Merolchazzar uttered an
excited cry. His eyes were glowing, and he breathed quickly.
"It doesn't look difficult," he muttered.
"Hoo's!" said the bearded man.
"I believe I could do it," went on the King, feverishly. "By the eight
green gods of the mountain, I believe I could! By the holy fire that
burns night and day before the altar of Belus, I'm _sure_ I could!
By Hec, I'm going to do it now! Gimme that hoe!"
"Toots!" said the bearded man.
It seemed to the King that the fellow spoke derisively, and his blood
boiled angrily. He seized the hoe and raised it above his shoulder,
bracing himself solidly on widely-parted feet. His pose was an exact
reproduction of the one in which the Court sculptor had depicted him
when working on the life-size statue ("Our Athletic King") which stood
in the principal square of the city; but it did not impress the
stranger. He uttered a discordant laugh.
"Ye puir gonuph!" he cried, "whitkin' o' a staunce is that?"
The King was hurt. Hitherto the attitude had been generally admired.
"It's the way I always stand when killing lions," he said.
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