tired of helping."

"Perhaps!" Glaucon passed his hand across his eyes with a dreamy gesture.
"Yet sometimes I almost say, 'Welcome a misfortune, if not too terrible,'
just to ward off the god's jealousy of too great prosperity. In all
things, save my father's anger, I have prospered. To-morrow I can appease
that, too. Yet you know Solon's saying, 'Call no man fortunate till he is
dead.' "

Simonides was charmed at this frank confession on first acquaintance.
"Yes, but even one of the Seven Sages can err."

"I do not know. I only hope--"

"Hush, Glaucon," admonished Democrates. "There's no worse dinner before a
contest than one of flighty thoughts. When safe in Athens--"

"In Eleusis you mean," corrected the athlete.

"Pest take you," cried Cimon; "you say Eleusis because there is Hermione.
But make this day-dreaming end ere you come to grips with Lycon."

"He will awaken," smiled Themistocles. Then, with another gracious nod to
Simonides, the statesman hastened after Leonidas, leaving the three young
men and the poet to go to Glaucon's tent in the pine grove.

"And why should Leonidas wish Glaucon to grind the bones of the champion
of Sparta?" asked Cimon, curiously.

"Quickly answered," replied Simonides, who knew half the persons of the
nobility in Hellas; "first, Lycon is of the rival kingly house at Sparta;
second, he's suspected of 'Medizing,' of favouring Persia."

"I've heard that story of 'Medizing,' " interrupted Democrates, promptly;
"I can assure you it is not true."

"Enough if he's suspected," cried the uncompromising son of Miltiades;
"honest Hellenes should not even be blown upon in times like this. Another
reason then for hating him--"

"Peace!" ordered Glaucon, as if starting from a long revery, and with a
sweep of his wonderful hands; "let the Medes, the Persians, and their war
wait. For me the only war is the pentathlon,--and then by Zeus's favour the
victory, the glory, the return to Eleusis! Ah--wish me joy!"

"Verily, the man is mad," reflected the poet; "he lives in his own bright
world, sufficient to himself. May Zeus never send storms to darken it! For
to bear disaster his soul seems never made."

* * * * * * *

At the tent Manes, the athlete's body-servant, came running to his master,
with a small box firmly bound.

"A strange dark man brought this only a moment since. It is for Master
Glaucon."

On opening there was revealed a bracelet of Egy