them
approaching. The squad parted, passing on either side. All drew rein,
and one, dismounting, stood a moment looking down at her. Then laying
hold of her fleece, he moved the ewe tenderly aside.

"A sign and a wonder!" said the Roman knight, as they continued their
journey. "That old fighter has no hand for kindness."

"But mark this miracle of God," said the friend of Vergilius. "He
softens the heart of those with young and makes gentle the hand that
touches them. Ay, has he not softened the heart of the world? 'Tis
like a mother whose time is near."

Soon a purple dusk had overflooded the hills and risen above the
splendor of Jerusalem. The old capital was now like a dim, mysterious,
golden isle in a vast, azure sea. Vergilius thought, as he went on, of
those camel-riders. He seemed to hear in the lift and fall of hoofs,
in the rattle of scabbards, that strange cry: "Where is he that is born
king of the Jews?"

Darkness fell upon those riding in silence on the lonely road.
Suddenly they drew rein, listening.

Said Vergilius, whispering: "I thought I heard voices."

"And I," said David, his words touched with awe. "'Twas like tens of
thousands singing in some distant place."

Again they listened, but the song, if song it was, had ceased.

Then, boldly, as one who would put down his fear, the color-bearer
spoke up; "'Tis a band of shepherd folk on some far hill. Never saw I
so dark a night. By the curtains of Solomon, I cannot see my horse!"

"There is no star in the sky," said another.

Then said the young commander, whist with awe: "Look yonder! A light
on the hills! I saw it appear."

Amazement was in the tone of David: "Nay, 'tis a window of paradise!
Or maybe that time is come when the three great stars should gather
side by side. Do you not remember the talk of the astrologers?"

"I say 'tis a light on the hills." Vergilius now spoke in a husky,
solemn whisper. "See, 'tis larger; and I would think it near the
village of Bethlehem."

After a moment of silence he added, with a laugh: "Why stand we here
and whisper, like a lot of women? Let us move on."

Again he seemed to hear peals of song in the sky and their rhythm in
hoof and scabbard. It put him in mind of that strange, mysterious
chant of the old singer.

Soon he drew rein, saying: "Halt and listen!" They stopped, conscious
only of the great silence of the night. Vergilius felt for the arm of
his friend.

"What th