"Let him go," exclaimed his listeners with one accord; "he is fair, he is precious, he is a man, even amongst the children of Anak. But the traders from the north have eaten of our bread and drunken from our cup. All we possess is theirs, and they shall have him—at a price!"
Then the elder of the traders—keen-eyed, voluble, energetic—put in his word:
"You have many mouths to feed, my brothers, here within your tents. Millet grows scarce, and the wells are running dry from day to day. We also have a long journey before us in the desert. Our water-skins are empty, our camels over-loaded. What have we to do with a captive who eats and drinks, yet must be carried from day to day like a bale of goods? How are your servants to bring this encumbrance with them from city to city, till they reach their home in the mountains beyond the great rivers of the plain?"
"You will sell him for a talent of gold in the first market you enter," was the answer. "Is he not a comely youth? Fair and strong, and of a ruddy countenance? We have taken no such prey since we rode, without ceasing, four days and nights to spoil the City of Palms, by the western sea."
"The Assyrians have more slaves than enough," answered the trader, "since they brought captives up from Egypt, by scores and by hundreds, at the chariot-wheels of the Great King. Nevertheless, are we not brothers? You shall deliver him as a gift, and take two suits of raiment in exchange."
"He is yours, my brother," said the chief, "and my tents are yours; my horses, my camels, my handmaidens; the sword on my thigh, and the bow in my hand. But shall I give my brother ripened dates and receive from him only their broken shells? Add to the raiment a measure of myrrh, at least, and three cruses of oil."
"With a new pack-saddle," suggested a bystander, whose own camel-furniture had reached the last stage of decay; while a dozen more took up the cry, insisting on such articles as each thought necessary to his own comfort or equipment.
"Some twisted rope for hobbles!"
"A bale of silk from Tyre!"
"Two skins of wine of Eshcol!"