the spectacle of Jason with his one bare foot, grew so loud

that it disturbed the ceremonies; and the king, holding the
great knife with which he was just going to cut the bull's

throat, turned angrily about, and fixed his eyes on Jason. The
people had now withdrawn from around him, so that the youth

stood in an open space, near the smoking altar, front to front
with the angry King Pelias.

"Who are you?" cried the king, with a terrible frown. "And how
dare you make this disturbance, while I am sacrificing a black

bull to my father Neptune?"
"It is no fault of mine," answered Jason. "Your majesty must

blame the rudeness of your subjects, who have raised all this
tumult because one of my feet happens to be bare."

When Jason said this, the king gave a quick startled glance
down at his feet.

"Ha!" muttered he, "here is the one-sandaled fellow, sure
enough! What can I do with him?"

And he clutched more closely the great knife in his hand, as if
he were half a mind to slay Jason, instead of the black bull.

The people round about caught up the king's words, indistinctly
as they were uttered; and first there was a murmur amongst

them, and then a loud shout.
"The one-sandaled man has come! The prophecy must be

fulfilled!"
For you are to know, that, many years before, King Pelias had

been told by the Speaking Oak of Dodona, that a man with one
sandal should cast him down from his throne. On this account,

he had given strict orders that nobody should ever come into
his presence, unless both sandals were securely tied upon his

feet; and he kept an officer in his palace, whose sole business
it was to examine people's sandals, and to supply them with a

new pair, at the expense of the royal treasury, as soon as the
old ones began to wear out. In the whole course of the king's

reign, he had never been thrown into such a fright and
agitation as by the spectacle of poor Jason's bare foot. But,

as he was naturally a bold and hard-hearted man, he soon took
courage, and began to consider in what way he might rid himself

of this terrible one-sandaled stranger.
"My good young man," said King Pelias, taking the softest tone

imaginable, in order to throw Jason off his guard, "you are
excessively welcome to my kingdom. Judging by your dress, you

must have traveled a long distance, for it is not the fashion
to wear leopard skins in this part of the world. Pray what may

I call your name? and where did you receive your education?"
"My name is Jason," answered the young stranger. "Ever since my

infancy, I have dwelt in the cave of Chiron the Centaur. He was
my instructor, and taught me music, and horsemanship, and how

to cure wounds, and likewise how to inflict wounds with my
weapons!"

"I have heard of Chiron the schoolmaster," replied King Pelias,
"and how that there is an immense deal of learning and wisdom

in his head, although it happens to be set on a horse's body.
It gives me great delight to see one of his scholars at my

court. But to test how much you have profited under so
excellent a teacher, will you allow me to ask you a single

question?"
"I do not pretend to be very wise," said Jason. "But ask me

what you please, and I will answer to the best of my ability."
Now King Pelias meant cunningly to entrap the young man, and to

make him say something that should be the cause of mischief and
distraction to himself. So, with a crafty and evil smile upon

his face, he spoke as follows:
"What would you do, brave Jason," asked he, "if there were a

man in the world, by whom, as you had reason to believe, you
were doomed to be ruined and slain--what would you do, I say,

if that man stood before you, and in your power?"
When Jason saw the malice and wickedness which King Pelias

could not prevent from gleaming out of his eyes, he probably
guessed that the king had discovered what he came for, and that

he intended to turn his own words against himself. Still he
scorned to tell a falsehood. Like an upright and honorable

prince as he was, he determined to speak out the real truth.
Since the king had chosen to ask him the question, and since

Jason had promised him an answer, there was no right way save
to tell him precisely what would be the most prudent thing to

do, if he had his worst enemy in his power.
Therefore, after a moment's consideration, he spoke up, with a

firm and manly voice.
"I would send such a man," said he, "in quest of the Golden

Fleece!"
This enterprise, you will understand, was, of all others, the

most difficult and dangerous in the world. In the first place
it would be necessary to make a long voyage through unknown

seas. There was hardly a hope, or a possibility, that any young
man who should undertake this voyage would either succeed in

obtaining the Golden Fleece, or would survive to return home,
and tell of the perils he had run. The eyes of King Pelias

sparkled with joy, therefore, when he heard Jason's reply.
"Well said, wise man with the one sandal!" cried he. "Go, then,

and at the peril of your life, bring me back the Golden
Fleece."

"I go," answered Jason, composedly. "If I fail, you need not
fear that I will ever come back to trouble you again. But if I

return to Iolchos with the prize, then, King Pelias, you must
hasten down from your lofty throne, and give me your crown and

sceptre."
"That I will," said the king, with a sneer. "Meantime, I will

keep them very safely for you."
The first thing that Jason thought of doing, after he left the

king's presence, was to go to Dodona, and inquire of the
Talking Oak what course it was best to pursue. This wonderful

tree stood in the center of an ancient wood. Its stately trunk
rose up a hundred feet into the air, and threw a broad and

dense shadow over more than an acre of ground. Standing beneath
it, Jason looked up among the knotted branches and green

leaves, and into the mysterious heart of the old tree, and
spoke aloud, as if he were addressing some person who was

hidden in the depths of the foliage.
"What shall I do," said he, "in order to win the Golden

Fleece?"
At first there was a deep silence, not only within the shadow

of the Talking Oak, but all through the solitary wood. In a
moment or two, however, the leaves of the oak began to stir and

rustle, as if a gentle breeze were wandering amongst them,
although the other trees of the wood were perfectly still. The

sound grew louder, and became like the roar of a high wind. By
and by, Jason imagined that he could distinguish words, but

very confusedly, because each separate leaf of the tree seemed
to be a tongue, and the whole myriad of tongues were babbling

at once. But the noise waxed broader and deeper, until it
resembled a tornado sweeping through the oak, and making one

great utterance out of the thousand and thousand of little
murmurs which each leafy tongue had caused by its rustling. And

now, though it still had the tone of a mighty wind roaring
among the branches, it was also like a deep bass voice,

speaking as distinctly as a tree could be expected to speak,
the following words:

"Go to Argus, the shipbuilder, and bid him build a galley with
fifty oars."