join you as soon as possible after I have made sure that the temple
priests, and all Daphne, are positive about your death. Now mount and
ride!"

Sextus swung on to the stallion's back as if a catapult had thrown him.
Until then he had let others do the ordering; he had preferred to let
them take their own precautions, form their own plans and subject
himself to any course they wished, after which he should be free to face
his destiny and fight it without feeling he had handicapped his friends
by wilfulness. He had not even issued a direct command to Scylax, his
own slave. That was characteristic of him. Nor was it at his
suggestion that Norbanus volunteered to share his outlawry. But it was
also characteristic that he made no gesture of dissent; he accepted
Norbanus' loyalty with a quiet smile that rather scorned words as
unnecessary.

Now he drove his heels into the Cappadocian with vigor, for the die was
cast. The stallion, impatient of new mastery, reared and plunged,
snorted, came back on the bit in an attempt to get it in his teeth, and
bolted straight for the group of roisterers, who scattered away, men
swearing, women screaming. Throwing back his weight against the reins,
he brought the stallion to a plunging, snorting, wheeling halt in the
midst of men and women--a terrifying monster blowing clouds of mist out
of his nostrils! As they ran he let the brute rear--pulled him over--
rolled from under him, and lay still, with goat's blood from the broken
bottle splashed around his face and seeming to flow from his mouth. One
woman stooped to look, groped for a purse or anything of value, screamed
and ran.

"Sextus!" she yelled. "Sextus who was dining in the white pavilion!"