as his horse bounded over the sharp curve at the foot of the hill. His
mantle was white with dust, and the tiara upon his head was reduced to a
shapeless and dusty piece of crumpled linen, while his uncurled hair and
tangled beard hung forward together in disorderly and dust-clotted
ringlets.

His companion was Zoroaster, fair and erect upon his horse, as though he
had not ridden three hundred farsangs in eleven days. There was dust
indeed upon his mantle and garments, as upon those of the man he
conducted, but his long fair hair and beard blew back from his face as
he held his head erect to the breeze he made in riding, and the light
steel cap was bright and burnished on his forehead. A slight flush
reddened his pale cheeks as he looked upward to the palace, and thought
that his ride was over and his errand accomplished. He was weary, almost
to death; but his frame was elastic and erect still.

As they rode up the steep, the guards at the outer gate, who had already
watched them for twenty minutes as they came up the road, mere moving
specks under the white mist, shouted to those within that Zoroaster was
returning, and the officer of the gate went at once to announce his
coming to the king. Darius himself received the message, and followed
the officer down the steps to the tower of the gateway, reaching the
open space within, just as the two riders galloped under the square
entrance and drew rein upon the pavement of the little court. The
spearmen sprang to their feet and filed into rank as the cry came down
the steps that the king was approaching, and Zoroaster leaped lightly
from his horse, and bid Phraortes do likewise; but the wretched Median
could scarce move hand or foot without help, and would have fallen
headlong, had not two stout spearmen lifted him to the ground, and held
him upon his legs.

Darius marched quickly up to the pair and stood still, while Zoroaster
made his brief salutation. Phraortes, who between deadly fatigue and
deadly fear of his life, had no strength left in him, fell forward upon
his knees as the two soldiers relaxed their hold upon his arms.

"Hail, king of kings! Live for ever!" said Zoroaster. "I have fulfilled
thy bidding. He is alive."

Darius laughed grimly as he eyed the prostrate figure of the Median.

"Thou art a faithful servant, Zoroaster," he answered, "and thou ridest
as the furies that pursue the souls of the wicked--as the devils of the
mountains after a liar. He wou