of looking upon them as so many mere words, and
the people who listened grew tired, and there came back to Leo the
old temptation to stop singing once and for all. But he remembered the
Girl's dying words and went on.

One of his listeners interrupted him as he was singing. "Leo," said
he, "I have heard you telling us not to be afraid for the past forty
years. Can you not sing something new now?"

"No," said Leo; "it is the only song that I am allowed to sing. You
must not be afraid of the Houses, even when they kill you."

The man turned to go, wearily, but there came a whistling through the
air, and the arrow of the Archer was seen skimming low above the
earth, pointing to the man's heart. He drew himself up, and stood
still waiting till the arrow struck home.

"I die," he said, quietly. "It is well for me, Leo, that you sang for
forty years."

"Are you afraid?" said Leo, bending over him.

"I am a man, not a God," said the man. "I should have run away but for
your Songs. My work is done, and I die without making a show of my
fear."

"I am very well paid," said Leo to himself. "Now that I see what my
songs are doing, I will sing better ones."

He went down the road, collected his little knot of listeners, and
began the Song of the Girl. In the middle of his singing he felt the
cold touch of the Crab's claw on the apple of his throat. He lifted
his hand, choked, and stopped for an instant.

"Sing on, Leo," said the crowd. "The old song runs as well as ever it
did."

Leo went on steadily till the end, with the cold fear at his heart.
When his song was ended, he felt the grip on his throat tighten. He
was old, he had lost the Girl, he knew that he was losing more than
half his power to sing, he could scarcely walk to the diminishing
crowds that waited for him, and could not see their faces when they
stood about him. None the less he cried angrily to the Crab:

"Why have you come for me now?"

"You were born under my care. How can I help coming for you?" said the
Crab, wearily. Every human being whom the Crab killed had asked that
same question.

"But I was just beginning to know what my songs were doing," said Leo.

"Perhaps that is why," said the Crab, and the grip tightened.

"You said you would not come till I had taken the world by the
shoulders," gasped Leo, falling back.

"I always keep my word. You have done that three times, with three
songs. What more do you desire?"

"Let me live to see the world know it," pleaded Leo. "Let me be sure
that my songs>>>>"

"Make men brave?" said the Crab. "Even then there would be one man who
was afraid. The Girl was braver than you are. Come."

Leo was standing close to the restless, insatiable mouth. "I forgot,"
said he, simply. "The Girl was braver. But I am a God too, and I am
not afraid."

"What is that to me?" said the Crab.

Then Leo's speech was taken from him, and he lay still and dumb,
watching Death till he died.

Leo was the last of the Children of the Zodiac. After his death there
sprang up a breed of little mean men, whimpering and flinching and
howling because the Houses killed them and theirs, who wished to live
forever without any pain. They did not increase their lives, but they
increased their own torments miserably, and there were no Children of
the Zodiac to guide them, and the greater part of Leo's songs were
lost.

Only he had carved on the Girl's tombstone the last verse of the Song
of the Girl, which stands at the head of this story.

One of the children of men, coming thousands of years later, rubbed
away the lichen, read the lines, and applied them to a trouble other
than the one Leo meant. Being a man, men believed that he had made the
verses himself; but they belong to Leo, the Child of the Zodiac, and
teach, as he taught, that what comes or does not come, we must not be
afraid.