"I should be proud if the father of the victor would drink from my bottle."
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.
"I like this game best of all," said a man behind Charmides. "The whole body is in it. Every movement is graceful. See the curve of the back, the beautiful bend of the legs, the muscles working over the chest! The body moves to and fro as if to music."
One after another the boys took their turn. But when Creon threw, Charmides cried out in sorrow, and Menon groaned. His disc fell short of the mark. He was third.
"It was gracefully done," Charmides heard some one say, "but his arms are not so good as his legs. See the arms and chest of that Timon. No one can throw against him."