XXI
BATTLE OF BETHHORON
The sun had long risen the next day when Deborah came out of a little hut on the brow of Bethhoron Heights, several leagues to the northwest of Jerusalem. It was one of a score of half-burned and half-demolished structures which marked the site of a deserted hamlet.
A group of men, who had been lying among the rocks hard by, rose and silently saluting her walked away; but not without backward glances that betokened both reverence and curiosity.
From her high outlook Deborah's eyes took in the vast plain of Sharon, which lay at her feet. In the far distance the blue sea mingled with the blue of the sky; a wonderful background for the nearer landscape, which seemed like a garden. Yellow grain-laden fields, patches of variegated poppies and lilies, vast sections of green meadow, and groves of fig and orange diminished by distance suggested parterres of flowers; while the white highways from Cœle-Syria and the coast seemed but footpaths. Far to the north the sky was dotted with circling eagles, while the dust clouds beneath suggested the fancy that these birds were flying cinders flung upward by some conflagration.
Deborah put her hand to her brow, and gazed long in that direction. The dust haze began to sparkle as with fire-flies. Her trained eyes recognized the far gleam of spear and helm.
"They come," she ejaculated.
She signalled to an armed peasant near her. "You are sure that Judas got the message?"