SOME MODERN GLADIATORS
forced by the rising sun, revealed for the first time what those captains of industry had been doing. During the night they had enclosed us and our villa in a palisade of young trees and slabs of bark; while at the other end of the corral the tawny form of our recent visitor walked nervously back and forth with slow, gliding step. Our host had prepared a little Roman holiday, and it was the anticipation of this treat that incited him to chortle so merrily on yester-eve.
"‘We're the newer, better breakfast-food,' explained Tib, as he tried to wipe the nightmare from his eyes. Then he gazed on me cunningly and demanded, 'Don't play it too strong on the old man, Billy. I feel doped; but is that—or is it not—'
"‘It is,' I gasped. 'For my sake come out of it. It's real.'
"‘Enough to scare a scarlatina germ into being sterilized?' he lisped. 'And, oh, for the touch of a Maxim gun and the sound—'
"‘We've only our pocket-knives,' I reminded, going so limber I had to clutch his hysterical shoulder for support.
"My grasp seemed to jolt him towards reason a bit; for after looking at me inquiringly he appreciated the situation and said, more soberly: 'We must show 'em the early martyrs weren't the only hardy people, Billy. Pocket-knives only, and—
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