"I remember, too, that it was just such a day as this," replied Captain Hanno, "that we ran away, and, in an open boat, went to Sidon to see the Sidonians fight with the Persians. I came near going after old Dagon when the boat capsized. I felt the gates of Sheol snapping at me like a shark's jaws, but you held me on the keel until we drifted into the shallows. Since then my life has been yours. I am only watching my time to save you. I had a notion of telling Mago, there at the helm, to drive the _Dolphin_ on the reef as we came out of port, just to get a chance of pulling you out of the wreck. But if you go on wasping the priests you will give me my chance before long. Every one of those hypocritical butchers, from Egbalus to the dirtiest offal-carrier, thinks of you when he feels the point of his sacrificial knife. You need a thicker shell about your ribs than that of your kingship." "Oh, the priests to Beelzebub, the god of all such venomous flies!" cried the king, in petulant rage. "Have you, then, as the priests say, lost all faith in the gods?" asked Hanno. "Yes, in such as ours." "But the Greeks, whom you praise so much, believe in them." "Not in such as ours, Hanno. They make theirs beautiful. They deify the nobler sentiments. They have no hideous Moloch, no beastly Astarte. They leave their philosophy about unseen things unexpressed, until they can express it artistically. You remember the temple to the god Theseus which we saw in Athens. Herodotus explained its meaning to me. The religious idea enshrined there surpasses ours as much as the graceful proportions of the building are finer than anything we have built. Theseus was a hero-god; that is, a man to whom they gave divine honors because of his heroism. His great exploit was slaying the Minotaur of Crete, which the people believed was a monster, half bull and half man, that fed upon the bodies of human beings. The people of Athens sent yearly a number of young men and maidens to appease the appetite of the monster and the greed of King Minos, its owner. According to the story, Theseus sailed to Crete, and slew the Minotaur in his labyrinth. Now, this Minotaur was nothing but our Moloch, whom we represent by a bull-headed image, and whom we pretend to appease by human sacrifice. We Phoenicians carried this monstrous worship to Crete, and thence it drifted across to Greece. But Theseus, who was a wise king, forbade such cruel offerings, demolished the images of Moloch, and saved his people from the horrors which our priests would perpetuate in our land. So they say he slew the Minotaur. And, by all the gods of Greece! I will slay our Minotaur. If I were El, or Bel, or Baal, I would wring the necks of Egbalus and his swarm of priests when they annoy me with their cries, 'O Baal, hear us!' just as I crush these flies that buzz in my face."