“These men,” he said to his mighty company, “are nothing but a source of trouble.  When they were good and happy, we felt afraid lest they should become greater than ourselves; and now they are so terribly wicked that we are in worse danger than before.  There is only one thing to be done with them, and that is to destroy them every one.”

So he sent a great rain-storm upon the earth, and it rained day and night for a long time; and the sea was filled to the brim, and the water ran over the land and covered first the plains and then the forests and then the hills.  But men kept on fighting and robbing, even while the rain was pouring down and the sea was coming up over the land.

No one but Deucalion, the son of Prometheus, was ready for such a storm.  He had never joined in any of the wrong doings of those around him, and had often told them that unless they left off their evil ways there would be a day of reckoning in the end.  Once every year he had gone to the land of the Caucasus to talk with his father, who was hanging chained to the mountain peak.

“The day is coming,” said Prometheus, “when Jupiter will send a flood to destroy mankind from the earth.  Be sure that you are ready for it, my son.”

And so when the rain began to fall, Deucalion drew from its shelter a boat which he had built for just such a time.  He called fair Pyrrha, his wife, and the two sat in the boat and were floated safely on the rising waters.  Day and night, day and night, I cannot tell how long, the boat drifted hither and thither.  The tops of the trees were hidden by the flood, and then the hills and then the mountains; and Deucalion and Pyrrha could see nothing anywhere but water, water, water—­and they knew that all the people in the land had been drowned.

After a while the rain stopped falling, and the clouds cleared away, and the blue sky and the golden sun came out overhead.  Then the water began to sink very fast and to run off the land towards the sea; and early the very next day the boat was drifted high upon a mountain called Parnassus, and Deucalion and Pyrrha stepped out upon the dry land.  After that, it was only a short time until the whole country was laid bare, and the trees shook their leafy branches in the wind, and the fields were carpeted with grass and flowers more beautiful than in the days before the flood.

But Deucalion and Pyrrha were very sad, for they knew that they were the only persons who were left alive in all the land.  At last they started to walk down the mountain side towards the plain, wondering what would become of them now, all alone as they were in the wide world.  While they were talking and trying to think what they should do, they heard a voice behind them.  They turned and saw a noble young prince standing on one of the rocks above them.  He was very tall, with blue eyes and yellow hair.  There were wings on his shoes and on his cap, and in his hands he bore a staff with golden serpents twined around it.  They knew at once that he was Mercury, the swift messenger of the Mighty Ones, and they waited to hear what he would say.