But already the boy had forgotten the Egyptian.

"See the chariot!" he cried.

It was slowly rolling along the stony road. A grave, handsome man stood
in it holding the reins. Beside him stood another man with a staff in
his hand. Behind the chariot walked two bowmen. After them followed a
long line of pack horses led by slaves. "They are the delegates from
Athens," explained Glaucon. "There are, doubtless, rich gifts for Zeus
on the horses and perhaps some stone tablets engraved with new laws."

But the boy was not listening.

"Jugglers! Jugglers!" he cried.

And there they were at the side of the road, showing their tricks and
begging for coins. One man was walking on his hands and tossing a ball
about with his feet. Another was swallowing a sword.

"Stop, Glaucon!" cried Charmides, "I must see him. He will kill
himself."

"No, my little master," replied the slave. "You shall see him again at
Olympia. See your father. He would be vexed if we waited."

And there was the master ahead, pushing forward rapidly, looking neither
to the right hand nor the left. The boy sighed.

"He is hurrying to see Creon. He forgets me!" he thought.