Eëtíon was so angry that he dared not answer Dryas. How little the shallow fellow knew of his sister’s character and ways. Eëtíon was glad when they all left the house. How foolish they were, running hither and yon without thought. In Eëtíon’s Argos were many shepherds and when a sheep was lost they did not go forth in this wise, but first thought about the paths, and the simple sheep reasoning, and then went and found. This flight of Theria’s was of course connected with the message which Eëtíon had himself given to her. She had not sent for her father, but, true heart that she was, she had brought the news herself. But why had she fled forth like this? He took Medon into the street. “Tell me, Medon, was Nikander angry with his daughter?” “Oh, Master, how should I know?” But Eëtíon saw at once that Medon did know and did not rest until he got the truth of him. Then he went back into the house and called Baltè. “Baltè,” he said, “take with you two men slaves and go up on Parnassos by the far eastern path and look for your mistress.” “But, Master, surely she would not go there. Wolves are there.” “She would not stop for wolves,” Said Eëtíon sharply, and Baltè saw his eyes fill with tears. “If you reach to the Korykian cave, Baltè, and yet do not find her, then come down by the hither path and I will meet you at the top of the Bad Steps. Give me a flask of wine and my sword there.” Then Eëtíon fairly ran out and through the lane up the slender path he knew so well. On the hard rocky earth he could find no trace of her. But still he climbed on, his heart aching for the dear lonely child who had fled from unkindness and injustice. Oh, how could Nikander have let forth upon her gentle head the wrath that should have gone to his sons? Where was his fatherly tenderness? How could he in the first place have put her away in the Pythia House, that cruelty, that fearfulness, tales of which were rife in the Precinct? How could Nikander have placed her there to be a barren maid, she who was so full of life, so fit to be the mother of children? As Eëtíon mounted his anger mounted with him. He longed intensely to take her away from cruelty and neglect and to give her henceforth only tenderness and the visionary love that was his. He climbed up the Kaka Skala, passed the wood in which Theria had hidden over night, on up into the pathless heights beyond her, into despair of finding her alive. A mountain bear padded past him and broke its way into the thicket to hide. “Oh, Artemis, Protector of maidens; help the little maid who is now in thy care alone!” By some instinct, for Eëtíon could now no longer reason, he turned back. He descended to the Kaka Skala, he entered the wood, and there on a jagged branch found some torn yellow shreds of dress.