The strong-armed
women, rich brown in tint from the ardent sun, crowned with coil upon
coil of heavy hair, bent over the pungent fires. Sturdy children,
innocent of raiment, went hither and thither, bearing well filled skins
of water. Apart from these were the men of Israel, bearded and grave,
stalwart and scantily clad. They repaired a cable or fitted an
ax-handle or mended a hoe. But they were full of serious and absorbed
discourse, for the great Hebrew, Moses, from the sheep-ranges of
Midian, had been among them, showing them marvels of sorcery, preaching
Jehovah and promising freedom. The first high white light of dawn was
breaking upon the century-long night of Israel.
Before one of the tents an old woman knelt beside a bed of live coals,
turning a browning water-fowl upon a pointed stick. She was a
consummate cook, and the bird was fat and securely trussed. Now and
again she sprinkled a pinch of crude salt on the embers to suppress the
odor of the burning drippings, and lifted the fowl out of the reach of
the pale flames that leaped up thereafter. Presently she removed the
fowl and forked it off the spit into a capacious earthenware bowl near
by. Then, with green withes as tongs, she drew forth a round tile from
under the coals and set it over the dish to complete the baking.
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