"Do you know Mopsus the archer?"
"There he is, near the temple of Hercules. You may recognize him by his weapons, which he never lays aside. He is another of those who drew hither the evil spirit of war."
"Farewell, Alcon."
"May the gods protect you, Athenian!"
Actæon recognized the valorous Greek by his bow and by the quiver hanging from his shoulders. He was a robust, long-bearded man, who wore bound around his gray locks a bull's tendon to renew the one which served to string his bow. His strong muscular arms revealed in the elasticity of their sinews the high tension to which they were subjected in bending the strong bow and in shooting the arrows.
He welcomed Actæon with the sympathetic respect which the Athenians inspired in the island-Greeks.
"I will speak to the Senate," he said, on learning Actæon's aspirations. "My word will be sufficient to have you received among the mercenaries with all merited distinction. Tell me more about your military exploits."
"I have made war in Lacedæmon, under the orders of Cleomenes."
"A famous captain! The renown of the deeds of the Spartan king has even reached these shores. What news of him?"
"I left him when, conquered but not mastered, he took refuge in Alexandria. There he dwelt as an exile under the protection of Ptolemy; but, according to what I heard not long ago in New Carthage, he got into trouble through a palace intrigue. The Egyptian monarch ordered his execution, and Cleomenes, with his twelve companions, died fighting. When he fell, a pile of corpses lay before him."