rt for those who gloated over it.

A yell, half exultation, half anger, broke from a dozen throats. The
black rat tore himself loose and fled back toward Balbus; the gray stood
in the middle of the ring, triumphant. Both were badly mangled and
drenched with blood, but the black was craven. The followers of the gray
roared their triumph. Balbus seized his rat and flung him back into the
fight, almost on top of the gray, which instantly fastened on him.

But, plainly, the black had had enough. It could be seen that he no
longer attacked; was all on the defensive, trying only to escape. Again
he broke away and crawled toward safety. The ring howled with mingled
derision and delight. Balbus, cursing, his face congested with rage,
again threw him back, and again the vicious gray fell upon him with
teeth and claws.

"Give thy sandals quickly, Chilo!" a voice shouted above the racket.
"The black is down!"

He was, and the gray on top of him, bloodily victorious.

"_Peractum est!_" Nicanor shouted, in the language of the arena; and
sprang to his feet and caught up his bloody pet and held him high in
triumph. But Balbus, his face aflame with fury, strode to where the
black rat lay still twitching, and stamped the heel of his iron-shod
sandal upon its head with such force that its brains and blood were
spattered.

"It was no fair fight!" he cried, turning on those who jeered him. "That
gray beast wrought by magic. Thou hast played a trick!" He shook his
fist in Nicanor's face, glaring.

Nicanor backed away with a laugh. It taunted Balbus beyond endurance; he
lunged forward, his fists clenched. In an instant there had been battle,
on which men would have bet as eagerly as on the combat ended. But there
was a sudden clamor of guards' whistles; a rush from the ladders, and
overseers fell upon the crowd with hissing lashes that left their marks
on backs and thighs. The ring broke up, as men fled like sheep and were
whipped back to their posts.

Soon there was nothing heard but the endless tapping of picks, the thud
of falling earth, and the voices of overseers and the foremen of the
gangs. But Balbus, each time he passed with laden basket the spot where
Nicanor stood tirelessly wielding his heavy pick, scowled at him blackly
and muttered oaths of vengeance. For he was of those who must be taught,
by many ungentle lessons, that one must know how to lose as well as how
to win.

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