"Salute them for me," the decurion shouted back, "and make them my
obeisances, and say that I shall report on the flavor of the sheep by
messenger from Jerusalem."
In a moment the boy sprang into the decurion's way so suddenly that
the soldier almost fell over him.
"Be fair!" the boy exclaimed. "At least leave me half!"
The decurion was losing patience and the shepherd had grown more than
ever serious.
"Fair!" the Roman echoed. "Why, I have been indulgent! This is war! It
is almost a breach of discipline to argue with you. Out of the way!"
"The Roman army has all the world to feed it; Pella has only its
sheep. We, then, must face hunger and cold because your appetites
crave mutton this day!" the boy returned resentfully.
The decurion pointed down the road.
"Why waste your breath! There go the sheep."
The boy's dark eyes filled with tears. The decurion swung around him
and went back to the horses that waited in the road. He knotted their
bridles together and, leading one of the number, remounted and rode
west after the receding cloud of dust which hid the flock.
The shepherd's head sank on his heaving breast and he stood still.
"Lord Jesus, I pray Thee, give me my sheep again!" he prayed.
A deep prolonged thunder that had been filling the hills with sound
began to multiply as the nearest slopes caught it and tossed it from
echo to echo.
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