that each new day's varied experience bound them together the more indissolubly.
And it is written that the Goddess herself felt the bond. She recognized her mate according to the decrees of nature. And she made no secret of her intention to wed this earth-born one.
Then bright Apollo, twin brother of the huntress, waxed wroth and determined to avert this disgrace. And because even he hesitated to thwart her openly, he had recourse to guile.
It chanced towards dusk one summer's eve that Artemis stood by the seashore. Contrary to his wont, Orion had gone off alone on an expedition to a neighboring island.
He was now returning, progressing through the water with mighty strides, but so distant that his head seemed but a tiny speck upon the horizon.
Suddenly Apollo descended to his sister's side. Playfully he began to rally her upon her vaunted skill with the bow, at which he himself was unexcelled.
When her pride was aroused, he declared that she could not hit that black spot which seemed to move toward them—probably a porpoise.
Quickly the piqued Goddess seized an arrow from the quiver on her shoulder. Steadily she drew her bow till the arrow-head touched her finger. Firmly she loosed it. The string gave a mighty twang. The shaft sped seaward, true to the mark.
Artemis turned in triumph, but Apollo had vanished. A vague uneasiness filled her breast. The surf seemed
to beat against the sands in lamentation, growing louder and yet louder.