A few heads clustered together, whispering. The name of Jankiel was
whispered low--very low.

But there was a spot, not on the meadow, but in the little street
close by, where people talked aloud. Near Shmul's hut, upon the bench
before the window, stood Meir. Thence he looked at the meadow, black
with people, and at the red glare of the fire; around him in the
street stood a dozen or more young men, his friends. Their faces
looked excited and indignant.

Haim, the son of Abraham, who an hour before had been an unseen
witness to Saul's conversation with his sons, told his friends about
it. Carried away by his indignation, he repeated in a loud voice
every word that had passed and his friends re-echoed them. The young
and usually timid spirits grew bolder under the pressure of shame and
exasperation. Only one voice was missing among the chorus of
voices--the most prominent of all, because he was the leading spirit
of the young people. Eliezer was not among those who crowded round
Meir; he sat apart, leaning against the black wall of the hut, His
elbows rested on his knees and his face was buried in his hands. He
looked like one petrified in this position; full of grief and shame.
From time to time he rocked his body slightly. The dreamy, timid man
was overwhelmed with bitter arid desperate thoughts.

Presently, from beyond the corner of the street, a black thin shadow
glided swiftly along the walls; and close by the group of young men,
the heavy panting, almost moaning, of an exhausted human being became
audible.

"Shmul!" said the young men.

"Hush!" said Meir, in a low voice, jumping down from the bench. "Let
nobody utter the name of the miserable man, so as not to bring him
into danger. I have been standing here to watch for his return. Go
away from here, and remember that your eyes have not seen Shmul
coming from that direction, not seen--"

"You are right," whispered Aryel; "he is our poor brother,"

"Poor brother, poor, poor!" they repeated all round.

They dispersed at once. Near the hut remained only Meir and Eliezer,
whom nothing could rouse from his stupor.

Shmul ran into the hut, now deserted by every one except the blind
mother and the smallest children.

There he threw himself at full length upon the floor and beat his
forehead in the dust; sobbing and moaning, he uttered in broken
sentences:

"I am not guilty, not guilty, not guilty. I did not fire it. I did
not hold the vessel full of oil.