42 AUTUMN STORIES AND POEMS 



lads, he liked to play games much better than 

 to listen to music. 



" Let us play a game of quoits/' said he. 

 " This meadow is a fine open space for throwing 

 the discus." 



" It is very warm for such a game/' said 

 Apollo. 



But nothing else would please Hyacinthus, 

 and so the game began. 



Hyacinthus threw the first quoit and then it 

 was Apollo's turn. 



He threw the quoit so high, that it was a 

 long time coming down. 



Hyacinthus ran to catch it. 



It fell to the earth with great force. It 

 bounded up again just as Hyacinthus was stoop- 

 ing for it. 



It struck the poor boy on the forehead, and 

 he fell down dead. 



Apollo ran to him. He lifted his head on his 

 knee. 



He cried bitterly. His tears mingled with 

 the blood that flowed from the wound on to the 

 ground. 



" Oh, my poor boy ! My dear Hyacinthus ! " 

 he cried. 



