un. Mardonius did not lead Glaucon to the ports, but southward,
where beyond the little point of Colias spread an open sandy beach. The
night waves lapped softly. The wind had sunk to warm puffs from the
southward. They heard the rattle of anchor-chains and tackle-blocks, but
from far away. Beyond the vague promontory of Peiraeus rose dark mountains
and headlands, at their foot lay a sprinkling of lights.

"Salamis!" cried Glaucon, pointing. "Yonder are the ships of Hellas."

Mardonius walked with him upon the shelving shore. A skiff, small but
stanch, was ready with oars.

"What else will you?" asked the bow-bearer. "Gold?"

"Nothing. Yet take this." Glaucon unclasped from his waist the golden belt
Xerxes had bestowed at Sardis. "A Hellene I went forth, a Hellene I
return."

He made to kiss the Persian's dress, but Mardonius would not suffer it.

"Did I not desire you for my brother?" he said, and they embraced. As
their arms parted, the bow-bearer spoke three words in earnest whisper:--

"Beware of Democrates."

"What do you mean?"

"I can say no more. Yet be wise. Beware of Democrates."

The attendants, faithful body-servants of Mardonius, and mute witnesses of
all that passed, were thrusting the skiff into the water. There were no
long farewells. Both knew that the parting was absolute, that Glaucon
might be dead on the morrow. A last clasping of the hands and quickly the
boat was drifting out upon the heaving waters. Glaucon stood one moment
watching the figures on the beach and pondering on Mardonius's strange
warning. Then he set himself to the oars, rowing westward, skirting the
Barbarian fleet as it rode at anchor, observing its numbers and array and
how it was aligned for battle. After that, with more rapid stroke, he sent
the skiff across the dark ribbon toward Salamis.

CHAPTER XXVI

THEMISTOCLES IS THINKING

Leonidas was taken. Themistocles was left,--left to bear as crushing a load
as ever weighed on man,--to fight two battles, one with the Persian, one
with his own unheroic allies, and the last was the harder. Three hundred
and seventy Greek triremes rode off Salamis, half from Athens, but the
commander-in-chief was Eurybiades of Sparta, the sluggard state that sent
only sixteen ships, yet the only state the bickering Peloponnesians would
obey. Hence Themistocles's sore problems.

Different from the man of unruffled brow who