to satiate the hunger of lions.

On a certain day in the latter half of the third century after Christ,
and while the pagan Roman empire still held powerful sway, many
thousands of people had assembled in the amphitheatre to witness a
series of blood-curdling sights and combats. Among these sad
spectacles was the suffering of a noted Christian from the rugged
province of Lycia.

Demonicus, the great gladiator of Patara city, had fallen, his left
cheek was embedded in the sand, his brawny upper arm lay out limp
beside his broken sword, and his life-blood was streaming away. He
would indulge in the love of strife and watch the footsteps of the
innocent for glittering gold no more. His conqueror, Telassar, a big
bearded warrior from Rhaetia, stood erect and proud, with his right
foot on the gladiator's neck, and drinking in the applause that flowed
from the encircling host of sensation-loving, heartless spectators.

After a fierce and prolonged battle, several other gladiators had
ploughed the sand in strange quick succession. Here, face downward,
was a Samnite with his oblong shield; yonder lay a bare headed
_retiarius_ with his net and three-pointed lance. Twenty feet from
Demonicus, a horseman clad in cuirass and helmet was stretched upon his
back wounded and dying, with his round shield and lance lying near.
His handsome black charger had instantly wheeled round, and it now
stood over him with lowered neck in beautiful faithfulness, a tribute
to its master's care and kindness. The other combatants were being
hooked and drawn away like logs into the _spoliarium_, the grim
receptacle for slaughtered men; the expiring horseman's turn would soon
come. His rival had also reeled and tumbled down, the result of
exhaustion from a severe wound received earlier in the fray. Aided by
an official called a _lanista_, the victor's struggles to rise up and,
when risen, to keep on his feet, were pitiable in the extreme.
Deprived of its rider, his spirited grey horse, itself slightly
wounded, was bounding round the arena like a frightened antelope. And
considering that there was a circumference of 900 feet in which to
galop and wheel, it gave its pursuers no small degree of trouble.

This state of affairs, coupled with the usual breathing time before the
next act in the tragic drama, allowed the horde of onlookers an
opportunity for a little conversation and even merriment. In the
presence of such horrifying sport with h