Momus saw with fear that Laodice on this straight inviting road would out-distance him to her peril.  He shouted inarticulately after her, but her reply came back, high with desperation and terror.

“The corner-stone of Israel!  All his treasure!  God’s portion, lost, lost!”

She was out of his sight.  The sudden barking of dogs told him that she had crossed the outskirts of the village, and groaning with alarm for her the old man stumbled on after her.  He saw lights flash out; heard shouts, and out of the confusion distinguished Laodice’s, vehement and urging.  The yapping of the town curs became less threatening and, by the time Momus reached the settlement, half-dressed Jews were hurrying east out of the village after the flying feet of the girl, in pursuit of the robber.

For unmeasured time, while the moon crossed its meridian and sloped down the west, the search continued.  Momus did not overtake the fleet-footed party that preceded him.  Stragglers that lost interest dropped back with him from time to time; but finding him dumb and immensely distressed, they disappeared eventually and returned to the town.  One by one, at times by twos and threes the party dropped off.  The three or four who remained helpful continued against hope, for simple pity for the girl.  But when she dropped suddenly by the wayside, exhausted with the strain of many troubles, they stopped to tell her that the chase was fruitless and to offer their rough condolences.

Then Momus hobbled up to them.  Laodice refused to raise her head to listen to them and they turned to the old man.  But by signs, he showed them that his tongue was dead, and finally, with suppressed remarks upon the exceeding misfortune of the pair, they, too, disappeared.  A thoughtful one invited them to return to the village.  Laodice, careless now of what he should think of his exposure to pestilence, told him bluntly that they were unclean.  Hastily he exclaimed at the sum of their troubles, hastily blessed them, and hastily departed.

There was a pallor along the under-rim of the east; the wind freshened with the sweet vigor of early morning.

Over the stunned silence came the sound of the infinite trotting of tiny hooves and a high, wild, youthful yell.  Laodice, too worn to observe, sat still; but Momus, with a rush of old fairy-tales in mind, sprang to her side and seized her arm.  His alarmed eyes searched the dark landscape for whatever visitation it had to reveal.

There was the rush of countless hoof-beats and a low cloud of dust obscured the crest of the hill just above them.  The soft tremolo of multitudinous bleating came out of it.  The quick excited bark of a fresh Natolian sheep-dog wakened an echo in one of the ravines through a hill on the opposite side of the road, while strong and insistent and happy the young cry preceded this sudden animation in the wilderness.

There was a fall of gravel on the slope over their heads and the next instant a fourteen-year-old boy descended upon the pair in a fall of earth, his sandaled feet planted one ahead of the other, his bare arms thrown above his head as he balanced himself, his long, stiff, crinkled black locks blowing backward, his face bright with the eager enjoyment of his simple feat.