tar and the dwarf-gods. Here he stood with
an arrow on the string, and the bow drawn to his ear, looking about him
terribly.

Now panic and dread came on the Sidonians when they saw him standing
thus, and one of the sailors cried:

"Alas! what god have we taken and bound? Our ship may not contain him.
Surely he is Resef Mikal, the God of the Bow, whom they of Javan call
Apollo. Nay, let us land him on the isle and come not to blows with him,
but entreat his mercy, lest he rouse the waves and the winds against
us."

But the captain of the ship of the Sidonians cried:

"Not so, ye knaves! Have at him, for he is no god, but a mortal man; and
his armour is worth many a yoke of oxen!"

Then he bade some of them climb the decking at the further end of the
ship, and throw spears at him thence; and he called others to bring up
one of the long spears and charge him with that. Now these were huge
pikes, that were wielded by five or six men at once, and no armour could
withstand them; they were used in the fights to drive back boarders, and
to ward off attacks on ships which were beached on shore in the sieges
of towns.

The men whom the captain appointed little liked the task, for the long
spears were laid on tressels along the bulwarks, and to reach them and
unship them it was needful to come within range of the bow. But the
sailors on the further deck threw all their spears at once, while five
men leaped on the deck where the Wanderer stood. He loosed the bowstring
and the shaft sped on its way; again he drew and loosed, and now two of
them had fallen beneath his arrows, and one was struck by a chance blow
from a spear thrown from the further deck, and the other two leaped back
into the hold.

Then the Wanderer shouted from the high decking of the prow in the
speech of the Sidonians:

"Ye dogs, ye have sailed on your latest seafaring, and never again shall
ye bring the hour of slavery on any man."

So he cried, and the sailors gathered together in the hold, and took
counsel how they should deal with him. But meanwhile the bow was silent,
and of those on the hinder deck who were casting spears, one dropped and
the others quickly fled to their fellows below, for on the deck they had
no cover.

The sun was now well risen, and shone on the Wanderer's golden mail, as
he stood alone on the decking, with his bow drawn. The sun shone, there
was silence, the ship swung to her anchor; and still he waited, looking
down, his