ction, and the sunbeams shimmered on the
canals and ditches which conducted water from the Euphrates to all
parts of the fields.

Otanes' horse suddenly shied violently as a rider, mounted on a fleet
steed, and carrying a large pouch, dashed by like the wind.

"One of the Augari bearing letters to the next station!" exclaimed
Smerdis. "See how he skims along. Hi! If I were not to be one of the
king's bodyguard, I'd try for an Augar's place. How he goes! He's
almost out of sight already."

"How far apart are the stations?" asked Otanes.

"Eighteen miles. And when he gets there, he'll just toss the letter
bag to the next man, who is sitting on a fresh horse waiting for it,
and away _he'll_ go like lightning. That's the way the news is carried
to the very end of the empire of our lord the King."

"Must be fine fun," replied Otanes. "But see, there's the gate of the
hunting-park. Now for the lion," he added gayly.

"May Ormuzd[2] save you from meeting one, my young master," said the
old servant, Candaules. "Luckily it's broad daylight, and they are
more apt to come from their lairs after dark. Better begin with
smaller game and leave the lion and wild boars to your father."

[Footnote 2: The principal god of the Persians.]

"Not if we catch sight of them," cried Otanes, settling his shield
more firmly on his arm, and urging his horse to a quicker pace, for
the head of the long train of attendants had already disappeared amid
the dark cypress-trees of the hunting park. The immense enclosure
stretching from the edge of the morasses that bordered the walls
of Babylon far into the country, soon echoed with the shouts of the
attendants beating the coverts for game, the baying of the dogs, the
hiss of lances and whir of arrows. Bright-hued birds, roused by
the tumult, flew wildly hither and thither, now and then the superb
plumage of a bird of paradise flashing like a jewel among the dense
foliage of cypress and nut-trees.

Hour after hour sped swiftly away; the party had dispersed in
different directions, following the course of the game; the sun was
sinking low, and the slaves were bringing the slaughtered birds and
beasts to the wagons used to convey them home. A magnificent stag was
among the spoil, and a fierce wild boar, after a long struggle, had
fallen under a thrust from Intaphernes's lance.

The shrill blast of the Median trumpet sounded thrice, to give the
first of the three signals for the scattered hunter