“Monsieur,” said the man, snapping his eyes open again, “you have been good to me. I can see that. I am not ungrateful. My people attempted to kill me. They left me for dead. I am convinced of it. Now I shall foreswear them. I shall be your friend, as I was the friend of Professor Souchard.” It was Mr. Hampton’s turn to exhibit surprise. “Professor Souchard’s friend?” he queried in amazement. “Another drink I beg you, monsieur,” pleaded the Athensian. Mr. Hampton obediently poured water from the jar into the cup, and set the latter to his lips. “Ah,” said the Athensian, satisfiedly, “that is delicious. Already I feel myself growing much stronger.” “And now,” said Mr. Hampton, “my time presses. Some of your people have captured my son,” he added, to avoid needless explanation of Bob’s identity. “And I was about to set out in pursuit and attempt his rescue when you became conscious.” “Tsst, tsst,” clucked the other, sympathetically. “That is bad.” “A big fine fellow, six feet tall, an athlete,” said Mr. Hampton, thinking of Bob’s fine appearance. “Well, I imagine he mussed up a number before they took him.” “An athlete?” queried the other, alertly. “And they did not shoot but took him prisoner. Monsieur, that is very bad, very bad, indeed.” “Why, what do you mean?” “I have been here ten days,” said the other thoughtfully, seeming to disregard Mr. Hampton’s question. “Yes, the Sacrificial Games, them, are five weeks, no, six weeks, distant.” Again Mr. Hampton demanded, this time a sharper note of anxiety in his voice, what the Athensian sought to convey. “Just this, monsieur,” said the other; “that your son is destined to take part in the annual Sacrificial Games of my people. Every year twelve of the strongest men from the outside world who can be found, either taken prisoner by us in battle or raid, or bought in the slave mart of Gao, are pitted in single combat against an equal number of Athensian youth. The victor in each contest is then pitted against another victor. Thus the competition is narrowed until only two remain. These combats are to the death. The winner is worshipped one whole year as the embodiment of the God of Strength. At the time of the annual Sacrificial Games of the succeeding year he is killed as a sacrifice.” “Good heaven,” said Mr. Hampton. “And is that the reason for this purchase by your people of the strongest slaves in Gao, of which I have heard?” “Monsieur has heard?” queried the other, surprisedly. “Yes, that is the reason.” “I can’t stay any longer to talk to you,” said Mr. Hampton, emphatically, springing to his feet. “I must set out at once to rescue Bob.” “But a moment, monsieur,” pleaded the other. “I would like to go with you, but I am not strong enough. See, I cannot more than lift my arm,” he added, suiting action to word.