"I am the strength of the earth. Deianira is
mine. You shall not have her."
Then the river-god grew very angry. His green robe changed to the
black of the sea in a storm, and his voice was as loud as a mountain
cataract. Acheloues could be almost as powerful as Hercules when he was
angered.
"How do you dare claim this royal maiden?" he roared, "you, who have
mortal blood in your veins? I am a god, and the king of the waters.
Wherever I take my way through the earth, grains and fruits ripen, and
flowers bud and bloom. The princess is mine by right."
Hercules frowned as he advanced toward the river-god. "Your strength
is only in words," he said scornfully. "My strength is in my arm. If
you would win Deianira, it must be by hand-to-hand combat." So the
river-god threw off his garments and Hercules his lions' skins, and
the two fought for the hand of the princess.
It was a brave and valorous battle. Neither yielded; both stood firm.
Acheloues slipped in and out of Hercules' mighty grasp a dozen times,
but at last Hercules' greater strength overpowered him. Hercules held
the river-god fast by his neck, panting for breath. But Acheloues knew
magic arts which he could practise. He suddenly changed himself into a
long, slippery serpent. He twisted out of Hercules' grasp, and darted
out his forked tongue at him, showing his poisonous fangs.
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