ed,
white-armed dame spinning in the evening by the threshold. His eyes
roamed among the oaktrees, but vacantly and idly, and many a mossy
corner was passed unheeded. He forgot his ill temper, and hummed
cheerfully the song his reapers sang in the barley-fields below his
orchard. It was a song of seamen turned husbandmen, for the gods it
called on were the gods of the sea....

Suddenly he found himself crouching among the young oaks, peering and
listening. There was something coming from the west. It was like the
first mutterings of a storm in a narrow harbour, a steady rustling and
whispering. It was not wind; he knew winds too well to be deceived.
It was the tramp of light-shod feet among the twigs--many feet, for the
sound remained steady, while the noise of a few men will rise and fall.
They were coming fast and coming silently. The war had reached far up
Kallidromos.

Atta had played this game often in the little island wars. Very
swiftly he ran back and away from the path up the slope which he knew
to be the first ridge of Kallidromos. The army, whatever it might be,
was on the Delphian road. Were the Hellenes about to turn the flank of
the Great King?

A moment later he laughed at his folly. For the men began to appear,
and they were crossing to meet him, coming from the west. Lying close
in the brushwood he could see them clearly. It was well he had left
the road, for they stuck to it, following every winding-crouching, too,
like hunters after deer. The first man he saw was a Hellene, but the
ranks behind were no Hellenes. There was no glint of bronze or gleam
of fair skin. They were dark, long-haired fellows, with spears like
his own, and round Eastern caps, and egg-shaped bucklers. Then Atta
rejoiced. It was the Great King who was turning the flank of the
Hellenes. They guarded the gate, the fools, while the enemy slipped
through the roof.

He did not rejoice long. The van of the army was narrow and kept to
the path, but the men behind were straggling all over the hillside.
Another minute and he would be discovered. The thought was cheerless.
It was true that he was an islander and friendly to the Persian, but up
on the heights who would listen to his tale? He would be taken for a
spy, and one of those thirsty spears would drink his blood. It must be
farewell to Delphi for the moment, he thought, or farewell to Lemnos
for ever. Crouching low, he ran back and away from the path to th