This failure to sight the raiders carrying Bob into captivity was variously interpreted by members of the party. Mr. Hampton and Ali, older and less optimistic than the boys, were inclined to believe it meant that the raiders had too great a lead, due to their several hours’ start and their swifter mounts, and had completely outdistanced them. Jack and Frank, on the contrary, scorned this interpretation. To them the absence of any sight of the raiders meant that the route the others followed was so circuitous as to be completely below the horizon and that, accordingly, the chance of reaching the mountains in advance of the raiders was good. “And, believe me,” said Frank, during the course of one discussion, “when we spring our ambush, if they show any signs of resistance, I’ll have no compunctions about shooting.” “Same here,” said Jack. “For once in my life I’ll shoot at human beings without a qualm. The bloody scoundrels. Carrying off old Bob to make a Roman holiday for ’em. Either he’d be killed in one of their single combats, or, if he won, he’d be fattened up for a year and then sacrificed to their idols. Brr.” Mr. Hampton nodded. “I agree with you boys,” he said, quietly. “If we get the opportunity, we must not throw it away through faint-heartedness or misplaced kindness. These Sacrificial Games of which Amrath spoke constitute a bloody rite which is out of tune with modern times. The idea of Bob being compelled to fight for his life, without any real chance of winning, even if he conquers all others, makes me shudder.” Jack and Frank were silent a long time, filled with oppressive thoughts. Yet in the end, a grim smile spread over Frank’s face and he appealed to his comrade with: “Just the same, Jack, it would be a great sight to see old Bob doing the gladiator. He’s an expert fencer, wrestler and boxer. Let them arm him as they will, he’ll put up a real battle. I wouldn’t be surprised if he beat all contenders.” “You bloody-minded barbarian,” said Jack. “I believe you’d like to see such a contest.” “Well,” said Frank, “if it can’t be avoided, I want a ringside seat, that’s all.” Mr. Hampton’s lips twitched, although he shook his head in deprecation. Youth must be served, he knew well. The delight of the three young men in sports always had seemed to him wholesome and worth while. From their earliest knee-pants days he had encouraged them in all sorts of athletic exercises. They swam like water dogs, ran like Mercuries, fenced like D’Artagnan, and as non-professional boxers and wrestlers stood high. But of them all, Bob was the most expert boxer and wrestler, due in a measure to his greater physical strength, while, as Frank had said, he was no mean hand with the foils. Should he be pitted with sword and shield against almost any warrior, he would give a good account of himself.