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Moreover, I was often sent up into the mountain to fetch wood on my shoulders, and this was the crown of my sorrows. In the first place, there was a high mountain to be climbed by a terribly straight road, and in the second place, I was barefoot on a steep and stony path. Besides this they sent with me as driver a wretch of a small boy, who found a new way to torture me every time. First he used to flog me even when I was trotting faster than I should, and not with a trimmed stick, but one covered with sharp knots. He always used to strike the same spot on my haunch, so that he opened a wound there with his club, and he always aimed at the sore place. His next idea was to lay a burden on me that would have been too heavy for an elephant. The descent from the mountain was steep, but even there he used to flog me. And if he saw that my load had slipped and was hanging to one side, so that some of the sticks ought to be taken off and added to the lighter side to make it balance, he would by no means proceed in this way. No; he would lift great stones from the mountainside and put them on the side of my fardel that was lighter and slipping up, and I would go on, poor wretch, carrying in addition to the wood an equal weight of useless stones. Moreover, there was a stream that crossed the road and was never dry, and the boy, to save wetting his shoes, used to perch on my back behind the wood, and thus cross the river.
