And as he went the blood-drops fell to the earth from the Gorgon's
head, and became poisonous asps and adders, which breed in the
desert to this day.

Over the sands he went,--he never knew how far or how long, feeding
on the fruit which the Nymphs had given him, till he saw the hills
of the Psylli, and the Dwarfs who fought with cranes. Their spears
were of reeds and rushes, and their houses of the egg-shells of the
cranes; and Perseus laughed, and went his way to the north-east,
hoping all day long to see the blue Mediterranean sparkling, that
he might fly across it to his home.

But now came down a mighty wind, and swept him back southward
toward the desert. All day long he strove against it; but even the
winged sandals could not prevail. So he was forced to float down
the wind all night; and when the morning dawned there was nothing
to be seen, save the same old hateful waste of sand.

And out of the north the sandstorms rushed upon him, blood-red
pillars and wreaths, blotting out the noonday sun; and Perseus fled
before them, lest he should be choked by the burning dust. At last
the gale fell calm, and he tried to go northward again; but again
came down the sandstorms, and swept him back into the waste, and
then all was calm and cloudless as before. Seven days he strove
against the storms, and seven days he was driven back, till he was
spent with thirst and hunger, and his tongue clove to the roof of
his mouth. Here and there he fancied that he saw a fair lake, and
the sunbeams shining on the water; but when he came to it it
vanished at his feet, and there was nought but burning sand. And
if he had not been of the race of the Immortals, he would have