Part 21

“You are out of the wind there, my son,” replied the cunning old Queen; “sit more in the middle of the stool, and then you will feel the breeze and get cooler.”

But he didn’t! for the stewpan lid by this time had become so hot that the Rat fairly frizzled when he sat down on it; and it was not until he had left all his tail, half his hair, and a large piece of his skin behind him, that he managed to escape, howling with pain, and vowing that never, never, never again would he make a bargain!

THE JACKAL AND THE PARTRIDGE

By Flora Annie Steel

A jackal and a partridge swore eternal friendship; but the Jackal was very exacting and jealous. “You don’t do half as much for me as I do for you,” he used to say, “and yet you talk a great deal of your friendship. Now my idea of a friend is one who is able to make me laugh or cry, give me a good meal, or save my life if need be. You couldn’t do that!”

“Let us see,” answered the Partridge; “follow me at a little distance, and if I don’t make you laugh soon you may eat me!”

So she flew on till she met two travelers trudging along, one behind the other. They were both foot-sore and weary, and the first carried his bundle on a stick over his shoulder, while the second had his shoes in his hand.

Lightly as a feather the Partridge settled on the first traveler’s stick. He, none the wiser, trudged on, but the second traveler, seeing the bird sitting so tamely just in front of his nose, said to himself, “What a chance for a supper!” and immediately flung his shoes at it, they being ready to hand. Whereupon the Partridge flew away, and the shoes knocked off the first traveler’s turban.

“What a plague do you mean?” cried he, angrily turning on his companion. “Why did you throw your shoes at my head?”

“Brother,” replied the other mildly, “do not be vexed. I didn’t throw them at you, but at a Partridge that was sitting on your stick.”

“On my stick! Do you take me for a fool?” shouted the injured man, in a great rage. “Don’t tell me such cock-and-bull stories. First you insult me, and then you lie like a coward; but I’ll teach you manners!”

Then he fell upon his fellow traveler without more ado, and they fought until they could not see out of their eyes, till their noses were bleeding, their clothes in rags, and the Jackal had nearly died of laughing.

“Are you satisfied?” asked the Partridge of her friend.

“Well,” answered the Jackal, “you have certainly made nine laugh, but I doubt if you could make me cry. It is easy enough to be a buffoon; it is more difficult to excite the highest emotions.”

“Let us see,” retorted the Partridge, somewhat piqued; “there is a huntsman with his dogs coming along the road. Just creep into that hollow tree and watch me; if you don’t weep scalding tears, you must have no feeling in you!”

The Jackal did as he was bid, and watched the Partridge, who began fluttering about the bushes till the dogs caught sight of her, when she flew to the hollow tree where the Jackal was hidden. Of course the dogs smelt him at once, and set up such a yelping and scratching that the huntsman came up, and seeing what it was, dragged the Jackal out by the tail. Whereupon the dogs worried him to their heart’s content, and finally left him for dead.

By and by he opened his eyes—for he was only foxing—and saw the Partridge sitting on a branch above him.

“Did you cry?” she asked anxiously. “Did I rouse your high emo—”

“Be quiet, will you!” snarled the Jackal; half dead with fear!”

So there the Jackal lay for some time, getting the better of his bruises, and meanwhile he became hungry.

“Now is the time for friendship!” said he to the Partridge. “Get me a good dinner, and I will acknowledge you a true friend.”

“Very well!” replied the Partridge; “only watch me, and help yourself when the time comes.”

Just then a troop of women came by, carrying their husbands dinners to the harvest field. The Partridge gave a little plaintive cry, and began fluttering along from bush to bush as if she were wounded.

“A wounded bird! a wounded bird!” cried the women; “we can easily catch it.” Whereupon they set off in pursuit, but the cunning Partridge played a thousand tricks, till they became so excited over the chase that they put their bundles on the ground in order to pursue it more nimbly. The Jackal, meanwhile, seizing his opportunity, crept up, and made off with a good dinner.

“Are you satisfied now?” asked the Partridge.

“Well,” returned the Jackal, “I confess you have given me a very good dinner; you have also made me laugh—and cry—ahem! But, after all, the great test of friendship is beyond you—you couldn’t save my life!”

“Perhaps not,” acquiesced the Partridge mournfully, “I am so small and weak. But it grows late—we should be getting home; and as it is a long way round by the ford, let us go across the river. My friend the Crocodile will carry us over.”

Accordingly they set off for the river, and the Crocodile kindly consented to carry them across, so they sat on his broad back and he ferried them over. But just as they were in the middle of the stream the Partridge remarked. “I believe the Crocodile intends to play us a trick. How awkward if he were to drop you into the water!”