For two hours Galen crouched in the trees behind the Israelites’ camp, clutching his prize. He felt confident that Goliath would be impressed when he saw the king’s flag. But it was too risky to move because the Hebrew soldiers were as agitated as bees in a disturbed beehive.

Galen cautiously peered over the top of a log as fuel was added to the campfires. In the bright blaze of the fires, he could see the Israelite warriors spread out, searching for the night invaders. Galen’s rapidly beating heart and ragged breathing settled down only when the troops finally drifted back to the fires.

He saw that none of his companions was among them. The Israelites didn’t return to their tents but stood around talking angrily. Their tones confirmed that they’d failed to catch anyone, not even Zik. Even if only one boy had been captured, they would have been celebrating.

When the excitement and campfires died down, full darkness slowly returned. Galen knew he had to start his dash for safety across the Valley of Elah’s open, nearly treeless plain before daylight. He clutched the pennant, bent nearly double, and circled away from the camp. When he thought it was safe, he cut back toward the valley. Breathing hard, and still crouched low, he paused at the edge of the plain. He looked around one last time before starting his run.

That’s when he saw the sentry coming toward him.

If Galen hadn’t been bent down, he wouldn’t have seen the silhouette of the Israelite against the faint light of the horizon. Silently laying down the banner, Galen dropped flat on his stomach. Gripping the banner, he crept under a bush by a little brook. The water made pleasant sounds as it passed over small stones. Galen hoped it covered the swishing sound of the disturbed bush and the noise of his labored breathing.

He had lost sight of the sentry, but he could hear the sound of a spear being thrust experimentally into the bushes as the sentry slowly moved toward him.

Stifling a groan, Galen lay perfectly still. He was terribly frightened, alone, and in mortal danger. Even if the sentry didn’t find him, others must also be on guard in the night, watching and listening.

I have to get across the valley before daylight! he repeatedly reminded himself. He dared not try crossing when he could easily be seen. He couldn’t outrun an arrow or spear —not even ones made of inferior wood.

Galen’s ears followed the slow, deliberate approach of the Israelite sentry. In moments he would be at the dense bush where Galen lay. Galen’s heart raced and his mouth was dry as only terror could make it.

He realized that his breathing had increased so sharply, it made a rasping sound. He tried holding it as the sound of the sentry’s footsteps stopped at his bush. He flinched as the spear plunged into the foliage over his head. He flattened his body against the ground and pressed his face into the dirt, turning his head only enough to breathe.

Hold your breath! Galen sternly warned himself. Don’t move! His skin crawled as he remembered the fire-hardened spear points he had seen in the Israelite camp. One of those fearsome weapons was now being thrust, seemingly at random, into the high portion of the bush.

His imagination brought the spear point closer and closer toward him. Closer . . . closer.

He stoutly held back the tears that threatened to leak out from his tightly shut eyelids. After all, he was ten, and Philistine boys were taught from an early age to be warriors and bear up under all circumstances. Besides, Galen intended to win Goliath’s favor and be honored by carrying his shield. But in the black of night, cut off from his people, Galen was also a little boy with a deadly problem. Except for seizing the king’s pennant, almost everything had gone wrong with Galen’s plan to do a daring deed all by himself. And now this.

He could only wait, hearing the sentry’s spear sliding in and out of the bush inches from his body as the soldier tried to make sure no one was hiding there. It was all Galen could do to not leap up and make a wild dash for the valley as the spear point struck the ground between his right arm and chest. But he knew that was futile, so he stayed frozen as the spear was withdrawn.

He willed himself not to think about it. He tried to cheer himself by remembering that the other six boys had escaped. Just when Galen couldn’t hold his breath any longer, the sentry moved on.

Exhaling as quietly as possible, he took another quick breath and held it until he was sure the sentry was still moving away. Satisfied, Galen released the pennant staff and tried to relax. But he couldn’t. Gloom seeped into his mind and heart. He had escaped this time, but if he moved now, the sentry would surely hear him. He had no choice but to wait where he was for a while.

He wondered where the other sentries were and how far away this sentinel would walk before he turned back. For now, Galen was safe, but what would happen when dawn came?

I have to do something! he sternly reminded himself. But what? Stay here and risk being caught? Or try to crawl into the valley and hope they don’t see me until I’m out of bow shot?

As he debated, he shifted his cramped position to ease his aching muscles. Beside him, he felt the staff with the pennant that he had snatched from outside the Israelite king’s tent. But what good would that do if Galen didn’t return to triumphantly show it to everyone?

He reached into his tunic and gently touched the image of Dagon. Galen hoped to feel some comfort as he fingered the carving of the half man, half fish.

He had often heard his Philistine family speak of this god. Dagon was the principal god worshipped in the two Philistine cities of Gaza and Ashdod. Galen’s father had come from Gaza; his mother from Ashdod.

Mother, he thought, closing his eyes and resting his forehead on his forearms, where he lay flat on the ground. His mind escaped the terrible reality of the moment by retreating to comforting memories. He could see her, hear her voice, feel her touch . . .

He realized he was getting sleepy, but there was such comfort in the memories that he kept his eyes closed and sorted through recollections. She was holding him, her voice soft and tender as she sang to him. He had often gone to sleep in her arms, secure in her love.

Then death had taken her, taken her suddenly, followed by her husband and their other son.

“No!” Galen whispered aloud, startling himself. He realized with a start that he had dozed and dreamed.

Frightened again, he quickly but quietly pushed the foliage aside. There was no sign of the sentry. Galen strained to hear until he could feel the blood throbbing in his eardrums, but there was no sound of nearby sentries.

Relieved, he wearily dropped his head and tried to recall more memories about his mother when he was younger. She held him by the hand. She had done that the first time she had led him through the marketplace with its strange smells and sights and sounds. He had looked up apprehensively, but she smiled reassuringly. It was almost as good a feeling as being hugged closely . . .

I was dreaming again! The knowledge hit him hard as he lifted his head and blinked; then he frowned. The sun probed slender, warm fingers through the bush where the spear had broken some limbs. Daylight! That realization struck him even harder. With trembling fingers, he pushed the leaves aside from his hiding place.

There was a great stillness, a silence so profound that it puzzled him. His eyes wildly skimmed the Israelite tents. There wasn’t a soldier in sight. With sudden hope, Galen twisted to look at the small Valley of Elah. It was wide open, friendly, almost seeming to call him. He started to get to his feet, but his entire body was stiff from inactivity.

An urge to dash across the narrow valley toward his people seized him. But where were the Israelites? How close? He couldn’t see them. He listened and heard faint voices from beyond a hill past the camp. Puzzled, he darted a look across the valley, and then he knew.

The Philistine warriors were slowly gathering on the side of the hill in preparation for Goliath’s morning challenge. That meant the Israelites were also assembling just out of Galen’s sight, beyond the hill, where they could see the giant when he appeared again.

Galen’s hopes leaped like a wild stag, and then crashed. He realized he couldn’t cross the valley now. Both sides would see him. His people might try to come to his aid, but the Israelites were so close they would run him down or fill him with arrows and spears before he got very far.

I’ve caused a lot of grief for everyone, he chided himself. Now what should I do?

He didn’t know, but he was keenly aware that he was very thirsty. He checked to make sure that no Israelite soldier was around. Then he crawled out of his hiding place and down to the brook. He cupped his hands together and gulped the fresh, cool water.

It felt so good that he closed his eyes and splashed another double handful of water on his face. It was so wonderful that he gave himself totally to the joy of repeating the process.

A footstep sounded behind him. His eyes popped open. A shadow fell across him.

Shocked, Galen started to scramble to his feet, horrified that he had been careless —something no aspiring Philistine warrior should do. But Galen knew it was too late to escape.

He glanced up and glimpsed an Israelite standing just three feet away!