ng both ends, and
a pair of compasses was made. Louder still were the acclamations of
the people. Surely greater than Daedalus was here. Too much was this
for the artist's jealous spirit.

One day they stood together on the top of the Acropolis, and Daedalus,
murder that comes from jealousy in his heart, threw his nephew down.
Down, down he fell, knowing well that he was going to meet a cruel
death, but Pallas Athene, protectress of all clever craftsmen, came to
his rescue. By her Perdrix was turned into the bird that still bears
his name, and Daedalus beheld Perdrix, the partridge, rapidly winging
his way to the far-off fields. Since then, no partridge has ever built
or roosted in a high place, but has nestled in the hedge-roots and
amongst the standing corn, and as we mark it we can see that its
flight is always low.

For his crime Daedalus was banished from Athens, and in the court of
Minos, king of Crete, he found a refuge. He put all his mighty powers
at the service of Minos, and for him designed an intricate labyrinth
which, like the river Meander, had neither beginning nor ending, but
ever returned on itself in hopeless intricacy. Soon he stood high in
the favour of the king, but, ever greedy for power, he incurred, by
one of his daring inventions, the wrath of Minos. The angry monarch
threw him into prison, and imprisoned along with him his son, Icarus.
But prison bars and locks did not exist that were strong enough to
baffle this master craftsman, and from the tower in which they were
shut, Daedalus and his son were not long in making their escape. To
escape from Crete was a less easy matter. There were many places in
that wild island where it was easy for the father and son to hide, but
the subjects of Minos were mostly mariners, and Daedalus knew well that
all along the shore they kept watch lest he should make him a boat,
hoist on it one of the sails of which he was part inventor, and speed
away to safety like a sea-bird driven before the gale. Then did there
come to Daedalus, the pioneer of inventions, the great idea that by his
skill he might make a way for himself and his son through another
element than water. And he laughed aloud in his hiding place amongst
the cypresses on the hillside at the thought of how he would baffle
the simple sailormen who watched each creek and beach down on the
shore. Mockingly, too, did he think of King Minos, who had dared to
pit his power against the wits and skill of Da