On his way thither he met some of the populace--the remnant returning from the crucifixion--and he rode up the ascent at a gallop in the hope that he might be in time to save Jesus' life. He knew Pilate would grant him almost any favour he might ask; but within fifty yards of the crosses his heart began to fail him, for, whereas the thieves were straining their heads high in the air above the crossbar, Jesus' head was sunk on to his chest. He died a while ago, the centurion said, and as soon as he was dead the multitude began to disperse, the Sabbath being at hand; and guessing Joseph to be a man of importance, he added: if you like I'll make certain that he is dead, and, taking his spear from one of the soldiers, he would have plunged it into Jesus' side, but Joseph, forgetful of the warning he had received, on no account to show sympathy with Jesus, laid his hand on the spear-head, saying: respect the dead. As you will, the centurion replied, and gave the spear back to the soldier, who returned to his comrades, it being his turn to cast the dice. They have cast dice, the centurion continued, and will divide the clothes of these men amongst them; and, hearing the words, one of the soldiers held up the rags that had come to him, while another spread upon the ground Jesus' fine cloak, the one that Peter had bought for Jesus with money that Joseph gave to him. That he should see the cloak again, and on such an occasion, touched his heart. It was a humble incident in a cruel murder committed by a priest; and the thought crossed Joseph's mind that he might purchase the cloak from the soldier, but, remembering the warning he had received, he did not ask for the cloak, nor did he once lift his eyes to Jesus' face, lest the sight of it should wring his heart, and being overcome and helpless with grief, the priests and their hirelings might begin to suspect him.