It was late summer when He and three other men first walked upon that road yonder. It was evening, and He stopped and stood there at the end of the pasture.
I was playing upon my flute, and my flock was grazing all around me. When He stopped I rose and walked over and stood before Him.
And He asked me: “Where is the grave of Elijah? Is it not somewhere near this place?”
And I answered Him: “It is there, Sir, underneath that great heap of stones. Even unto this day every passerby brings a stone and places it upon the heap.”
And He thanked me and walked away, and His friends walked behind Him.
And after three days Gamaliel, who was also a shepherd, said to me that the man who had passed by was a prophet in Judea; but I did not believe him. Yet I thought of that man for many a moon.
When spring came, Jesus passed once more by this pasture, and this time He was alone.
I was not playing on my flute that day for I had lost a sheep and I was bereaved, and my heart was downcast within me.
And I walked towards Him and stood still before Him, for I desired to be comforted.
And He looked at me and said: “You do not play upon your flute this day. Whence is the sorrow in your eyes?”