He longed for the top of a high hill--for the wide,
blue sky--for the world at his feet--such a sight as he had often
found in his rambles among the heights near Nazareth. Why not? He
would return in time for the next visit to the Temple.
Quietly he stepped among the sleeping-tents in the dark. A footpath
led through the shadowy olive-grove, up the hillside, into the
open. There the light was clearer, and the breeze that runs before
the daybreak was dancing through the grass. The Boy turned to
the left, following along one of the sheep-trails that crossed the
high, sloping pastures. Then he bore to the right, breasting the
long ridge, and passed the summit, running lightly to the eastward
until he came to a rounded, rocky knoll. There he sat down among
the little bushes to wait for sunrise.
Far beyond the wrinkled wilderness of Tekoa, and the Dead Sea, and
the mountain-wall of Moab, the rim of the sky was already tinged
with silvery gray. The fading of the stars travelled slowly upward,
and the brightening of the rose of dawn followed it, until all the
east was softly glowing and the deep blue of the central heaven
was transfused with turquoise light.
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