black Numidian horses, which he had been training for three years
for the world-renowned chariot-races of Antioch, won the victory
over a score of rivals. Hermas received the prize carelessly from
the judge's hands, and turned to drive once more around the circus,
to show himself to the people. He lifted the eager boy into the
chariot beside him to share his triumph.

Here, indeed, was the glory of his life--this matchless son, his
brighter counterpart carved in breathing ivory, touching his arm,
and balancing himself proudly on the swaying floor of the chariot.
As the horses pranced around the ring, a great shout of applause
filled the amphitheatre, and thousands of spectators wavd their
salutations of praise: "Hail, fortunate Hermas, master of success!
Hail, little Hermas, prince of good luck!"

The sudden tempest of acclamation, the swift fluttering of
innumerable garments in the air, startled the horses. They dashed
violently forward, and plunged upon the bits. The left rein broke.
They swerved to the right, swinging the chariot sideways with a
grating noise, and dashing it against the stone parapet of the
arena. In an instant the wheel was shattered. The axle struck the
ground, and the chariot was dragged onward, rocking and staggering.

By a strenuous effort Hermas kept his place on the frail platform,
clinging to the unbroken rein. But the boy was tossed lightly from
his side at the first shock. His head struck the wall. And when
Hermas turned to look for him, he was lying like a broken flower on
the sand.