ia, away to the west.
The boy carried over his shoulder the cloak of Paul, and carried that
cloak as though it had been the royal purple garment of the Roman
Emperor himself instead of the worn, faded, travel-stained cloak of a
wandering tent-maker.

The two older men, whose names were Paul the Tarsian and Silas, had
trudged six hundred miles. Their younger companion, whose name was
"Fear God," or Timothy as we say, with his Greek fondness for perfect
athletic fitness of the body, proudly felt the taut, wiry muscles
working under his skin.

On they walked for day after day, from dawn when the sun rose behind
them to the hour when the sun glowed over the hills in their faces.
They turned northwest and at last dropped down from the highlands of
this plateau of Asia Minor, through a long broad valley, until they
looked down across the Plain of Troy to the bluest sea in the world.

Timothy's eyes opened with astonishment as he looked down on such a
city as he had never seen--the great Roman seaport of Troy. The marble
Stadium, where the chariots raced and the gladiators fought, gleamed
in the afternoon light.

The three companions could not stop long to gaze. They swung easily
down the hill-sides and across the plain into Troy, where they took
lodgings.

They had not been in Troy long when they met a doctor named Luke. We
do not know whether one of them was ill and the doctor helped him; we
do not know whether Doctor Luke (who was a Greek) worshipped, when
he met them, AEsculapius, the god of healing of the Greek people. The
doctor did not live in Troy, but was himself a visitor.

"I live across the sea," Luke told his three friends--Paul, Silas and
Timothy--stretching his hand out towards the north. "I live," he would
say proudly, "in the greatest city of all Macedonia--Philippi. It is
called after the great ruler Philip of Macedonia."

Then Paul in his turn would be sure to tell Doctor Luke what it was
that had brought him across a thousand miles of plain and mountain
pass, hill and valley, to Troy. This is how he would tell the story in
such words as he used again and again:

"I used to think," he said, "that I ought to do many things to oppose
the name of Jesus of Nazareth. I had many of His disciples put into
prison and even voted for their being put to death. I became so
exceedingly mad against them that I even pursued them to foreign
cities.

"Then as I was journeying[6] to Damascus, with the authority of