“It's my fault,” said Yohanan. “I'm sorry for you.”

Yeshua said to Yohanan, “I see no way out. You should go and bring help.”

“And be punished?” asked Yohanan. He began to scoop the sand below the hole, and said, “I can make this big enough for you to crawl through. Then, we can all climb out.”

Yeshua asked, “How will we explain the twisted ankle?”

Yohanan answered, “We'll think of something.”

Yeshua then said, “I would not be happy in a lie.”

Yohanan argued stoutly. “I have my induction. I can take Father's hand, but not his disappointment. We can tell them that Jacob fell and twisted his ankle. We can simply leave out the part about the cave. Not telling is not lying.”

I sniffed and wiped my face. “What if they ask?”

“Pray they do not,” Yohanan answered. “Cousin, come and help.”

Yeshua sat me up and knelt by the hole. I watched them scoop sand away while I rubbed my sore ankle. I had never broken a bone, but I could feel that something was out of place. It was all I could do not to whimper. I watched Yeshua stop and sit back. I saw that Yohanan no longer scooped sand on his side. I saw bare rock at the bottom of the hole.

Yohanan spoke sadly. “It's not big enough.”

Yeshua said to him, “Evening approaches. You should go for help.”

Yohanan, after a moment of silence, said, “I saw a fallen tree limb along the path. I can drag it back, and you can climb out.”

I heard noises from Yohanan's side as he moved to climb out. Then, I heard him fall. Yeshua prostrated himself to look through the hole. “Yohanan,” he called. “Are you well?”

After a moment, Yohanan answered. “I hurt my shoulder. It's not bad, but, now I'm stuck. The lower ledge broke away and I can't reach the upper.”

We remained silent as the truth of our situation sank in. The three of us were in a cave and could not climb out. Soon it would be night. We would be late for the supper meal. Our mothers would be afraid and our fathers would be angry. They would come looking, calling our names loudly, but what if they walked another way? What if they did not come close to the cave? We would spend the night in a dark cave without food or water. I had never missed a meal; I could not imagine hunger or thirst, but the thought of it scared me. I sat at the bottom of a dim cave, a boy of ten years afraid of the dark, and trembled at the approach of night.

Yeshua stood and looked up. I watched him, sniffing and holding my breath against the pain in my ankle. I did not understand what Yeshua was looking at. He walked to the side of the pit and looked down at the sand. I followed his gaze and saw the uneven floor of sand upon which I sat. The center of the cave was lower than all else save for a crooked trench running from the center to the hole in the wall. Yeshua stretched flat on the sand and looked through the hole. Then he spoke to Yohanan.

“Water falls on this side,” he told him. “It flows into your side and through that hole over there. Take the rock in your hand and dig. You will find a way.”

I listened to Yohanan dig. The noise of his scooping was loud at first, then it seemed distant. Yeshua knelt in front of the hole listening. His back was to me. I called to him.

“Brother,” I said, and he turned to me.

He came to me and fell to his knees beside me. He closed his eyes while I looked steadfastly into his face. Then he looked at me. His head tilted to one side, and his smile said everything would be alright. I was holding my foot with one hand and wiping tears with the other. Yeshua saw my pain and wiped my eyes with his hand. He took my shoulders and laid me on my back in the sand.

His voice was low as he spoke to me. “You broke your ankle,” he said. “I can make it better. Do as I say.”

I lay on my back at his bidding. I closed my eyes as he instructed. I felt my brother's hands on my ankle. “Will it hurt?” I asked fearfully.

“No,” he said. “Not much. Now, take a deep breath.”

I took a deep breath; as deep as I was able, and I held it. I readied my mind for another pain and hoped I would not cry. All I felt was a sting. It was not as bad as the sting of a bee. I had expected more and was surprised when my brother said he was done.

“There,” he said.

I looked up into his face and asked, “Did you fix it?”