In his hand he carried the sword, which at the sunrise he had taken from the dead.

And he came to the sacred tree that was in the middle of the grove, and he too began to pace about it, glancing from side to side, as that other had done before him.

And once when he was near the place where the caked blood still lay upon the ground, the sword fell clashing from his hand, and he flung his two arms to heaven with a hoarse and piercing cry--the cry of him who accuses and arraigns the gods.
'And the boy, shivering, slipped from the tree, with that cry in his ear, and hastily sought for his goats.

And when he had found them he drove them home, not staying even to quench his thirst from their swollen udders.

And in the shepherd's hut he found his father Caeculus; and sinking down beside him with tears and sobs he told his tale.
'And Caeculus pondered long.