Just then, Daedalus, who was miles away, turned his head, for he heard the boy call him.
"Icarus, Icarus, where are you?" his father shouted. There was no answer, but the mass of feathers in the blue sea below told the story. Flying down, Daedalus searched till he found the body, and, tenderly laying it in the earth he wept that he had ever thought of wings.
The land where this happened was wild, and only savage beasts lived in it, so Daedalus flew away to Sicily. There he built a temple and on its walls hung up his wings forever.
He became so proud of his own success that he believed no one else could invent anything. He was willing, though, to teach others all he knew, and sister, living near, sent her son, Perdix, to him to learn what he could.
This boy was quick to see, to hear, and to learn, and he could invent things himself.
One day when Daedalus was slowly cutting through a log with an ax, the boy showed him how much quicker he could do it with a saw he had made. No one had ever heard of a saw before, and Daedalus was angry.
"Who told you how to make this?" he asked.
"I brought home yesterday the backbone of a great fish cast up by the sea, and I made this like it, but of iron; that is all," said Perdix.
Another time Daedalus was trying to draw a perfect circle. Thirteen times he tried and failed.
"Take my irons, if you will not be angry with me," said Perdix, and he handed him a pair of compasses.