Hammon's Day

Chapters 3 & 4

Chapter 3

 

     Scarface was gone, but there were only two streets he could have gone down. He hadn't had time to reach any of the side streets further down.

     Hammon looked back once to be sure the Scarface's two companions weren't going to follow him. They were turning into a narrow alleyway up the street. Hammon breathed deeply, and picked the first street he came to.

     The choice wasn't difficult. Scarface made several gestures toward the temples. If he wasn't going there, Hammon reasoned, then he was going that direction. The first street seemed to lead that way. The other seemed to twist off at a different angle and lead away from them.

     It was a much wider street than Hammon was used to. His village streets back home had been much narrower. Hammon was amazed at the numbers of people around him. He expected the city to be crowded and noisy. He wasn’t disappointed. There were more people than he’d seen in his entire life.

     As he walked he could feel his strength ebb and flow. He was controlling the pain in his head. He was pleased he'd not felt the dizziness or the nausea that had accompanied his previous walks. It wasn't midday yet, and he was feeling, in all, much stronger than he had when he'd first opened his eyes earlier.

     Most of the people were cleaner than Scarface or his friends. The tunics were laundered near white, but often showed a frayed edge or patch somewhere on them. He decided he was traveling through the poorer section of town. He expected everyone in Zarahemla to be rich. He was surprised to find they were very much like the people of his own village.

     As he walked an older woman looked up from her work at a loom and greeted him warmly. A man working with a wood beam, shaping and smoothing it, smiled as he passed. He smiled back. Everywhere children ran in the streets. The street near the shelter had seemed almost deserted by comparison.

     He felt comfortable among these people. There hadn't been anyone wealthy in his village, and that had been the reason his father had chosen to move them to the city. With robbers raiding the nearby villages it became apparent that they needed an army for defense. An army required money for weapons, and food. The village couldn't put together enough to keep even a small garrison. Like most of the villages, they were virtually unprotected and at the mercy of the robbers.

     "Besides," his father had said, "I can earn more in the city."

     "Not if we keep getting lost," Hammon breathed.

     He paused to let the pain in his head subside some.

     "You had to bring us to the city to protect us from the robbers, father,” he whispered. “I wish I knew where you were."

     He followed the street till it ended in a large square. He found himself thrust into a crowd of people more astounding than the city itself. There were booths and tables everywhere he looked. Many were laid out in neat rows, but many were just scattered, making it difficult to move easily among them. The tables were makeshift things, often only a couple of short logs tied together and fitted with legs. Most goods were simply scattered on the ground for inspection and purchase. The booths were branches woven to provide shade from the hot sun. None that Hammon saw would have kept out the rain.

     He was familiar with market places. The village had one, but it was outside the gates where there was more room. There were never more than a dozen booths. Traveling merchants would stop and spend a few days trading what they had for what they needed, and then they would be gone. Here things seemed much more permanent, if less organized.

     In the great market place of Zarahemla the noise was deafening. People were talking, arguing, or just shouting. On one side, near him, two men were arguing over the price of some cloth goods. Further down several were nearly exchanging blows over the quality of some beadwork. Others angrily discussed exchange rates. A city like Zarahemla attracted many different forms of money. Cacao beans had to be exchanged for obsidian chips, and those for jewels. There were more different things than Hammon ever imagined existed. All thoughts of Scarface vanished in the excitement of the things he saw here.

     He walked from booth to booth looking at the things each of the merchants had to offer. He saw jewels that sparkled in the sun in deep blues and greens. He saw black obsidian from the flows north of his village. He had seen harvesters come through the village many times with bags of the shiny chips. They were useful as knives and scrapers. There were shells from the sea. He had never seen so many shells. He saw metals, some gold, silver, and others not so precious. He found a small booth displaying monkeys from the forests.

     "You can use them as pets," the vendor shouted. "When you tire of them, you can cook them for dinner! Until then they will keep your home free of spiders and snakes! You want to buy one, boy?"

     Hammon half smiled, and shook his head.

     He moved on. After a while he grew tired of the endless sea of goods, and remembered his quest. It was too late to continue after Scarface. The man was probably on the other side of the city. Hammon decided to find his way back to the shelter. Maybe, he thought, the boys were back with good news. Maybe they'd brought his parents to the shelter. His whole world was suddenly full of maybes.

     He stepped into a juncture of two aisles. He could see the temples on one side of the market place. The large mounds capped by the temples themselves were impossible to miss. They stood taller than anything in the city. They still seemed very far away. Hammon was drawn toward them, but he resisted. He wanted to go back to the shelter. His head was throbbing again.

     He turned and immediately saw the hill where he'd been only a short time before. He was surprised at how close, and how inviting, it looked. He began to pick his way between the booths and toward the one road that looked like it would go that direction. He was sure it was the same road that brought him to the market square. Everything was new and strange, but he trusted his instincts and decided to go that direction.

     He turned around a booth and bumped directly into a large, foul smelling man. The jar was enough to start his head throbbing worse. He tried to mutter an apology, but the pain stabbed through his skull. The man grabbed him by the shoulders. Hammon looked up into the eyes of Scarface.

     "You were following me!" The man bellowed.

     "No I wasn’t," the boy lied. He felt light headed, like he might pass out.

     Scarface tightened his grip on the boy's shoulders and pulled him up almost off the ground. Hammon struggled to keep his balance.

     "Don't lie to me," Scarface spat, squeezing harder. "You followed me last night, and you're here again today. I recognized you back along the street. Why?"

     Pain was screaming through Hammon's head. Orange and red flames filled his vision, masking the man's face. He almost collapsed, sinking as his legs gave way. Scarface absorbed the weight without flinching.

     "You're sick," he said, more quietly. "Why don't you just go home, and leave me alone."

     "You burned my home," Hammon accused. "You burned our camp and you burned our tent. I can't find my mother and sister. I . . . I was hoping you'd know where they were."

     "How would I know where they were?" Scarface growled. "I burned several camps last night. We worked at it most of the right. We don't want any more temple-fleas around here. If your family got in my way I probably bashed their heads just like I did to you. But I didn't take them anywhere, and I didn't follow them anywhere. No. You go get a physician to fix your head. You don't look good."

     "I'm all right," Hammon contended, squeezing the words out between his clenched teeth. "Just let me go."

     "Then, leave me alone," Scarface snarled.

     He gave Hammon a shove, and turned to walk away.

     Hammon stumbled and nearly fell, but caught himself. His head was throbbing, and his vision was still washed over with red and orange. He breathed deeply, letting his head hang and bracing his hands on his knees. He'd never been that frightened before.

     "I'm going to have you taken to the judge for trial," he shouted weakly, still staring down at the ground.

     He was surprised when Scarface bellowed, "You'd better bring an army, boy! I won't go to one of those judges on my own. And you'd better bring witnesses. Lots of them. My friends will tell you I was with them all night. Somewhere else."

     "Then they were with you," Hammon shouted, standing up again. "They are as guilty as you!"

     Scarface was only a dozen paces away. He turned back. His countenance was dark, and his face was twisted in an ugly snarl.

     "You can't come here threatening me, boy," he said. "You'd better learn to keep your mouth shut before someone really knocks your head off."

     "You couldn't do it last night," Hammon yelled.

     His eyes were clearing, and his head was beginning to feel better.

     "I didn't half try," Scarface growled.

     With a wave of his huge, gnarled hand he dismissed the whole incident and turned away again. He walked into the crowd.

     "I'll find you again," Hammon called after the man, his voice much stronger. "Next time I'll have help."

     "Bring that army!" Scarface's voice wafted over the noise and the crowd.

     Hammon stood up, watching the crowd close around the man. He'd been closer to him than he ever wanted to be again, and yet he was still standing. Maybe it was the crowd, yet no one in the crowd seemed to mind that the man had come close to killing him. He wondered what it would have taken for them to react to what was happening.

     He turned toward the hill and walked slowly across the market place. At the opening to the street he found a large stone, part of an old stele that had fallen and broken. He sat down and felt the tension drain through him into the cool stone. Tears suddenly welled up in his eyes. Almost without warning he began to cry.

     He tried to stop, but the bitter feelings had been backed up since the night before, and he couldn't control them. They flooded to the surface.

After a while the deep, bitter sobs grew shallow. He was finally able to control himself. He wiped his eyes and breathed deeply. He was glad it was over. He felt better. Lots better.

     He looked around furtively, and realized no one in the crowd cared about him. They were all strangers preferring to remain anonymous than to stop to help.

     He reached up and felt the bandage. It was bloody, but dry. The pain was mostly gone, and there was no nausea. He did feel better.

     He closed his eyes once more and said a quiet prayer. Corom, the priest back in the village, had always taught that when you were confused or afraid it was time to speak to the Lord. Hammon was both. He wanted to find his family, but mostly he wanted them to be safe. Amliki had been right all along. The raiders had not been intent on murder, only on chasing them away.

     There was a light touch on his shoulder, and he turned quickly, looking up into the face of an old man.

     "You're hurt," the old man said softly. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

     Hammon was shocked. He'd experienced the hardness of this new city, the refusal of those around to meddle in the affairs of others. He stared up at the old man. His heart beat and his head hurt, but he found his voice.

     "Thank you," he said quietly. "I'm feeling a lot better now."

     "Of course you are," the old man said, smiling warmly. "Where do you belong?"

     He was very old, and his hair was nearly all white. It was trimmed neatly, but seemed to refuse to stay neat. It spread around his face like a halo. He wore a long tunic, similar to the priest's robes back in the village.

     "My parents are lost, I think, and I'm lost," Hammon said quietly. "I'm alone right now. I don't know where to go, exactly."

     The old man took his chin in his hand and turned his head to see the bloody spots on the bandage. His hand was soft, but firm, gentle but sure.

     "You've had a rough time, young one," he said.

     "Yes, sir," Hammon said.

     "Tell me," the old man said.

     Hammon suddenly felt compelled to tell the old man.

     He said, "Some men burned our camp outside the city, and the man with the scar hit me with the torch. Then I woke up with Amliki. Timothy, he's a priest, he put the bandage on, but now it's falling off. Ephraim, Jacob and Dan are looking for my family, but the man with the scar came along and I followed him. He was going to hit me again, but he decided not to. I think it was because he saw I was hurt already, but I don't know for sure."

     "That's a lot of story in a short time," the old man said lightly. "I know Timothy and Amliki. I can take you back to them, if you wish. First, tell me about your family. You have a little sister?"

     "Yes," Hammon sniffed.

     "Three boys were looking for them a while ago up by the temples. That would have been Ephraim and the others. Your father's name is Malachi?"

     "Yes!" Hammon blurted, hope springing suddenly into his heart.

     "Good. I know where they are. I think you would rather go to them than back to Amliki, wouldn't you?"

     "You know where they are?" Hammon almost shouted. "Are they all right?"

     "They're fine," the old man chuckled. "They will be better yet when they see you."

     "I thought they were dead," Hammon said.

     "They were concerned about you, as well,” the old man said. "But the boys assured them you were in good hands. What we imagine might have happened is often far more frightening than what actually does. You're old enough to know that. You are Hammon, aren't you? I know. You have a lot of people looking for you. You've become quite a hero."

     "A hero?" Hammon asked, puzzled.

     The old man bent down slightly and held the boy's face between his wrinkled, soft hands. He stared deep into his eyes, seeming to study every aspect of them.

     "Because of what you did," he said absently.

     "I couldn't remember who I was a while ago," Hammon confessed. "I remember when Scarface hit me with the torch. Then I woke up this morning."

     "Well, it isn't important," the old man said, releasing his face. "You allowed your mother and sister enough time to escape. I suppose your attacker believes you to be quite mad, if what I heard is true. You placed their safety ahead of your own, and that is commendable."

     "I did that?" Hammon asked, incredulous.

     "You did," the old man returned. "So it was told to me by your sister. When your father came to find you, you were gone. Your mother thought the raiders had taken you. Of course, that didn't make any sense. They don't take prisoners, and they don't take hostages. They deal as much pain as they can and then they're gone. Nobody thought you'd try to follow them, but you must have. That's pretty much what a hero would do."

     "No," Hammon protested weakly. "Maybe I was trying to get away. Or maybe he knocked a few cacao beans loose when he hit me with his club. I'm not a hero."

     "Maybe not," the old man said. "It isn't important as long as we have found you. You are in some distress, though, aren't you?"

     "My head hurts," Hammon confessed. "It's not as bad as it was, though."

     "Yes," the man said. "I could see it in your eyes. My name is Lehi. Come with me and I'll take you to your parents. I have a stop to make first. It won't take long, but we might be able to get a physician see that wound of yours. Timothy is a skilled physician, but the one I have in mind taught Timothy all he knows. Come along, youngster."

     "Lehi," Hammon mussed as he followed the older man.

     The name was familiar to him, but he didn't know from where.

 

Chapter 4

 

     The old man's pace was casual and relaxed.

     "If I walk too fast for you, please let me know, young one," Lehi said.

     "It's okay," Hammon answered. "I can keep up."

     Hammon found it was true. He could keep up easily. He wasn't sure whether the old man was walking slower to accommodate him, or he was just getting better. He decided it was probably a little of each.

     As they crossed the market place he watched for Scarface. He didn't particularly want to bump into him again. His first two meetings with that individual had been unpleasant.

     "Where are we going?" He asked as the old man chose a street at the far side of the square.

     "To a friend's home," Lehi returned. "His family requested my presence. I was on my way there when I saw you. Otherwise, you would still be lost. The Spirit often leads us where He wants us to go. Am I going too fast for you to keep up?"

     "No," Hammon returned, and smiled. "You talk like Corom, the priest back in my village."

     "Ah," Lehi said. "Then I know where you are from. I know Corom. How is he?"

     "He was well when we left two weeks ago," Hammon returned.

     "That is good," the old man said. "He is a very wise man. Tell me, Hammon: Did you listen to him?"

     "I did," Hammon affirmed.

     "And did you learn?"

     "I think I did," Hammon answered quietly.

     "Good," the old man said.

     He continued to walk slowly. Hammon could sense that the old man's pace was often much quicker.

     He found himself at once wondering who this stranger was, and excited about being back with his family. In all it had been an eventful day.

     "There are a great many things that I must attend to today," Lehi said as they walked. "But if I walk too fast, you let me know. We can slow down."

     "I'm sorry I am taking you away from more important matters," Hammon apologized.

     "Nonsense. You are the most important thing on my schedule. Unfortunately, you are not the most urgent, or I would return you to your parents immediately."

     "I'm okay," the boy said. "I know we'll get there soon. I can wait."

     "You are the boy your father described," Lehi said, smiling down at him. "However, I think your patience is not as well developed as you say it is."

     Suddenly a gruff man up a narrow side street seemed to recognize the old man. He turned from his task. He was emptying a bag of garbage into the middle of the street.

     He snorted, and growled, "Tonight is the last night, Lehi! Can you use a sword as well as you preach?"

     Lehi continued walking without comment, gently leading Hammon onward. Hammon was comfortable walking beside the old man. And he felt safe. He was finding it easier to keep pace as they walked. It seemed to him they were going in the general direction of the temple.

     He looked up at the priest as they walked, and asked, "What did he mean by that?"

     Lehi was silent only a moment before he said, "It was nothing for you to be concerned about, Hammon. You are safe enough now, as long as you are with me. They cannot harm you."

     "But he said—"

     "I know what he said," Lehi said firmly. "How much do you know about the prophecies of Samuel?"

     Hammon thought a while as they walked, then said softly, "He prophesied from the wall of the city. The soldiers were unable to hit him with stones or arrows, and the people were afraid to try to go up on the wall and get him. When they finally did, he jumped and escaped into the forest."

     "You do know about the man," Lehi said. "He had preached throughout the land round about the city. There's a large gate just over there. It was that gate the people refused to let him in when they grew angry at his preaching. He then climbed the wall and continued to preach to them. It was on the section of wall over there, beyond the temples."

     Hammon stared up at the man. He'd been hearing the story of Samuel for years, but it had never seemed quite real. A Lamanite in Zarahemla could not have been unusual. They even came to trade in his little village. But a Lamanite preaching must have been unheard of. Suddenly he was where it had happened, and the reality of the story hit him. He stopped.

     Lehi turned, saw his face, and smiled.

     "What is it, youngster?" He asked softly.

     "He was real," Hammon stammered. "It really happened."

     "Of course it really happened," Lehi returned. "I was there with my brother, Nephi."

     Hammon stared up at the old man, and gasped, "You're the prophet Nephi's brother!"

     "I just said that," Lehi returned, amusement touching his voice.

     "Please forgive me," the boy said quickly. "I didn't recognize who you were. I just thought that, well, that you were just a priest."

     "But I am just a priest," Lehi said. "We are all no more than servants in the Lord's vineyard. Come, son, let us continue."

     He turned and began to walk again. The street split, and they went left.

     "What I wanted to know was if you had any knowledge of the substance of his warning," Lehi asked after a moment.

     "Not much," Hammon confessed. "I know he said the Savior of the world would be born five years from the time he preached on the wall. It's been longer than that, now. I guess he was wrong."

     "Oh, no," Lehi contested. "It has been exactly five years since that day. There has been a growing concern throughout the church that he may have been wrong, but I know he was a true prophet. He wasn't wrong, and I know events will unfold as he prophesied. But whether that will happen tonight, or tomorrow night or the next I do not know. It is interesting that the leaders of the robbers grabbed hold of that one prophecy of the many he made, and used it to measure the truth of his words. They have given us a warning. They have warned us that if the sign spoken of by Samuel isn't seen this night, they will attack and kill us all."

     Hammon was quiet for a long time, then said, "Do you think they are serious?"

     "I believe they were," Lehi returned softly. "I do know that we are taking what precautions we can to protect ourselves. But, right now, here with me, you are safe. I have not finished what the Lord has asked me to do, so I do not think he will let them harm me. Do you remember the signs Samuel said would accompany the Saviors birth in Bethlehem?"

     "Bethlehem," Hammon repeated quietly.

     He liked the way the word felt on his tongue. It sounded soft, and powerful, gentle and strong at the same time. He could see, in his mind, a small village almost like his waiting the birth of the most important man ever to live on the earth.

     "I don't remember all of it," Hammon returned after a moment. "He said the sun would go down, but that there would be no darkness."

     "There were other things, too," Lehi said, "but that is the best part of it. We are supposed to see the sun set, but know that there is no darkness on the face of the earth. It was by this sign we would know that the Son of God was to be born the next day. I have prayed that the sign would be given soon. My brother's son, Nephi's son, named Nephi after his father, has gone to pray about it, to see if God could hurry up the sign a little, if only to save our lives."

     "But you don't believe they will kill us," Hammon stammered.

     "I believe they are capable of great acts of cruelty," Lehi said softly. "I didn't tell you this to frighten you, only to warn you to stay close to your parents through the next few days. Well, we're nearly there."

     They turned into a smaller side street. The houses here were more humble than even in Hammon's village. The walls were cracked, and the covers over the doors often torn and faded. Halfway down the street Lehi stopped. The doorway was leaning out, and the covering hung, faded and tattered, out away from the base of the wall.

     "When we go inside I want you to stay very close to me," Lehi told him. "Follow me. Stay out of the way if you can, but stay close. I want you to see all that happens here. You should tell anyone who asks exactly what you see and hear, and bear your testimony of it. Can you do that?"

     Hammon nodded. He couldn't imagine what could possibly take place in this worn dwelling that would match what had already happened to him so far in the great city of Zarahemla.

     Lehi seemed to sense his feeling, and put a hand on his shoulder and said, "Just watch and learn, Hammon. You will see that God is very real, too. He isn't a myth or a story invented to entertain the simple minded."

     The boy looked down, then back up quickly.

     "Why do I feel like I was supposed to come here with you?" he asked.

     "Most of the time our lives unfold on their own. Each thing that happens is simply another challenge offered by this world we live in," Lehi said quietly. "Sometimes, though, our Father arranges things, a change in the weather, an illness or a healing, a chance meeting, just so our lives can be enriched by closer association with him. It is up to us to be able to discern when He is taking an active part in our lives. I am pleased you have made that distinction. Will you watch what transpires here with an open heart?"

     "I will," Hammon returned solemnly.

     "Then, come in with me."

     They entered the small dwelling. There were many more people in the cramped, dark room than it had ever been designed for. As they moved through them, the people stepped and shuffled to give them clear passage. Lehi ushered him to the only clear space in the room, a semi-circle in front of a floor pad.

     The old man on the pad was very ill. His face was ashen, and his eyes had recessed deep into his face. His cheeks were sunken, and puffed slightly with each labored breath. Each breath seemed harder than the last. Each filled the nearly silent gathering with dread and sorrow.

     A man knelt next to him. He shook his head, then slowly got up. He looked at Lehi, and frowned.

     "So," he said, with an edge in his voice, "when I cannot heal, they call in the soothsayer."

     Lehi shook his own head, and said, "We are here to do the same thing. Whether Sosen is healed by your craft or my faith makes little difference to these brothers and sisters. They only want their father and friend back."

     "If that is what they want, it had better be your faith," the man said, wrapping his herb bottles and carefully putting them in his pouch. "He is dying, priest. My science cannot prevent it. I cannot believe your faith will be any better for him, or for them."

     "You have done all you can?" Lehi asked kindly.

     "You know I have, Lehi," the man said. "I always do all I can."

     "You used to be one of us, Eli," Lehi said softly. "Will you stay with us and learn to believe again?"

     "I have sworn an oath not to subscribe to the magic arts, Lehi," Eli said pointedly. "You know our laws better than I do. You cannot ask me to witness this."

     "There is no magic about this," Lehi said softly, stepping to the bedside and kneeling beside the old man.

     He gently took the white, thin hands in his own. He closed his eyes and bowed his head. The weeping around them grew quiet, then stopped. The lamps at each end of the bed began to flicker. After a moment Lehi opened his eyes and leaned slightly forward.

     "Sosen," he said softly. "Sosen. This is Lehi, old friend. I have come to call you back."

     The silence in the room became almost a physical presence. Eli didn't go out. He merely stood to one side and watched.

     "I know. You think it is too late, but it is not. I was constrained to wait till now so that all may know God's power.

     "Sosen, you once told me you wanted to see the signs of our Lord's birth. Samuel prophesied it was going to happen soon. You will miss it if you don't come back.

     "Yes, Sosen. I can heal you in our Lord's name. Sosen, in the name of our Lord and Master, I heal you and command you to rise and walk. I command you to greet your family, gathered here to be with you."

     Hammon watched, and felt the great power filling the room. He felt a burning in his chest, and joy. The people around him felt it, too. They were beginning to back away from the bed. Hammon watched the priest and the old man he had called back from death's door.

     Then, standing in the corner just behind the physician, was a man he had not noticed before. The man wore a white robe, covering him from neck to ankle, and covering his arms to the wrists. His robe was open at the neck, and he appeared to wear no other clothing except the robe. Even his feet were bare.

     Hammon nodded to the man, who nodded back, and smiled at him.

     He looked back to the old man. The grey in his face had drained away. Color washed in. His cheeks grew firm again, and his eyes seemed to come forward. He took a deep breath, unlabored this time, and his eyes opened. He smiled up at Lehi, then sat up.

     There was a gentle rustle through the room. Hammon looked up and saw tears on the cheeks of the adults around him. He reached up and felt his own cheeks, moist with tears. He looked back.

     "Thank you, friend," the old man said warmly. "You reminded me of how important this life is. I had given up."

     "I only helped you see clearly," Lehi said, helping the old man to his feet.

     "I was there, Lehi," Sosen said softly. "My wife was there, and another. She was happy to see me, but she said I had to go back. I was needed here. The other said I should go, too. He told me he was coming. He said he wanted me to witness the signs of his birth. Lehi, he spoke to me."

     He walked to a woman standing next to Hammon and embraced her.

     "Your mother said to remind you how much she loves you and her grand children."

     The woman held on and began weeping.

     Lehi was suddenly beside Hammon.

     "Come," he said softly. "It's time to take you to your parents."

     Hammon remembered the man in the corner, and looked. The man was gone, and except for the bed where they old man had lain, that corner seemed the be the only empty place in the room.

     "There was a stranger here," Hammon said quickly. "He dressed differently than the others. I thought he might be a priest, but he wore a white robe that was different than the priest's garments, too. I wanted to talk to him. He acted like he knew me."

     "I know," Lehi said softly. "I saw him, too. When I came into the room he was there. That's one way I knew the Lord wanted Sosen healed."

     "I don't understand," the boy said.

     "You saw an angel, youngster," Lehi said softly. "Very few people ever have that privilege. I can promise you no one else in this room did."

     They moved through the people, all hugging and kissing, and out into the street. The sun was past midday, and the shadows were beginning to lengthen. The physician wormed his way out of the doorway, and took Lehi's arm gently.

     "You seem to always show up when I have a patient I cannot help," he said softly. "If I am not mistaken, it seems to be happening more often lately. Is there something you are not telling me?"

     "I have told you everything you should know, Eli," Lehi said warmly, taking the other's hand in his. "You just refuse to listen."

     "I know, old friend," Eli returned. "I am sorry I cannot believe as you do. Maybe I could save more patients if I did."

     "Perhaps," Lehi returned.

     As they talked a woman appeared from around the corner carrying a child. She approached the three of them timidly.

     Lehi turned toward her.

     "What is it, Sister?" he said kindly.

     "I was so afraid I'd miss you," she almost sobbed, pushing the little girl toward him. "Please, Prophet, she is blind. She was born blind. She is two, and has never seen the sun, or the flowers. Can you heal her? Will you heal her? Please, Prophet."

     Lehi took the little girl, and held her close. She stared blankly ahead. Her eyes were milky, and fogged over. They seemed to have no color at all. Lehi looked down at Hammon.

     "Hammon, do you think God would want this beautiful girl to go through life blind?"

     Hammon shook his head, and said, "No, sir. But, what can we do?"

     "I saw this little girl a year ago," Eli said sadly. "She was born blind because that is the way her body developed. No one knows why these things happen, but we are powerless to do anything about it."

     "We can do nothing," Lehi said softly. "You're right about that, Eli. But God can heal. I believe he wants this child to witness the signs of his son's birth."

     He held the child very close, and placed one free hand on her head. He closed his eyes and his lips moved silently for a moment. Then he spoke aloud.

     "By the power of the holy priesthood which I hold," he said softly, "and in the name of our Lord and Master I command you to open your eyes and see."

     He covered her eyes with his hand only for a moment. When he removed his hand her eyes popped open, and she stared around with eyes beautiful and black. Her mouth dropped open and a laugh escaped. She turned toward her mother's sobs, a sound she had heard many times before, and a puzzled look crossed her face. Then she smiled and reached out. Lehi passed her back to the woman.

     "What can I ever do," the mother sobbed, "to repay you for what you have given my little girl?"

     "You can give me nothing," Lehi said warmly. "I did not heal her. The Lord did that. You owe him, not me. Tell everyone you can what has happened here today, and tell them who healed your daughter. Testify of him, and teach his gospel. That is what you can do."

     "I will, Prophet," the woman said, holding the girl very close. "I will."

     She turned and was gone.

     After a few moments Eli cleared his throat.

     "You've robbed me twice today," he said quietly.

     "I only robbed the grave," Lehi returned. "I only did that once."

     "The little girl would have died, too," Eli said. "This year, or next, it doesn't matter. Now she will live a long and healthy life. And I do not begrudge you your successes where I have failed."

     "You are concerned with the welfare of those you serve," Lehi acknowledged.

     "You can rob the grave of my patients any time you want to, old friend," the physician said. "I know my science, Lehi, but you know yours better. Perhaps I should let you teach me about this Savior of yours."

     "He is your Savior, too," Lehi said. "I will tell you everything you want to know, but right now I have to fulfill a promise. This young man wants to be reunited with his parents."

     "Then, I will wait," Eli said. "You've waited a long time for me."

     Lehi smiled broadly, and put his hand on Hammon's shoulder.

     "There is something you could do for me," he said quietly. "This young man could use a new bandage."

     The physician smiled, too, and said, "Gladly. Don't worry, young man, I am a good doctor. This won't hurt a bit."

Hammon nodded, but he was sure, despite the doctors assurance, that it would.