The venerable man raised himself on his arm, and stared about him. Deborah laid him gently back upon the pillows.
"Oh, father, do not curse him. It may be he will not live. Do not curse him."
He gazed at her, taking her face between his hands and drawing it close to his.
"Aye, my Miriam again! Would God, Deborah, you had been my son!"
"But, father, pity our Benjamin. He is grievously hurt."
A change passed over the features of Elkiah. Suddenly the tears dimmed his sight, and he said:
"Benjamin hurt? My boy? The child of Miriam harmed? Where is he? Help me, that I may go to him."
He vainly tried to rise. His hands clenched as he muttered:
"The Lord avenge the house of Elkiah upon the heads of the heathen! The Lord spare my child! Benjamin! Benjamin! Would God I had died for thee!"
When she had seen the wounded man brought safely into the lower chamber, Deborah quickly searched every part of the house, and her cry for Caleb rang from the roof to the court.