Glaucon sink
exhausted; but his foe still looked on him with steadfast, unweakening
eyes. The president was just bidding the heralds, "Pluck them asunder and
declare a tie!" when the stadium gave a shrill long shout. Lycon had
turned to his final resource. Reckless of his own hurt, he dashed his iron
forehead against the Athenian's, as bull charges bull. Twice and three
times, and the blood leaped out over Glaucon's fair skin. Again--the rush
of blood was almost blinding. Again--Pytheas screamed with agony--the
Athenian's clutch seemed weakening. Again--flesh and blood could not stand
such battering long. If Lycon could endure this, there was only one end to
the pentathlon.

"Help thou me, Athena of the Gray Eyes! For the glory of Athens, my
father, my wife!"

The cry of Glaucon--half prayer, half battle-shout--pealed above the
bellowing stadium. Even as he cried it, all saw his form draw upward as
might Prometheus's unchained. They saw the fingers of the Spartan unclasp.
They saw his bloody face upturned and torn with helpless agony. They saw
his great form totter, topple, fall. The last dust cloud, and into it the
multitude seemed rushing together....

... They caught Glaucon just as he fell himself. Themistocles was the
first to kiss him. Little Simonides wept. Cimon, trying to embrace the
victor, hugged in the confusion a dirty Plataean. Democrates seemed lost in
the whirlpool, and came with greetings later. Perhaps he had stopped to
watch that Oriental who had given Glaucon good wishes in the foot-race.
The fairest praise, however, was from a burly man, who merely held out his
hand and muttered, "Good!" But this was from Leonidas.

* * * * * * *

Very late a runner crowned with pink oleanders panted up to the Athenian
watch by Mount Icarus at the custom-house on the Megarian frontier.

"_Nika!_--He conquers."

The man fell breathless; but in a moment a clear beacon blazed upon the
height. From a peak in Salamis another answered. In Eleusis, Hermippus the
Noble was running to his daughter. In Peiraeus, the harbour-town, the
sailor folk were dancing about the market-place. In Athens, archons,
generals, and elders were accompanying Conon to the Acropolis to give
thanks to Athena. Conon had forgotten how he had disowned his son. Another
beacon glittered from the Acropolis. Another flashed from the lordly crest
of Pentelicus, telling the news to all Attica. There was singing in the