le light lay over the barren land. The rocky
hill stood out clear on the right. A great stir was there. Busy
workmen were digging deep holes on the top, others were preparing the
stakes for the desert robbers. Those wild creatures were already half
naked, and the executioners were slinging cords round them to bind them
to the wooden frame. They were the lean, brown Barabbas and the pale,
sunken-eyed Dismas. The former gazed around him with his hawk's eyes,
clenched his hands, and tried to burst his fetters. The other was
quite broken down, and his unkempt hair hung about him. The disciples
had come as far as the tower of the town walls, but had withdrawn in
terror, all but John, James, and Peter. For Peter had decided to
acknowledge himself a follower of Jesus of Nazareth, should it cost him
his life. But no one troubled any further about the strangers. The
disciples had seen Judas slinking behind the rocky mounds; he looked
abject and forlorn, the very image of despair, and although their rage
against the traitor had known no bounds, they were softened by the
sight of the miserable creature, regarding him only as an object of
horror.

Simeon carried the cross to the top of the hill. And when he laid it
down and looked once again into the face of the malefactor who had
staggered up beside him, he recognised the Prophet. He recognised the
man with whom he had spoken in the desert concerning eternal life. He
had then paid scant attention to His words, but he had forgotten none
of them. Now he began to understand that whoever lived according to
the teaching of this man must attain inward happiness. And was it on
account of that teaching that the man was to be executed?

The captain ordered Simeon to move away. Two executioners laid hands
on Jesus in order to strip away His garments. He threw one swift
glance to Heaven, then closed His eyes, and calmly let them proceed.
The guards seized His gown, fought for it, and because they could not
agree who had won it they diced for it. Then they accused each other
of cheating, and fought afresh. Up came Schobal, the dealer in old
clothes, and pointed out with a grin that it was not worth while to
crack their skulls over a poor wretch's old coat. The gown was torn
and bloody; it was not worth a penny; but in order to end a dispute
between his brave countrymen he would offer fourpence, which they could
divide in peace among them. The coat was delivered over to