And he laughed with the insolence of the strong, not fearing the anger
of the old Carthaginian, who began to stammer an answer.

The Celtiberian, who had remained silent, laid his hand upon the old
man.

"Silence, Carthaginian! The Roman is right. You are peddlers incapable
of measuring up with them in war. You love money too much to dominate by
the sword. But Carthage is not made of those of your breed; there are
others born there who will know how to stand up before those peasants of
Italy!"

The Roman, seeing the rustic intervene in the dispute, became still more
arrogant and insolent.

"And who can that be?" he shouted scornfully. "The son of Hamilcar? That
youngster who they say had a slave for a mother?"

"Those who founded your city, Roman, were sons of a prostitute, and the
day is not far distant when the horse of Carthage shall trample under
foot the wolf of Romulus!"

The legionary arose trembling with fury, feeling for his sword, but he
suddenly gave a savage growl and fell, pressing his hands against his
throat.

Actaeon had seen the Celtiberian introduce his right hand into the sleeve
of his sagum, and, drawing a knife, stab the legionary in the thick neck
he had been staring at with the fixity of a wild beast while the fallen
man mocked at Carthage.

The tavern shook with the strain of the combat. The other Roman seeing
his companion down, hurled himself at the Celtiberian with raised sword,
but quick as a flash he received a thrust in the face and was blinded by
a stream of blood.

The agility of the man was astounding. His movements had the elasticity
of the panther; blows seemed to rebound from his body without doing him
harm. Around him fell a shower of jars, of broken amphorae, of swords
hurled through the air; but with extended arm, and knife held before
him, he made a spring toward the door and disappeared.

"After him! After him!" clamored the Romans, starting in pursuit.

Attracted by the brutal joy of a man hunt, all who were sober enough to
retain mastery of their legs followed him out of the hostelry. The horde
of men, fired by the sight of blood, sprang over the bodies of the dying
Roman and the drunken sailors who lay snoring near him. The Greek saw
them break up into groups, running in all directions after the
Celtiberian, who had disappeared a few steps distant from the hostelry
as if dissolved into the shadow of the night.

The port thrilled with the ardor of the chase. Li