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,