Again the Crocodile paused, thunderstruck by this extraordinary word.
"Oh, bother the Hen!" he cried, "what can she mean, really? How can I be
her brother? She lives in a town on the land, and I live in my kingdom
of mud and water. How could two creatures possibly be more unlike?
How"--but while he had been thinking of these hows, once more the Hen
had managed to escape, and was pelting back to her barnyard as fast as
she could go.
Then indeed the Crocodile was angry. He determined to go and see Nzambi,
the wise witch princess, about the matter. She would tell him what it
all meant. But it was a long journey to her palace and he was awkward
and slow in traveling upon land. Before he had gone very far he was
tired and out of breath, and stopped to rest under a banana tree.
As he lay panting in the shade he saw his friend Mbambi, the great
Lizard, hurrying past through the jungle.
"Oh, Mbambi!" cried old Hungry-Mouth, "stop a moment. I want to speak
with you. I am in great trouble."
So the Lizard drew near, wagging her head wisely, for it pleased her to
be consulted by the big Crocodile. "What can it be, dear friend, that is
troubling you this day?" she said amiably. "Surely, no one would be so
rude or rash as to offend the King of Congo River. But tell me your
trouble and perhaps I can advise you."
"Listen to me, then," said the Crocodile. "Almost every day a nice fat
Hen,--Oh, Mbambi! so delightfully fat and tempting!--comes to my river
to feed. Well, why don't I make her my dinner? you ask. Now hearken:
each time, just as I am about to catch her and carry her to my home she
startles me by calling me '_Brother_.' Did you ever hear of anything so
maddening? Twice I have let her escape because of the word. But I can
stand it no longer, and I am on the way to Princess Nzambi to hold a
palaver about it." (By "palaver" the slangy Crocodile meant a long,
serious talk.)
"Silly idiot!" cried the Mbambi, not very politely. "Do nothing of the
kind. You will only get the worst of the palaver and show your ignorance
before the wise Nzambi. Now listen to me. Don't you know, dear
Crocodile, that the Duck lives on the water, though she is neither a
fish nor a reptile? And the Duck lays eggs. The Turtle does the same,
though she is no bird. The Hen lays eggs, just as I do; and I am Mbambi,
the great Lizard. As for you, dear old Hungry-Mouth, you know that at
this moment"--here she whispered discreetly, looking around to see that
no one was listening,--"at this moment in a snug nest dug out of the
sand on the banks of the Congo, Mrs. Crocodile has covered with leaves
to hide them from your enemies sixty smooth white eggs. And in a few
weeks out of these will scamper sixty little wiggly Crocodiles, your
dear, homely, scaly, hungry-mouthed children. Yes, we all lay eggs, my
silly friend, and so in a sense we are all brothers, as the Hen has
said."
"Sh!" whispered the Crocodile, nervously. "Don't mention those eggs of
mine, I beg of you. Some one might overhear. What you say is undoubtedly
true," he added pensively, after thinking a few moments. "Then I suppose
I must give up my tempting dinner of Hen. I cannot eat my Sister, can
I?"
"Of course you cannot," said the Mbambi, as he rustled away through the
jungle. "We can't have everything we want in this world."
"No, I see we cannot," sighed the Crocodile, as he waddled back towards
the banks of the Congo. Now in the same old spot he found the Hen, who
had been improving his absence by greedily stuffing herself on
beetle-bugs, flies, and mosquitoes until she was so fat that she could
not run away at the Crocodile's approach. She could only stand and
squawk feebly, fluttering her ridiculous wings.
But the Crocodile only said, "Good evening, Sister," very politely, and
passing her by with a wag of his enormous tail sank with a plop into the
waters of the Congo.
And ever since that time the Hen has eaten her dinner in tranquil peace,
undisturbed by the sight of floating log or basking shape of knobby
green. For she knows that old Hungry-Mouth will not eat his Sister, the
Hen.