"Escape" to the Arabs
295
of a dog barking. It meant that there was a farmhouse not far
off, which I hadn't foreseen; and second, someone was either
trying to enter or was skirting the area. Was it a patrol? A
Jewish or Arab patrol? Was the farmhouse an Arab outpost?
From a military point of view there should have been a ring
of Arab lookouts beginning at a point a few hundred yards
beyond my position. Another unpleasant thought: was the
dog barking at me? Surely I was too far away to be detected.
But was I? How far away was the dog? Night is a poor time
to gauge distance. The barking stopped suddenly. I wondered
if the wind had changed? After a nervous silence the barking
began again.
I slunk deeper into the darkness, and made sure nothing
white showed. I had on a khaki shirt and army trousers. I was
fortunate in that there was no moon. I could just distinguish
between dark and darker, black and blacker. A chilling cold
settled over the Judean hills, followed by a chill wind.
I crossed again to the other side of the footpath, walking on
the rough, stony ground and the tall grass where it was probably free from mines. In the distance the cannonading continued with a muffled sound, but near by even the swish of
my legs against the grass was audible. I walked carefully, lifting my knees high and placing my feet down flat to minimize
noise and scuffle. I stopped frequently, listening.
What would I do if I bumped into a patrol, or if I were
challenged either in Arabic or Hebrew? What would I say?
I kept my eyes glued to the path, the only guide I had. It
followed a serpentine course along the bottom of the valley,
emerging into Sylwan village. I found myself directly below
the last of the Arab dwellings. The path veered sharply to the
right and disappeared toward the dim outlines of a mud brick
house, a fanner's shack. Inside was a light. I heard the dog
again, the same dog, warning its master. I watched the door.
No door opened, though the dog kept howling. I kept bearing
left now, following a course midway between the last of the
Arab dwellings and the farmhouse. . . .