“How discouraging to art and musicians! Alas! alas! But apropos of games, what is the popular athletic sport now-a-days around Olympus?”
“Chasing quinine pills—a caddy holds the pills. You take the pills and then chase ’em ‘over the hills and far away.’”
“For the health, I presume?”
“Of course; the discus has gone out, but this later game makes more discussion than the discus ever did. Golf goes first-rate in Greek costume. You ought to see it. Scotchmen outdone.”
“How about ‘events’—athletic events?”
“Oh, events always occur in the Stadium.”
“Bless me, how exciting! But it sounds very stationary.”
“The victor generally does feel puffed up,” said the Captain. “During the last Olympiad a local divinity came down (from up the country) and accumulated such centrifugal force in running that he flew off to Thermopylæ or Marathon, some outside place or other, caught hold of the post there, swung himself round and slid into the Stadium in fine style.”
“What honors did he receive—laurel or oak wreath?”
“Think it was fig leaves,” remarked the sailor Captain, “but I am not sure. At any rate he was a hero. The town gave him free entrance to all the beer saloons for life, a new pair of sandals with wings and honors galore.”