No matter!  Hermon at any rate was dealing with some one who was severely injured, and the self-sacrificing pity with which even suffering animals inspired him, and which in his boyhood had drawn upon him the jeers of the companions of his own age, did not abandon him now.

Reluctantly obeying his command, the Midianite helped him bandage the sufferer’s head, in which a wound could be felt, as well as it could be done in the darkness, and lift him on the artist’s horse.  During this time fresh groans issued from the bearded lips of the injured warrior, and Hermon walked by his side, guarding the senseless man from the danger of falling from the back of the horse as it slowly followed the Midianite’s.

This tiresome walk, however, did not last long; the landing place was reached sooner than Hermon expected, and the ferryboat bore the travellers and the horses to Tennis.

By the flickering light of the captain’s lantern it was ascertained that the wounded man, in spite of his long dark beard, was probably a Gaul.  The stupor was to be attributed to the fall of a beam on his head, and the shock, rather than to the wound.  The great loss of blood sustained by the young and powerful soldier had probably caused the duration of the swoon.

During the attempts at resuscitation a sailor boy offered his assistance.  He carefully held the lantern, and, as its flickering light fell for brief moments upon the artist’s face, the lad of thirteen or fourteen asked if he was Hermon of Alexandria.

A curt “If you will permit,” answered the question, considered by the Hellenes an unseemly one, especially from such a youth; but the sculptor paid no further attention to him, for, while devoting himself honestly to the wounded man, his anxiety about his invalid friend increased, and Ledscha’s image also rose again before him.

At last the ferryboat touched the land, and when Hermon looked around for the lad he had already leaped ashore, and was just vanishing in the darkness.

It was probably within an hour of midnight.

The gale was still blowing fiercely over the water, driving the black clouds across the dark sky, sometimes with long-drawn, wailing sounds, sometimes with sharp, whistling ones.  The rain had wholly ceased, and seemed to have exhausted itself here in the afternoon.

As Archias’s white house was a considerable distance from the landing place of the ferryboat, Hermon had the wounded warrior carried to it by Biamite sailors, and again mounted his horse to ride to Myrtilus at as swift a trot as the soaked, wretched, but familiar road would permit.

Considerable time had been spent in obtaining a litter for the Gaul, yet Hermon was surprised to meet the lad who had questioned him so boldly on the ferryboat coming, not from the landing place, but running toward it again from the city, and then saw him follow the shore, carrying a blazing torch, which he waved saucily.  The wind blew aside the flame and smoke which came from the burning pitch, but it shone brightly through the gloom and permitted the boy to be distinctly seen.  Whence had the nimble fellow come so quickly?  How had he succeeded, in this fierce gale, in kindling the torch so soon into a powerful flame?  Was it not foolish to let a child amuse itself in the middle of the night with so dangerous a toy?