The desert lay under a leaden sky.  The yellow undulating sandy plain was like a frozen sea that had no end, and so far as eye could see was only bounded by the dark orb of heaven.  Here and there, grey, cleft, cone-shaped rocks and blunt-cornered stone boulders or blocks and flat-topped stones not unlike a table rose out of the sand-ocean.  Two such stones were situated close together; one was partly covered by the yellow quicksand, the other stood higher out of the ground.  On each of them lay a man stretched at full length.  One, strong and sinewy, lay on his face, supporting his black-bearded cheeks with his hands so that his half-raised face could gaze over the barren plain.  The other, a smaller-made man, lay on his back, making a pillow of his arms, and gazed at the gloomy sky.  Both wore the Bedouin dress and were provided with arms which were fastened into, or suspended from, their clothes.  Their woolly heads were protected by kerchiefs.  Their complexion was as brown as the bark of the pine-tree, their eyes big and sparkling, their lips full and red.  The one had a snub nose; the nose of the other was long and thin.  So do these men of the desert appear to my mind’s eye.

“Dismas,” said the snub-nosed man, “What do you see in the sky?”

“Barabbas,” replied the other, “what do you see in the desert?”

“Are you waiting for manna to fall from the sky?” said Barabbas.  “Do you know that I’m almost starved to death?  I must go down to the caravan route.”

“Well, go.  I’ll to the oasis of Sheba,” said Dismas.

“Dismas, I hate you,” growled the other.

Dismas said nothing, and steadfastly looked at the sky, which had not for a long while been so softly sunless as to-day.

“Since the day when you refused to help me hold up the caravan of Orientals with my men, I have hated you.  They had much frankincense and precious spices and gold.  With one blow we should have provided ourselves with enough for many a long year.  And you——­”

“Wanderers who were seeking the Messiah!  I do not attack such as they,” said Dismas.

“You, too, are seeking him, you pious highwayman.”

“Of course, I seek him.”

“Ha! ha! ha!” laughed he of the snub-nose, pressing his pointed chin into his hand.  “The Messiah! the fairy-tale of dreaming old men.  All weak men dream and believe.  Don’t you see that when you have to strive and struggle for your little bit of life there isn’t time to wait for the Messiah!”

“That’s just what I’ve believed for many a year and day,” answered Dismas sadly.  “I left my home to follow you; I’ve plundered men of silks and precious stones here in the desert, and time has flown nevertheless.  All the treasure in the world cannot bid it stand still for an hour; comfort only makes the days fly quicker.  We should not struggle for life, but hold it fast, for existence is a wondrous thing.  Oh, in vain—­the days vanish.  So I’ve determined to have nought to say to the hours which pass, but to a time that endures for aye.  And only he whom God sends can bring such a time.”