“Look out for his arms!”
“Don’t let him grapple you!”
“Feint, feint!”
Creon leaped to his feet. He began circling around Timon as Eudorus had circled around him. He dodged out from under Timon’s arms. He wriggled from between his hands. The benches rang with cheers and laughs.
“He is an eel,” cried one man.
Suddenly Creon ducked under Timon’s arms, caught him by his legs and tripped him. The two boys were even.
In the next bout Timon ran at Creon like a wild bull. He caught him around the waist in his strong arms to whirl him to the ground. But with a crook of his leg Creon tripped him and wriggled out of his arms before he fell.
Menon caught up Charmides and threw him to his shoulder laughing and stamping his feet.
“Do you see, lad?” he cried. “He has won two games. Only the race is left, and we know how he can run.”
And how he did run! He threw back his head and leaped out like a deer, skimming over the ground in long strides and leaving his dust to the others. He had the three games out of five and was winner of the pentathlon.