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“Can you still…?”
    He was interrupted by an odd movement of Jahra’s mouth. There was a quiver at the corner of his lips. It looked as though he was making an attempt to say something. With careful precision, Jahra lifted an eyebrow and gave David a dramatic wink, his upper lip curled oddly, exposing several white teeth. He looked both menacing and deranged at the same time.
    A dam burst, and the boys rolled onto their backs, laughing hysterically. Jahra’s laugh sounded like a strangled duck. It made David laugh till tears were rolling down his face. When he had wiped his eyes clear and regained his breath, he finished his question.
    “So can you speak now?” He looked over at his friend, who was leaning up on his elbows.
    Jahra stuck out his tongue and wiggled it back and forth, shaking his head.
    David hid his disappointment with a joke. “Well, I can’t tell you what a relief that is. I couldn’t imagine having to put up with your crazy antics as well as your crazy stories. I’d never get any rest.”
    They spent the next few hours gathering the flock. David made Jahra a crutch from a fallen branch so he could limp along next to David. The huddled sheep were a simple matter, but the goats took them several hours. It was not till midafternoon that they were finally heading back to Bethlehem.
    “We need to get home as soon as we can so your mother can treat your leg,” David said, noticing that Jahra’s leg was causing him serious discomfort.
    Jahra agreed, gritted his teeth, and swung out ahead of him for a few paces until David caught up. “Take it easy, wild man.” David laughed. “We don’t want to get there without the flock.”
    In his hurry, Jahra stumbled several times. Once, David had to grab him to keep him from falling into a ravine. The tug sent a current of pain into David’s shoulder and neck. That old injury brought back a bittersweet memory.
    When he was eight or nine years old, a scorpion had bitten him on the arm. While rushing to cut out the poison, Lydea had sliced more deeply than she had intended.
    “What have I done to you, my beautiful little nazir ?” she had moaned in her strongly accented Hebrew. Her fingers had alternately patted and rubbed his hair. He fell asleep in her arms, feeling her bosom tremble as she tried to stifle her sobs.
    When he awoke, still in her arms, he had looked up into her tired, reddened eyes and asked, “Lydea, what is a nazir ?”
    Placing her hand on his head, she smiled and said quietly, “My dear one, in your country, it means one who is a strong leader, a chief.” She bent down to whisper into his ear. “In mine, it is the son of the ruler—the king’s son.”
    “What is a king?” he’d murmured, half awake.
    “You have heard of Saul, the son of Kish, who lives in Gibeah? Is this not so?”
    He had nodded, his eyes fixed on hers.
    “Before you were born, Prophet Samuel anointed him king—the chief of your people. And Jonathan, his boy—he is the nazir .” She winked slyly.
    He looked into her lined face. “But I’m not—” he had begun.
    She’d stopped him with a hand over his mouth. Glancing at the cloth covering the entrance of the stone hut, she shook her head and said, “Oh, but you are , my ahuvee —you are.”
    He did not know why, but at these words he had felt the hairs on his forearms prickle.
    Jahra’s gasp and soft groan awakened David from his reverie. His friend had almost fallen again. Looking ahead, David realized that Bethlehem was near. His stomach tightened into a knot, one worry chasing all the others away. What will Father say about more dead sheep? And what will he do about missing the auction?
    The horizon had turned a pale pink as the sun set over the Great Sea far in the distance. David knew that by the time they arrived, the evening meal would be finished. Though everyone would be inside their homes, sneaking the animals into their pens would be impossible. There was no way to keep nearly the herd