Odysseus and his men find a cave but a cyclops lives there and they have to escape.
We climbed, then, briskly to the cave. But Cyclops had gone afield, to pasture his fat sheep, so we looked round at everything inside.
We fell back in fear. Clawing his face he tugged the bloody spike out of his eye, threw it away, and his wild hands went groping; then he set up a howl for Cyclopes who lived in caves on windy peaks nearby.
So three sheep could convey each man. I took the woolliest ram, the choicest of the flock, and hung myself under his kinky belly, pulled up tight, with fingers twisted deep in sheepskin ringlets for an iron grip.
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