As he passed down the gallery Hazael, who was sitting on the balcony, cried to him; Joseph, he said, waited an hour and has gone; he had business to transact in Jericho. But, Jesus, what ails thee? It seems strange, Jesus answered, he should have gone away like this. But have I not told thee, Jesus, that he will return this evening to wish thee good-bye. But he may not be able to return this evening, Jesus replied. That is so, Hazael rejoined. He said that he might have to return to Jerusalem at once, but he will not fail to ride out to meet thee in a few days. But he will not find me on the hills, no tryst has been made, Jesus said, as he turned away; and guessing his intention to be to leave at once for Jericho, Hazael spoke of Joseph's business in Jericho, and how displeased he might be to meet Jesus in the middle of his business and amongst strangers. The Essenes are not well looked upon in Jerusalem, he said. We do not send fat rams to the Temple. Fat rams, Jesus repeated. Amos has been telling me that what lacks is a ram, and the community had not enough money to buy one. That is true, Hazael said. Rams are hard to get even for a great deal of money. Joseph might lend us the money, he is rich. He will do that, Jesus answered, and be glad to do it. But a ram must be found, and if thou'lt give me all the money thou hast I will go in search of one. Joseph will remit to thee the money I have taken from thee when he returns. It will be a surprise for him to find in the flock a great fine ram of the breed that I remember to have seen on the western hills. I'll start at daybreak. Thou shalt have our shekels, Hazael said; they are few, but the Lord be with thee and his luck. CHAP. XXVI. His was the long, steady gait of the shepherd, and he had not proceeded far into the hills before he was looking round acknowledging them, one after the other; they were his friends, and his sheep's friends, having given them pasturage for many a year; and the oak wood's shade had been friendly beforetimes to himself and his sheep. And he was going to rest in its shade once more. At noon he would be there, glad of some water; for though the day was still young the sun was warm, the sky told him that before noon his tongue would be cleaving to the sides of his mouth; a fair prediction this was, for long before the oak wood came into sight he had begun to think of the well at the end of the wood, and the quality of the water he would find in it, remembering that it used to hold good water, but the shepherds often forgot to replace the stopper and the water got fouled.