ng hair. Ariston stumbled on
after this company. A great black slave came swiftly around a corner and
ran into him and knocked him over, but fled on without looking back. As
the Greek boy fell forward, the rough little pebbles scoured his face.
He lay there moaning. Then he began to forget his troubles. His aching
body began to rest. He thought he would sleep. He saw Apollo smiling.
Then Caius struggled and cried out. He pulled at the blanket and tried
to free himself. This roused Ariston, and he sat up. He felt the hot
pebbles again. He heard the mountain roar. He dragged himself to his
feet and started on. Suddenly the street led him out into a broad space.
Ariston looked around him. All about stretched wide porches with their
columns. Temple roofs rose above them. Statues stood high on their
pedestals. He was in the forum. The great open square was crowded with
hurrying people. Under one of the porches Ariston saw the money changers
locking their boxes. From a wide doorway ran several men. They were
carrying great bundles of woolen cloth, richly embroidered and dyed
with precious purple. Down the great steps of Jupiter's temple ran a
priest. Under his arms he clutched two large platters of gold. Men were
running across the forum dragging bags behind them.

Every one seemed trying to save his most precious things. And every one
was hurrying to the gate at the far end. Then that was the way out!
Ariston picked up his heavy feet and ran. Suddenly the earth swayed
under him. He heard horrible thunder. He thought the mountain was
falling upon him. He looked behind. He saw the columns of the porch
tottering. A man was running out from one of the buildings. But as he
ran, the walls crashed down. The gallery above fell cracking. He was
buried. Ariston saw it all and cried out in horror. Then he prayed:

"O Lord Poseidon, shaker of the earth, save me! I am a Greek!"

Then he came out of the forum. A steep street sloped down to a gate. A
river of people was pouring out there. The air was full of cries. The
great noise of the crowd made itself heard even in the noise of the
volcano. The streets were full of lost treasures. Men pushed and fell
and were trodden upon. But at last Ariston passed through the gateway
and was out of the city. He looked about.

"It is no better," he sobbed to himself.

The air was thicker now. The shower had changed to hot dust as fine
as ashes. It blurred his eyes. It stopped his nostrils. It chok