But in the meadow all around the
sacred place was a city of winged tents. There were little shapeless
ones of skins lying over sticks. There were round huts woven of rushes.
There were sheds of poles with green boughs laid upon them. There were
tall tents of gaily striped canvas. Farther off were horses tethered.
And everywhere were gaily robed men moving about. Menon, Charmides'
father, looking ahead from the high place, turned to a slave.
"Run on quickly," he said. "Save a camping place for us there on Mount
Kronion, under the trees."
The man was off. Menon spoke to the other servants. "Push forward and
make camp. I will visit the gymnasium. Come, Charmides, we will go to
see Creon."
They rode down the slope toward Olympia. As they passed among the tents
they saw friends and exchanged kind greetings.
"Ah, Menon!" called one. "There is good news of Creon. Every one expects
great things of him."
"I have kept room for your camp next my tent, Menon," said another.
"Here are sights for you, Charmides," said a kind old man.
Charmides caught a glimpse of gleaming marble among the crowd and
guessed that some sculptor was showing his statues for sale. Yonder was
a barber's tent. Gentlemen were sitting in chairs and men were cutting
their hair or rubbing their faces smooth with stone.
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