gaily
talking. Below the crowd he saw a long, narrow stretch of ground. He
clapped his hands. That was the ground Creon's feet would run upon! Up
and down both sides of the track went long tiers of stone seats. They
were packed with people who were there to see Creon win. The seats
curved around one narrow end of the course. But across the other end
stood a wall with a gate. Menon pointed to a large white board hanging
on the wall and said, "See! The list of athletes."

Here were written names, and among them, "Creon, son of the Olympic
winner Menon." Charmides' eyes glowed with pride.

Every eye was watching the gate. Soon the purple-clad judges entered.
Some of them walked the whole length of the stadion and took their seats
opposite the goal posts. Two or three waited at the starting line. There
was a blast of a trumpet. Then a herald cried something about games
for boys and about only Greeks of pure blood and about the blessing of
Hermes of the race course.

Immediately there entered a crowd of boys, while the spectators sent
up a rousing cheer. The lads gathered to cast lots for places. At last
eight of them stepped out and stood at the starting line. Creon was not
among them. A post with a little fluttering flag was between every two.
The boys threw off their clothes and stood ready. One of the judges said
to them:

"The eyes of the world are upon you. Your cities love an Olympic winner.
From Olympos the gods look down upon you. For the glory of your cities,
for the joy of your fathers, for your own good name, I exhort you to do
your best."

Then he gave the signal and the runners shot forward. Down the long
course they went with twinkling legs. The spectators cheered, called
their names, waved their chlamyses and himations. Their friends cried
to the gods to help. Down they ran, two far ahead, others stringing out
behind. Every runner's eyes were on the marble goal post with its little
statue of Victory. In a moment it was over, and Leotichides had first
laid hand upon the post and was winner of the first heat.

Immediately eight other boys took their places at the starting line.
Charmides snatched his father's hand and held it tight, for Creon was
one of them. Another signal and they were off, with Creon leading by
a pace or two. So it was all the way, and he gave a glad shout as he
touched the goal post.

Charmides heard men all about him say:

"A beautiful run!"

"How easily he steps!"

"We shal