Overjoyed at any definite hope, Orion placed Cedalion on his shoulders, hastened up from the cavern, and once more plunged into the rolling breakers.
Directed by him he carried, he journeyed eastward, eastward ever. Past many a strange land he sped, holding to the mark as a homing-pigeon holds towards his distant remembered cote.
Long and weary was the way; but nothing mattered save to press on towards the god of light. And at last he reached that lovely bay in the ultimate East
where Helios mounts the sky each morn behind his snow-white steeds.
Here he placed Cedalion on his feet again. The latter prostrated himself face to earth, lest he be smitten by the terrible brilliance of the Sun-god. But Orion stood erect, awaiting the coming of the Day.
The brooding night trembled and drew back. Through the morning mist appeared Eos, goddess of the dawn and herald of her brilliant brother. New-risen from her ocean-couch, with ruddy hair streaming above her saffron-colored mantle, she advanced in her golden chariot, while her rosy fingers sprinkled dew upon the earth from the vase she carried. The dawn breeze struck mysterious notes of music from her tresses like those of an Æolian harp.
Orion could not see this gracious vision as he stood there stark and expectant. Yet some influence of the colorful morning freshness which faced him softened his countenance into a smile of pleasure.
And as Eos looked upon the perfectness of his strong, beautiful youth, she loved him. Bending down, she pressed a kiss upon his forehead, whispering: "Be of good heart. Helios comes."
She passed on. The heavens blazed with purple and crimson and gold streamers, shooting up to the zenith from the coronal of the rising Sun-god.
Out of the rippling blue waters of the bay lifted his majestic visage. The intolerable gleam of his eyes fell full upon the sightless orbs of Orion.