The swift horror remained with them in all their after life. He stripped the clothes from each like a man strips the scales from a prawn with one quick twirl of his fingers.
Then he dashed the quivering bodies upon the ground so that the yellow paste of the brains smeared the stone—save for the horrid crunching of bone and flesh, and the liquid gurgle of the monster’s throat as he made his frightful meal, there was no sound in the cave.
Then he fell into a foul sleep.
Three times during the long night did Ulysses draw his sword to plunge it into the monster’s heart, three times did he sheathe it again. For in his wisdom he knew that if he killed Polyphemus no one could ever move away the great stone which shut them from the outside world.
In the morning Elpenor and one other died, and the giant drove his flocks to pasture and closed up the heroes in the cave.
Then Ulysses comforted the dying hearts of his men, and as Polyphemus strode away over the hills whistling to his cattle, he made a plan for one last bid for freedom.
Leaning against the wall of the cave was a great club of hard wood which the monster had put there to dry. It was an olive-tree trunk as big as the great spar of a ship.
This they took and sharpened with their swords, and hardened it in the flame of the fire and hid it carefully away. Then very sadly the sailors cast lots as to who should be the four to help the captain. All day long they sat in the fœtid cave and prayed to the gods for an alms of aid. And their hearts were leaden for love of their valiant comrades.
At eventime two more heroes died.
Then Ulysses rose, and though his knees were weak and his face blanched with agony, he spoke in a smooth voice. “My Lord Cyclops,” he said, “I have filled this bowl with wine which we brought with us. I pray you drink, and perchance your heart may be touched and you will let us go.”