ce. Below the garden
slope where they were lounging, the rapid torrent of Kishon ran brawling
along. A full moon was rising above the rough edge of the Eastern hills,
and the whole scene was alive with the loveliness of an Eastern
landscape.

As they talked together, the strains of a harp came borne down the
stream by the wind, mingling with the rippling of the brook.

"The boys were right," said the captain of the little company. "They
asked leave to go up the stream to spend their evening with the
Carmel-men; and said that they had there a harper, who would sing and
play for them."

"Singing at night, and fighting in the morning! It is the true soldier's
life," said another.

"Who have they there?" asked a third.

"One of those Ziklag-men," replied the chief. "He came into camp a few
days ago, seems to be an old favorite of the king's, and is posted with
his men, by the old tomb on the edge of the hill. If you cross the
brook, he is not far from the Carmel post; and some of his young men
have made acquaintance there."

"One is not a soldier for nothing. If we make enemies at sight, we make
friends at sight too."

"Echish here says that the harper is a Jew."

"What!--a deserter?"

"I do not know that; that is the king's lookout. Their company came up a
week ago, were reviewed the day I was on guard at the outposts, and they
had this post I tell you of assigned to them. So the king is satisfied;
and, if he is, I am."

"Jew or Gentile, Jehovah's man or Dagon's man," said one of the younger
soldiers, with a half-irreverent tone, "I wish we had him here to sing
to us."

"And to keep us awake," yawned another.

"Or to keep us from thinking of to-morrow," said a third.

"Can nobody sing here, or play, or tell an old-time story?"

There was nobody. The only two soldiers of the post, who affected
musical skill, were the two who had gone up to the Carmelites' bivouac;
and the little company of Joppa--catching louder notes and louder, as
the bard's inspiration carried him farther and farther away--crept as
far up the stream as the limits of their station would permit; and lay,
without noise, to catch, as they best could, the rich tones of the music
as it swept down the valley.

Soothed by the sound, and by the moonlight, and by the summer breeze,
they were just in mood to welcome the first interruption which broke the
quiet of the night. It was the approach of one of their company, who had
been detached to A