SWIFT AND OLD-GOLD 203 



Galathe, and led them away from the blood- 

 stained chariot which they had drawn so often to 

 victory. 



" Never again," said he, " shall you bear your 

 master into the field of strife; never again shall 

 you lift your proud heads in joy. Better would 

 it have been had we all been slain, for there is no 

 longer any hope for Troy." 



Then he washed them in clear water, and 

 combed their manes as he had been used to do, 

 and fed them with parsley and white barley. But 

 they never drew war car again. 



SIXTH HEAT THE THREAD OF FATE 



That night, as Swift and Old-Gold stood in their 

 stalls, champing sweet clover and looking out into 

 the darkness, they saw a strange procession com- 

 ing slowly across the meadows and drawing near 

 to the spacious hut which the Myrmidons had 

 built for their master Achilles. The sentinels 

 had fallen asleep at their posts, and the warriors, 

 weary and worn, had retired within their tents. 

 The great chief himself, having closed and bolted 

 the heavy outer door of his hut, was sitting at, 

 meat with his squire Automedon. 



