David glanced across the fire at his oldest brother, Eliab, who was sharpening his sword. Eliab looked like a soldier with his leather armored vest and his spear stuck into the ground beside him. His jet black eyes looked stern, and his jaw muscles tightened as he gripped his sword in his strong, sinewy hand. As Eliab turned to leave, David jumped to his feet.
"Eliab?" David grinned excitedly. He was almost afraid to ask the question. "Do you think I could join the army sometime soon and fight with you and Abinadab and Shammah for the king?"
"You're not old enough to fight, anyway, so you can get the notion out of your head! When you're a grown man, then you can sign up. . . . And besides, if you leave, who will watch the sheep?"
As far as important jobs go, being a shepherd was just about the bottom of the heap. Most people hated the idea of being a shepherd. Sheep were smelly and stupid and totally unpredictable. But to forsake them? Never. David would rather spend endless days and cold nights caring for the sheep than to risk the life of even one sheep.