fellow he expected to plunder. In drunken desperation he pulled out
his last gold and threw it on the table.

"Play for that, and all the Furies curse me if I lose," he stormed.

Agias cast two "threes," two "fours."

"I must better that," thundered the freedman, slapping the tali out on
to the table.

"'Ones' again," roared Agias; "all four! you have lost!"

Phaon sprang up in a storm of anger, and struck over the dice. "Three
of them are 'sixes,'" he raged. "I have won! You got loaded dice from
the landlord, just now, when he brought the wine!"

"Not at all, you cheating scoundrel," retorted Agias, who had already
scooped in the money, "I have you fairly enough."

"Fair?" shouted Phaon, dashing down the dice again, "they are loaded!
Lack-shame! Villain! Whipping-post! Tomb-robber! Gallows-bird! You
changed them when you pretended to inspect them! Give me my money,
thief, or--" and he took a menacing but unsteady step toward Agias.

The young Greek was ready for the emergency. He knew that Phaon was
almost overcome with his wine, and had no dread of the issue. A stroke
of his fist sent the freedman reeling back against the wall, all the
wind pounded from his chest. "You born blackguard," coughed Phaon, "I
won it." Agias was renewing the attack, when the landlord interfered.
Seizing both of the gamesters by their cloaks, he pushed them out a