the place from which they were stolen. His own footsteps he disguised by wrapping his feet with tamarisk and myrtle leaves. The next morning, at early dawn, he reached the stream of Alpheus,[6] and then rubbed sticks of wood against each other till they were ignited. Thus Hermes is said to have first given fire to mortal men. Another legend attributes the same to Prometheus,[7] who is said to have stolen fire from the altars of the gods. But this was kindled in the forest by the friction of dry branches rubbed against each other by the wind. In that forest Hermes slaughtered two of the herd, but, though pressed with hunger, he ate none of the roasted meat. After quenching the fire, and effacing all signs of it, he proceeded to Cyllene, where he concealed the cattle, and, having entered the place of his birth softly as a summer breeze, resumed his place as a babe, and lay innocently playing with the cradle clothes, while his right hand held the tortoise lyre hidden under them. His absence and the booty with which he returned were not unobserved by his mother, who chided him for the theft, but was assured that, by such exploits, he would secure for her and for himself admission to the assembly of the gods. In the morning Apollo, missing part of his herd, set out in search of them. An old man informed him that a child was seen the day before driving cows along the road. At Pylos he saw confused tracks of his cattle, but was amazed at the strange footprints of the driver. Greatly chagrined at his loss, and meditating chastisement for the thief, he entered the cave of the nymph. Hermes, seeing him, gathered himself under the clothes, feigning fear of the angry god. Apollo searched all the premises for his stolen property to no purpose. But convinced that the child, his own younger brother was certainly guilty of the theft, he threatened to hurl him into Tartarus[8] if he did not tell at once where the cows were. The little fellow in his cradle, winking slyly, and making a low whistling sound, as if amused at Apollo’s excitement, denies any knowledge of the matter, and innocently asks what cows are like. “I know nothing of cows,” he said, “but their name. We must refer the matter to Zeus, who will decide for us.” When the father of gods and men heard the complaint and the evidence, little Hermes, to the great amusement of the celestials, stoutly denied the charge, and with his cradle clothes about his person, argued the absurdity of supposing a mere child like himself capable of such deeds.