* * * * *
By the assistance of some rudely-constructed machinery, the heavily-laden basket was now lowered carefully down among the multitude—and, from the giddy pinnacle, the Romans were seen crowding confusedly around it—but, owing to the vast height and the prevalence of a fog, no distinct view of their operations could be obtained.
A half-hour had already elapsed.
"We shall be too late"—sighed the Pharisee, as, at the expiration of this period, he looked over into the abyss—"we shall be too late—we shall be turned out of office by the Katholim."
"No more"—responded Abel-Shittim—"no more shall we feast upon the fat of the land—no longer shall our beards be odorous with frankincense—our loins girded up with fine linen from the Temple."
"Raca!"—swore Ben-Levi—"Raca!—do they mean to defraud us of the purchase-money?—or, Holy Moses! are they weighing the shekels of the tabernacle?"
"They have given the signal at last"—roared the Pharisee—"they have given the signal at last!—pull away! Abel-Shittim!—and thou, Buzi-Ben-Levi! pull away!—for verily the Philistines have either still hold upon the basket, or the Lord hath softened their hearts to place therein a beast of good weight!" And the Gizbarim pulled away, while their burthen swung heavily upwards through the still increasing mist.
* * * * *
"Booshoh he!"—as, at the conclusion of an hour, some object at the extremity of the rope became indistinctly visible—"Booshoh he!"—was the exclamation which burst from the lips of Ben-Levi.
"Booshoh he!—for shame!—it is a ram from the thickets of Engedi, and as rugged as the valley of Jehosaphat!"