first time questioned.

"What have you done?"

Even in the darkness he knew Sicinnus grinned and showed his teeth.

"In the name of Themistocles I have told the Barbarian chiefs that the
Hellenes are at strife one with another, that they are meditating a hasty
flight, that if the king's captains will but move their ships so as to
enclose them, it is likely there will be no battle in the morning, but the
Hellenes will fall into the hands of Xerxes unresisting."

"And the Persian answered?"

"That I and my master would not fail of reward for this service to the
king. That the Egyptian ships would be swung at once across the strait to
cut off all flight by the Hellenes."

The outlaw made no answer, but pulled at the oars. The reaction from the
day and evening of strain and peril was upon him. He was unutterably
weary, though more in mind than in body. The clumsy skiff seemed only to
crawl. Trusting the orders of Sicinnus to steer him aright, he closed his
eyes. One picture after another of his old life came up before him now he
was in the stadium at Corinth and facing the giant Spartan, now he stood
by Hermione on the sacred Rock at Athens, now he was at Xerxes's side with
the fleets and the myriads passing before them at the Hellespont, he saw
his wife, he saw Roxana, and all other things fair and lovely that had
crossed his life. Had he made the best choice? Were the desperate fates of
Hellas better than the flower-banked streams of Bactria, whose delights he
had forever thrust by? Would his Fortune, guider of every human destiny,
bring him at last to a calm haven, or would his life go out amid the
crashing ships to-morrow? The oars bumped on the thole-pins. He pulled
mechanically, the revery ever deepening, then a sharp hail awoke him.

"O-op! What do you here?"

The call was in Phoenician. Glaucon scarce knew the harsh Semitic speech,
but the _lembos_, a many-oared patrol cutter, was nearly on them. A moment
more, and seizure would be followed by identification. Life, death,
Hellas, Hermione, all flashed before his eyes as he sat numbed, but
Sicinnus saved them both.

"The password to-night? You know it," he demanded in quick whisper.

" 'Hystaspes,' " muttered Glaucon, still wool-gathering.

"Who are you? Why here?" An officer in the cutter was rising and upholding
an unmasked lantern. "We've been ordered to cruise in the channel and snap
up deserters, and by Baal, here are twain! The crows will pick at y