Mills and passed among huge broken rocks, three men sprang at him from
the shadows. He lifted his stick, but let it fall again, and a strange
ghost of a smile twisted his face as they gripped him and threw him
down.

"You are rough beggars," he said. "Say what you want, you are welcome
to it."

"Your money, dog of a courtier," they muttered fiercely; "give us your
golden collar, Herod's hound, quick, or you die!"

"The quicker the better," he answered, closing his eyes.

The bewildered flock of sheep and goats, gathered in a silent ring,
stood at gaze while the robbers fumbled over their master.

"This is a stray dog," said one, "he has lost his collar, there is not
even the price of a mouthful of wine on him. Shall we kill him and
leave him for the vultures?" "What have the vultures done for us," said
another, "that we should feed them? Let us take his cloak and drive off
his flock, and leave him to die in his own time."

With a kick and a curse they left him. He opened his eyes and lay quiet
for a moment, with his twisted smile, watching the stars.

"You creep like snails," he said. "I thought you had marked my time
tonight. But not even that is given to me for nothing. I must pay for
all, it seems."

Far away, slowly scattering and receding, he heard the rustling and