THE THREE GOLDEN APPLES
calculable quantity of breath to no purpose; for the thunder spoke quite as intelligibly as he.
At last, the storm swept over, as suddenly as it had come. And there again was the clear sky, and the weary giant holding it up, and the pleasant sunshine beaming over his vast height, and illuminating it against the background of the sullen thunder-clouds. So far above the shower had been his head, that not a hair of it was moistened by the rain-drops!
When the giant could see Hercules still standing on the sea-shore, he roared out to him anew.
‘I am Atlas, the mightiest giant in the world! And I hold the sky upon my head!’
‘So I see,’ answered Hercules. ‘But, can you show me the way to the garden of the Hesperides?’
‘What do you want there?’ asked the giant.
‘I want three of the golden apples,’ shouted Hercules, ‘for my cousin, the king.’
‘There is nobody but myself,’ quoth the giant, ‘ that can go to the garden of the Hesperides, and gather the golden apples. If it were not for this little business of holding up the sky, I would make half a dozen steps across the sea, and get them for you.’
‘You are very kind,’ replied Hercules. ‘And cannot you rest the sky upon a mountain?’
‘None of them are quite high enough,’ said Atlas, shaking his head. ‘But, if you were to take your stand on the summit of that nearest one, your head would be pretty nearly on a level with mine. You seem to be a fellow of some strength. What if you should take my burden on your shoulders, while I do your errand for you?’
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