In Egypt he had met no prophet, only philosophers, and becoming once more obsessed by miracles, he hastened to Banu, but of Jesus Banu could only tell him that he was doing the work that our Father had given him to do.  Which is more than thou art doing.  Go and get baptism from John!  Go back to Jericho and wait for a sign, leaving me in peace, for I need it, having been troubled by many, eager and anxious about things that do not matter.  I will indeed, Joseph replied, for nothing matters to me since I cannot find him.  And he returned to Jericho, saying to himself that Jesus must be known to every shepherd; perhaps to that one, he said, running to head back his flock, which has been tempted by a patch of young corn; Joseph stood at gaze, for the shepherd wore the same garb as Jesus had done:  a turban fixed on the head with two tiring-rings of camel’s hair, with veils floating from the shoulders to save the neck from the sun.  Jesus, too, wore a striped shirt, and over it was buckled a dressed sheepskin; and Joseph pondered on the shepherd’s shoon, on his leathern water-bottle, on his long slender fingers twitching the thongs of the sling.  He had been told that no better slinger had been known in these hills than Jesus.  But he had left the hills and had gone, whither none could tell!  He was gone, whither no man knew, not even Banu.  He is about his Father’s work, was all Banu could say; and Joseph wandered on from shepherd to shepherd, questioning them all, and when none was in sight he cried again Jesus’s name to the winds, and never passed a cave without looking into it, though he had lost hope of finding him.  But he continued his search, for it whiled the time away, though it did nothing else, and one day as he lay under a rock, watching a shepherd passing across the opposite hillside, he tried to summon courage to call him; but judging him to be one of those whom he had already asked for tidings of Jesus, he let him go, and fell to thinking of the look that would come into the shepherd’s face on hearing the same question put to him again.  A poor demented man! he would mutter to himself as he went away.  Nor was Joseph sure that his mind was not estranged from him.  He could no longer fix it upon anything:  it wandered as incontinently as the wind among the hills, and very often he seemed to have come back to himself after a long absence, but without any memory.  Yet he must have been thinking of something; and he was trying to recall his thoughts, when the shepherd came back into view again and Joseph remarked to himself that he was without a flock.  He seemed to be seeking something, for from a sheer edge he peered down into the valley.  A ewe that has fallen over, no doubt, Joseph thought; but what concern of mine is that shepherd who has lost a ewe, and whether he will find his ewe or will fail to find it?  Of no concern whatever, he said to himself, and—­forgetful of the shepherd—­he began to watch the evening gathering in the sky.  Very soon, he said, the hills will be folded in a dim blue veil, and sleep will perchance blot out the misery that has brooded in me all this livelong day, he muttered.  May I never see another, but close my eyes for ever on the broad ruthless light.  Of what avail to witness another day?  All days are alike to me.