"And thou livest to tell me this," said Ben Hesed, his eyes burning with anger. "Why didst thou not defend the flocks?"
"Woe is me!" repeated the man, casting the dust upon his head. "I have not yet told the worst; we fought valiantly, and thy son Eri is slain, together with Kish, the herdsman. When this befell, we fled before the face of the enemy; the flocks also and the herds are scattered as the sand of the desert before the wind, and there is nought to hinder them from falling into the hand of the oppressor."
Then Abu Ben Hesed arose and rent his clothes and cast dust upon his head. "Jehovah hath caused me to be smitten," he said. "Nevertheless all his ways are right ways. I should have watched for mine enemy, for he hath grown lusty and flourishing of late. I will get me after him and smite him till he shall cry aloud for succor. Jehovah grant me my desire upon mine enemy! Alas for my son Eri! He hath been murderously cut down in the flower of his youth! From the bright morning of his days he hath been plunged suddenly into the night of death. But behold, his blood crieth to me for vengeance out of the desert. Let us make haste!"
The terrible news spread throughout the encampment, withering the peaceful evening joy, like the hot breath of a Sirocco. The women ceased their gay incessant chatter and broke into loud wailing, and the frightened children wept with fear at the sound.
"Alas! Alas!" cried the mother of the dead man. "Alas for my son! He was straight and comely as a palm tree, beautiful also, and pleasant in his speech. Woe! Woe! He will no more open his mouth with kindness, nor will his lips break forth with singing."
"Woe! Woe!" shrilled the other women, rocking to and fro, and casting the ashes from the dying fire upon their dishevelled heads.
"Morning and evening hath he led forth the flocks!" moaned the mother.
"He will lead them forth no more!" wailed her companions.
"Alas for the betrothed maiden! She is desolate, even as a widow without little ones hath she become!"
"Woe! Woe!"