he was as one struck dumb; and
it was not until the centurion smiled that the spell dissolved and the
power of speech returned.

"Ah, _that_ never; you shall kill me first!" she cried. And already she
saw herself circumventing the centurion, blinding the soldiery, defying
the mob, and leading the Master through byways and underground passages
out of the accursed city into the fresh glades of Gethsemane, over the
hill, down the hollows to the Jordan, and into the desert beyond. There
was one spot she knew very well; one that only a bird could find; one that
she would mention to no one, but to which she could take him and keep him
hidden there in the brakes till night came, and the fording of the river
was safe.

"That never!" she cried. And brushing Bernice off, she caught the Master
by the cloak. "Come with me," she murmured. "I know a way----"

And she would have dragged him perhaps, regardless of the others, but the
centurion had her by the arm.

"See here, my pretty friend, your place is not here."

With a twist he sent her spinning back to Baba Barbulah's wall.

"March!" he ordered.

The soldiery, disarranged, fell in line. The two robbers picked up their
burden. The Master turned to Mary, to the others as well, with that
expression which he alone possessed, that look which both promised and
assuaged, and, it may be, would have said some word of encouragement, but
Mary was at his side again, her hand upon his cloak.

"It shall never be," she repeated. "They must kill me first."

Calcol wheeled. His short sword glistened, reversed, and her cheek was
laid open by the hilt. She staggered back. The soldiery moved on. The
women surrounded her and stanched the wound. To her the blow held the
difference between a cut and a cancer; she knew that it could never heal;
and, as the blood poured down her face, for the first time she divined the
uselessness of revolt.

Presently a wave of the mob caught her, separating her from the other
women, and carrying her in its eddy through the gate, into the valley and
on to the hillock beyond. On one side were the glimmer of fires, the smell
of smoke, of offal too. On the infrequent trees vultures perched. To the
right was a nest of gardens and of tombs.

In the eddies Mary lost foothold and lagged a little to the rear. When she
reached Guelgolta the soldiery had formed three sides of a square. In it
were the executioners, the prisoners, and the centurion. At the place
where