Here was room for
three thousand. He alighted and, with the scribes who stood, tablets
in hand, awaited the coming of the Israelites.
The camp emptied its dwellers in long wavering lines. Into the open
they came, slowly, and with downcast eyes, each with his remnant of a
tribe. Though the columns were in order, they were ragged with many
and varied statures--now a grown man, next to him a child, and then a
woman. Here were the red-bearded sons of Reuben, shepherds in skins
and men of great hardihood; the seafaring children of Zebulon; a
handful of submissive Issachar, and some of Benjamin, Levi, and Judah.
"Do we not leave the aged behind?" the scribe asked, indicating Deborah
who came with Judah.
"Give her her way," Atsu replied indifferently, and the scribe subsided.
The lines advanced, filling up the open with moody humanity. A scribe
placed himself at the head of each column, and as the hindmost
Israelite emerged into the field the movement was halted.
If an eye was lifted, it shifted rapidly under the stress of
desperation or suspense. If any spoke, it was the rough and
indifferent, whose words fell like blows on the distressed silence.
Many were visibly trembling, others had whitened beneath the tropical
tan, and the wondering faces of children, who feared without
understanding, turned now and again to search for their elders up and
down the lines.
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