208 THE WONDER-BOOK OF HORSES 



ger. But Achilles, standing high in the chariot, 

 boasted of his great deeds : how from the sea he 

 had laid waste twelve cities, and from the land 

 eleven; how he had vanquished the queen of the 

 Amazons, and had slain Hector, the hope of the 

 Trojans ; how he had taken great spoils and count- 

 less treasures from many lands; and how, in all 

 the world, there was no name so terrible as his, 

 no, not even the name of the sun-bright Apollo. 

 But scarcely had the last rash boast passed his 

 lips when a gleaming spear circled down upon 

 him from above, nor could the armor which 

 Vulcan had forged for him ward off the swift 

 death which it brought. Some say that the fatal 

 weapon was hurled from the battlements by Paris, 

 the perfidious prince who had caused all that sad 

 war; and others assert that it came from the 

 hands of no mortal man, but was cast from the 

 sky by great Apollo himself, offended beyond 

 measure at the hero's boasting. I do not know 

 whether either of these stories is true, nor does it 

 matter now. All I need to say is that the destroyer 

 of three and twenty cities fell headlong and help- 

 less in the dust, as many another boaster has 

 done since his day, and the great world went on as 

 before. And his wonderful war steeds, no longer 



