"Come, good friend, be quick, I beg of you!" Both moved backward through the gate, and before it closed there came a fling of claws on the floor.

A black ball, bound hard with tightened sinew, rose in the air and shot across the arena and shook the gate which had closed in time to stop it.
"You are living, son of Varro, and I thank the God of my fathers," Antipater shouted, as he flung himself on a big divan, his breath coming fast.

"I forgot the lights.

I thought of them suddenly, and ran to save you.

If I had been running in the games I should have won the laurel of Caesar." "I was wrong--he could not have meant to slay me," thought Vergilius.
"Not by the paws of the leopard." Cyran stood near the door, weeping.