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For seven pyres devoured the young men's limbs, but for Amphiaraos Zeus by almighty thunderbolt clave the deep-breasted earth, and buried him with his steeds, or ever the warrior's soul should be shamed by the smiting of him in the back by Periklymenos' spear. For when the terror cometh of heaven, then flee even the sons of gods.

In with ye, my lad, and get something to warm ye up," and then the rosy-cheeked, deep-breasted, cheery little woman she was under forty her eyes the brighter for her thought, would begin pulling down cups and saucers from her dresser, making ready not only for the "lad," but for John and herself and anybody else who happened to be within call.

Quite surely she was an exotic, the last woman in the world fitted for the hardships of this frontier country. She had none of the deep-breasted vitality of those of her sex who have fought with grim nature and won. His experience told him that a very little longer in the storm would have snuffed out the wick of her life. But he knew, too, that the danger was past.

Stern almost seemed to behold them again, those tall, athletic, straight-limbed men; those lithe, deep-breasted women, fair-skinned and with luxuriant hair; all alike now plunged for a thousand years in the abyss of death and of eternal oblivion. Never before had the engineer realized how dear, how infinitely close to him his own race had been.

Long of limb, and still light of foot, deep-breasted, robust-loined, her golden hair not yet mingled with any trace of silver, the years had but caressed and embellished her. By the lines of a rich and vigorous maternity, she seemed destined to be the bride of heroes and the mother of their children.

One was Laura London, the other he had never seen. She was a fair young woman with thick ropes of yellow hair coiled round her head. Deep-breasted and robust-loined, she had the rich coloring of the Scandinavian race and much of the slow grace peculiar to its women. The hostess pronounced their names. "Miss Anderson, this is Mr. Flandrau. Mr. Flandrau Miss Anderson."

I say if things were different I would be a nice, sweet-tempered, gentle girl and not fly out like that Katherine in Shakespeare's play. But I know all the time it isn't true. We have to conquer ourselves. There is no city of refuge from our own temperaments." He felt sure there was a way out from her fretted life for this deep-breasted, supple daughter of the hills if she could only find it.

There was little need to waste sympathy on them or on any other little folk of the forest who had for their shelter the brooding arms of these beneficent trees stretched above them. Pines are the great, deep-breasted mothers of the woods, giving food and shelter from sun and storm to all who will come to them.