Part 9 (1/2)

”Timokles!” he whispered. ”Timokles! O Timokles, my brother!”

CHAPTER VIII.

From the bound Christians came no answer to Heraklas' cry, though there was a startled movement among them.

”O my brother! my brother!” murmured Heraklas, the tears running down his face in the dark, ”I am Heraklas! I, too, am a Christian!”

”Heraklas!” cried Timokles, ”Heraklas! How camest thou hither?”

”Peace!” whispered Heraklas in terror. ”Thou wilt be heard!”

Heraklas cast his arms about his brother and clung to him.

”How art thou bound, my Timokles?” asked Heraklas, when they had embraced and wept together.

”My feet are bound with naught but cords, but a chain about my body fasteneth me to a hook in the wall,” answered Timokles. ”Thou canst not release me, my brother! Flee, while thou canst!”

”Nay, but I will try,” whispered Heraklas resolutely.

He drew his knife from his girdle, and feeling of the cords that bound his brother's ankles, cut the knots. Timokles sighed with relief, as he moved his cramped feet. The feet of two of the other Christians were bound with thongs, and these Heraklas cut also, but the other five Christians were bound hand and foot with chains, and for them Heraklas' knife could not avail. Timokles and the other two had been considered weaker in body, or else the persons who secured the Christians had been in haste to join the reveling of the mariners, and had thought cords strong enough. Yet what availed it that the feet of any of the Christians were free, if their bodies were securely bound?

”Thou hast done all thou canst, Heraklas,” whispered Timokles. ”Go now, my brother. O my Heraklas, I rejoice thou art a Christian! Go!

We shall meet again in the kingdom of our G.o.d!”

”I will never leave thee,” answered Heraklas, firmly. ”The men are drinking themselves senseless. I will try what I can do.”

He felt the wall till he found that Timokles' chain was held, not by a hook, but a staple. It was only after long labor with his knife around this staple that it shook a little in its hold on the wall.

Then Heraklas seized the staple, and swung his whole weight upon it, and dug his knife into the wall like a madman. He worked with perspiration standing on his forehead, his breath coming in pants.

Furiously, with all his strength, he dug and pulled till the staple yielded, and he fell down among the prisoners. But the drunken men on deck did not hear.

Heraklas labored on, till at last he threw his arms about his brother.

”Stand up, my Timokles,” he begged. ”See if thou art not free!”

Timokles arose. Nothing hindered him.

”O Heraklas!” he whispered, trembling with excitement.

”Sit down again and rest, till I help our brethren, also,” whispered his brother.

But though Heraklas toiled with all his remaining strength, he succeeded in releasing but one other Christian.

”Leave us,” urged the others.

”O my brethren,” answered Heraklas with a sob, ”would that I could save you!”

But the six Christians answered steadily, ”Why weepest thou, brother? We but go to our Father's house before thee.”