ther fell back roaring, and before it could prepare for
a new spring, Taurus Antinor had seized the swooning man. It was his
turn to run now, for he had but a few seconds in which to save the life
of his bitterest foe.

Straight to the walls of the arena did he run, and his voice was heard
speaking loudly and commandingly:

"The arcade, man! Rouse thyself! The arcade! The rings in the columns!
Quick!"

It needed the strength of a bullock to accomplish the deed: that, or the
strength which comes from unbendable human will. The man, only
half-conscious, returned to his senses by the force of that same will.
The instinct of life was strongest in the end, and when Taurus Antinor
leapt upon the ledge and hoisted Hortensius' body high up above his
head, the young man, with the final effort borne of hope and built upon
despair, reached up and caught one of the massive rings imbedded in the
bases of the fluted columns.

For a few seconds he remained suspended, his body swinging against the
marble wall, whilst the public cheered with an enthusiasm that knew no
bounds. From below the praefect helped to push the feeble body up, then
another jerk, a pull upwards, a push, and Hortensius Martius had found
safety in one of the niches of the arcade.

"Hail to the praefect of Rome! Hail!" came in a continuous, thunderous
roar from every corner of the arena, even as with a sudden bound the
black panther had sprung upon Taurus Antinor, and, catching him
unawares, had felled him to the ground.

CHAPTER XXIII

"Well done, thou good and faithful servant."--ST. MATTHEW XXV. 21.

A tumult amongst the people?

Aye! it was here now fully aroused. The praefect of Rome was popular
with the plebs. His action in the arena had called forth unbounded
enthusiasm. When he fell rolling into the sand, with the black panther
snarling above him, his steel-like grip warding for the moment the
brute's jaws from off his throat, the people broke out into regular
frenzy.

"The praefect! the praefect!" they shouted.

Men climbed down along the gradients leaping over other men, determined
to jump down twelve feet into the arena in order to rescue the praefect
from the jaws of the ferocious beast.

But above in the imperial tribune the Caesar sat snarling like the
panther and rubbing his hands with glee. His trap had been
over-successful, one by one the arch-traitors fell headlong into it.
First Hortensius Martius, that young fool! What matt