"That's all. The sick men are headin' for the houses. They ain't
yellin' any more, an' they don't look sick any more. An' I just keep
settin' on my horse a-lookin' on."

At this all three of my listeners broke into laughter.

"An' I'm a big man!" I cried out angrily. "An' I got a big sword!"

"The ten lepers Christ healed before he passed through Jericho on his way
to Jerusalem," the missionary explained to my parents. "The boy has seen
slides of famous paintings in some magic lantern exhibition."

But neither father nor mother could remember that I had ever seen a magic
lantern.

"Try him with another picture," father suggested.

"It's all different," I complained as I studied the photograph the
missionary handed me. "Ain't nothin' here except that hill and them
other hills. This ought to be a country road along here. An' over there
ought to be gardens, an' trees, an' houses behind big stone walls. An'
over there, on the other side, in holes in the rocks ought to be where
they buried dead folks. You see this place?--they used to throw stones
at people there until they killed 'm. I never seen 'm do it. They just
told me about it."

"And the hill?" the missionary asked, pointing to the central part of the
print, for which the photograph seemed to have been taken. "Can you tell
us the name of the hill?"