by it long had better have sunk with the _Solon_,--his would
have been an easier death. Glaucon laid his mouth to the man's ear.

"Swim through the surf. I will bear the woman safely."

"Save her, and be you blessed forever. I die happy. I cannot swim."

The moment was too terrible for Glaucon to feel amazed at this confession.
To a Hellene swimming was second nature. He thought and spoke quickly.

"Climb on the higher rock. The wave does not cover it entirely. Dig your
toes in the crevices. Cling to the seaweed. I will return for you."

He never heard what the other cried back to him. He tore the woman clear
of her lashings, threw his left arm about her, and fought his way through
the surf. He could swim like a Delian, the best swimmers in Hellas; but
the task was mighty even for the athlete. Twice the deadly undertow almost
dragged him downward. Then the soft sand was oozing round his feet. He
knew a knot of fisher folk were running to the beach, a dozen hands took
his fainting burden from him. One instant he stood with the water rushing
about his ankles, gasped and drew long breaths, then turned his face
toward the sea.

"Are you crazed?" he heard voices clamouring--they seemed a great way
off,--"a miracle that you lived through the surf once! Leave the other to
fate. Phorcys has doomed him already."

But Glaucon was past acting by reason now. His head seemed a ball of fire.
Only his hands and feet responded mechanically to the dim impulse of his
bewildered brain. Once more the battling through the surf, this time
against it and threefold harder. Only the man whose strength had borne the
giant Spartan down could have breasted the billows that came leaping to
destroy him. He felt his powers were strained to the last notch. A little
more and he knew he might roll helpless, but even so he struggled onward.
Once again the two black rocks were springing out of the swollen water. He
saw the Barbarian clinging desperately to the higher. Why was he risking
his life for a man who was not a Hellene, who might be even a servant of
the dreaded Xerxes? A strange moment for such questionings, and no time to
answer! He clung to the seaweed beside the Barbarian for an instant, then
through the gale cried to the other to place his hands upon his shoulders.
The Oriental complied intelligently. For a third time Glaucon struggled
across the raging flood. The passage seemed endless, and every receding
breaker dragging down to the gr