ds. Democrates, next him, was gazing at Glaucon, as if the
athlete were made of gold; but the object of their fears and hopes gave
back neither word nor sign.

The attendants were arraying the five remaining champions at the foot of a
little rise in the sand, near the judges' pulpit. To each was brought a
bronze quoit, the discus. The pipers resumed their medley. The second
contest was begun.

First, Amyntas of Thebes. He took his stand, measured the distance with
his eye, then with a run flew up the rising, and at its summit his body
bent double, while the heavy quoit flew away. A noble cast! and twice
excelled. For a moment every Theban in the stadium was transported.
Strangers sitting together fell on one another's necks in sheer joy. But
the rapture ended quickly. Lycon flung second. His vast strength could now
tell to the uttermost. He was proud to display it. Thrice he hurled.
Thrice his discus sped out as far as ever man had seen a quoit fly in
Hellas. Not even Glaucon's best wishers were disappointed when he failed
to come within three cubits of the Spartan. Ctesias and Moerocles realized
their task was hopeless, and strove half heartedly. The friends of the
huge Laconian were almost beside themselves with joy; while the herald
called desperately that:--

"Lycon of Sparta wins with the discus. Glaucon of Athens is second.
Ctesias of Epidaurus throws poorest and drops from the games."

"Wake, Glaucon!" trumpeted Cimon, again his white face shining out amid
the thousands of gazers now. "Wake, or Lycon wins again and all is lost!"

Glaucon was almost beyond earshot; to the frantic entreaty he answered by
no sign. As he and the Spartan stood once more together, the giant leered
on him civilly:--

"You grow wise, Athenian. It's honour enough and to spare to be second,
with Lycon first. _Eu!_--and here's the last contest."

"I say again, good friend,"--there was a slight closing of the Athenian's
lips, and deepening in his eyes,--"the pentathlon is not ended."

"The harpies eat you, then, if you get too bold! The herald is calling for
the javelin-casting. Come,--it's time to make an end."

But in the deep hush that spread again over the thousands Glaucon turned
toward the only faces that he saw out of the innumerable host:
Themistocles, Democrates, Simonides, Cimon. They beheld him raise his arm
and lift his glorious head yet higher. Glaucon in turn saw Cimon sink into
his seat. "He wakes!" was the appeased m