The July sun was blazing over the country of Greece. Dust from the dry plain hung in the air. But what cared the happy travelers for dust or heat? They were on their way to Olympia to see the games. Every road teemed with a chattering crowd of men and boys afoot and on horses. They wound down from the high mountains to the north. They came along the valley from the east and out from among the hills to the south. Up from the sea led the sacred road, the busiest of all. A little caravan of men and horses was trying to hurry ahead through the throng. The master rode in front looking anxiously before him as though he did not see the crowd. After him rode a lad. His eyes were flashing eagerly here and there over the strange throng. A man walked beside the horse and watched the boy smilingly. Behind them came a string of pack horses with slaves to guard the loads of wine and food and tents and blankets for their master's camp. "What a strange-looking man, Glaucon!" said the boy. "He has a dark skin." The boy's own skin was fair, and under his hat his hair was golden. As he spoke he pointed to a man on the road who was also riding at the head of a little caravan. His skin was dark. Shining black hair covered his ears. His garment was gay with colored stripes. "He is a merchant from Egypt," answered the man. "He will have curious things to sell--vases of glass, beads of amber, carved ivory, and scrolls gay with painted figures. You must see them, Charmides." But already the boy had forgotten the Egyptian. "See the chariot!" he cried. It was slowly rolling along the stony road. A grave, handsome man stood in it holding the reins. Beside him stood another man with a staff in his hand. Behind the chariot walked two bowmen. After them followed a long line of pack horses led by slaves. "They are the delegates from Athens," explained Glaucon. "There are, doubtless, rich gifts for Zeus on the horses and perhaps some stone tablets engraved with new laws." But the boy was not listening. "Jugglers! Jugglers!" he cried. And there they were at the side of the road, showing their tricks and begging for coins. One man was walking on his hands and tossing a ball about with his feet. Another was swallowing a sword. "Stop, Glaucon!" cried Charmides, "I must see him. He will kill himself." "No, my little master," replied the slave. "You shall see him again at Olympia. See your father. He would be vexed if we waited." And there was the master ahead, pushing forward rapidly, looking neither to the right hand nor the left. The boy sighed. "He is hurrying to see Creon. He forgets me!" he thought.