noisiest Athenian.

"Or Amyntas of Thebes?"

"Not Amyntas! Give us Lycon of Sparta."

"Lycon let it be,--how much is staked and by whom, that Glaucon of Athens,
contending for the first time in the great games, defeats Lycon of Sparta,
twice victor at Nemea, once at Delphi, and once at Olympia?"

The second rush and outcry put the crier nearly at his wits' end to record
the wagers that pelted him, and which testified how much confidence the
numerous Athenians had in their unproved champion. The brawl of voices
drew newcomers from far and near. The chariot race had just ended in the
adjoining hippodrome; and the idle crowd, intent on a new excitement, came
surging up like waves. In such a whirlpool of tossing arms and shoving
elbows, he who was small of stature and short of breath stood a scanty
chance of getting close enough to the crier's stand to have his wager
recorded. Such, at least, was the fate of a gray but dignified little man,
who struggled vainly--even with risk to his long linen chiton--to reach the
front.

"Ugh! ugh! Make way, good people,--Zeus confound you, brute of a Spartan,
your big sandals crush my toes again! Can I never get near enough to place
my two minae on that Glaucon?"

"Keep back, graybeard," snapped the Spartan; "thank the god if you can
hold your money and not lose it, when Glaucon's neck is wrung to-morrow."
Whereupon he lifted his own voice with, "Thirty drachmae to place on Lycon,
Master Crier! So you have it--"

"And two minae on Glaucon," piped the little man, peering up with bright,
beady eyes; but the crier would never have heard him, save for a sudden
ally.

"Who wants to stake on Glaucon?" burst in a hearty young Athenian who had
wagered already. "You, worthy sir? Then by Athena's owls they shall hear
you! Lend us your elbow, Democrates."

The latter request was to a second young Athenian close by. With his
stalwart helpers thrusting at either side, the little man was soon close
to the crier.

"Two minae?" quoth the latter, leaning, "two that Glaucon beats Lycon, and
at even odds? But your name, sir--"

The little man straightened proudly.

"Simonides of Ceos."

The crowd drew back by magic. The most bristling Spartan grew respectful.
The crier bowed as his ready stylus made the entry.

"Simonides of Ceos, Simonides the most noted poet in Hellas!" cried the
first of his two rescuers; "it's a great honour to have served so famous a
man. Pray let me take your hand.