If a writer were writing a modem-day story based on the theseus myth featured in 'cruel tribute what would the story's
plot most likely include?
a young man beginning a political career in hopes of one day becoming head of the country
a young man learning the family business so he can take over for his father when he retires
a young man preparing to take a trip around the world with his friends and his family
a young man searching through a new city, trying to find his lost friends before they are harmed

Which detail from "to build a fire" best supports the idea that most of the real yukon prospectors had little experience for surviving in cold weather? it happened. it was his own fault or, rather, his mistake. he should not have built the fire under the spruce tree. there was the fire, snapping and crackling and promising life with every dancing flame. he would have to build a fire and dry out his footgear. this was imperative at that low temperature—he knew that much. the flame he got by touching a match to a small shred of birch bark that he took from his pocket.

What is the best way to punctuate the bolded portion of the sentence? do you see the kite floating in the air? the father asked the young child. “do you see the kite floating in the air”? the ‘do you see the kite floating in the air? ’ the do you see the kite floating in the air? the “do you see the kite floating in the air? ” the

Select the contred text in the passage which sentence in this excerpt from john galsworthy's narrative essay "gone" reflects his view that there is no afterlife? an old woman and mrs. herd's sister were in the sitting-room, they showed us to the crazy, narrow stairway. though we lived distant but four hundred yards of a crows flight, we had never seen mrs. herd before, for that is the way of things in this land of minding one's own business a slight dark girlish-looking woman, almost quite refined away, and with those eyes of the dying, where the spirit is coming through, as it only does when it knows that al is over except just the passing. she lay in a double bed with clean white sheets. a white-washed room, so low that the ceiling almost touched our heads, some flowers in a bow, the small lattice window open. though it was hot in there, it was better far than the rooms of most families in towns, living on a wage of twice as much, for here was no sign of defeat in decency or cleanliness. in her face, as in poor herd's, was that same strange minging of resigned despair and almost eager appeal, so terrible to disappoint. yet, trying not to disappoint it, one felt guilty of treachery: what was the good, the kindness in making this poor bird flutter still with hope against the bars, when fast prison had so surely closed in round her? but what else could we do? we could not give her those glib assurances that naive souls make so easily to others concerning their after state. and the night was so beautiful, so utterly glamourously beautiful, with its star-flowers, and its silence and its trees clothed in moonlight. all was tranquil as a dream of sleep. but it was long before our hearts wandering with poor herd, would let us remember that she had slipped away into so beautiful a dream