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They stopped again. "A word!" replied the Saxon, folding his immense arms across his breast, and relaxing the menace beginning to blacken his face. "A word! Speak." "You are Thord the Northman." The giant opened his blue eyes. "You were lanista in Rome." Thord nodded. "I was your scholar." "No," said Thord, shaking his head. "By the beard of Irmin, I had never a Jew to make a fighting-man of."

"If you draw blood from me, I'll pay you one hundred thousand sesterces: if I fail to lay you out on the pavement, totally insensible, in three bouts, I'll pay you two hundred thousand sesterces. You can pick any lanista here to judge the fight and tell us when to separate and rest." Capito, cool enough, indicated Murmex as referee. "He's not a lanista," Commodus objected.

Good reader, they cannot find anybody who will hazard so much as a denarius with them against Messala. There are no colors in the saloon but his. No one thinks of his defeat. Why, they say, is he not perfect in his training? Did he not graduate from an imperial lanista? Were not his horses winners at the Circensian in the Circus Maximus? And then ah, yes! he is a Roman!

The lanista, in fact, at once matched Almo with another full-armed giant. Again Almo gave an exhibition of perfect swordsmanship. The Romans were as quick to appreciate form in fighting as we moderns are to applaud our best bail players; they recognized pre-eminence in the swordman's art, as we acclaim the skill of a crack baseball pitcher or cricket bowler.

'HOLLA, my brave fellows! said Lepidus, stooping his head as he entered the low doorway of the house of Burbo. 'We have come to see which of you most honors your lanista. The gladiators rose from the table in respect to three gallants known to be among the gayest and richest youths of Pompeii, and whose voices were therefore the dispensers of amphitheatrical reputation.

On arriving at the house of Scopus Beric bade the others wait without, and stepping over the slaves lying at the entrance, he went quietly to the sleeping chamber of the lanista. "Who is this?" Scopus asked as he entered. "It is I, Beric; throw your mantle on and come outside with me, Scopus. I would speak with you alone, and do not wish that all should know that I have been here." "In trouble?"

After all, Dumnorix's gladiators were nothing to him. And when later he found that neither Dumnorix, nor Gabinius, nor Phaon had been taken or slain at Præneste, he breathed the easier. No one else except Pratinas, he was certain, knew why the lanista had made his attack; and there was no danger of being charged with complicity in the conspiracy.

Then he proceeded to arrange with Dumnorix how the latter should wait until it was known Drusus had gone back to Præneste, and was likely to stay there for some time; as to how many gladiators the lanista was to have ready. Dumnorix complained that the rather recent law against keeping gladiators at Rome prevented him from assembling in his school any considerable number.

"They have gone well in one sense," Beric said, "though I would vastly rather that they had gone otherwise. I feel very much more fear now than when I stood awaiting the attack of the lion." And he then related to Scopus the conversation he had had with Nero. The lanista inclined himself humbly to the ground.

"You advised me several times to go to the arena, Scopus, in order to learn something from the conflicts. I want to be present tomorrow. Porus and Lupus are both to fight." "I am going myself, Beric, and will take you with me. I shall start two hours before daybreak, so as to be there in good time. As their lanista I shall enter the arena with them.