone; these sheep are confiscate."




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