id not a word.

But Eumaeus rebuked the goatherd, and invoked the vengeance of heaven
against him. "Would that our noble master were here!" he cried, "he
would soon make an end of thee, thou braggart! Unfaithful herdsman,
that rovest ever about the town, leaving thy flock to underlings!"

"Go to, thou dog!" retorted Melanthius, with a savage laugh. "Wilt
thou be ever harping on that string? Thy noble master is dust long
ago, and I would that Telemachus were lying with him. As for thee, I
will one day cast thee bound into a ship, and sell thee across the
seas for a great price."

With that he left them, and stepped briskly out towards the house,
while Odysseus and Eumaeus followed more slowly. Presently they came to
an extensive enclosure, standing conspicuously on a high level plateau
overlooking the town. Behind the fence towered the roof of a great
timber house. They passed through the outer gates, and as they entered
the courtyard they heard the sounds of a harp, and the steam of roast
flesh was borne to their nostrils.

"Take heed now," said Eumaeus, lowering his voice, as they approached
the door of the house. "I will go in first, and do thou follow me
close, lest anyone find thee outside and do thee some hurt."

"Fear nothing for me," answered Odysseus, "I am no stranger to blows,
for I have been sore buffeted on land and sea. The belly is a stern
taskmaster, which compels us to face both wounds and death."

So saying he stepped aside to let Eumaeus pass, then checked him with a
hasty exclamation; for he had seen something which sent a pang of
sorrow to his heart. Heaped up against the wall by the doorway was a
great pile of refuse, left there until the thralls should carry it
away and lay it on the fields; and there, grievously neglected, and
almost blind with age, lay a great gaunt hound, to all seeming more
dead than alive. What was the emotion of Odysseus when he recognised
in that poor creature his old favourite, Argus, whom he had reared
with his own hand, and trained to the chase, in the old days before he
sailed to Troy! As he stooped down with a caressing gesture the hound
feebly raised his head; a strange light came into his eyes, he drooped
his ears, and wagged his tail, but was too weak to stir from the place
where he lay. Odysseus brushed away a tear, and said to Eumaeus: "'Tis
strange that so fine a hound should lie thus uncared for in his old
age. Or do his looks belie his qualities? Handsome