Then the giant leapt up, and tore away the stake, and cried aloud, so that all the Cyclops who dwelt on the mountain-side heard him and came about his cave, asking him, “What aileth thee, Polyphemus, that thou makest this uproar in the peaceful night, driving away sleep?  Is any one robbing thee of thy sheep, or seeking to slay thee by craft or force?”

And the giant answered, “No Man slays me by craft.”

“Nay, but,” they said, “if no man does thee wrong we cannot help thee.  The sickness which great Zeus may send, who can avoid?  Pray to our father, Neptune, for help.”

So they spake, and I laughed in my heart when I saw how I had beguiled them by the name that I had given.

But the Cyclops rolled away the great stone from the door of the cave, and sat in the midst, stretching out his hands, to feel whether perchance the men within the cave would seek to go out among the sheep.

Long did I think how I and my comrades should best escape.  At last I lighted upon a device that seemed better than all the rest, and much I thanked Zeus for that this once the giant had driven the rams with the other sheep into the cave.  For, these being great and strong, I fastened my comrades under the bellies of the beasts, tying them with osier twigs, of which the giant made his bed.  One ram I took, and fastened a man beneath it, and two rams I set, one on either side.  So I did with the six, for but six were left out of the twelve who had ventured with me from the ship.  And there was one mighty ram far larger than all the others, and to this I clung, grasping the fleece tight with both my hands.  So we all waited for the morning.  And when the morning came, the rams rushed forth to the pasture; but the giant sat in the door and felt the back of each as it went by, nor thought to try what might be underneath.  Last of all went the great ram.  And the Cyclops knew him as he passed, and said,—­

“How is this, thou who art the leader of the flock?  Thou art not wont thus to lag behind.  Thou hast always been the first to run to the pastures and streams in the morning, and the first to come back to the fold when evening fell; and now thou art last of all.  Perhaps thou art troubled about thy master’s eye, which some wretch—­No Man, they call him—­has destroyed, having first mastered me with wine.  He has not escaped, I ween.  I would that thou couldst speak, and tell me where he is lurking.  Of a truth, I would dash out his brains upon the ground, and avenge me of this No Man.”

So speaking, he let the ram pass out of the cave.  But when we were now out of reach of the giant, I loosed my hold of the ram, and then unbound my comrades.  And we hastened to our ship, not forgetting to drive the sheep before us, and often looking back till we came to the seashore.  Right glad were those that had abode by the ship to see us.  Nor did they lament for those that had died, though we were fain to do so, for I forbade, fearing lest the noise of their weeping should betray us to the giant, where we were.  Then we all climbed into the ship, and sitting well in order on the benches smote the sea with our oars, laying to right lustily, that we might the sooner get away from the accursed land.  And when we had rowed a hundred yards or so, so that a man’s voice could yet be heard by one who stood upon the shore, I stood up in the ship and shouted,—­