Once, about mid-day, Jesus and His disciples were walking along a stony and hilly road devoid of shade, and, since they had been more than five hours afoot, Jesus began to complain of weariness.  The disciples stopped, and Peter and his friend John spread their cloaks and those of the other disciples, on the ground, and fastened them above between two high rocks, and so made a sort of tent for Jesus.  He lay down in the tent, resting from the heat of the sun, while they amused Him with pleasant conversation and jokes.  But seeing that even talking fatigued Him, and being themselves but little affected by weariness and the heat, they went some distance off and occupied themselves in various ways.  One sought edible roots among the stones on the slope of the mountain, and when he had found them brought them to Jesus; another, climbing up higher and higher, searched musingly for the limits of the blue distance, and failing, climbed up higher on to new, sharp-pointed rocks.  John found a beautiful little blue lizard among the stones, and smiling brought it quickly with tender hands to Jesus.  The lizard looked with its protuberant, mysterious eyes into His, and then crawled quickly with its cold body over His warm hand, and soon swiftly disappeared with tender, quivering tail.

But Peter and Philip, not caring about such amusements, occupied themselves in tearing up great stones from the mountain, and hurling them down below, as a test of their strength.  The others, attracted by their loud laughter, by degrees gathered round them, and joined in their sport.  Exerting their strength, they would tear up from the ground an ancient rock all overgrown, and lifting it high with both hands, hurl it down the slope.  Heavily it would strike with a dull thud, and hesitate for a moment; then resolutely it would make a first leap, and each time it touched the ground, gathering from it speed and strength, it would become light, furious, all-subversive.  Now it no longer leapt, but flew with grinning teeth, and the whistling wind let its dull round mass pass by.  Lo! it is on the edge—­with a last, floating motion the stone would sweep high, and then quietly, with ponderous deliberation, fly downwards in a curve to the invisible bottom of the precipice.

“Now then, another!” cried Peter.  His white teeth shone between his black beard and moustache, his mighty chest and arms were bare, and the sullen, ancient rocks, dully wondering at the strength which lifted them, obediently, one after another, precipitated themselves into the abyss.  Even the frail John threw some moderate-sized stones, and Jesus smiled quietly as He looked at their sport.

“But what are you doing, Judas?  Why do you not take part in the game?  It seems amusing enough?” asked Thomas, when he found his strange friend motionless behind a great grey stone.

“I have a pain in my chest.  Moreover, they have not invited me.”

“What need of invitation!  At all events, I invite you; come!  Look what stones Peter throws!”