"I am fleeing from Jerusalem. I am the daughter of Elkiah." "Elkiah's daughter a fugitive, and in such a plight? Has your brother turned you out? We had heard that he was in high feather with his new friends." "Alas!" said Deborah, "my brother is himself endangered. All are in danger there. Have you not heard?" "We have heard nothing. Tell us." "Not heard!" said Deborah, in feigned surprise. "The Romans, the strong people from the west, from over the Great Sea, from beyond Cyprus, beyond Greece, are coming. It is reported that their fleets are seen from the shore; that they have overcome the Syrian ships; that they have made alliance with Egypt; that vast armies, the armies that destroyed Perseus, are about to march through the desert, and come upon Syria by way of the valley. The Greeks in Jerusalem distrust the Jews who have submitted. They believe that my people have played them false, and will turn to the Romans. Meton is slaughtering us." The two Arabs looked at each other with faces that showed perplexity. They withdrew to a little distance. Deborah could not catch all their words, but enough to know that her ruse was not altogether futile. However well bribed with Greek gold, the tribesmen would not risk the alliance of Antiochus if this new power of Rome were to come upon the scene. The Republic of the West was regarded as invincible along the Great Sea, but had not yet essayed to strike Asia. If the crash of empires were to take place it were wise for the nomadic peoples to throw themselves with neither Greek nor Roman until there were some signs as to which power would prove the stronger. The older man remounted. "But, father, we cannot leave the daughter of Elkiah here," said the younger. "She must go with us." Deborah had risen to her feet. The hood dropped from her head. Was it her grateful look, or only her surpassing beauty, that held the young Arab? "You will go with us? You can ride?" said he. "Nay, I must go to my kinsman, Ben Aaron of Masada. To seek refuge there I have fled. Tell me the shortest way, I beg of you." "To Masada? That is a long journey, and rough, and full of dangers. You cannot go there alone." Nadan held rapid speech with old Yusef, the conclusion of which was this, on his part: "It is true we must not leave her here, nor can we delay. Take you the woman, Nadan. Cross the gorge of Kedron. By the night you can be at Masada, and by the morning back with us. Nadan, the woman is comely. Were I not needed with the people, she should share my saddle, not yours. No loitering, my son. My salutation to Ben Aaron, the damned Jew!--but it is unwise to damn him in the present emergency. His castle on Masada will be the strongest in the wilderness--when we get it. Speak him fair, and let the gift of his kinswoman be a pledge of peace between us--until we see fit to break it. That woman's breath on your cheek ought to give you soft words for Ben Aaron."