claws
of vultures. These ugly wretches were in the habit of snatching away
his dinner, and allowed him no peace of his life. Upon hearing this
the Argonauts spread a plentiful feast on the seashore, well knowing
from what the blind king said of their greediness that the Harpies
would snuff up the scent of the victuals and quickly come to steal
them away. And so it turned out, for hardly was the table set before
the three hideous vulture-women came flapping their wings, seized the
food in their talons and flew off as fast as they could. But the two
sons of the North Wind drew their swords, spread their pinions and set
off through the air in pursuit of the thieves, whom they at last
overtook among some islands, after a chase of hundreds of miles. The
two winged youths blustered terribly at the Harpies (for they had the
rough temper of their father), and so frightened them with their drawn
swords that they solemnly promised never to trouble King Phineus
again.

Then the Argonauts sailed onward and met with many other marvelous
incidents, any one of which would make a story by itself. At one time
they landed on an island and were reposing on the grass, when they
suddenly found themselves assailed by what seemed a shower of
steel-headed arrows. Some of them stuck in the ground, while others
hit against their shields and several penetrated their flesh. The
fifty heroes started up and looked about them for the hidden enemy,
but could find none nor see any spot on the whole island where even a
single archer could lie concealed. Still, however, the steel-headed
arrows came whizzing among them; and at last, happening to look
upward, they beheld a large flock of birds hovering and wheeling aloft
and shooting their feathers down upon the Argonauts. These feathers
were the steel-headed arrows that had so tormented them. There was no
possibility of making any resistance, and the fifty heroic Argonauts
might all have been killed or wounded by a flock of troublesome birds
without ever setting eyes on the Golden Fleece if Jason had not
thought of asking the advice of the oaken image.

So he ran to the galley as fast as his legs would carry him.

"O daughter of the Speaking Oak," cried he, all out of breath, "we
need your wisdom more than ever before! We are in great peril from a
flock of birds, who are shooting us with their steel-pointed feathers.
What can we do to drive them away?"

"Make a clatter on your shields," said the imag