"Well, mother, I shall sleep in this morning. Even Zeus is hardly up and about on a day like this."

It was the wrong thing to say.

The rain suddenly increased, the wind grew stronger, and the door flew open. Rough began barking excitedly, moved cautiously toward the open door. As the rain blew in he retreated nearer his master. Demo rose quickly to shut the door, but not before a dark object blew in, fell upon the floor. Quickly Rough seized it between his teeth, shook it from side to side.

"Hey, easy there." Demo approached the dog cautiously. In his mouth Rough held A thin leather sheet. And burned on its surface were some words. Slowly Demo deciphered them.

"The race is to the swift. Sometimes. Be at the Temple of Mars at sundown. The white feather must . . . ."

He could not make out the rest. The heavy rain had soaked the material, and the remaining words were smudged beyond recognition.

Zeus! It could have come from no other!

"Mother, I must go quickly. Why the temple of Mars? There is no way to reach it by sundown. Still, I must try."

She looked at the falling rain, thought to detain him. Finally she sighed, quickly put more and fresher food in his pouch.

"Perhaps you should take the white feather. And do be careful. I had a bad dream last night. I shall not repeat to you, but beware of that which you cannot see."

She hugged him.

In spite of the rain he smiled. The first task was begun.

The race is to the swift. Sometimes.

What strange words these.

And to reach the temple of Mars by sundown! Beyond the ability of any mortal.

Still, perhaps, if he could float on the swift waters of the churning river it might be possible. The falling rain had turned the gentle stream into thunderous torrents. And even as he looked a huge tree floated down the stream, twisting and rolling.

There seemed no other option. Quickly he located two fallen logs, pried them slowly to the waters edge. There he knotted vines around them, forming a single platform. Finally, with a deep breath, he forced them off the bank into the stream.

Almost too late he waded out. The cold mud sucked at his feet, the angry water stormed at his thighs. He leaped atop the nearest log, slipped, fell across the logs awkwardly. He was on his way to the temple of Mars!

What chance of success he had was quickly spoiled.

When he clambered onto the raft his pouch had opened. A sudden gust of wind picked up the white feather, wafted it quickly beyond his reach. In seconds it landed on the raging waters, quickly disappeared from sight.

Rough bounded along the sh.o.r.e, barking furiously. He badly wanted to board the raft, yet feared to dare the sullen waters.

Finally, as the raft moved to the stream's center the dog stopped, whined, its tail between its legs. The dog shivered as though in fear, then slowly turned to wend its way home.

Demo watched with regret as the Rough quickly disappeared in the midst of the heavy rain shower. "Perhaps I should have taken you with me. No, you must stay home, protect Mother."

Demo smiled. With a sigh he braced himself on the logs as the tumultuous stream tossed the frail craft from side to side. What a wonderful start he was making to perform the required tasks of Zeus!

The white feather, lost to the wind and the rain! And his chances of reaching the temple before nightfall almost non-existent!

The watery trip, miraculously, was almost uneventful. Almost.

As the raft rounded a bend in the river the water narrowed, flowed ever faster. And on the sh.o.r.e, obscured by the driving rain and gathering fog, stood a creature of unearthly mien. It neither moved nor spoke.

Demo had faced the bear that claimed the mountain ridges as their own. The snarling night cats that dominated the forests had stood before him. Of them all, none had aroused in him such fear as now he felt.

For from this creature radiated a menace more fearsome than he had ever known, an overwhelming evil emanation.

Demo gasped, eyes wide. "What is it! What manner of beast are you . . . ?"

Almost immediately the creature disappeared in the swirling mist.

It was gone! Though it disappeared from view he felt a premonition. A premonition that he would see it again. He knew not why, but knew it would be with him. A constant, unseen companion. The chill that enveloped him now was not caused by the cold, soaking rain.

Whether sundown was near, or had long past, he could not tell.

The dark, drear day had no sun, only the continuous rain.

Finally, there, on the cliff above, stood the temple, barely visible.

He paddled with his hands, attempting to bring his raft to the far sh.o.r.e. The water swirled, waves built up before the wind, and currents formed and disappeared throughout the stream. His paddling was almost to no avail. The makeshift raft swirled, rocked, meandered randomly at the mercy of the river. By the time the craft reached the sh.o.r.e he had drifted well beyond the temple.

Clawing his way up the muddy bank he found a narrow trail and began the climb. His ankle, which he had thought healed, began a slow steady ache. Rock-strewn, and now covered with silt and muck and murky water, the trail formed a slippery maze up the mountainside. Rivulets gouged ever-deepening gullies across the path. At times the entire path was but a stream, with swift water washing away small plants and stones.

Midway in his climb he entered a wide clearing. A doe, in attempting to flee from his approach, had slipped and its leg hung useless as it stood, shivering in fear.

A ray of light appeared briefly from a sun very low on the horizon. Time was running out. With a frown he avoided the doe, continued his climb.

He could not help himself. He looked back, and its brown limpid eyes, full of pain and fear, held him. Finally, with a growl, he returned. He approached the beast carefully. Though it tried to evade him, it was to no avail. Finally it stood motionless, shivering.

"I have no time, little one. I must be quick. This splint will hold, hopefully, until you heal." He bound the doe's leg with wooden splints in place. With a growl he started once more up the mountain. He noticed the doe following behind, timidly maintaining its distance.

"Go away. The sun has certainly set. Ah, if you had only been a full grown buck. My arrow would have quickly found its mark. And I would already be at the temple!"

When he reached the temple it was indeed dark. The building rose ma.s.sively before him. Built over the years, at times of wood, at times of stone, it had grown from a small shrine to its current size. Cautiously he entered through the huge doorway.

The wooden doors were open, as though he were expected. There was no sound. The temple was empty!

Plainly, Zeus had already departed!.

Demo sat down in the middle of the floor, his head bowed.

Finally he noted a white feather lying in an open s.p.a.ce near the temple's center. He picked it up, stroked it softly with his hand. How like the one lost in the storm!

Dropping it, aloud he whispered, "Good-bye, Athena. It was not to be."

The clatter of hooves on the floor caught his attention. The doe stood by the door, pawing the stones. "Well, you have cost me dearly, little one. Go on your way, there are hunters who would not reject you."

A rumbling voice filled the temple. "The race is to the swift.

Sometimes."

The voice emanated from the doe!

Quickly he stood up. Zeus! It must be Zeus!

"Merely a little test, my boy. One must be sensitive to suffering. Your bleeding heart has caused you to fail this simple task, bringing the white feather to the temple.