red Leonidas, and the moment the throng saw what
newcomers they faced, Athenian and Spartan let their arms drop and stood
sheepish and silent. Themistocles instantly stepped forward and held up
his hand. His voice, trumpet-clear, rang out among the pines. In three
sentences he dissolved the tumult.

"Fellow-Hellenes, do not let Dame Discord make sport of you. I saw all
that befell. It is only an unlucky misunderstanding. You are quite
satisfied, I am sure, Master Bronze-Dealer?"

The Sicyonian, who saw in a riot the ruin of his evening's trade, nodded
gladly.

"He says there was no thieving, and he is entirely satisfied. He thanks
you for your friendly zeal. The Oriental was not Dexippus's slave, and
Xerxes does not need such boys for spies. I am certain Glaucon would not
insult Sparta. So let us part without bad blood, and await the judgment of
the god in the contest to-morrow."

Not a voice answered him. The crash of music from the sacrificial embassy
of Syracuse diverted everybody's attention; most of the company streamed
away to follow the flower-decked chariots and cattle back to the temple.
Themistocles and Leonidas were left almost alone to approach the athlete.

"You are ever Glaucon the Fortunate," laughed Themistocles; "had we not
chanced this way, what would not have befallen?"

"Ah, it was delightful," rejoined the athlete, his eyes still kindled;
"the shock, the striving, the putting one's own strength and will against
many and feeling 'I am the stronger.' "

"Delightful, no doubt" replied the statesman, "though Zeus spare me
fighting one against ten! But what god possessed you to meddle in this
brawl, and imperil all chances for to-morrow?"

"I was returning from practice at the palaestra. I saw the lad beset and
knew he was not Dexippus's slave. I ran to help him. I thought no more
about it."

"And risked everything for a sly-eyed Oriental. Where is the rascal?"

But the lad--author of the commotion--had disappeared completely.

"Behold his fair gratitude to his rescuer," cried Themistocles, sourly,
and then he turned to Leonidas. "Well, very noble king of Sparta, you were
asking to see Glaucon and judge his chances in the pentathlon. Your
Laconians have just proved him; are you satisfied?"

But the king, without a word of greeting, ran his eyes over the athlete
from head to heel, then blurted out his verdict:

"Too pretty."

Glaucon blushed like a maid. Themistocles threw up his hands in