Come through the gate here."
Vergilius had stopped, facing the leopard with lance raised.
"Not unless I have the wager," says he, calmly.
"You have won it," Antipater answers. "Come, good friend, be quick, I
beg of you!"
Both moved backward through the gate, and before it closed there came a
fling of claws on the floor. A black ball, bound hard with tightened
sinew, rose in the air and shot across the arena and shook the gate
which had closed in time to stop it.
"You are living, son of Varro, and I thank the God of my fathers,"
Antipater shouted, as he flung himself on a big divan, his breath
coming fast. "I forgot the lights. I thought of them suddenly, and
ran to save you. If I had been running in the games I should have won
the laurel of Caesar."
"I was wrong--he could not have meant to slay me," thought Vergilius.
"Not by the paws of the leopard."
Cyran stood near the door, weeping. Antipater rose and led her to
Vergilius.
"The girl is yours," said he. "I am glad to be done with her. Come,
all."
They followed him to the palace, and Vergilius bade the girl dress and
be ready to join his pedisequi in the outer hall.
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