ic naval stores."

"Destroy the man!" cried the rower.

"And yet I really pity him; he was under great temptation."

"No excuses; the man who robs the city in days like these is worse than he
who betrays fortresses in most wars."

"I see you are a savage patriot, Glaucon," said Themistocles, "despite
your Adonis face. We are fairly upon the bay; our nearest eavesdroppers,
yon fishermen, are a good five furlongs. Would you see something?" Glaucon
rested on the oars, while the statesman fumbled in his breast. He drew out
a papyrus sheet, which he passed to the rower, he in turn to Democrates.

"Look well, then, for I think no Persian spies are here. A month long have
I wrought on this bit of papyrus. All my wisdom flowed out of my pen when
I spread the ink. In short here is the ordering of the ships of the allied
Greeks when we meet Xerxes in battle. Leonidas and our other chiefs gave
me the task when we met at Corinth. To-day it is complete. Read it, for it
is precious. Xerxes would give twenty talents for this one leaf from
Egypt."

The young men peered at the sheet curiously. The details and diagrams were
few and easy to remember, the Athenian ships here, the AEginetan next, the
Corinthian next, and so with the other allies. A few comments on the use
of the light penteconters behind the heavy triremes. A few more comments
on Xerxes's probable naval tactics. Only the knowledge that Themistocles
never committed himself in speech or writing without exhausting every
expedient told the young men of the supreme importance of the paper. After
due inspection the statesman replaced it in his breast.

"You two have seen this," he announced, seemingly proud of his handiwork;
"Leonidas shall see this, then Xerxes, and after that--" he laughed, but
not in jest--"men will remember Themistocles, son of Neocles!"

The three lapsed into silence for a moment. The skiff was well out upon
the sea. The shadows of the hills of Salamis and of AEgelaos, the opposing
mountain of Attica, were spreading over them. Around the islet of
Psyttaleia in the strait the brown fisher-boats were gliding. Beyond the
strait opened the blue hill-girdled bay of Eleusis, now turning to fire in
the evening sun. Everything was peaceful, silent, beautiful. Again Glaucon
rested on his oars and let his eyes wander.

"How true is the word of Thales the Sage," he spoke; " 'the world is the
fairest of all fair things, because it is the work of God.' It cannot