You may recall that in a former chapter I mentioned the opinion that
David was the kind of a fellow any red-blooded boy would like. On that
day of wonders, when in the twinkling of an eye the shepherd lad
became the champion of two armies, when the musical fingers of the
boy who played a harp and tended sheep did the execution which routed
the enemy and laid a giant's head at the feet of the king--that day
Jonathan's soul was knit to the soul of David in a lifelong
friendship. It was the kind of friendship which stands the test of
adversity.

It was no wonder that David could have the admiring friendship even of
a prince on the day of his triumph and for days afterward when all
people were singing his praises and he moved upon the high places of
royal and popular favour. If the tide had not turned, Jonathan's
friendship would have been only an incident upon the page of history,
if it had been recorded at all. It would not have been a thing so
fine, so inspiring, as to have thirty millions of Sunday-school folks
discussing it to-day.

But the tide turned, and there came a day when it was expensive and
hazardous to be a friend of David. Jonathan's position became both
delicate and perilous. Saul his father was a despot who would take his
own son's life if he sought to excuse or defend one whom the king
conceived to be his enemy. Jonathan's friendship stood the test. His
own life hung lightly in the balance, but Jonathan would rather have
given his life than fail his friend. He took it in his hand that
evening at the royal feast of the new moon; and he played with death
as the javelin of the infuriated Saul came hurtling across the table.