And Menon took it, smiling proudly. Then he himself opened a little cloth bag and drew out figs and nuts.
"Here is something to munch, lad," he said to Charmides.
Other people, also, were eating and drinking. They walked about to visit their friends or sat down to rest. Menon's neighbor sank upon his seat with a sigh.
"This is the first time I have sat down since sunrise," he laughed.
Then the pentathlon was announced. Everyone leaped to his feet again. A group of boys stood ready behind a line. One of the judges was softening the ground with a pick. An umpire made a speech to the lads. Then, at a word, a boy took up the lead jumping weights. He swung his hands back and forth, swaying his graceful body with them. Then a backward jerk! He threw his weights behind him and leaped. The judges quickly measured and called the distance. Then another boy leaped, and another, and another—twenty or more. Last Creon took the weights and toed the line.
"Creon! Creon!" shouted the crowd: "The victor! Creon again!"
He swung and swayed and then sailed through the air.
"By Herakles!" shouted a man near Charmides. "He alights like a sea-gull."
There went up a great roar from the benches even before the judges called the distance. For any one could see that he had passed the farthest mark. The first of the five games was over and Creon had won it.
Now the judges brought a discus. A boy took it and stepped behind the line. He fitted the lead plate into the crook of his hand. He swung it back and forth, bending his knees and turning his body. Then it flew into the air and down the course. Where it stopped rolling an umpire marked and called the distance.