"And you, sir? Who are you that dares speak kindly to one whom even God seems to have forgotten?"
"I am Judas, son of Mattathias, the priest of Modin. But it is enough that I am a son of Israel and your protector," showing a stout sword beneath his herdsman's goatskin shirt. "A few of us have given ourselves during these dangerous times to the help of the fugitives from the Sacred City, and I thank our Lord that He has directed me to this spot where I may serve the house of Elkiah. But here, my children, you cannot remain; nor can you enter the town yonder. You must go with me. I will see you safely among those who revere your father's name, and are brave enough to defend his children as they would their own."
He took the lad into his strong hands, and placed him astride his shoulder.
Avoiding the open places, and as much as possible keeping the rocks between them and Mizpah, he led the way down the hill, skirting its northern base. At length they struck the bed of a brook, which, though torn by the winter freshets, was now dry. Scarcely had they begun to follow its water-whitened stones when they were challenged. A Greek sentinel strode out before them.
"The password!"
Judas leisurely placed Caleb upon the ground. His bowed attitude was that of a lion when he is about to spring upon his prey, and, swift as the king of beasts, the Jew was upon the sentinel. Bending him backward, his iron grip was about the challenger's throat. In another instant the Greek's skull was shattered against a stone.
Judas stood a moment, grim as a fiend, contemplating his work. Then his lips moved:
"Forgive me, O my God! But was not my frenzy Thine, O Avenger of Israel?"
Gradually his harsh features relaxed. He glanced at his helpless charge, then at the dead body. He sat down and burst into tears.
"Demon or angel, into whose hands have I fallen?" murmured Deborah, for her rescuer seemed either less or more than man.