e there is pestilence."

But he smiled down on her uplifted face, with immense confidence.

"I am not afraid. Besides, if I perish giving you comfort, I have done
only as Jesus would have me do."

"Who is Jesus?" Laodice asked.

The shepherd made a little sign and bent his knee.

"The Christ!" he responded.

Momus plucked quickly at Laodice's sleeve and shook his head at her in
an admonitory manner. He had laid down his bread unfinished. But the
shepherd looked at him sympathetically.

"Never fear," he said. "It will not hurt her to hear about Him. He
makes Pella safe from armies. Let her come there and see for herself."

Laodice pressed his hand.

"I shall come," she said.

He heaved a contented sigh--contented with himself, contented with her
promise to come. Then he drew his hands away.

"The sheep are noisy; they will not let you sleep. We shall go." Then
as if afraid of her thanks he drew away, and halted at the threshold
of the shelter. Then the boy extended his hands with a gesture so
solemn that both of his guests bowed their heads instinctively.

"_The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with you for evermore_.
Farewell," he said in a half-whisper.

He was gone.

Presently the rush of little feet swept after him and his high, wild,
youthful yell rang faintly in the distance. The delicate crackling
from the heated bed of coals was all that was heard in the sheltered
wady roofed with skins.

For the second time within the past few hours, Laodice had met a
Christian. Both had helped her; both had blessed her. And one was an
old man and one was a child.

The interest of the recent interview and the excitement of the night
slowly died away, leaving Laodice in the dead hopelessness of weary
despair. She lay down suddenly with her face against the warmed sand
and wept. Momus sat down beside her, covered her with a leopard skin
taken from his own swarthy shoulders, and soothed her with awkward
touches on cheek and hair, till her tears exhausted her and she slept.

Stealthily then the old man rolled up her own mantle and put it under
her head and prepared to watch. And then as he sat with his knee drawn
up, his head bowed upon it, the weakness of slumber gradually stole
away his watchfulness and his concern.

Some time later, before the deliberate dawn of a March day had put out
the last of the greater stars, two men on horses descended the
declivity just above the shelter of sheepskins and attracte