ON A PALESTINIAN ROAD
(A Story)
The road that runs in from Umtijmal to Zicron Yaakob, or Zamareen as the Arabs call it, lies open excepting for a certain stretch of it which is bordered on both sides by thick, black, clumps of brushes.
It was on one of those bright nights for which Palestine is so noted, that some colonists —four of them—were returning in an open wagon from a visit to Um tijmal.
They were not afraid; but the great black silence around them had a depressing effect. And to combat this depression that was slowly getting the better of them, one of them—he who was driving—struck up a Hebrew air, in which all joined lustily.
However, the road lay as yet open, andthose in the wagon who cared to peeraround them, could see for some distance black silhouettes of rocks or hills, a treehere and there. One could see and wassure that an armed Arab was not at hisback.
But now they passed a solitary tree, that stood a black outpost at the side of the road, announcing that they were now to leave the open country, and come upon that stretch of road which is bordered on both sides by the thick, black, bushes.
And here, hemmed in, they instinctively refrained from singing. For one sings only there where the voice can take flight and spread. And now only the regular beat of the horse's hoofs, and the noise of the wheels turning on the axles, broke the monotony of silence. And soon this, too, became monotonous.
The horse had been keeping up a moderate trot, when he suddenly stumbled, recovered his balance, and stopped.
With a violent start, the driver awoke from a trance into which he had fallen, and by a first impulse shouted angrily, "Diu, diu," lashing the horse with the reins all to no effect. He stood up and peered ahead.
"Look over there, Abner," he whispered to the man nearest him. "What do you think that is? The horse is afraid to go
near it." Abner, and the others stood up and strained their eyes to try to make out what it was that was obstructing the road. But they only could make out something huge and black.
"Reuben," Abner said to the driver "will you go down and see what it is?"
Reuben muttered something under his breath. But he was a stalwart young man and a natural leader. He descended, went forward and around the black object, fumbled for a while among the bushes, and came running back, his eyes dilated. He could not speak, but pointed in the direction from whence he had come. Then he recovered himself and shouted up to them as they were standing motionless, "Come down. Don't stand up there and look at me. It's something terrible!" First Abner and then the rest after him clambered down and followed Reuben.
They came upon a grewsome sight. The big black object in the middle of the roadway was a wagon with two oxen harnessed to it. And among the bushes was huddled the bloody corpse of a man, his head battered and crushed, and his body doubled up—bound fast with what they discovered to be the leather thong of a whip. The sight made them shiver and look furtively on all sides. Reuben fell on his knees and scrutinized the man closely. He rose immediately and whispered in a hardly audible voice "Do you know who it is? It's Asher Friedman—who owns the mill. It's he." But when he saw that they did not seem to know, he became exasperated and said, "You don't know Asher Friedman? You ate in his own house and it was his wife who waited on you and still you don't know!"
They remembered very well now—the pretty woman with the face brown like an Arab. She was reputed to be brave, strong as a man, and devoted to her husband. They remembered now that she had spoken of him and had said that they would, most likely, meet him in Zamoreen, as he driving thither with a load of grapes was on his way then. The murder took on