As nobody objected to this scheme, Ulysses proceeded to count the whole band, and found that there were forty-six men, including himself.  He then numbered off twenty-two of them, and put Eurylochus (who was one of his chief officers, and second only to himself in sagacity) at their head.  Ulysses took command of the remaining twenty-two men, in person.  Then, taking off his helmet, he put two shells into it, on one of which was written, “Go,” and on the other, “Stay.”  Another person now held the helmet, while Ulysses and Eurylochus drew out each a shell; and the word “Go” was found written on that which Eurylochus had drawn.  In this manner it was decided that Ulysses and his twenty-two men were to remain at the seaside until the other party should have found out what sort of treatment they might expect at the mysterious palace.  As there was no help for it, Eurylochus immediately set forth at the head of his twenty-two followers, who went off in a very melancholy state of mind, leaving their friends in hardly better spirits than themselves.

No sooner had they clambered up the cliff, than they discerned the tall marble towers of the palace, ascending, as white as snow, out of the lovely green shadow of the trees which surrounded it.  A gush of smoke came from a chimney in the rear of the edifice.  This vapor rose high in the air, and meeting with a breeze, was wafted seaward, and made to pass over the heads of the hungry mariners.  When people’s appetites are keen, they have a very quick scent for anything savory in the wind.

“That smoke comes from the kitchen!” cried one of them, turning up his nose as high as he could, and snuffing eagerly.  “And, as sure as I’m a half-starved vagabond, I smell roast meat in it.”

“Pig, roast pig!” said another.  “Ah, the dainty little porker!  My mouth waters for him.”

“Let us make haste,” cried the others, “or we shall be too late for the good cheer!”

But scarcely had they made half a dozen steps from the edge of the cliff, when a bird came fluttering to meet them.  It was the same pretty little bird, with the purple wings and body, the yellow legs, the golden collar round its neck, and the crown-like tuft upon its head, whose behavior had so much surprised Ulysses.  It hovered about Eurylochus, and almost brushed his face with its wings.

“Peep, peep, pe—­weep!” chirped the bird.

So plaintively intelligent was the sound, that it seemed as if the little creature were going to break its heart with some mighty secret that it had to tell, and only this one poor note to tell it with.

“My pretty bird,” said Eurylochus,—­for he was a wary person, and let no token of harm escape his notice,—­“my pretty bird, who sent you hither?  And what is the message which you bring?”

“Peep, peep, pe—­weep!” replied the bird, very sorrowfully.