Both boys froze. Only their eyes followed the Israelite sentry patrolling along the brook at the base of the hill where the boys hid. Suddenly the soldier stopped and bent over.

“He’s found my water skins!” Reuben whispered. “He’ll probably start looking around to see who left them.”

Without waiting for Galen’s response, Reuben stood up. “You stay here and don’t move until I get him to leave! I hope you make it safely back to your camp tonight!”

Galen stayed dead still as he watched the Israelite boy approach the sentry. Then Reuben bent down and casually filled the water skins. He and the sentry talked until the skins were full, and then they walked off together. Galen wondered if he would have done the same for Reuben.

Three hours passed slowly before it was totally dark and the Israelites’ campfires had burned low. Sentries were some distance away. Galen gripped the banner he had taken from the Israelite commander’s tent the night before. He hoped he was right that it had been King Saul’s. He decided he would tell Goliath that it certainly was Saul’s. This news would surely make the giant treat him with respect.

Preparing to return to his camp, Galen silently slid out from under the bush where he had spent the day. He wrapped the banner around the staff and held it in his left hand. He crawled on hands and knees into the Valley of Elah until he was too far for an arrow to reach. Then he stood up and ran hard into the night.

He could just imagine the astonished looks on his friends’ faces when he showed them the prize. But he was most eager to impress Goliath. He’ll never forget what a brave thing I did, Galen assured himself. When I’m older and stronger, he’ll let me carry his shield because of this deed!

As Galen neared his camp, a Philistine sentry challenged him. Galen identified himself and was promptly escorted to the officer in charge of the sentries.

Galen was disappointed because he had expected to be taken directly to Goliath. But instead, the officer started asking questions. “How did you escape? All those boys with you claimed you were captured.”

Galen repeated what had happened to him and then proudly unwrapped the flag from around the staff. “I took it from inside King Saul’s tent,” Galen declared, waving the banner and feeling his little addition to the facts wasn’t really lying.

He added, “He never heard or saw me,” and then immediately felt guilty even though this was true, because Saul had already left the tent.

The officer was more interested in knowing about the Israelites than about how the boy got the flag. He asked Galen, “How many warriors do they have? How well equipped are they? What weapons do they carry? Do they have anything except wooden spears and javelins?”

Galen answered as best he could but omitted any mention of Reuben. As he spoke, he vainly hoped that Goliath would arrive to hear his story. But when the officer finally dismissed Galen, he stepped outside the tent and was greeted by most of the small male civilian population and walking-wounded soldiers, who had heard about his return.

He was pleased to see Ziklag and the other boys who’d gone on the raid with him. But they were forced to stay in the background while the men bombarded him with more questions.

All the men heartily congratulated Galen on his escape and begged to hear details of his adventure. He obliged, almost strutting with pride. He showed his captured pennant and declared that he had snatched it from inside King Saul’s own tent. The exclamations at this news encouraged Galen to tell them about hiding under the bush until it was safe to return. Again, he chose not to mention Reuben.

Unlike the mostly factual account of his experience he’d given to the officer, this version was embellished. Galen made it sound much more exciting and dangerous than it had really been. This brought loud exclamations of admiration from his audience.

Finally the older people allowed the younger ones to take their turn asking questions. By the light of the built-up campfires, Galen saw that the five young lords who had fled from the enemy camp now regarded him with open envy. However, Zik’s eyes were different. Galen saw signs of tears in them.

Zik exclaimed in a trembling tone, “I thought you were dead!”

Galen lightly punched Zik on his shoulder. “I can take care of myself!”

Zik asked, “Weren’t you scared?”

“Not even for a moment!” The second he said it, Galen felt another twinge of guilt. I shouldn’t have lied to Zik, he told himself.

A young soldier pushed through the ring of admirers. “Galen,” he announced, “Goliath sent me to say he wants to see you first thing tomorrow morning.”

Galen was so proud that he felt he could almost float. He whispered to Zik, “Maybe Goliath wants to tell me that I can start training to be his shield bearer.”

“Could be,” Zik replied before adding, “We’d better get some sleep so you’ll be at your best before him tomorrow.”

Galen was reluctant to leave his admirers, but he nodded and followed his friend to the family tent.

The sun had not yet risen when Galen took the captured Israelite banner and appeared with it at the giant’s tent. Goliath’s tent was much higher, longer, and wider than any other tent in camp. A young soldier stationed outside said Goliath was expecting him.

Galen stepped in, expecting well-deserved praise and perhaps the coveted offer to someday be the giant’s shield bearer. However, one look at Goliath made Galen feel unsure.

Even sitting down and without his armor, the Philistines’ champion looked huge. He had no neck, Galen decided. The great head seemed to rest on massive shoulders above biceps that rippled with powerful muscles. He didn’t speak but belched crudely and fixed Galen with bloodshot eyes.

That surprised Galen who had expected at least a look of appreciation. He asked, “You sent for me?”

Slowly the giant stood up, towering impressively above the boy whom he regarded with cold, hard eyes. “Where were you yesterday?” the giant rumbled.

Galen blinked in surprise and tipped his head far back to look up at the famous warrior. “I was in the Israelite camp,” he explained and then added quickly, “I thought you must have heard —”

“I heard,” Goliath interrupted. He seemed bored as he scratched himself and asked, “Did you kill anyone?”

Galen was shocked. He was only ten and had been on an adventure filled with danger and excitement, but he hadn’t thought of killing anyone. Realizing that he wasn’t about to receive the praise he expected, Galen answered in a low, quiet voice. “Uh . . . no, I didn’t.”

Goliath’s lip curled in a sneer. “You were in the enemy’s camp all that time, and you didn’t kill a single person? What did you do —hide like an old woman?”

Galen licked suddenly dry lips, unsure what to say.

The giant’s deep voice reverberated from his massive chest when he spoke again. “You want to someday carry my shield and become a Philistine soldier, but you don’t seem to know what a real soldier does.”

Towering over the boy, Goliath declared, “Soldiers kill. That’s their purpose in war. Those Israelite dogs are our enemies! You must have had a chance to strike at least one, so why didn’t you?”

Trembling with sudden alarm, Galen gulped, thought of Reuben, and stuttered, “I-I —well —”

The giant interrupted in a voice that boomed like distant thunder. “The very least you could have done is to have harmed someone! That would have made you a man, and much more so if you had struck down some Israelite and brought back his possessions —at least a sword or a spear.”

Galen tried not to tremble at the giant’s growing rage. Goliath scoffed, “Instead, Galen, you brought us a stick with a rag on it.” He motioned toward Galen’s trophy and added, “I doubt your story. I don’t think you really risked your life for this. My guess is that you waited until all the Israelites were out of camp and you were alone when you picked it up.”

Galen cringed at the scornful words. He found himself having trouble breathing. He thought of saying he was sorry but decided to remain mute while Goliath glared at him.

Finally the giant asked harshly, “You really want to someday carry my shield and become a Philistine warrior?”

Suddenly hopeful again, Galen exclaimed, “Oh yes!”

“Good!” The giant clapped an enormous hand on the boy’s shoulder. “The only way to ever do that is to return to the enemy camp and at least hurt someone, if not kill him. So do it tonight, and bring proof! Do you understand?”

Galen felt numb. He wanted to protest but knew he must not. Slowly, sick at heart, he managed to mumble, “Yes, I understand.”

The giant’s heavy hand lifted from Galen’s shoulder and came down with a resounding smack on his backside. “Good! Tell the sentry outside my tent to give you a stout club to take with you. Bring me proof that you’ve earned the right to be a Philistine soldier!”

All the joy and excitement of Galen’s Israelite adventure had drained out of him at the giant’s terrible assignment. Galen was too ashamed to even confide his problem to Zik. All day he avoided other people and walked alone on the hillside overlooking the Valley of Elah. In his pain and anger, Galen desperately ached for the comfort his parents had always given him when he hurt. But they were long cold in their graves. Then Galen vainly caressed Dagon, his fish-man god, and sought guidance from it. But it felt cold and lifeless, a piece of wood carved by someone’s hands. He wondered how Reuben called on his invisible God when he needed Him, and if He answered better than Dagon.

As the sun eased toward the western horizon, Galen heard some older boys playing at being warriors. At first he ignored them. Then he realized they were watching him and whispering. They knew what Goliath had required Galen to do. Everyone in camp must have known by now. The only good thing was that Galen realized the boys were pretending to be him, and they thought he was brave.

They repeatedly acted out his striking down an Israelite so he could be a Philistine warrior and carry Goliath’s shield. The boys carried on their mock battles until Goliath’s evening challenge sent them running to see if an Israelite dog would dare meet the giant in one-on-one combat. Galen didn’t move but stayed alone in anguish.

Before the stars sprinkled the darkness with tiny points of light, Galen had reduced his choices to the absolute basics. He could either stay in camp and be disgraced and treated with contempt, or he could return to the Israelite camp and carry out Goliath’s order.

Galen knew he might be killed. But wasn’t it worth the risk if he succeeded and became a Philistine warrior worthy of carrying the great Goliath’s shield?

With a heavy sigh, Galen made his choice. He picked up the heavy club Goliath’s sentry had given him and made sure that Dagon’s image was in his tunic. Setting his jaw in firm determination, Galen slipped unseen away from the Philistine encampment and headed across the valley toward the Israelite camp.

He would watch for a lone Israelite and then strike quickly and hard before losing his nerve. Then he would grab up whatever possessions the Israelite had and vanish into the night.

It was a terrible thing for a ten-year-old boy to do, but Galen reminded himself that he was a Philistine, taught from early childhood to be a mighty warrior. He mentally prepared himself for what he must do.

Using the faint light of the Israelite campfires, Galen found his way across the valley and back to the brook with the bush where he’d hidden the night before. He barely heard the brook’s murmur when his heart leaped at the sight of a lone figure standing there. The firelight was too faint to show his features, but that didn’t matter. It’s probably better that way, Galen thought.

Taking a deep breath and holding the club low so it wouldn’t be seen, Galen quietly started toward the figure.

It turned toward him and spoke. “Hello, Galen. Why did you come back?”