Two Bulls were fighting furiously in a field, at one side of which was a marsh. And so far as shepherds are concerned, we all know they belong to that puny race that pretends to be our masters. His Master had told him to call for help should a Wolf attack the flock, and the Villagers would drive it away. Mercury laid the golden axe on the bank and sprang back into the pool. Then into the pond he jumped, dragging his foolish companion with him. So there he sat groaning and moaning, both from the discomfort inside him and his anxiety to escape from the basket. At the ford the Ass again tumbled over; but when he had scrambled to his feet, it was a very disconsolate Ass that dragged himself homeward under a load ten times heavier than before.
The man who talks for both sides is not to be trusted by either.