shot for you." But he did not show his weapons in triumph: he only
laid them down with the gore still on them where he hoped his
grandfather would see them. It is easy to guess the answer Astyages
gave:--"I must needs accept with pleasure every gift you bring me,
only I want none of them at the risk of your own life." And Cyrus
said, "If you really do not want them yourself, grandfather, will you
give them to me? And I will divide them among the lads." "With all my
heart," said the old man, "take them, or anything else you like;
bestow them where you will, and welcome." [11] So Cyrus carried off
the spoil, and divided it with his comrades, saying all the while,
"What foolery it was, when we used to hunt in the park! It was no
better than hunting creatures tied by a string. First of all, it was
such a little bit of a place, and then what scarecrows the poor beasts
were, one halt, and another maimed! But those real animals on the
mountains and the plains--what splendid beasts, so gigantic, so sleek
and glossy! Why, the stags leapt up against the sky as though they had
wings, and the wild-boars came rushing to close quarters like warriors
in battle! And thanks to their breadth and bulk one could not help
hitting them. Why, even as they lie dead there," cried he, "they look
finer than those poor walled-up creatures when alive! But you," he
added, "could not your fathers let you go out to hunt too?" "Gladly
enough," answered they, "if only the king gave the order." [12]
"Well," said Cyrus, "who will speak to Astyages for us?" "Why,"
answered they, "who so fit to persuade him as yourself?" "No, by all
that's holy, not I!" cried Cyrus. "I cannot think what has come over
me: I cannot speak to my grandfather any more; I cannot look him
straight in the face. If this fit grows on me, I am afraid I shall
become no better than an idiot. And yet, when I was a little boy, they
tell me, I was sharp enough at talking." To which the other lads
retorted, "Well, it is a bad business altogether: and if you cannot