So thenceforward the creature went by the name of Jael.
It was not long before she justified her name by showing that she could be fierce on occasion.
A wayfarer, who described himself as a discharged soldier and a Moabite by birth, asked for shelter and food. Scanty as were the means of the fugitives, they did not grudge the stranger a share of their meal. They gave him their best, adding to their daily fare the special luxury of some dried grapes. As he complained of being footsore, Ruth applied some simple remedies to the blisters on his feet. Altogether he was treated not only as a welcome but even as an honoured guest. On his part he professed a fervent sympathy with the hopes and plans of his hosts. The next morning he started as if to continue his journey. But the cupidity of the wretch had been roused by the sight of the handsome earrings—almost the sole remaining relic of former affluence—which he had spied in his hostess’s ears. About an hour before noon, when he judged that the men would be still busy about their daily work, he crept back to the cave. Ruth was sitting by a fire nursing her babe. The jackal lay asleep in a corner; the girls were playing with the cubs on a sunny little plot of ground outside.
“Lady,” began the fellow, in a beggar’s wheedling voice, “can you spare a little money for a poor fellow who has not so much as a copper coin to buy him a piece of bread?”
Ruth was startled at his re-appearance, but concealed her alarm.
“Friend,” she said, “I have no money; but I will give you half a loaf if you want food, though you had done better, I should think, to keep on your way, for you can hardly find any that are poorer than we.”
“Nay, lady,” he went on, with a perceptible tone of threatening in his voice, “those earrings that you wear are doubtless of true metal. They add, indeed, to your beauty, and it is a pity that you should lose them; but then there is no one to admire you in this wilderness, and they would keep a poor fellow like myself in flesh and wine for a month or more.”
“My earrings?” said Ruth, stupefied by the man’s audacity.
“Yes, your earrings, lady,” said the man. “I should advise you to take them out yourself, for if I have to do it I am afraid that I shall show myself a very rough tirewoman.”