a twofold horror. They stood dumbfounded and looked at one another and shivered.
But there was no time to be lost. Reuben stirred them up. They untied the leather thong, lifted the corpse and laid it in the wagon, after which they ascended. Reuben took the reins, cut the horse across his back with the whip and started on a fast gallop. It was daylight when they entered the broad street of Zicron Yaakob.
In the country, news will travel even as the wind, seemingly with no force to move it. The murder threw the colony into dismay, and shook it to its very foundations.
It was evening when the murdered man was being conveyed to the cemetery. He was stretched in a wagon, and one could see that here were the remains of a tall man and strong, as brave as any of the pioncers of which Palestine could’ boast.
A woman, walking somewhat apart from the crowd that was following, was weeping in an undertone. She was convulsed with weeping, but she choked down any sound of it. Some women watching her became hysterical. She was the wife of the murdered man. She had worshipped him.
This was an unheard of murder, and the Turkish Government should have done something. But it did not do much, though it did do something. Had it been an ordinary murder of an Arab in the hills none would have even come to know of it— except the soldiers perhaps. Some officers might have gotten wind of it, but not officially, and there would have been no action. But this was different and about a week later, a carriage with a sort of canopy overhead, drove up just outside of the colony, where the fields were. The carriage was full of Turkish soldiers. It stopped near a gate in a stone fence. A stout officer with a fierce military air, a well-knit frame, a short, yellow mustache, and shaggy eyebrows overhanging a pair of snarling blue eyes, got out of the carriage. An Arab armed to the teeth, with about three belts of cartridges, a dagger in its sheath at one side, and a revolver in its holster at the other, and a rifle slung across his back. stood by the gate. Tnis Arab was a fine example of his kind, evidently young, powerful, and handsome. He must have been watchman of the Nelds.
The officer went up to him, and asked him questions of no consequences, for it
was foreordained that this Arab was to be taken into custody. The Arab answered, likewise to no consequence. Whereupon the fierce Turkish officer let loose a ringing slap on the cheek of the poor devil, and arrested him there and then. He was packed into the wagon and driven off. No one knew what had caused the officer to single out this particular Arab.
The wife of the assassinated man went back. Some foolishly tried to console her; others as foolishly let her alone, which was also bad, for she was fast becoming demented and needed care. But she refused all attention. They sympathized with her until some of the franker sort made remarks about worrying too much for what was passed. So they, one by one, left her. She wandered about as one demented. She would leave the colony for days at a time and would come back haggard and exhausted. Once some Arabs brought her back in a sad condition. She had fallen ill, had been picked up on the way and brought back in a pitiable condition. She lay in the home of one of the farmers. But when she recovered she again took up this habit of hers, of losing herself in the surrounding Arabian villages. Finally she disappeared entirely. Some of the outgoing farmers took the trouble to inquire for her on their way. But nothing was heard of her. The shock of the murder was gradually forgotten. The unfortunate wife of the murdered man was also forgotten.
Then another murder took place on the same road and on the same portion of the road that the first murder had taken place. It was as frightful as the first. It was an Arab this time. And this time the government woke up and bestirred itself. Turkey can do a thing or two when driven to it. now she was driven to it. Soldiers came pouring in from all sides. They came from everywhere. A detachment of them had been seen outside the colony. They came in all sorts of uniforms and on all sorts of horses. When they tell you that Arabs ride on ponies that are small, supple, and light as the wind, don't believe it. These soldiers who served in the Turkish army were Arabs, and they didn't ride ponies. Their horses were great war-horses. They were "Ascelahs" wth big flanks that caught the sun's rays and reflected them back. They were supple and they were fast on their hoofs, but they