hidden by the drooping fleece, and so hung on steadfastly, waiting for
the day.

At last the weary vigil was over, the huge stone portal was rolled
aside, and the male sheep and goats went forth to pasture, while the
females remained in their pens, bleating and in pain, for they were
swollen with milk, and there was none to relieve them. As the rams
went past Polyphemus felt their backs, to see if the men were there;
but the simple monster never thought of feeling under their bellies.
Last in the train came the big ram, with Odysseus clinging underneath.
Then said Polyphemus, as his great hands passed over his back: "Dear
ram, why art thou the last to leave the cave? Thou wast never wont to
be a sluggard, but ever thou tookest the lead, walking with long
strides, whether thou wast cropping the tender, flowering grass, or
going down to the waterside, or returning at even to the fold. Surely
thou art heavy with sorrow for thy master's eye, which the villain
Noman and his pitiful mates have blinded. Would that thou hadst a
voice, to tell me where he is skulking from my fury! Then would I pour
forth his brains like water on the ground, and lighten my heart of the
woe which hath been brought upon me by the hands of this nithering[1]
Noman."

[Footnote 1: See Scott, "Ivanhoe."]

So saying he let the ram go, and as soon as he was clear of the
courtyard Odysseus dropped to the ground, and ran to loose his
comrades. With all speed they made their way down to the ship, driving
the rams before them, with many a fearful backward glance. Right glad
were their friends to see them again, though their faces fell when
they saw their numbers reduced by half. But there was no time for