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While the shepherds listened, half joyful, half afraid, the light faded and the voices floated away–“Good will to men–to men–to men,” and all was still as before. For a moment the shepherds looked at each other in silent awe and wonder. Then Ezra spoke in a voice dry with fear. “What was it?”

Dahvid stood speechless, and Samuel answered reverently, “Angels.”

“Brothers,” he continued, “a wonderful thing has happened to us. It has been a long, long day since angels have spoken to men.”

Then he girded his shepherd’s cloak about him and seized his staff. “Come, Ezra, Joel, Dahvid, let us be going.”

“Going–where?” asked Ezra and Joel.

“Why, to Bethlehem to see the Child. Did not the angel tell us the sign? Let us go at once to find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes and lying in a manger.”

“There be many mangers in Bethlehem,” objected Ezra.

“I know not how we shall find him,” said Joel. “It is a vain search, I fear,” and he drew his cloak about him and reached for his staff, “but I will go with you if you say.”

So they started, Samuel, Ezra, and Joel–but Dahvid stood still.

“Come, Dahvid, make haste!” called Samuel.

But the boy did not move.

“I cannot go,” he said.

“Cannot go!” cried Samuel in amazement; and Ezra added, “Who said but a little while ago that he would go to the end of the earth to see the King?”

“And so I would,” cried Dahvid; “but the sheep–we cannot leave the sheep alone.”

“The sheep will be safe enough,” said Samuel. “The dogs will keep them together. There are no wolves tonight. Come, Dahvid.”

But the boy was firm. “There is my master; he’ll be angry if I leave his flocks alone.”

“Old Abraham will never know,” said Joel.

“Abraham is a hard master,” said Dahvid. “Many a time I have felt his heavy staff on my back. But it is not that which keeps me. I have given him my word that, come day, come night, come life, come death, I will not fail to keep the flocks. Go on without me; I must keep my word. Go on.”

So they went on, impatient and eager for this wondrous quest, Ezra and Joel muttering now and then at the obstinacy of the boy, but Samuel full of glowing admiration. Dahvid watched them as they moved up the hill. That dream of finding the Christ-child–how could he give it up? Once he started forward: “I will go!” But something held him back, and he threw himself on the ground and kept back tears of bitter disappointment. After a time he grew calmer, and found a certain comfort in thinking of the helplessness of his flock.

Suddenly the low growling of his dog brought him to his feet. But he saw nothing, heard nothing, and bade the dog be still. In a moment, with a bark of alarm, the dog was up again and away. Dahvid sprang up, certain now that danger was near. There was panic in the flock. Toward the wilderness he could see lean, gray forms, moving stealthily and swiftly among the sheep. Wolves! Springing upon a rock, and waving his cloak in circles about his head, he uttered the familiar call which gathered the sheep about him, his own sheep nearest, and behind them the flocks of Samuel, Ezra, and Joel. The wolves made off and Dahvid quickly looked over his flock to see if all were there–for the Eastern shepherd knows his sheep by name.

One by one he named them, with an increasing feeling of relief. They were all there. No! One was missing–Ke-barbara, the pet of the flock. Ke-barbara means striped, and the little sheep was so called because of the dark marking of her fleece. After waving his staff over the huddled beasts, and uttering a few times the soothing cry, “Hoo-o-o, ta-a-a! hoo-o-o, ta-a-a!” he rushed off in the direction which the wolves had taken. At the top of the steep bank, at the edge of the pasture, he stopped and called, “Ke-barbara! Ke-barbara!” and for answer heard an anguished bleat from the rocks below.