mountains, not only in bulk, but in their disinclination to
move.

Any other mortal man, except the very one whom Antaeus had now
encountered, would have been half frightened to death by the
Giant's ferocious aspect and terrible voice. But the stranger
did not seem at all disturbed. He carelessly lifted his club,
and balanced it in his hand, measuring Antaeus with his eye,
from head to foot, not as if wonder-smitten at his stature, but
as if he had seen a great many Giants before, and this was by
no means the biggest of them. In fact, if the Giant had been no
bigger than the Pygmies (who stood pricking up their ears, and
looking and listening to what was going forward), the stranger
could not have been less afraid of him.

"Who are you, I say?" roared Antaeus again. "What's your name?
Why do you come hither? Speak, you vagabond, or I'll try the
thickness of your skull with my walking-stick!"

"You are a very discourteous Giant," answered the stranger
quietly, "and I shall probably have to teach you a little
civility, before we part. As for my name, it is Hercules. I
have come hither because this is my most convenient road to the
garden of the Hesperides, whither I am going to get three of
the golden apples for King Eurystheus."

"Caitiff, you shall go no farther!" bellowed Antaeus, putting
on a grimmer look than before; for he had heard of the mighty
Hercules, and hated him because he was said to be so strong."
Neither shall you go back whence you came!"