itors in. Charmides limped along beside his father,
for he was lame. That was what had made him sigh when he had seen
Victory hovering over Olympia. She would never give him the olive
branch. But now he did not think of that. His heart was beating fast.
His eyes were big. For before him lay a great open court baking in the
sun. More than a hundred boys were at work there, leaping, wrestling,
hurling the disk, throwing spears. During the past months they had been
living here, training for the games. The sun had browned their bare
bodies. Now their smooth skins were shining with sweat and oil. As they
bent and twisted they looked like beautiful statues turned brown and
come alive. Among them walked men in long purple robes. They seemed to
be giving commands.

"They are the judges," whispered Glaucon. "They train the boys."

All around the hot court ran a deep, shady portico. Here boys lay on
the tiled floor or on stone benches, resting from their exercise. Near
Charmides stood one with his back turned. He was scraping the oil and
dust from his body with a strigil. Charmides' eyes danced with joy
at the beauty of the firm, round legs and the muscles moving in the
shoulders. Then the athlete turned toward the visitors and Charmides
cried out, "Creon!" and ran and threw his arms around him.

Then there was gay talk; Creon asked about the home and mother and
sisters in Athens, for he had been here in training for almost ten
months. Menon and Charmides had a thousand questions about the games.

"I know I shall win, father," said Creon softly. "Four nights ago Hermes
appeared to me in my sleep and smiled upon me. I awoke suddenly and
there was a strange, sweet perfume in the air."

Tears sprang into his father's eyes. "Now blessed be the gods!" he
cried, "and most blessed Hermes, the god of the gymnasium!"

After a little Menon and Charmides said farewell and went away through
the chattering crowd and up under the cool trees on Mount Kronion to
their camp. The slaves had cut poles and set them up and thrown a wide
linen cover over them. Under it they had put a little table holding
lumps of brown cheese, a flat loaf of bread, a basket of figs, a pile
of crisp lettuce. Just outside the tent grazed a few goats. A man in a
soiled tunic was squatted milking one. Menon's slave stood waiting and,
as his master came up, he took the big red bowl of foaming milk and
carried it to the table. The goatherd picked up his long crook and