greaves. Men stared at Glaucon as he was led by them.

"A deserter they take to the chief," ran the whisper, and a little knot of
idle Spartans trailed behind, when at last Glaucon's guides halted him
before a brown tent barely larger than the others.

A man sat on a camp chest by the entrance, and was busy with an iron spoon
eating "black broth"(9) from a huge kettle. In the dim light Glaucon could
just see that he wore a purple cloak flung over his black armour, and that
the helmet resting beside him was girt by a wreath of gold foil.

The two guards dropped their spears in salute. The man looked upward.

"A deserter," reported one of Glaucon's mentors; "he says he has important
news."

"Wait!" ordered the general, making the iron spoon clack steadily.

"The weal of Hellas rests thereon. Listen!" pleaded the nervous Athenian.

"Wait!" was the unruffled answer, and still the iron spoon went on plying.
The Spartan lifted a huge morsel from the pot, chewed it deliberately,
then put the vessel by. Next he inspected the newcomer from head to toe,
then at last gave his permission.

"Well?"

Glaucon's words were like a bursting torrent.

"Fly, your Excellency! I'm from Xerxes's camp. I was at the Persian
council. The mountain path is betrayed. Hydarnes and the guard are almost
over it. They will fall upon your rear. Fly, or you and all your men are
trapped!"

"Well," observed the Spartan, slowly, motioning for the deserter to cease,
but Glaucon's fears made that impossible.

"I say I was in Xerxes's own tent. I was interpreter betwixt the king and
the traitor. I know all whereof I say. If you do not flee instantly, the
blood of these men is on your head."

Leonidas again scanned the deserter with piercing scrutiny, then flung a
question.

"Who are you?"

The blood leaped into the Athenian's cheeks. The tongue that had wagged so
nimbly clove in his mouth. He grew silent.

"Who are you?"

As the question was repeated, the scrutiny grew yet closer. The soldiers
were pressing around, one comrade leaning over another's shoulder. Twenty
saw the fugitive's form straighten as he stood in the morning twilight.

"I am Glaucon of Athens, Isthmionices!"

"Ah!" Leonidas's jaw dropped for an instant. He showed no other
astonishment, but the listening Spartans raised a yell.

"Death! Stone the traitor!"

Leonidas, without a word, smote the man nearest to him with a spear butt.
The soldiers were silent instantly.