She considered. She was a superb shot with a bow, but it was conceivable that the man might live who was better. It was the same with her skill with javelin, discus, and on horseback. What was there that no man could ever best her at? Ah! She had it. “I will only a marry a man who can run faster than me.” “Very well. So let it be.” Atalanta was safe. Her speed could never be matched.239 “Oh, and any suitor who takes the challenge and fails must die,” she added. Schoeneus grunted his assent and arranged for the word to be put out. Great was Atalanta’s fame and beauty, great the value of
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