asted his harvests, and then he journeyed on till
he came to the home of Phoebus Apollo, at Delphi. There the god bade
him hasten to the western sea, where he should once again find
Prokris. Onward he went, across the heights and vales of AEtolia, until
he stood on the Leukadian cape and looked out on the blue water. The
sun was sinking low down in the sky, and the golden clouds of evening
were gathered round him as he hastened to his rest. And Kephalos said,
"Here must I rest, also, for my journey is done, and Prokris is
waiting for me in the brighter land." There on the white cliff he
stood, and just as the sun touched the waters, the strength of
Kephalos failed him, and he sank gently into the sea.

So again, in the homes of the bright heroes, Kephalos found the wife
whom he had loved and slain.

SKYLLA.

From the turret of her father's house, Skylla, the daughter of Nisos,
watched the ships of King Minos, as they drew near from the Island of
Crete. Their white sails and the spears of the Cretan warriors
sparkled in the sunshine, as the crested waves rose and fell, carrying
the long billows to the shore. As she watched the goodly sight, Skylla
thought sadly of the days that were gone, when her father had
sojourned as a guest in the halls of King Minos, and she had looked on
his face as on the face of a friend. But now there was strife between
the chieftains of Crete and Megara, for Androgeos, the son of Minos,
had been slain by evil men as he journeyed from Megara to Athens, and
Minos was come hither with his warriors to demand the price of his
blood. But when the herald came with the message of Minos, the face of
Nisos, the King, flushed with anger, as he said, "Go thy way to him
that sent thee, and tell him that he who is guarded by the undying
gods cares not for the wrath of men whose spears shall be snapped like
bulrushes." Then said the herald, "I can not read thy riddle,
chieftain of Megara, but the blood of the gods runs in the veins of
Minos, and it can not be that the son of Europa shall fall under the
hands of thee or of thy people."

The sun went down in a flood of golden glory behind the purple
heights of Geraneia, and as the mists of evening fell upon the land,
the warriors of Minos made ready for the onset on the morrow. But when
the light of Eos flushed the eastern sky, and the men of Crete went
forth to the battle, their strength and their brave deeds availed them
nothing, for the arms of the m