Buried Cities | Page 4

sick
boy in this and wound the ends around them both. Caius was tied to his
slave's back. His heavy little head hung on Ariston's shoulder. Then the
Greek tied a pillow over his own head. He snatched up a staff and ran
from the house. He looked at his picture as he passed. He thought he
saw Death half rise from the ground. But Apollo seemed to smile at his
artist.
At the front door Ariston stumbled. He found the street piled deep with
the gray, soft pebbles. He had to scramble up on his hands and knees.
From the house opposite ran a man. He looked wild with fear. He was
clutching a little statue of gold. Ariston called to him, "Which way to
the gate?"
But the man did not hear. He rushed madly on. Ariston followed him. It
cheered the boy a little to see that somebody else was still alive in the
world. But he had a hard task. He could not run. The soft pebbles
crunched under his feet and made him stumble. He leaned far forward
under his heavy burden. The falling shower scorched his bare arms and

legs. Once a heavy stone struck him on his cushioned head, and he fell.
But he was up in an instant. He looked around bewildered. His head
was ringing. The air was hot and choking. The sun was gone. The
shower was blinding. Whose house was this? The door stood open. The
court was empty. Where was the city gate? Would he never get out? He
did not know this street. Here on the corner was a wine shop with its
open sides. But no men stood there drinking. Wine cups were tipped
over and broken on the marble counter. Ariston stood in a daze and
watched the wine spilling into the street.
Then a crowd came rushing past him. It was evidently a family fleeing
for their lives. Their mouths were open as though they were crying. But
Ariston could not hear their voices. His ears shook with the roar of the
mountain. An old man was hugging a chest. Gold coins were spilling
out as he ran. Another man was dragging a fainting woman. A young
girl ran ahead of them with white face and streaming hair. Ariston
stumbled on after this company. A great black slave came swiftly
around a corner and ran into him and knocked him over, but fled on
without looking back. As the Greek boy fell forward, the rough little
pebbles scoured his face. He lay there moaning. Then he began to
forget his troubles. His aching body began to rest. He thought he would
sleep. He saw Apollo smiling. Then Caius struggled and cried out. He
pulled at the blanket and tried to free himself. This roused Ariston, and
he sat up. He felt the hot pebbles again. He heard the mountain roar. He
dragged himself to his feet and started on. Suddenly the street led him
out into a broad space. Ariston looked around him. All about stretched
wide porches with their columns. Temple roofs rose above them.
Statues stood high on their pedestals. He was in the forum. The great
open square was crowded with hurrying people. Under one of the
porches Ariston saw the money changers locking their boxes. From a
wide doorway ran several men. They were carrying great bundles of
woolen cloth, richly embroidered and dyed with precious purple. Down
the great steps of Jupiter's temple ran a priest. Under his arms he
clutched two large platters of gold. Men were running across the forum
dragging bags behind them.
Every one seemed trying to save his most precious things. And every
one was hurrying to the gate at the far end. Then that was the way out!
Ariston picked up his heavy feet and ran. Suddenly the earth swayed

under him. He heard horrible thunder. He thought the mountain was
falling upon him. He looked behind. He saw the columns of the porch
tottering. A man was running out from one of the buildings. But as he
ran, the walls crashed down. The gallery above fell cracking. He was
buried. Ariston saw it all and cried out in horror. Then he prayed:
"O Lord Poseidon, shaker of the earth, save me! I am a Greek!"
Then he came out of the forum. A steep street sloped down to a gate. A
river of people was pouring out there. The air was full of cries. The
great noise of the crowd made itself heard even in the noise of the
volcano. The streets were full of lost treasures. Men pushed and fell
and were trodden upon. But at last Ariston passed through the gateway
and was out of the city. He looked about.
"It is