by the gods. And you shall have a new . . . um . . . what kind of weapon would

you like? A sword? An axe?"

 

"Stick!" Tyson said, showing his broken club.

 

"Very well," Zeus said. "We will grant you a new, er, stick. The best stick that

may be found."

 

"Hooray!" Tyson cried, and all the Cyclopes cheered and pounded him on the back

as he rejoined them.

 

"Grover Underwood of the satyrs!" Dionysus called.

 

Grover came forward nervously.

 

"Oh, stop chewing your shirt," Dionysus chided. "Honestly, I'm not going to

blast you. For your bravery and sacrifice, blah, blah, blah, and since we have

an unfortunate vacancy, the gods have seen fit to name you a member of the

Council of Cloven Elders."

 

Grover collapsed on the spot.

 

"Oh, wonderful," Dionysus sighed, as several naiads came forward to help Grover.

"Well, when he wakes up, someone tell him that he will no longer be an outcast,

and that all satyrs, naiads, and other spirits of nature will henceforth treat