multitude, and upon broad Hellas. Next the master-herald announced that
now, on the third day of the games, came the final and most honoured
contest: the pentathlon, the fivefold struggle, with the crown to him who
conquered thrice. He proclaimed the names of the six rivals, their cities,
their ancestry, and how they had complied with the required training. The
president took up his tale, and turning to the champions, urged them to
strive their best, for the eyes of all Hellas were on them. But he warned
any man with blood-guiltiness upon his soul not to anger the gods by
continuing in the games.

"But since," the brief speech concluded, "these men have chosen to
contend, and have made oath that they are purified or innocent, let them
join, and Poseidon shed fair glory upon the best!"

More shouting; the pipers paraded the arena, blowing shriller than ever.
Some of the athletes shifted uneasily. Scolus the Thasian--youngest of the
six--was pale, and cast nervous glances at the towering bulk of Lycon. The
Spartan gave him no heed, but threw a loud whisper at Glaucon, who stood
silently beside him:--

"By Castor, son of Conon, you are extremely handsome. If fine looks won
the battle, I might grow afraid."

The Athenian, whose roving eye had just caught Cimon and Democrates in the
audience, seemed never to hear him.

"And you are passing stalwart. Still, be advised. I wouldn't harm you, so
drop out early."

Still no answer from Glaucon, whose clear eye seemed now to be wandering
over the bare hills of Megara beyond.

"No answer?" persisted the giant. "_Eu!_ don't complain that you've lacked
warning, when you sit to-night in Charon's ferry-boat."

The least shadow of a smile flitted across the Athenian's face; there was
a slight deepening of the light in his eye. He turned his head a bit
toward Lycon:--

"The games are not ended, dear Spartan," he observed quietly.

The giant scowled. "I don't like you silent, smiling men! You're warned.
I'll do my worst--"

"Let the leaping begin!" rang the voice of the president,--a call that
changed all the uproar to a silence in which one might hear the wind
moving in the firs outside, while every athlete felt his muscles tighten.

The heralds ran down the soft sands to a narrow mound of hardened earth,
and beckoned to the athletes to follow. In the hands of each contestant
were set a pair of bronze dumb-bells. The six were arrayed upon the mound
with a clear reach of san