“But ’tis forbidden, Benjamin,” gently answered Seraiah, now in good hopes of winning over this somewhat stubborn proselyte, “and you are too good a man to give up your country for a matter of meat or drink.” “Aye,” said the man, “but there are other things.” “Nothing surely that cannot be borne,” went on Seraiah. “Oh, Benjamin, you have saved my life to-day, and henceforth you are my brother; but I could almost wish, but for my wife and child’s sake—you remember Ruth and the babe?—that you had left me to die, if I am to see you return to the ways of death.” The cause was almost won when, at an unhappy moment, a party of Jewish soldiers returning from the pursuit came in sight. One of them immediately recognized Benjamin, and gave the alarm to his companions. They rushed to arrest him, but Benjamin divined their purpose and dashed up the rocks. To overtake him was impossible, for he was fleet of foot and unencumbered; but one of the Chasidim, for the soldiers belonged to this party, let fly an arrow which struck him in the left arm. It was but a slight wound, for the barb was not covered in the flesh; but it stirred him to a furious rage, which was all the fiercer because, by a great effort, he had just brought himself to yield to Seraiah’s arguments. He tore the arrow from the wound, hurled it at his pursuers with impotent rage, and crying, “All the plagues of Egypt consume you!” disappeared among the rocks. “You have lost a good recruit,” said Seraiah to his comrades when they returned to him. “What should this son of Belial profit us?” one of the Chasidim haughtily replied. “The Lord grant that my next arrow may be driven better home!” Seraiah made no answer, but painfully lifting himself from the ground made his way up the pass alone. He did not care for the company of his comrades, and they, on their part, though they could not help respecting him as a soldier, thought him sadly wanting in zeal for the Law and for the traditions of the elders. Late that night some of the fugitives, who had crossed the mountains somewhat further to the south, reached Jerusalem. They found the city anxiously expecting tidings of the battle; and two of their number who were officers were at once brought into the Governor’s house. He was indisposed, and Cleon, who had given up his post at Modin and was now attached to head-quarters, saw the new arrivals in his stead. When he had heard their story, he did not conceal his scorn for the mismanagement—or was it cowardice?—that had made a well-equipped and powerful army flee before a crowd of half-armed vagabonds. “It is easy to talk, my fine sir,” retorted one of the men, “when you have only got to stop at home and find fault; but if you had seen them to-day, you would be singing to a very different tune. By all the gods above and below, these Jews rushed on more like lions than men. And as to this Judas, son of Asmon, there is no standing against him. No man wants two blows from _his_ sword.”