A Town Mouse once visited a relative who lived in the country. Now the farmer came in. 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. And that was all the sympathy the poor Mouse got.
One swallow does not make a summer.