Chapter V: How Reynard Told the King of a Hidden Treasure (2)

So off he ran as fast as his bruised limbs would allow, in pursuit of the lord, and presently came up with him. "Hi, sir, wait a minute!" he cried. "You told me the truth about the tree. The branch broke right enough and I fell on my nose. Won't you tell me something else?"

"Willingly," answered the lord, "and I hope this time that you will pay heed to what I say. Take care not to load your ass too heavily, for if you do so he will bray, and if he brays three times running I predict that you will suddenly die."

"Oh dear me!" sighed the peasant. "I am the most unfortunate of men. Each prediction about my future seems to be an unhappy one. Nevertheless, I am very much obliged to you, sir. Good day." And he took off his cap to the lord and bowed, and lurched off back to his tree.

For a long time he worked busily, and found so much wood that his little cart soon became full. Then he remembered what the lord had told him about loading his ass too heavily, but he was so avaricious that he could not make up his mind to stop. "One more branch won't make any difference," he kept on saying as he piled more and more wood into the cart. At last the poor donkey could stand no more and, lifting his head, he uttered a loud "Hee-haw!"

At this the peasant turned pale with fright. "Stop, stop, what are you doing?" he cried. "Oh, my dear little ass, I beg you not to bray again. I will not put another branch into the cart. We will go home straight away and you shall have carrots for supper!"

So saying, he climbed to his seat and shook the reins as a signal for departure. The donkey pulled and pulled, but not an inch would the cart budge, although he strained his muscles to the utmost. Finding all his efforts vain, he turned his head and once again gave utterance to a loud bray of protest.

"Oh, dear me, that's twice!" cried the peasant, jumping down from his perch. "If he brays once more I'm a dead man. Do you hear that, little ass? For goodness' sake, remain dumb until we reach home, and I'll help you pull the cart!" Freed of the peasant's weight, the load for a time was easier to pull, but at the end of another ten minutes the weight began to tell again. The ass stopped and brayed loudly for the third time.

"That's finished it!" cried the peasant. "I am dead!" And he fell flat to the ground.

Left to himself, the ass wandered slowly on, dragging the load behind him. Soon he came to the gates of the town, and the guard took him and put him into the pound. After a time, as nobody claimed him, he was sold.

Meanwhile the peasant lay where he had fallen. Presently a carriage drove up, and the coachman was forced to pull in his horses because of the body that lay stretched across the road.

"Come," he cried, thinking that the peasant was drunk, "rouse yourself, swill-tub! Get up, unless you want to be run over!"

"I can't get up!" moaned the peasant.

"Why not?"

"Because I'm dead!"

"Dead, are you?" cried the coachman, jumping from his seat in anger. "Well I've something here that will bring you to life again!" And he took his whip and laid on to the peasant with such a will that in less than ten seconds the fellow was capering about all over the road. Having thus effectively brought the dead man to life, he remounted his box and drove off grumbling.

In the roadway the peasant continued to dance about until the pain of his beating had somewhat subsided. Then he looked around, and for the first time missed his donkey.

"Dear, dear, dear!" he cried, "one trouble after another! When I was dead I wished I was alive; now I'm alive I wish I was dead again, for I'm sore all over, and I've lost my donkey. Whatever shall I do?" And, groaning and grumbling, he set off along the road in search of his beast.

After a time he came to the gates of the town, where a sentry was standing with his pike on his shoulder. "Good morning, good man," said the peasant. "Have you seen my little ass?"

"Your ass!" answered the sentry, smiling. "The only ass that has passed through these gates to-day is already become burgomaster!"

"What! Burgomaster!" cried the peasant. "My ass Burgomaster! Tell me quickly, where does he live? I must go to him at once!"

Hardly able to control his amusement, the sentry pointed out the way to the Burgomaster's house, and thither went the peasant in all haste. Arrived at the door, he sounded the great bell--_Darlindindin!_--and a maidservant appeared.

"Is the Burgomaster at home?" asked the peasant. Yes, he was at home, and the maidservant led the peasant to the room where he sat behind a big table loaded with documents.

"Good morning, Ass!" said the peasant, with a grin of delight that twisted his swollen and discoloured features.

"Eh! what, what!" stammered the Burgomaster, turning purple with anger.

"I beg your pardon," said the peasant, "I should have said, 'Good morning, Mr. Ass, Esquire,' for you have become a great man now, while I am still a poor woodcutter. I don't envy you your good fortune, I am sure, although your promotion has left me without a donkey. Since you have become such a great lord, won't you give me back the ten florins you cost me, so that I may buy another?"

At this the Burgomaster's rage exploded. Leaping over the table with one bound, he seized the hapless peasant by the collar of his coat, threw open the door, and, with one mighty kick, sent him sprawling from top to bottom of the stairs.

THE KING OF THE BIRDS

At one time the birds, like the four-footed animals, were ruled over by the lion, who is the King of the Beasts, but they grew discontented with his dominion and decided to have a king of their own. It was the eagle's idea: he thought of it one day when he was standing on the lofty crag by his nest, gazing out upon the plain below, and he saw the lion, no bigger than a mouse in appearance, slinking beside a dried-up stream. "Earth-bound creature!" thought the eagle scornfully. "Who are you to reign over us, who cleave the air with wings and fly in the face of the sun! He who is lordliest among the birds should rule the feathered creatures, and surely I am he!"

So thinking, the eagle spread his wings and soared high into the air, and then swooped suddenly down upon the lion, casting sand into his eyes with a harsh scream of defiance. Having thus relieved his feelings, he sent messengers near and far to assemble all the birds that he might unfold his plan to them.

Such a scurry of wings as there was when the birds came to answer the summons! The sky was black with them, so that the animals on the earth below, fearing a dreadful storm, took shelter in their caves and holes. From north, south, east, and west they came; over mountain, valley, and plain; birds of all sorts and sizes, from the little humming-bird to the condor and the vulture. The ostrich left the burning plains where he loves to roam, and flapping his ridiculous wing, for he could not fly, raced to the meeting-place. All those birds that dwell in the tropical forests, and flash from tree to tree like living jewels in the green twilight; the penguins and skua-gulls from the icy north; the cormorants and shags, and all the hosts of the birds of the sea--if I were to go on naming them I should fill every page of this book and never even begin my story. And as they flew each uttered his own cry, so that what with the calling and the screaming, the whistling, warbling, chirping, and chattering, the air was filled with a mighty sound that echoed to the very ends of the world.

When all the birds were duly assembled the eagle addressed them thus: "Listen, brothers," said he, "I have called you together in order that we may choose a king, for it is not fitting that the lion, that earth-bound creature, should continue to reign over the free company of the birds. We are distinguished from the beasts by our power of flight, and it therefore seems to me that the crown of sovereignty should be given to the one amongst us who possesses that power in the fullest degree. What do you say? Shall we test this matter, and let him who can fly nearest to the sun be king?"

A confused chorus of cries answered his question, one bird speaking against another.

"What is flight compared to song?" asked the nightingale. "Let the sweetest singer among us reign."

The canary and the throstle and the blackcap all agreed with the nightingale, but they were shouted down.

"Beauty, beauty!" cried the peacock. "That is the test! A king should be resplendent in gay robes!" And he spread his gorgeous tail.

"Aye, there speaks wisdom," gobbled the turkey, turning red in the face, and strutting up and down. "What do you say, brother," he asked the cock. "Shall we arrange it so?"

"A fig for gay feathers!" cackled the ostrich. "Is our king then only to be looked at, or is he to do nothing all day but chirp and twitter foolish songs? As for flying, I found my wings of so little use that I gave up using them long ago. My idea is that we should settle this matter by a running race!"

And so the birds went on quarrelling and disputing until at last the eagle called for silence, and, addressing the company again, insisted upon the adoption of his own plan. He spoke sternly and menacingly, and as all the birds went in fear of his curved beak and sharp talons, no further objections were raised.

It was agreed that the trial should take place at once, and the cock was chosen to give the signal for the start. Very proud of the honour, he stationed himself on a little grassy knoll, and having ascertained that everybody was ready, gave a loud and clarion call. There was the sound as of a rushing mighty wind as all the birds sprang into the air. Only the eagle remained in his place, looking after the others a little contemptuously. So confident did he feel in his ability to outfly them all, that he allowed them at least five minutes start. Then, very leisurely, he spread his wings and soared. Up, up, up he went; he overtook the stragglers on the fringe of the crowd, passed through the thickest press, outdistanced the foremost flyer of them all. Still up and up he soared, exalting in his strength and power, until the birds flying far below were hidden by the clouds. Then he hung for a moment, motionless on extended wings, for he was a little wearied by his efforts.

All of a sudden he heard, above his head, a tiny _twit, twit, twit_, and looking up, saw, to his surprise, the golden-crested wren, one of the smallest of the birds, flying merrily above him.

"I have outdistanced you. I am king! I am king!" cried the wren in his joy.

"We will see," said the eagle grimly; and once again he beat his mighty wings and soared.

At the end of a further five minutes, he stopped again, only to hear, as before, the wren's cheerful twitter above him. Again and again the same thing happened. Try as he might, the eagle could not outdistance the tiny bird, and at last, worn out with his exertions, he was obliged to give up the contest, and to descend, crestfallen, to the earth again.

And how did the little wren, which is certainly not famed for its powers of flight, come to be able to defeat the mighty eagle? By a very simple trick! When the eagle started on its flight the wren was safely perched upon his back. There he clung until the eagle stopped flying, when it was an easy matter to rise from his place and fly a yard or two higher. When the eagle began to fly again, the wren again took its place on his back, and this continued time after time until the great bird was exhausted.

Although nobody suspected the trick which the wren had played, the other birds were very indignant when they heard the wren declare that he had won the contest. "You, king!" they cried. "An insignificant thing like you! It would be a disgrace to us if we were to suffer it. We would rather be ruled by the lion! At any rate, he had majesty of deportment and dignity. You have neither grace nor wisdom, strength nor beauty. Away with you before we tear you to pieces!"

The wren was as perky as you please, and for only answer he flew to the boughs of a tree, whence he looked down on them all with his head on one side, chirping, "I am king! I am king. Bow down and make obeisance!"

A great cry of anger arose. "Kill him! Kill him!" screamed the hawk. "Tear him to pieces!"

"You will have to catch him first!" twittered the wren, and as the hawk made a rush at him, he popped into a hole in the trunk of a tree--a hole so small that nobody could get at him. From the shelter of that safe retreat he continued to gibe at the birds, issuing commands, and asserting that he was their king.

What was to be done? Nobody could get at the wren, and yet all the birds felt that he should be punished for his impudence. A consultation was held, and it was finally decided to set the owl as a guard at the mouth of his hole. "Sooner or later," said the eagle, "he will have to come out in order to get food, and then we will have him. If, however, he elects to stay where he is, let him; either way our purpose will be served."

So the owl mounted guard by the hole in the trunk of the tree, and having given him the most careful instructions not on any account to let the wren escape, the other birds flew away. All that day the owl remained vigilant at his post, and though the wren put his head out of the hole a hundred times, he always found his guard keeping careful watch. Night fell, and a great silence fell upon the woods, but still the owl kept awake for hour after hour, watching with unwinking eyes. At last, towards morning, his vigilance relaxed a little. His head sank forward on his breast; and he fell fast asleep. Hardly had his eyes closed than, _rip!_ the wren darted out of his hole, and the next moment he had vanished among the trees.

When the birds returned the next morning they were furious to find that their prisoner had escaped. "Unfaithful servant," they cried, "you have betrayed your trust!" And they fell upon the owl to put him to death. With some difficulty he managed to escape, but ever since that time the birds chase the owl wherever they see him, for they are still angry with him. To keep out of their way he has to hide during the day and venture out only at night, when all the other birds are fast asleep.

As for the golden-crested wren, he is known as the Kinglet, or little king, to this day.

A DRUM FULL OF BEES

A certain regiment had for its drummer an old man named Donatus. He was a good-for-nothing rascal, who spent most of his time in the tavern drinking and playing cards, but he was an excellent drummer for all that, and it was a fine sight to see him on parade days, marching along with the band, and playing on his drum with a flourish that was the envy of all the boys in the town. None of his companions in the regiment liked Donatus, because of his fondness for playing practical jokes. There was hardly one of them whom at some time or another he had not hoaxed, and as most of his jokes were spiteful ones, nobody pretended to be sorry when one day the drummer was found cheating at cards, and being brought before the Captain, was dismissed from the regiment. It was in vain that he pleaded for mercy, with the tears running down his face. The Captain had forgiven him many times, and was determined not to do so again.

"Well," said Donatus at last, "if I must go, I beg you, Captain, to let me keep my drum. I have played on it since I was a lad of fourteen, and I know no other trade. If you take it away from me, I don't know how I am going to live, but with it I may perhaps manage to turn an honest penny or two."

"Very well, you old scoundrel," answered the Captain. "Keep your drum and take yourself off; only be quick about it, or you shall be soundly thrashed."

So away went Donatus with his drum on his back, and not having any particular place to go to, he just took the first road that came, and marched along it all day until he was forced to rest because his legs were so tired. Setting his drum down in the middle of the road he sat upon it and began to wonder what he should do for food and a bed for the night. First of all he turned out his pockets to see what he could find, but there was nothing there except two sous and a pack of very greasy playing cards. Donatus put them back again, with a sigh, and fell again to wondering how he was going to fare.

Now the road along which he had been walking was bordered by a dense forest, and suddenly Donatus thought that if he were to get among the trees he could at least find shelter. So he shouldered his drum again and entered the wood. Hardly had he done so than he heard a loud humming noise, and proceeding in the direction from which it came, he saw a swarm of bees hanging to the branch of a big tree.

"Here's fine fruit!" said he to himself, laughing. "I'll pluck them. They may come in useful one of these days!" So he took off the top skin of his drum, and having skilfully caused the swarm to drop inside the instrument, replaced the skin and went on his way.

Presently he came to a little house in the wood, and knocked at the door to ask for shelter for the night. The door was opened by a peasant woman of comely appearance, but with a very disagreeable expression of face. She looked the drummer up and down very sourly. "Be off with you!" she said, "we want no soldiers here. We have seen your kind before, my man, and do not like them." And so saying, she very rudely shut the door in his face.

"Now what am I to do?" thought Donatus ruefully. "Night has fallen, and I am too weary to wander any farther. A plague take that hard-hearted vixen, who will not take pity on my misfortunes!"

Thus reflecting, he cast his eye about to look for a corner in which he might rest, and suddenly spied a heap of faggots piled up against the cottage wall. Climbing to the top of the heap, he found that it was possible to reach the window of the attic, which fortunately stood open, so he lost no time in crawling inside, where he stretched himself out upon the planks to sleep.

Now the attic happened to be directly above the kitchen, and as there was a knot-hole in the wooden floor, the drummer could see everything that was going on in the room below. There was the peasant-woman busily preparing the supper, and the fragrant fumes which rose from the viands tickled the drummer's nose, and made the water run out of the corners of his mouth.

After a time there was a loud knock at the house door, and the woman hurried to open it, admitting a man dressed in a long cloak. He was the village beadle, and a nephew of the woman's husband, but that good man had such a hatred of beadles that he could not bear to look at one, and his nephew never dared to come to the house while the husband was at home. His visits therefore were few and far between, but when he did come his aunt always feasted him right royally. This time she bade him welcome with great tenderness, helped him off with his cloak and sat him down at the table, upon which she placed a fine roast fowl, with a gammon of bacon and a bottle of wine.

"Ha, ha!" cried the beadle, rubbing his hands. "You are a famous hostess, aunt! My walk has given me an appetite, and I am just in a condition to do justice to your good victuals. Here's health!" And he filled a glass with wine and drained it to the dregs.

"Gr-r, you greedy fellow!" muttered the drummer, who was lying full length in the attic above with his eye to the knot-hole. "I hope it may choke you!" And he watched eagerly while the beadle began to fall to upon the roast fowl.

Suddenly the feast was interrupted by another loud knock at the door.

"My husband!" cried the woman in great agitation. "He has come back unexpectedly. If he finds you here, something terrible will happen, for he cannot bear the sight of a beadle. Quick! jump into this chest and pull down the lid, while I clear away all signs of the supper!"

The beadle, who was just as frightened as his hostess, lost no time in doing as she bade him. He hopped into the chest and pulled down the lid, while she hurried to clear the table. All this time the husband was thundering at the door, very impatient at being kept waiting. When at last his wife let him in, he flew into a temper and began to scold her.

"I am very sorry, good man," she answered, "but I did not hear you knock, I was hard at work in the scullery."

"Bring me something to eat!" growled the man.

"Just as you like," answered his wife. "But if I were you I would not sup so late--you know how it always gives you indigestion. Wouldn't it be better to go straight to bed?"

"Hold your peace, woman," said her spouse. "I am not sleepy!" And he sat himself down at the table.

Hardly had he done so than there came a loud knocking on the floor of the attic above his head.

"What is that?" he cried, jumping up. "Is there somebody in the attic?"

"Not that I know of," answered his wife. "Nobody has been here all day except a soldier with a most villainous face, who came begging. I sent him away with a flea in his ear, I assure you."

"Did you so?" said her husband. "Well, I believe he has managed to get into the attic. I remember now that I forgot to fasten the window." Off he went upstairs to see, and sure enough, there was the drummer, who was not slow in explaining his presence.

"Well, come along downstairs and warm yourself," said the peasant. "My wife is just about to get my supper, and I expect there will be enough for two."

Nothing loath, the drummer accompanied his host to the kitchen, and sat down at the table, paying no heed to the venomous glances which the woman of the house cast at him as she slammed down a loaf of black bread and a bowl of milk.

"Ho, ho," said the drummer to himself. "There is fowl for the beadle and dry bread for the good man and his guest. Well, we shall see!" And he gave a kick with his foot to the drum which was under the table.

"What have you there?" asked the peasant, starting up at the sound.

"Oh, that is my oracle," answered the drummer coolly.

"Your oracle! Does he, then, speak to you?"

"Certainly," answered the drummer. "He speaks to me three times a day."

"Faith," said the peasant, "I should very much like to hear him."

So the drummer picked up his drumsticks and beat a lively tattoo upon the drum, and, aroused by the noise and vibration, the swarm of bees within began to buzz about in great commotion.

"Wonderful! Wonderful!" cried the peasant delightedly, as he listened to the humming. "And do you really understand that language? What does the oracle say?"

"He says," answered the peasant, "that there is no need for us to drink sour milk, because there is a bottle of wine standing by the wall, just behind the big chest."

"Ha, ha, ha! that is a good joke!" roared the peasant. "Wine in my house, indeed! I only wish it were true!"

"Tell your wife to look behind the chest, and I'll warrant you she will find it."

Very unwillingly the dame went to the place indicated, and came back with the bottle of wine. She tried to look as surprised as her husband, but only succeeded in pulling a very wry mouth.

"Bring glasses, wife!" cried the peasant in great good humour. "We must drink the health of this famous oracle. Do you think you can make him speak again, friend?"

"Certainly," said the drummer, beating another tattoo upon the drum. Once again the bees began to hum loudly, and he leant down, pretending to listen to what they had to say.

"Well? Well?" cried the peasant impatiently.

"He says that if your wife will look in the cupboard, she will find a roast fowl and a gammon of bacon, which we can eat instead of this dry bread."

"Upon my word, that is a wonderful oracle!" cried the peasant. "Make haste, wife, and look in the cupboard."

The dame could not refuse to obey, so she brought the good things and set them on the table, but if looks could have killed anybody the drummer would have been a dead man that day. Little heed he paid to her evil glances, however, but applied himself to the food with a good appetite. Before very long, between the two of them, there was nothing left of the chicken but the bones, and of the gammon but the scrag-end.

"Faith," said the peasant, unbuttoning his waistcoat, "that was a better meal than I expected to get this night. Has your oracle any more agreeable surprises for us, good sir. I pray you, make him speak again."

"With all the will in the world," answered the drummer, "but this will be the last occasion, for he only speaks three times a day." Taking up his sticks, he played the war-march of Napoleon on the drum, and the bees accompanied him as before with their loud humming. The peasant leaned forward eagerly to listen, while his wife stood by trembling with fear.

"Ah," said the drummer at last, looking at them both with a grave face. "This time my oracle tells me of a very serious matter. He says that in the big chest over there a big black demon is hidden!"

"What! What!" cried the peasant, jumping up from his chair as though he had been stung. "A demon, did you say?"

"Precisely," answered the drummer. "But don't be alarmed. I will get rid of him for you. Open the door and the windows and then place yourself here, by my side."

The peasant made haste to do what he was told, and marching boldly up to the chest, the drummer seized the heavy lid and threw it open. Immediately the beadle, who had heard everything and was not a little afraid of his own skin, jumped up, his figure entirely covered with the folds of his black mantle, and ran for the door. So sudden was his appearance, and so hasty his flight, that he ran with full force into the peasant, who had no time to get out of his way, and knocked that worthy man flying head over heels. The beadle, too, stumbled and fell, but quickly recovering himself, made blindly for the door, fell over the folds of his cloak, and tumbled head foremost into the ditch by the side of the road. There was a sudden splashing sound, a muffled murmur, and then silence.

"Poof!" said the peasant, when he had picked himself up and rubbed his limbs. "That was a narrow escape! I saw the demon quite plainly--he was all black, with fiery eyes, and a forked tail! Thank heaven that your oracle warned us, good sir, or he would have devoured us as we slept!"

The next morning, as the drummer and the peasant sat at breakfast, the latter said:

"Will you sell me that oracle of yours, drummer?"

"That depends," answered his guest. "You know it is worth a great deal of money."

"I will give you a hundred crowns," said the peasant, "and that is all I have in the world."

"Very well," said the drummer. "It is little enough for such a wonderful oracle as this is, but I have taken a fancy to you, and I cannot refuse. Give me the money." So the bargain was concluded. Donatus received the hundred crowns, and in return handed over the drum. Then he bade farewell to his host and was just going out of the door when the latter called after him: "Stay a moment--I have just thought of something. How am I to understand the language which the oracle speaks?"

"Oh, that is easy enough," answered Donatus. "Listen while I tell you what to do. At ten o'clock, precisely, not a minute before or a minute afterwards, go and plant your wife in the ground up to her armpits, then smear her face and shoulders with honey. That done, take the oracle with you into the attic where you found me, and having first bandaged your eyes, remove the top skin of the drum. Wait for a quarter of an hour; then replace the skin, and take the drum with you to the place where you left your wife. In that very moment the meaning of the oracle's language will be revealed to you, and you will know as much as I know myself!"

"Many thanks!" cried the peasant delightedly. "Good day to you, soldier, and good luck!"

"And to you!" answered the drummer, and he went away laughing up his sleeve at the fellow's simplicity.

About a mile farther along the road he saw a man working in the fields, and went up to him.

"If you like, gossip," said he, "I'll do a bit of that digging for you."

"With all my heart," answered the labourer, giving up his spade.

"Very well, but let us change clothes, for I do not wish to soil my uniform. Here is a crown for you. Go to the inn and buy yourself a glass of wine. When you return you will be surprised to see how much I have done."

The exchange was made and the labourer departed. Less than half an hour afterwards the sound of hoofs was heard on the road, and looking up, the drummer saw his late host, mounted on horseback, spurring furiously towards him. The man's face was purple with fury and he was muttering threats as to what he would do to the drummer when he caught him. He had faithfully carried out all his instructions, and had truly enough learnt the meaning of the humming noise within the drum. So had his wife; for when he went to her in the garden, he found her with her face and shoulders black with bees!

Abreast of the place where the drummer was working the peasant reined in his horse, and cried out, "Hallo, you there. Have you seen a soldier pass by this way?"

"A man, master?" mumbled the drummer.

"I said a soldier, you stupid oaf! A man in a red coat with a most villainous face. Have you seen him, I say?"

"Why, yes," the drummer answered. "He went past here about a quarter of an hour ago and made his way into the wood yonder. You'll never find him, master!" he added, with a grin.

"And why won't I?"

"Because he's gone by a secret way. I saw the road he took, and I know how he means to go, but even if I were to show you the way, you would never overtake him, for you would lose yourself in the wood."

"I'll give you a crown if you'll help me to find the rascal," cried the peasant.

"A crown! Come now, that's high pay. You must want him very badly!"

"I do indeed, and I'll break every bone in his body when I catch him."

"Here, lend me your horse, master," said the drummer. "I'll catch him for you, and not for a crown neither, but for nothing. I'd like to see him get a good thrashing, for he called me names as he passed by."

"But can you ride?" asked the peasant.

"Can a duck swim?" answered the drummer scornfully. "Dismount quickly or the scoundrel will get away. Wait here for me," he added, as he rode off, "I'll be back in less than half an hour." Off he went at a gallop, smiling to himself. "First of all a hundred crowns, and now a fine steed," thought he. "Come Donatus, your luck is standing you in good stead. It's odds but you'll win through yet!" He reached the wood, entered it, and the peasant waiting by the roadside, heard the sound of his horse's hoofs grow fainter and fainter until at last they died away.

A quarter of an hour passed, half an hour, an hour, but the labourer did not return. The peasant, fuming with impatience, strode up and down the road, slashing at the grass and bushes with his stick. Suddenly he heard footsteps, and saw a man in a red coat approaching. It was the labourer dressed in the drummer's clothes, who had drunk, not one, but several glasses of wine, and was now returning very pleased with himself and all the world. As he came he trilled out a merry song.

"You knave! You villain!" cried the peasant, throwing himself upon him. "Where are my hundred crowns? What! you would teach me the language of the bees, would you?--and my poor wife is stung all over, and cannot see out of her eyes. Rascal! Scoundrel! Oh, you scum! Take that, and that, and that!" And with each word, he lifted his heavy stick and brought it down heavily upon the shoulders of the unfortunate labourer.

"Here, hold hard, master!" cried the man, twisting and turning to get away. "What's the meaning of this? I'll have the law on you if you don't leave me alone! _Ouch_, give over I tell you! What do I know about your hundred crowns or your wife?"

"What!" cried the peasant, laying on harder than before. "Do you add lying to your other crimes? You will tell me next you have never seen a drum!" And with one last mighty cut he stretched the unfortunate fellow at his feet. Then, for the first time, he had a full view of his face, and saw that he was not the man he took him for.

"Was there ever such an unlucky man in all the world as I?" he moaned, as he turned wearily homeward, pursued by the curses and threats of the man he had beaten. "First I lose a hundred crowns, and then the love of my wife, who will never forgive me her injuries; and now, into the bargain, I have lost my horse! God forgive that drummer, and protect him if ever he falls into my hands!"

I wish I could tell you that the unlucky peasant's desire was fulfilled, and that the drummer met with his deserts. Unhappily my story ends here, and I do not know for certain what happened to him, but people do say that he never came out of the wood, but rode straight into a marsh and was drowned. If this is true, I am sure that nobody will be sorry!

THE DRUNKEN ROOKS

It was the middle of winter and the ground was covered with snow. Along the high road came Mynheer Van Ash, the well-known merchant of Alost, driving to the town with two immense casks of the liquor known as Hollands, in which he traded. All unknown to the merchant, one of the casks had a hole in it, and as he drove along the liquor leaked out, and sank into the snow.

In a field close by the roadside were a flock of fifty rooks, who were eagerly turning up the snow and pecking at the ground beneath in search of food. Attracted by the strong and heady smell of the spilt liquor, they flew across to investigate, and having tasted some of the gin-sodden snow, liked it so well that they followed in the train of the cart, eating more and more of it, until at last they were so drunk that they could hardly stand on their feet. Away they went to the fields again, and very soon afterwards the whole flock of them was fast asleep.

Presently, Little Pol, a peasant who worked in the neighbourhood, happened to cross the field on his way homeward, and saw the crows lying stiff and silent on the snow.

"Ah!" said he to himself. "Here is a funny sight! Fifty crows frozen to death with the cold. I'll take them home with me and pluck them. Rook-pie is excellent eating, and such a find is welcome these hard times!" So, taking a cord from his pocket, he set to work to gather up all the rooks, and tie them together by the legs. This done, he proceeded on his way, dragging the rooks behind him.

The roughness of the motion and the friction of the snow very soon aroused the rooks from their slumber. They all woke up, and finding their legs tied, began to flap their wings together with admirable precision. Unfortunately for Little Pol, he had taken the precaution of fastening the cord to the belt round his middle, so when the fifty rooks began to fly he could not get free, and found himself being lifted into the air.

Up went the fifty rooks cawing and crying, and up too went Little Pol, calling in vain for help. They reached the clouds; they penetrated the clouds; they disappeared from sight.

And since that day not a sign has ever been seen either of the fifty rooks or of Little Pol.

THE BATTLE OF THE BIRDS AND BEASTS

One day as Bruin the Bear and Isengrim the Wolf were taking a walk in the woods they came to a big elm-tree with a hollow trunk. Peering within in the hope of finding something to eat they espied a little nest supported by two notches in the bark. It was the tiniest and neatest little house one could wish to see, made of fresh green moss, with a small opening in the middle for a door, and was, in fact, the home of a little bird called the Golden-crested Wren. Now among the country people the golden-crested wren is often known by the name of the Kinglet, and being aware of this, Isengrim saw a chance of playing a joke upon his companion. "Look at this nest, Bruin," said he. "What would you say if I told you it was a King's palace?"

"That a King's palace!" laughed Bruin scornfully. "A handful of moss in a hole! Why, with one tap of my paw I could smash it to fragments!"

"I should not advise you to do any such thing," said Isengrim. "The King who lives in that palace is much more powerful than you think, and unless you are looking for trouble it would be best to leave his home alone."

"What!" cried Bruin, in a rage. "Am I to be defied by a miserable little fowl in my own forest? That for your King!" And with one sweep of his paw, he reduced the nest to a shapeless heap of moss. "Now let him revenge himself if he can," he roared. "I hereby declare war upon him and upon all his tribe. Fur against feather! The four-legged animals against those that go on wings. We will put this matter to the test!"

When the Kinglet came home and found his nest destroyed he danced and chattered with anger. Isengrim lost no time in letting him know who was responsible for the mischief, and took a spiteful joy in telling him of the Bear's challenge.

"Very well," said the little wren. "Kinglet is my name, and King shall be my nature. I will call all the winged creatures together and we will settle the matter by the test of arms."

During the next two or three weeks there was a great coming and going in the forest as the two armies assembled. The air was full of the whirl and rustle of wings. From the nests under sunny banks came the wasps in thousands, each with his shining cuirass of black and yellow, and his deadly sting. The gadfly came too, and the tiny gnat, and the mosquito from the stagnant pools, with insects of every other sort and kind--more than one could count in a day. From his eyrie on the mountain crags the lordly eagle came swooping to take his place beside the nightingale and the sparrow. In that hour of need all rivalries were forgotten; the falcon and the hawk took their place in the ranks with the thrush and the robin.

The Bear, on his side, was not idle. Swift-footed messengers were sent to every part of the land to summon the four-legged animals to arms. Slinking through the undergrowth came Isengrim's kin, the grey wolves, with lean flanks and fierce eyes shining. Reynard brought his troop of foxes. Crashing through the trees came the mighty elephants, waving their trunks and trumpeting defiance to the foe. Out of the mud of river-beds, from the grassy plains, and the densest thickets of the forest, the animals came flocking--lions, tigers, camels, bulls, horses--if I were to name them all I should fill this book with their names. Never had so many animals been brought together since the days of Noah's Ark.

When everything was ready, the Kinglet, who was a prudent leader, sent out a spy to try to gain information about the enemy's plans. For this purpose he chose the mosquito, who, as you may imagine, was neither easily seen nor easily caught, particularly as the Kinglet warned him to be very careful not to buzz. Under cover of the darkness he flew to the Bear's camp, and succeeded in discovering the headquarters of the general staff, where the leaders of the animal army were conferring. Just as the mosquito arrived, the Bear and the Fox were speaking together.

"So it is settled," the Bear was saying. "Our great offensive will begin to-morrow. Each of you knows what to do, I think? We have discussed everything, and nothing remains to do, but to press forward to a glorious victory."

"You are right, my lord," said Reynard, "but there is just one thing you have forgotten. How are we to know when the victory is won? We must have a standard-bearer."

"Of course," answered the Bear, "we must have a standard-bearer. I was just going to say so. Who shall it be?"

"With all respect, my lord," answered Reynard, "I propose that it should be I. My beautiful bushy tail will serve as a battle-flag. I will walk at the head of the army and hold my tail straight up in the air, as stiff as a poker. So long as I keep it like that, you will know that all is well; but if anything disastrous should happen, I will let it droop to the ground, so that our troops may have ample warning to take refuge in flight."

"Excellent," said Bruin. "You have heard what Reynard proposes. Take notice that I hereby appoint him standard-bearer to our armies."

So it was agreed, and having learnt all that he wished to know, the mosquito flew back to the Kinglet with his news. The Kinglet said nothing, but sent for the wasp, and gave him certain orders.

At dawn the next morning the great offensive began, and from the very beginning things went rather badly for the armies of the winged animals. At two points of the line the Bear and the Tiger led dashing attacks against divisions commanded by the eagle and the hawk, and after long and fierce fighting, forced them to retire. High upon a knoll commanding the battlefield, in full view of the troops, stood the Fox, with his bushy tail held proudly in the air. As he watched the struggle his lips curled in a grin of triumph.

Suddenly there was a piercing yell that rang out clear above the noise of battle. It came from the Fox, who drooped his tail to the ground, and ran, howling with pain, to the rear.

"We are lost! We are lost!" cried the animals, seeing the standard lowered. "Traitors are amongst us! Fly for your lives!" From point to point of the swaying battle-line the panic spread, throwing the army into hopeless confusion. Before long the whole of the Bear's troops were in retreat, and the victorious army of the winged-creatures swept on and over them.

Late that night Bruin the Bear and Isengrim the Wolf, both of them very bedraggled and wearied with much running, sat together gloomily in a distant part of the wood. Presently they saw Reynard the Fox limping towards them, and immediately they rose and began to heap reproaches upon him.

"Traitor!" said Bruin. "Why did you lower the standard? In another hour we should have won."

The Fox looked at them sulkily. "Why did I lower the standard?" said he. "Because a wasp came and stung me right at the root of my tail!"

THE END OF THE WORLD

Once upon a time an old woman sat spinning in a room at the top of a high tower. Beneath her chair Chaton, her cat, lay peacefully sleeping. All of a sudden the spinning-wheel jarred and made a loud creaking sound. Startled out of his sleep, Chaton the Cat rushed out of the room and bolted down the stairs as though a thousand demons were at his heels.

In the yard he passed the house-dog who was sitting in front of his kennel. "Hallo, Chaton!" cried the dog. "Where are you going to in such a hurry?"

"I am fleeing the country," answered Chaton. "I have just heard the sounding of the last trump! The end of the world is at hand!"

"If that is so," said the dog, "I would like to run away too. May I come with you?"

"Certainly," answered Chaton. "Seat yourself on my beautiful curly tail." So the dog perched himself on the cat's tail, and off they went together.

A little farther on they came to the farm-gate, and there, perched on the topmost rail, was the cock.

"Whither away, Chaton?" asked the cock. "You seem to be in haste."

"Yes," said Chaton. "I have heard the last trump, which proves that the world is coming to an end, and I want to get safely away before that happens."

"Take me with you, Chaton dear," said the cock.

"By all means," answered the cat. "Jump on to my beautiful curly tail beside the dog." So the cock perched himself on Chaton's tail, and now there were two passengers.

Away went the cat even faster than before, so as to make up for lost time, and presently they passed a rabbit who was nibbling the grass in a field.

"Chaton, Chaton," cried the rabbit, "why are you running so quickly?"

"Don't stop me!" answered the cat. "I've heard the last trump! The end of the world is coming!"

"Oh, dear me!" cried the rabbit. "What an unfortunate thing! Don't leave me here, Chaton, for I am afraid to face the end of the world."

"Very well," said Chaton. "Jump on to my beautiful curly tail with the dog and the cock, and I'll take you with me." So the rabbit also perched himself on the cat's tail, and now there were three of them riding there.

Off went the cat again, but not so quickly this time, because of the weight on his tail, and before very long he came to a pond by the side of which a goose was standing.

"Now then, now then, what's the hurry?" asked the goose. "If you run so fast you'll overheat your blood and die of a fever."

"It's all very well to scoff," answered the cat, "but you must know that the end of the world is coming. I have heard the last trump sound!"

"My goodness!" said the goose. "This is dreadful! Take me with you, Chaton, and I'll be grateful for ever."

"Very well," said the cat. "Jump on to my beautiful curly tail with the dog and the fox and the rabbit." So the goose also perched herself on the cat's tail, so now there were four passengers, and that made five altogether who were running away to escape the end of the world.

All that day the cat kept on running, and towards dusk they came to a forest.

"This seems a good place to rest," said Chaton. "Now then, master cock, fly to the top of a tree and see if you can espy a house in which we can take shelter."

The cock flew to the top of a high tree and from there he saw a number of lights twinkling in the distance. The five fugitives thereupon set off in the direction from which the lights shone, and before long they came to a little village. All the people of the village had left their houses and were gathered together in the square, round a man dressed all in red, with a big red feather in his cap, who was addressing them.

Chaton and his companions pressed close to the edge of the crowd and were just in time to hear these words: "Whoever finds the ring," said the man with the red feather, "and places it on the table in my palace to-morrow before dawn, shall have the five bags of gold which hang on my saddle bow." Having said this, the man in red mounted his horse and rode away.

Chaton went up to a little peasant who was standing in the crowd. "Tell me, gossip," said he, "who is the man with the red feather, and what's all this about a ring and five bags of gold?"

"Why," said the peasant, "the man in red is the King of this country. He had a valuable ring which was kept in a tiny wooden case on the table by his bed. This afternoon a magpie flew in through the window, snatched up the case, and bore it away to its nest in the topmost boughs of the walnut tree on the village green. The King wants his ring back again, and will give the five bags of gold to anybody who will recover it for him."

"I see," said Chaton; "and why don't _you_ climb the walnut-tree and get the ring?"

"Because I have too much respect for my neck," answered the peasant, "and so has everybody else here. The boughs at the top of the tree where the nest is are so thin and slender that they would not bear the weight of a child, let alone a grown man. Gold is good, but whole limbs are better, that's what I say!"

"And I!" "And I!" echoed other villagers who had been listening to this conversation.

"In my belief you are quite right," said Chaton seriously. "Let the King risk his own life if he is so anxious to recover his ring." But afterwards, when he had withdrawn with his companions to the shelter of the wood, he sang a different tune.

"My friends," said he, "our fortunes are made! As soon as all is quiet I will climb the tree and get the ring; then you shall sit on my tail again and we'll all go off together to the King's palace and get the bags of gold!" He danced for joy, and the dog and the cock and the goose and the rabbit danced with him.