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Olympian Nights by John Kendrick Bangs
page 12 of 130 (09%)
to be expected that the country would fall into a decadent state
sooner or later, but that the Olympians themselves were not all that
they were cracked up to be by the mythologies had never suggested
itself to me. As a result of my courier's words, I lapsed into a moody
silence, which by eight o'clock developed into an irresistible desire
to sleep.

"I'll take a nap, Hippopopolis," said I, rolling my coat into a bundle
and placing it under my head. "You will, I trust, be good enough to
stand guard lest some of these gods you have mentioned come and pick
my pockets?" I added, satirically.

"I will see that the gods do not rob you," he returned, dryly, with a
slight emphasis on the word "gods," the significance of which I did
not at the moment take in, but which later developments made all too
clear.

Three minutes later I slept soundly.

At ten o'clock, about, I awoke with a start. The fire was out and I
was alone. Hippopopolis had disappeared and with him had gone my
watch, the contents of my pocket-book, my letter of credit, and
everything of value I had with me, with the exception of my
shirt-studs, which, I presume, would have gone also had they not been
fastened to me in such a way that, in getting them, Hippopopolis would
have had to wake me up.

To add to my plight, the rain was pouring down in torrents.


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