"But Ezra ben Jared told me so. He was there, and drank of the wine," insisted Phineas.
"He could not have done it," said Abigail, "unless he were helped by the evil one, or unless he were a prophet. He is too good a man to ask help of the powers of darkness; and it is beyond belief that a son of Joseph should be a prophet."
To this Phineas made no answer. His quiet thoughts were shaken out of their usual routine as violently as if by an earthquake.
Joel thought more of the journey than he did of the miracle. It seemed to the impatient boy that the next day never would dawn. Many times in the night he wakened to hear the distant crowing of cocks. At last, by straining his eyes he could distinguish the green leaves of the vine on the lattice from the blue of the half-opened blossoms. By that token he knew it was near enough the morning for him to commence saying his first prayers.
Dressing noiselessly, so as not to disturb the sleeping family, he slipped out of the house and down to the well outside the city-gate. Here he washed, and then ate the little lunch he had wrapped up the night before. A meagre little breakfast,—only a hard-boiled egg, a bit of fish, and some black bread. But the early hour and his excitement took away his appetite for even that little.
Soon all was confusion around the well, as the noisy drivers gathered to water their camels, and make their preparations for the start.
Joel shrunk away timidly to the edge of the crowd, fearful that his friend Phineas had overslept himself.
In a few minutes he saw him coming with a staff in one hand, and a small bundle swinging from the other.
Joel had one breathless moment of suspense as he was helped on to the back of the kneeling camel; one desperate clutch at the saddle as the huge animal plunged about and rose to its feet. Then he looked down at Phineas, and smiled blissfully.
