But what was his consternation to see, scarcely three boat-lengths from him, a swimmer as strong as he. It became a race for life. Hiram had kept his dagger in his teeth. He dived, intending to come up beneath his antagonist and plunge the blade into his body. But either he miscalculated the distance, or the man, discerning his purpose, had swum out of harm's way.
It was now a question which should first reach the shore and seize his opponent with fatal advantage. Hiram's strokes were tremendous, surpassing those that had won him the match so often in the harbor of Tyre, before the dignities of the crown had forbidden his taking part in such sports. But they were now of no avail. His competitor kept abreast with him. They reached the shore almost at the same moment. Hiram, striking a better footing, was first out of the water. Seizing an enormous stone, he turned to crush the skull of his enemy before he could gain a foothold on the shelving beach.
"My king! My king!" cried the man.
Hiram dropped the stone in bewilderment.
"Hanno! As sure as Baal—as Jehovah lives, it's Hanno!"
CHAPTER XVII.
An hour later a white chiton might have been seen hanging heavily in the sultry air from the limbs of a juniper bush, that grew out of a sandy mound between two great boulders on the eastern shore of the Sea of Galilee. Under the shelter of the rocks were two men, the one having on only a pair of leather trousers; the other, but for a close-fitting shirt, entirely nude. This was not the most decorous position in which to find the King of Tyre and his aristocratic nobleman; yet they both seemed supremely, even hilariously, happy. King Hiram had completed the story of his adventures; and Hanno, donning his chiton, entered upon the account of the events that had occurred recently at Tyre.