waiting for the Fishes to come and carry them away. They were not in the least afraid, and they told Leo that the woman of the House had a real baby of her own, and that when that baby grew old enough to be mischievous he would find a well-educated cat waiting to have its tail pulled. Then the Fishes came for them, but all that the people saw was two children drowning in a brook; and though their foster-mother was very sorry, she hugged her own real baby to her breast, and was grateful that it was only the foundlings.

Then Leo made the Song of the Twins who had forgotten that they were Gods, and had played in the dust to amuse a foster-mother. That song was sung far and wide among the women. It caused them to laugh and cry and hug their babies closer to their hearts all in one breath; and some of the women who remembered the Girl said: 'Surely that is the voice of Virgo. Only she could know so much about ourselves.'

After those three songs were made, Leo sang them over and over again, till he was in danger of looking upon them as so many mere words, and the people who listened grew tired, and there came back to Leo the old temptation to stop singing once and for all. But he remembered the Girl's dying words and went on.

One of his listeners interrupted him as he was singing. 'Leo,' said he, 'I have heard you telling us

not to be afraid for the past forty years. Can you not sing something new now?'

'No,' said Leo; 'it is the only song that I am allowed to sing. You must not be afraid of the Houses, even when they kill you.'

The man turned to go, wearily, but there came a whistling through the air, and the arrow of the Archer was seen skimming low above the earth, pointing to the man's heart. He drew himself up, and stood still waiting till the arrow struck home.

'I die,' he said, quietly. 'It is well for me, Leo, that you sang for forty years.'

Are you afraid?' said Leo, bending over him.

'I am a man, not a God,' said the man. 'I should have run away but for your Songs. My work is done, and I die without making a show of my fear.'

'I am very well paid,' said Leo to himself. Now that I see what my songs are doing, I will sing better ones.'

He went down the road, collected his little knot of listeners, and began the Song of the Girl. In the middle of his singing he felt the cold touch of the Crab's claw on the apple of his throat. He lifted his hand, choked, and stopped for an instant.

'Sing on, Leo,' said the crowd. 'The old song runs as well as ever it did.'

Leo went on steadily till the end, with the cold fear at his heart. When his song was ended, he felt the grip on his throat tighten. He was old, he had

lost the Girl, he knew that he was losing more than half his power to sing, he could scarcely walk to the diminishing crowds that waited for him, and could not see their faces when they stood about him. None the less he cried angrily to the Crab,

'Why have you come for me now ?'

'You were born under my care. How can I help coming for you?' said the Crab, wearily. Every human being whom the Crab killed had asked that same question.

'But I was just beginning to know what my songs were doing,' said Leo.

'Perhaps that is why,' said the Crab, and the grip tightened.

'You said you would not come till I had taken the world by the shoulders,' gasped Leo, falling back.

'I always keep my word. You have done that three times, with three songs. What more do you desire ?'

'Let me live to see the world know it,' pleaded Leo. Let me be sure that my songs

'Make men brave?' said the Crab.

'Even then

there would be one man who was afraid. The Girl

was braver than you are. Come.'

Leo was standing close to the restless, insatiable mouth. 'I forgot,' said he, simply. 'The Girl was braver. But I am a God too, and I am not afraid.' 'What is that to me?' said the Crab.

Then Leo's speech was taken from him, and he lay still and dumb, watching Death till he died.

Leo was the last of the Children of the Zodiac. After his death there sprang up a breed of little mean men, whimpering and flinching and howling because the Houses killed them and theirs, who wished to live forever without any pain. They did not increase their lives, but they increased their own torments miserably, and there were no Children of the Zodiac to guide them, and the greater part of Leo's songs were lost.

Only he had carved on the Girl's tombstone the last verse of the Song of the Girl, which stands at the head of this story.

One of the children of men, coming thousands of years later, rubbed away the lichen, read the lines, and applied them to a trouble other than the one Leo meant. Being a man, men believed that he had made the verses himself; but they belong to Leo, the Child of the Zodiac, and teach, as he taught, that what comes or does not come, we must not be afraid.

ENVOY.

HEH! Walk her round! Heave, ah, heave her

short again—

Over-snatch her over there, and hold her on the

pawl

Loose all sail, and brace your yards aback and full. Ready jib to pay her off, and heave short all!

Well, ah, fare you well! We can stay no more with you, my love!

Down, set down your liquor, and your girl from off your knee,

For the wind has come to say:

'You must take me while you may,

If you'd go to Mother Carey where she feeds her chicks at sea."

Heh! Walk her round! Break, ah, break it out o' that

Break our starboard bower out-apeak-awashaclear!

Port-port she casts, with the harbour-roil beneath her foot

And that's the last o' bottom we shall see this year!