ods of the thicket and hillside,
and he had no wish to intrude upon their sanctuaries. He told himself
that next to the Hellenes he hated this country of theirs, where a man
sweltered in hot jungles or tripped among hidden crags. He sighed for
the cool beaches below Larisa, where the surf was white as the snows of
Samothrace, and the fisherboys sang round their smoking broth-pots.

Presently he found a path. It was not the mule road, worn by many
feet, that he had looked for, but a little track which twined among the
boulders. Still it eased his feet, so he cleared the thorns from his
sandals, strapped his belt tighter, and stepped out more confidently.
Up and up he went, making odd detours among the crags. Once he came to
a promontory, and, looking down, saw lights twinkling from the Hot
Springs. He had thought the course lay more southerly, but consoled
himself by remembering that a mountain path must have many windings.
The great matter was that he was ascending, for he knew that he must
cross the ridge of Oeta before he struck the Locrian glens that led to
the Far-Darter's shrine.

At what seemed the summit of the first ridge he halted for breath, and,
prone on the thyme, looked back to sea. The Hot Springs were hidden,
but across the gulf a single light shone from the far shore. He
guessed that by this time his galley had been beached and his slaves
were cooking supper. The thought made him homesick. He had beaten and
cursed these slaves of his times without number, but now in this
strange land he felt them kinsfolk, men of his own household. Then he
told himself he was no better than a woman. Had he not gone sailing to
Chalcedon and distant Pontus, many months' journey from home while this
was but a trip of days? In a week he would be welcomed by a smiling
wife, with a friendly god behind him.

The track still bore west, though Delphi lay in the south. Moreover,
he had come to a broader road running through a little tableland. The
highest peaks of Oeta were dark against the sky, and around him was a
flat glade where oaks whispered in the night breezes. By this time he
judged from the stars that midnight had passed, and he began to
consider whether, now that he was beyond the fighting, he should not
sleep and wait for dawn. He made up his mind to find a shelter, and,
in the aimless way of the night traveller, pushed on and on in the
quest of it. The truth is his mind was on Lemnos, and a dark-ey