The rocky landscape was wild and desolate, and the path to be climbed steep.  Joshua’s old father, who had grown up on the flat plains of Goshen and was unaccustomed to climbing mountains, was borne amid the joyous acclamations of the others, in the arms of his son and grandson, to the summit of the pass; but Miriam’s husband who, at the head of his men, followed the division of Ephraim’s companions, heard the shouts of the youths yet moved with drooping head and eyes bent on the ground.

At the summit they were to rest and wait for the people who were to be led through the wilderness of Sin to Dophkah.

The victors gazed from the top of the pass in search of the travellers; but as yet no sign of them appeared.  But when they looked back along the mountain path whence they had come a different spectacle presented itself, a scene so grand, so marvellous, that it attracted every eye as though by a magic spell; for at their feet lay a circular valley, surrounded by lofty cliffs, mountain ridges, peaks, and summits, which here white as chalk, yonder raven-black, here grey and brown, yonder red and green, appeared to grow upward from the sand toward the azure sky of the wilderness, steeped in dazzling light, and unshadowed by the tiniest cloudlet.

All that the eye beheld was naked and bare, silent and lifeless.  On the slopes of the many-colored rocks, which surrounded the sandy valley, grew no blade of grass nor smallest plant.  Neither bird, worm, nor beetle stirred in these silent tracts, hostile to all life.  Here the eye discerned no cultivation,—­nothing that recalled human existence.  God seemed to have created for Himself alone these vast tracts which were of service to no living creature.  Whoever penetrated into this wilderness entered a spot which the Most High had perchance chosen for a place of rest and retreat, like the silent, inaccessible Holy of Holies of the temple.

The young men had gazed mutely at the wonderful scene at their feet.  Now they prepared to encamp and showed themselves diligent in serving old Nun, whom they sincerely loved.  Resting among them under a hastily erected canopy he related, with sparkling eyes, the deeds his son had performed.

Meanwhile Joshua and Hur were still standing at the top of the pass, the former gazing silently down into the dreary, rocky valley, which overarched by the blue dome of the sky, surrounded by the mountain pillars and columns from God’s own workshop, opened before him as the mightiest of temples.

The old man had long gazed gloomily at the ground, but he suddenly interrupted the silence and said: 

“In Succoth I erected a heap of stones and called upon the Lord to be a witness between us.  But in this spot, amid this silence, it seems to me that without memorial or sign we are sure of His presence.”  Here he drew his figure to a greater height and continued:  “And I now raise mine eyes to Thee, Adonai, and address my humble words to Thee, Jehovah, Thou God of Abraham and of our fathers, that Thou mayst a second time be a witness between me and this man whom Thou Thyself didst summon to Thy service, that he might be Thy sword.”