"I know not," replied the rabbi. "Few mortals come here, and mostly, I fear they are put to death. The demons love them not."
"Woe, woe is me," cried Bar Shalmon, "I am undone."
"Weep not," said the rabbi. "I, as a Jew, love not death by violence and torture, and will endeavor to save thee."
"I thank thee," cried Bar Shalmon.
"Let thy thanks wait," said the rabbi, kindly. "There is human blood in my veins. My great-grandfather was a mortal who fell into this land and was not put to death. Being of mortal descent, I have been made rabbi. Perhaps thou wilt find favor here and be permitted to live and settle in this land."
"But I desire to return home," said Bar Shalmon.
The rabbi shook his head.
"Thou must sleep now," he said.
He passed his hands over Bar Shalmon's eyes and he fell into a profound slumber. When he awoke it was daylight, and the boy stood by his couch. He made a sign to Bar Shalmon to follow, and through an underground passage he conducted him into the synagogue and placed him near the rabbi.
"Thy presence has become known," whispered the rabbi, and even as he spoke a great noise was heard. It was like the wild chattering of many high-pitched voices. Through all the windows and the doors a strange crowd poured into the synagogue. There were demons of all shapes and sizes. Some had big bodies with tiny heads, others huge heads and quaint little bodies. Some had great staring eyes, others had long wide mouths, and many had only one leg each. They surrounded Bar Shalmon with threatening gestures and noises. The rabbi ascended the pulpit.