der kettles swung from triangles, and sight of this reminded Israel
that he had not eaten since the previous day. "I must have food," he
thought, "though I do not feel hungry." So he stopped, and the wandering
Arabs hailed him. "Markababikum!" they cried from where they sat within.

"You are very welcome! Welcome to our lofty land!" Their land was the
world.

Israel went into one of the tents, and sat down to a dish of boiled
beans and black bread. It was very sweet. A man was eating beside him; a
woman, half dressed, and with face uncovered, was suckling a child while
she worked a loom which was fastened to the tent's two upright poles.
Some fowls were nestling for the night under the tent wing, and a young
girl was by turns churning milk by tossing it in a goat's-skin and
baking cakes on a fire of dried thistles crackling in a hole over three
stones. All were laughing together, and Israel laughed along with them.

"On a long journey, brother?" said the man.

"No, oh no, no," said Israel. "Only to Semsa, no farther."

"Well, you must sleep here to-night," said the Arab.

"Ah, I cannot do that," said Israel.

"No?"

"You see, I am going back to my little daughter. She is alone, poor
child, and has not seen her old father for months. Really it is wrong of
a man to stay away such a time. These tender creatures are so impatient,
you know. And then they imagine such things, do they not? Well, I
suppose we must humour them--that's what I always say."

"But look, the night is coming, and a dark one, too!" said the woman.

"Oh, nothing, that's nothing, sister," said Israel. "Well, peace!
Farewell all, farewell!"

Waving his hand he went away laughing, but before he had gone far the
darkness overtook him. It came down from the mountains like a dense
black cloud. Not a star in the sky, not a gleam on the land, darkness
ahead of him, darkness behind, one thick pall hanging in the air on
every side. Still for a while he toiled along. Every step was an effort.
The ground seemed to sink under him. It was like walking on mattresses.
He began to feel tired and nervous and spiritless. A cold sweat broke
out on his brow, and at length, when the sound of a river came from
somewhere near, though on which side of him he could not tell, he had no
choice but to stop. "After all, it is better," he thought. "Strange, how
things happen for the best! I must sleep to-night, for to-morrow night I
will get no sleep at all. No, for I sha