“Where did you get those?” asked the Bear.
“Oh! my Lord Bruin, I’ve been out fishing
and caught them,” said the Fox.
So the Bear had a mind to learn to fish too, and bade
the Fox tell him how he was to set about it.
“Oh! it is an easy craft for you,” answered
the Fox, “and soon learned. You’ve
only to go upon the ice, cut a hole, stick your tail
down into it, and hold it there as long as you can.
You’re not to mind if your tail smarts a little;
that’s when the fish bite. The longer you
hold it there the more fish you’ll get; and
then all at once out with it, with a cross pull sideways,
and with a strong pull too.”
Yes, the Bear did as the Fox had said, and held his
tail a long, long time down in the hole, till it was
frozen in fast. Then he pulled it out with a
cross pull, and it snapped short off. That’s
why Bruin goes about with a stumpy tail to this very
day.
Once on a time there was a cock who stood on the barnyard
fence and crowed and flapped his wings. Then
the fox came by.
“Good-day,” said Reynard. “I
have heard you crowing so nicely, but can you stand
on one leg and crow, and wink your eyes?”
“Oh, yes,” said the cock, “I can
do that very well.” So he stood on one
leg and crowed, but he winked only with one eye, and
when he had done that he made himself big and flapped
his wings, as though he had done a great thing.
“Very pretty, to be sure,” said Reynard.
“Almost as pretty as when the parson preaches
in church, but can you stand on one leg and wink both
your eyes at once? I hardly think you can.”
“Can’t I though!” said the cock,
and stood on one leg, and winked both his eyes and
crowed. But Reynard caught hold of him, took him
by the throat, and threw him on his back, so that
he was off to the wood before he had crowed his crow
out, as fast as Reynard could lay legs to the ground.
When they had come under an old spruce fir, Reynard
threw the cock on the ground, and set his paw on his
breast, and was going to take a bite: “You
are a heathen, Reynard!” said the cock.
“Good Christians say grace before they eat.”
But Reynard would be no heathen, no indeed. So
he let go his hold, and was about to fold his paws
over his breast, and say grace—but pop!
up flew the cock into a tree.
“You shan’t get off for all that,”
said Reynard to himself. So he went away, and
came again with a few chips which the woodcutters had
left. The cock peeped and peered to see what
they could be.
“What is that you have there?” he asked.
“These are letters I have just got,” said
Reynard, “won’t you help me to read them,
for I don’t know how to read writing.”
“I’d be so happy, but I dare not read
them now,” said the cock, “for here comes
a hunter—I see him, I see him with his pouch
and gun.”
