the use of arms, an excellent swimmer,
and extraordinarily hardy. On the march he would sometimes ride, but
more commonly walk, keeping his head uncovered both in rain and
sunshine. He traveled with marvelous expedition, traversing a hundred
miles in a day for several days together; if he came to a river he would
swim it, or sometimes cross it on bladders. Thus he would often
anticipate his own messengers. For all this he had a keen appreciation
of pleasure, and was costly and even luxurious in his personal habits.
He is said, for instance, to have carried with him a tesselated pavement
to be laid down in his tent throughout his campaign in Gaul.

CHAPTER IX.

POMPEY.

At an age when Caesar was still idling away his time, Pompey had
achieved honors such as the veteran generals of Rome were accustomed to
regard as the highest to which they could aspire. He had only just left,
if indeed he had left, school, when his father took him to serve under
him in the war against the Italian allies of Rome. He was not more than
nineteen when he distinguished himself by behaving in circumstances of
great difficulty and danger with extraordinary prudence and courage. The
elder Pompey, Strabo "the squint-eyed," as his contemporaries called
him, after their strange fashion of giving nicknames from personal
defects, and as he was content to call himself, was an able general, but
hated for his cruelty and avarice. The leaders of the opposite faction
saw an opportunity of getting rid of a dangerous enemy and of bringing
over to their own side the forces which he commanded. Their plan was to
assassinate the son as he slept, to burn the father in his tent, and at
the same time to stir up a mutiny among the troops. The secret, however,
was not kept. A letter describing the plot was brought to the young
Pompey as he sat at dinner with the ringleader. The lad showed no sign
of disturbance, but drank more freely than usual, and pledged his false
friend with especial heartiness. He then rose, and after putting an
extra guard on his father's tent, composed himself to sleep, but not in
his bed. The assassins stabbed the coverlet with repeated blows, and
then ran to rouse the soldiers to revolt. The camp was immediately in an
uproar, and the elder Pompey, though he had been preserved by his son's
precautions, dared not attempt to quell it. The younger man was equal to
the occasion. Throwing himself on his face in front of the gate of the