[24] When the procession reached the sacred precincts, sacrifice was offered to Zeus, a whole burnt-offering of bulls, and a whole burnt-offering of horses to the Sun; and then they sacrificed to the Earth, slaying the victims as the Persian priests prescribed, and then to the heroes who hold the Syrian land. [25] And when the rites were done, Cyrus, seeing that the ground was suitable for racing, marked out a goal, and a course half-a-mile in length, and bade the cavalry and the chariots match their horses against each other, tribe by tribe. He himself raced among his Persians, and won with ease, for he was far the best horseman there. The winner among the Medes was Artabazus, the horse he rode being a gift from Cyrus. The Syrian race was won by their chieftain, the Armenian by Tigranes, the Hyrcanian by the general's son, and the Sakian by a private soldier who left all his rivals half the course behind him. [26] Cyrus, so the story says, asked the young man if he would take a kingdom for his horse. "No kingdom for me," answered the soldier, "but I would take the thanks of a gallant fellow." [27] "Well," said Cyrus, "I would like to show you where you could hardly fail to hit one, even if you shut your eyes." "Be so good as to show me now," said the Sakian, "and I will take aim with this clod," picking up one from the ground. [28] Then Cyrus pointed to a group of his best friends, and the other shut his eyes and flung the clod, and it struck Pheraulas as he galloped by, bearing some message from Cyrus. But he never so much as turned, flashing past on his errand. [29] Then the Sakian opened his eyes and asked whom he had hit? "Nobody, I assure you," said Cyrus, "who is here." "And nobody who is not, of course," said the young man. "Oh yes, you did," answered Cyrus, "you hit that officer over there who is riding so swiftly paste the chariot-lines." [30] "And how is it," asked the other, "that he does not even turn his head?" "Half-witted, probably," said Cyrus. Whereat the young man rode off to see who it was, and found Pheraulas, with his chin and beard all begrimed and bloody, gore trickling from his nostrils were the clod had struck him. [31] The Sakian cried out to know if he was hit. "As you see," answered Pheraulas. "Then," said the other, "let me give you my horse." "But why?" asked Pheraulas. And so the Sakian had to tell him all about the matter, adding, "And after all, you see, I did not miss a gallant fellow." [32] "Ah," said Pheraulas, "if you had been wise, you would have chosen a richer one; but I take your gift with all my thanks. And I pray the gods," he added, "who let me be your target, to help me now and see that you may never regret your gift. For the present, mount my horse yourself and ride back; I will be with you shortly." So they exchanged steeds and parted. The winner of the Cadousian race was Rathines.