leave these things to me; I
am master here. Evening draws on, and it is time for thee to retire."

When Penelope had withdrawn, Eumaeus took the bow, and was about to
carry it to Odysseus, but paused half-way, in doubt and alarm, for a
perfect storm of threats and abuse assailed his ears. "Halt, thou dog!
Put down the bow! Art thou tired of thy life?" Appalled by the
menacing cries of the wooers, the swineherd stood hesitating; but
Telemachus raised his voice, and commanded him instantly to deliver
the bow to Odysseus. "I will teach thee," he said, "who is thy master;
thou shalt carry the marks of my hands to thy farm, if thou do not as
I tell thee. Would that I could as easily drive the whole of this
drunken rout from my doors!"

"Well bragged, Sir Valiant!" cried Antinous; and all the wooers
laughed boisterously when they heard him. Seizing his opportunity
while their attention was thus diverted, Eumaeus came and placed the
bow in the hands of Odysseus; then, calling Eurycleia, he bade her
make fast the door of the women's apartments. Meanwhile Philoetius
secured the gates of the courtyard, and returning to his place sat
watching the movements of Odysseus. With anxious eye the hero
scrutinised the great weapon, turning it this way and that, to see if
it had been injured by worms or natural decay. To his great joy he
found that it was sound and untouched. Then, easily as a minstrel
fastens a new cord to a lyre, without effort he strung the bow, and
bending it made the string twang loud and clear, like the shrill voice
of the swallow.

A hundred mocking eyes and sneering faces had been turned towards him,
as he sat fingering the bow and weighing it in his hands; but pale
grew those faces now, and blank was that gaze. To add to their terror,
at this moment a loud peal of thunder shook the house. Filled with
high courage by the happy omen, Odysseus took an arrow, and, fitting
it to the string, sent it with sure aim from the place where he sat
along the whole line of axeheads, from the first to the last.

"Telemachus," he said, "thy guest hath not shamed thee. My hand is
firm, and mine eye is true, poor worn-out wanderer though I be. Now
let us give these fair guests their supper, and afterwards entertain
them with music and with dancing, which are the fit accompaniment of a
feast."

Then he beckoned to his son to draw near; and Telemachus made haste,
and came and stood by his father's side, armed with sword and lanc