"Well," said Nehushta, "I see that you had a shot at your hyena; did you kill it?"
"How do you know that?" he asked, looking at her suspiciously.
"A strange question to put to a Libyan woman who was brought up among bowmen," she replied. "You had six arrows in your quiver when we met you, and now I count but five. Also your bow was newly waxed; and look, the wax is rubbed where the shaft lay."
"I shot at the beast, and, as I think, hit it. At least, I could not find the arrow again, although I searched long."
"Doubtless. You do not often miss. You have a good eye and a steady hand. Well, the loss of a shaft will not matter, since I noticed, also, that this one was differently barbed from the others, and double feathered; a true Roman war-shaft, such as they do not make here. If any find your wounded beast you will not get its hide, since it is known that you do not use such arrows." Then, with a smile that was full of meaning, Nehushta turned and entered the house, leaving him staring after her, half in wrath and half in wonder at her wit.
"What does she mean?" he asked Miriam, but in the voice of one who speaks to himself.
"She thinks that you shot at a man, not at a beast," replied Miriam; "but I know well that you could not have done this, since that would be against the rule of the Essenes."
"Even the rule of the Essenes permits a man to protect himself and his property from thieves," he answered sulkily.
"Yes, to protect himself if he is attacked, and his property--if he has any. But neither that faith nor mine permits him to avenge a blow."
"I was one against many," he answered boldly. "My life was on the hazard: it was no coward's act."
"Were there, then, a troop of these hyenas?" asked Miriam, innocently. "I thought you said it was a solitary beast that took the sheep."
"It was a whole company of beasts who took the wine, and smote those in charge of it as though they were street dogs."
"Hyenas that took wine like the tame ape whom the boys make drunken over yonder----"
"Why do you mock me," broke in Caleb, "who must know the truth? Or if you do not know it, here it is. That thief beat me with his staff, and called me the son of a dog, and I swore that I would pay him back. Pay him back I did, for the head of that shaft which Nehushta noted, stands out a span beyond his neck. They never saw who shot it; they never saw me at all, who thought at first that the man had fallen from his horse. By the time they knew the truth I was away where they could not follow. Now go and tell the story if you will, or let Nehushta, who hates me, tell it, and give me over to be tortured by the servants of the high priest, or crucified as a murderer by the Romans."