But now already they were near the monster’s lair.  They stretched strong nets from tree to tree; they uncoupled their dogs, they tried to find the footprints of their quarry in the grass.  From the wood was a descent to marshy ground.  Here the boar, as he lay among the reeds, heard the shouts of his pursuers, and rushed forth against them.  One and another is thrown down and slain.  Jason throws his spear, with a prayer to Diana for success; and the favoring goddess allows the weapon to touch, but not to wound, removing the steel point of the spear in its flight.  Nestor, assailed, seeks and finds safety in the branches of a tree.  Telamon rushes on, but stumbling at a projecting root, falls prone.  But an arrow from Atalanta at length for the first time tastes the monster’s blood.  It is a slight wound, but Meleager sees and joyfully proclaims it.  Anceus, excited to envy by the praise given to a female, loudly proclaims his own valor, and defies alike the boar and the goddess who had sent it; but as he rushes on, the infuriated beast lays him low with a mortal wound.  Theseus throws his lance, but it is turned aside by a projecting bough.  The dart of Jason misses its object, and kills instead one of their own dogs.  But Meleager, after one unsuccessful stroke, drives his spear into the monster’s side, then rushes on and despatches him with repeated blows.

Then rose a shout from those around; they congratulated the conqueror, crowding to touch his hand.  He, placing his foot upon the head of the slain boar, turned to Atalanta and bestowed on her the head and the rough hide which were the trophies of his success.  But at this, envy excited the rest to strife.  Plexippus and Toxeus, the brothers of Meleager’s mother, beyond the rest opposed the gift, and snatched from the maiden the trophy she had received.  Meleager, kindling with rage at the wrong done to himself, and still more at the insult offered to her whom he loved, forgot the claims of kindred, and plunged his sword into the offenders’ hearts.

As Althea bore gifts of thankfulness to the temples for the victory of her son, the bodies of her murdered brothers met her sight.  She shrieks, and beats her breast, and hastens to change the garments of rejoicing for those of mourning.  But when the author of the deed is known, grief gives way to the stern desire of vengeance on her son.  The fatal brand, which once she rescued from the flames, the brand which the destinies had linked with Meleager’s life, she brings forth, and commands a fire to be prepared.  Then four times she essays to place the brand upon the pile; four times draws back, shuddering at the thought of bringing destruction on her son.  The feelings of the mother and the sister contend within her.  Now she is pale at the thought of the proposed deed, now flushed again with anger at the act of her son.  As a vessel, driven in one direction by the wind, and in the opposite by the tide, the mind of Althea hangs suspended in uncertainty.