"Sir Croesus, thy pack is lighter by many meals than when first thou didst set out from that land where we did rescue thee from the hands of thy tormenting trader; but thy responsibilities are weightier, many fold.

Upon the wisdom of thy choice, now, great issue rests.

Thou hast thy chance, O illustrious ass, to recompense the world, this day, for the many evils wrought by thy odious ancestor and by all his long-eared kin.

Choose, now, the way thy benefactors' feet shall go; and see to it, Croesus, that thou dost choose wisely; or, by thy ears, we'll flay thy woolly hide and hang it on the mountainside--a warning to thy kind." The well-thrown pebble struck that part of the burro's anatomy at which it was aimed; the dog barked; and Croesus--with an indignant jerk of his head, and a flirt of his tail--started forward.

At the fork of the trail, he paused.