"Of the whip!" he said. "I also opened the gate of the Garden. On whose back will the whip fall this time?"
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Near the end of the eucalyptus avenue, and close to the gate, David dismounted and made Jacob do likewise.
"We may come on them by surprise and listen," he said. "A soft step has won great causes."
They went forward cautiously, interchanging sharp glances as though they were stalking some dangerous beast, and so they came within earshot of the gate and sheltered from view of it by the edge of the cliff. David paused and cautioned his companion with a mutely raised hand.
"He lived through the winter," Ephraim was saying. "I took him into my room and cherished him by the warmth of my fire and with rubbing, so that when spring came, and gentler weather, he was still alive—a great leggy colt with a backbone that almost lifted through the skin. Only high bright eyes comforted me and told me that my work was a good work."
David and Jacob interchanged nods of wonder, for Ephraim was telling to this woman the dearest secret of his life.
It was how he had saved the weakling colt, Jumis, and raised him to a beautiful, strong stallion, only to have him die suddenly in the height of his promise. Certainly Ephraim was nearly won over by the woman; it threw David on guard.
"Go back to Abra," he whispered. "Ride on to the gate and tell her boldly to be gone. I shall wait here, and in time of need I shall help you. Make haste. Ephraim grows like wet clay under her fingers. Ah, how wise is Benjamin!"