to them with his flock of goats. And as
he went by he gave a kick to Odysseus.

Odysseus took thought whether he should strike the fellow with his staff
or fling him upon the ground. But in the end he hardened his heart to
endure the insult, and let the goatherd go on his way. But turning to
the altar that was by the spring, he prayed:

'Nymphs of the Well! If ever Odysseus made offerings to you, fulfil for
me this wish--that he--even Odysseus--may come to his own home, and have
power to chastise the insolence that gathers around his house.'

They journeyed on, and when they came near they heard the sound of the
lyre within the house. The wooers were now feasting, and Phemius the
minstrel was singing to them. And when Odysseus came before his own
house, he caught the swineherd by the hand suddenly and with a hard
grip, and he said:

'Lo now, I who have wandered in many lands and have walked in pain
through many Cities have come at last to the house of Odysseus. There it
is, standing as of old, with building beyond building; with its walls
and its battlements; its courts and its doors. The house of Odysseus,
verily! And lo! unwelcome men keep revel within it, and the smoke of
their feast rises up and the sound of the lyre is heard playing for
them.'

Said Eumaeus, 'What wilt thou have me do for thee, friend? Shall I bring
thee into the hall and before the company of wooers, whilst I remain
here, or wouldst thou have me go in before thee?'

'I would have thee go in before me,' Odysseus said.

Now as they went through the courtyard a thing happened that dashed
Odysseus' eyes with tears. A hound lay in the dirt of the yard, a hound
that was very old. All uncared for he lay in the dirt, old and feeble.
But he had been a famous hound, and Odysseus himself had trained him
before he went to the wars of Troy. Argos was his name. Now as Odysseus
came near, the hound Argos knew him, and stood up before him and whined
and dropped his ears, but had no strength to come near him. Odysseus
knew the hound and stopped and gazed at him. 'A good hound lies there,'
said he to Eumaeus, 'once, I think, he was so swift that no beast in the
deep places of the wood could flee from him.' Then he went on, and the
hound Argos lay down in the dirt of the yard, and that same day the life
passed from him.

[Illustration]

Behind Eumaeus, the swineherd, he came into his own hall, in the
appearance of a beggar, wretchedly clad and leaning on