After the death of Meleager, Atalanta went back to her old home among
the mountains of Arcadia. She was still the swift-footed huntress, and
she was never so happy as when in the green woods wandering among the
trees or chasing the wild deer. All the world had heard about her,
however; and the young heroes in the lands nearest to Arcadia did
nothing else but talk about her beauty and her grace and her swiftness
of foot and her courage. Of course every one of these young fellows
wanted her to become his wife; and she might have been a queen any day
if she had only said the word, for the richest king in Greece would have
been glad to marry her. But she cared nothing for any of the young men,
and she liked the freedom of the green woods better than all the fine
things she might have had in a palace.
The young men would not take "No!" for an answer, however. They could
not believe that she really meant it, and so they kept coming and
staying until the woods of Arcadia were full of them, and there was no
getting along with them at all. So, when she could think of no other way
to get rid of them, Atalanta called them together and said:
"You want to marry me, do you? Well, if any one of you would like to run
a race with me from this mountain to the bank of the river over there,
he may do so; and I will be the wife of the one who outruns me."
"Agreed! agreed!" cried all the young fellows.
"But, listen!" she said. "Whoever tries this race must also agree that
if I outrun him, he must lose his life."
Ah, what long faces they all had then! About half of them drew away and
went home.
"But won't you give us the start of you a little?" asked the others.
"Oh, yes," she answered. "I will give you the start by a hundred paces.
But remember, if I overtake any one before he reaches the river, he
shall lose his head that very day."
Several others now found that they were in ill health or that business
called them home; and when they were next looked for, they were not to
be found. But a good many who had had some practice in sprinting across
the country stayed and made up their minds to try their luck. Could a
mere girl outrun such fine fellows as they? Nonsense!
And so it happened that a race was run almost every day. And almost
every day some poor fellow lost his head; for the fleetest-footed
sprinter in all Greece was overtaken by Atalanta long before he could
reach the river bank. But other young men kept coming and coming, and no
sooner had one been put out of the way than another took his place.
One day there came from a distant town a handsome, tall young man named
Meilanion.
"You'd better not run with me," said Atalanta, "for I shall be sure to
overtake you, and that will be the end of you."
"We'll see about that," said Meilanion.
Now Meilanion, before coming to try his chance, had talked with Venus,
the queen of love, who lived with Jupiter among the clouds on the
mountain top. And he was so handsome and gentle and wise that Venus took
pity on him, and gave him three golden apples and told him what to do.
Well, when all was ready for the race, Atalanta tried again to persuade
Meilanion not to run, for she also took pity on him.
"I'll be sure to overtake you," she said.
"All right!" said Meilanion, and away he sped; but he had the three
golden apples in his pocket.
Atalanta gave him a good start, and then she followed after, as swift as
an arrow shot from the bow. Meilanion was not a very fast runner, and it
would not be hard for her to overtake him. She thought that she would
let him get almost to the goal, for she really pitied him. He heard her
coming close behind him; he heard her quick breath as she gained on him
very fast. Then he threw one of the golden apples over his shoulder.
Now, if there was anything in the world that Atalanta admired, it was a
bright stone or a pretty piece of yellow gold. As the apple fell to the
ground she saw how beautiful it was, and she stopped to pick it up; and
while she was doing this, Meilanion gained a good many paces. But what
of that? In a minute she was as close behind him as ever. And yet, she
really did pity him.
Just then Meilanion threw the second apple over his shoulder. It was
handsomer and larger than the first, and Atalanta could not bear the
thought of allowing some one else to get it. So she stopped to pick it
up from among the long grass, where it had fallen. It took somewhat
longer to find it than she had expected, and when she looked up again
Meilanion was a hundred feet ahead of her. But that was no matter. She
could easily overtake him. And yet, how she did pity the foolish young
man!
Meilanion heard her speeding like the wind behind him. He took the third
apple and threw it over to one side of the path where the ground sloped
towards the river. Atalanta's quick eye saw that it was far more
beautiful than either of the others. If it were not picked up at once it
would roll down into the deep water and be lost, and that would never
do. She turned aside from her course and ran after it. It was easy
enough to overtake the apple, but while she was doing so Meilanion
gained upon her again. He was almost to the goal. How she strained every
muscle now to overtake him! But, after all, she felt that she did not
care very much. He was the handsomest young man that she had ever seen,
and he had given her three golden apples. It would be a great pity if he
should have to die. And so she let him reach the goal first.
After that, of course, Atalanta became Meilanion's wife. And he took her
with him to his distant home, and there they lived happily together for
many, many years.
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