All these questions and many more passed through Bob’s brain as he lay there on the ground, while the blood slowly worked its way through his cramped limbs and he felt every minute a return of strength and even noted a diminution of the pain in his head. He was thankful that, at least, he had not been incapacitated physically, that apparently his strength and the use of his body was left him. When the time came for a break for freedom, he told himself grimly, he’d show these Athensians. At that moment, through the hole in the brim of his sun helmet, just as he again opened his eyes, he saw the legs of a man approaching. Then a hand grasped him by an arm and shook him, and the hat was lifted from his eyes. Bending over him was an Athensian, a sturdy, stockily built fellow, who jerked at his arm and indicated by signs that he was to rise to his feet. Bob struggled to comply, pretending to greater weakness than really possessed him. He figured that if he appeared to be in a weaker state than was the case, his chances for escape would be increased. The man passed an arm around Bob and placed one of Bob’s arms over his shoulders, and then walked him the few steps toward the fire. The other Athensians were seated about it, among them Bob noted with a grim reflection of satisfaction one with his face almost entirely obscured by a bandage. That must be the fellow who had felt the weight of his rifle, and had, in fact, been bowled from his saddle by it. To their rear, among a patch of stunted bush, were hobbled the horses. The leader, the one whom Bob had leaped upon in his jump from camelback, sat a little withdrawn from the others, leaning against a saddle. Bob was led to him, and with a word in an unknown tongue the leader dismissed the Athensian who bowed profoundly and withdrew. “Sit down,” commanded the leader, again employing French, and indicating a spot at his feet. Bob complied. For several moments there was silence, while both young men studied each other. Bob’s first thought was that this Athensian was little older than himself, a man of perhaps twenty-three or twenty-four. Bob was twenty-one. In appearance, the Athensian had a pleasing face. His eyes, bright blue, twinkled. The bold hawklike nose gave him an air of command, even of nobility. It was hard to judge from the seated figure, but Bob’s surmise was that the other was over the middle height, probably five feet nine or ten. In his eyes was an expression of satisfaction as the Athensian ran his glance over Bob’s figure, and the first words uttered by either was his sudden remark, shot at Bob: “Monsieur is very strong.” Sounded as if he were going to be a good sport about that leap upon him, thought Bob, and he grinned. “Did I muss you up much?” he asked in his best French, in reply. “Nothing personal, you know. I was fighting for my life.” The Athensian nodded. “Two ribs were broken when monsieur fell on me,” he said.