shadows in and out of the rocks up the hillside, and Joseph thought of a midnight wolf.  The wolves did not venture as near the city, but—­Whatever Joseph saw with his eyes, or fancied he saw, did not appear again, and he picked up his load, thinking of the hopeless struggle it would be between him and a grey wolf burdened as he was.  He could not do else than leave Jesus to be eaten, and his fear of wolf and hyena so exhausted him that he nearly toppled at the next halt.  A fall would be fatal to Jesus, and Joseph asked himself how he would lift Jesus on to his shoulder again.  He did not think that he could manage it, but he did, and staggered to the gates; but no sooner had he laid his burden down than he remembered that he could not ascend the stairs without noise.  The gardener’s cottage is empty; I will carry him thither.  The very place, Joseph said, as he paused for breath by the gate-post.  I must send away the two men-servants, he continued, one to Galilee and the other to Jericho.  The truth cannot be kept from Esora.  I need her help:  I can depend upon her to cure Jesus of his wounds and keep the young girl in the house, forbidding her the garden while Jesus is in the cottage.  The danger of dismissal would be too great, she would carry the story or part of it to Jerusalem, it would spread like oil, and in a few days, in a few weeks certainly, the Pharisees would be sending their agents to search the house.  With Jesus hoisted on to his shoulder he followed the path through the trees round the shelving lawn and crossed the terrace at the bottom of the garden.  He had then to follow a twisting path through a little wood, and he feared to bump Jesus against the trees.  The path led down into a dell, and he could hardly bear up so steep was the ascent; his breath and strength were gone when he came to the cottage door.

Fortune seems to be with us, he said, as he carried Jesus through the doorway, but he must have a bed, and fortune is still with us, they haven’t removed the bed; and as soon as Jesus was laid upon it he began to remember many things.  He must go to the house and get a lamp, and in the house he remembered that he must bring some wine and some water.  He noticed that his hand and his sleeve were stained with blood.  He must have been badly scourged, he said, and continued his search for bottles, and after mixing wine and water he returned to the gardener’s cottage, hoping that casual ministrations would relieve Jesus of some of the pain he was suffering till Esora would come with her more serious remedies in the morning.

He put the lamp on a chair on the opposite side of the bed and turned Jesus over and began to pick out of the wounds the splinters of the rods he had been beaten with, and after binding up the back with a linen cloth he drew Jesus’ head forward and managed to get him to swallow a little wine and water.  I can do no more, he said, and must leave him....  It will be better to lock the door; he must bide there till I hear Esora on the stairs coming down from her room.  She is always out of bed first, and if luck is still with us she will rise early this morning.