above his moored canoe, evidently waiting for the tide to turn before he
went out to spear crayfish. I merely noticed he was sitting there in the
sunshine, that's all. And then I opened my mythology book and turned to
the story of Argus, on which I was reading up.

"And this is what happened: there was a picture of the death of Argus,
facing the printed page which I was reading--the well-known picture where
Juno is holding the head of the decapitated monster--and I had read
scarcely a dozen words in the book before the Seminole beside me leaned
over and placed his forefinger squarely upon the head of Argus.

"'Who?' he demanded.

"I looked around good-humoredly and was surprised at the evident
excitement of the Indian. They're not excitable, you know.

"'That,' said I, 'is a Greek gentleman named Argus.' I suppose he thought
I meant a Minorcan, for he nodded. Then, without further comment, he
placed his finger on Juno.

"'_Who?_' he inquired emphatically.

"I said flippantly: 'Oh, that's only my aunt, Juno.'

"'Aunty of you?'

"'Yes.'

"'She kill 'um Three-eye?'