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In the mean time the gardener perceived me, snatched up a club, and ran into the garden. When he saw the enemy, the destroyer of his vegetables, he seized me as a severe master seizes a thieving slave and pounded me with his club, sparing neither ribs nor thighs. He even crushed my ears and mangled my face. When I could stand it no longer I kicked with both feet, knocked him on his back on top of the vegetables, and ran for the mountain. Seeing me making off at a run he shouted that they were to loose the dogs on my trail. The dogs were numerous and large enough to fight with bears, and I knew that if they caught me they would tear me to pieces. So after I had made a short detour I decided that the proverb is right, "better run back than into trouble," and accordingly I started back and made my way to the farm again. They captured the dogs who had been chasing me, and tied them up, but me they beat and did not stop until in my agony I had cast up all the vegetables.
