His scamper of sheep flocked into the sedge, parting around the prostrate figure by a circle of coals now dead, and plunged into the pasture.  The boy inspected the earth and shook his head.  It was too wet for a long stay, inviting as it seemed.  But here his flock might pasture for a day without injury.

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.