"It is a witness of the Master's care; let us take it to the pastor," he suggested.
The trembling woman followed her husband as he stepped into the street and raised her eyes to give thanks. She saw that the figure on the summit of the pylon was gone.
The two found the leader of their flock, sitting outside an overcrowded house, bending over a half-finished basket of reeds. Beside him was one complete; at the other hand were his working materials.
"Greeting, children, in Christ's name," he said.
"Greeting, lord; praise to God in the highest!"
The Nazarene woman dropped to her knees, and her husband, extending the arrow in agitation, stumbled through their story.
"May His name be glorified for ever," the woman murmured at the end.
But the pastor took the arrow and examined it. It was uncommon; the story was uncommon, and he believed that there was more than a wanton attempt at murder in its coming. The bolt was tipped with a pointed flint, and feathered with three long, delicate papyrus cases, one dark, two white. The pastor felt of one of the white feathers, and presently ripped it off the shaft. It opened in his hand. Within was lettering.
After a little puzzled study of it, he shook his head and put it down. He loosened the other from the transparent gum and opened it. Written in another hand were the following words in Greek:
"To the Nazarene to whom this cometh:
"Deliver the arrow unto the young Jew, Marsyas, who dwells among you, but is not of your number."