A JACKAL lived on one side of a deep river, and on the other side were
fields upon fields of ripe melons. The Jackal was always hungry, and he
had eaten everything within reach; so he used to sit on the river bank
and bemoan his luck. "All those ripe melons," said he, "and nobody to
eat them but men. It is really a shame. I don't know what Providence is
doing, to treat me so scurvily."
Perhaps Providence knew what it was about, and the Jackal, as you shall
hear, deserved no better than he got.
As he sat one day by the river, moaning and groaning, a big Tortoise
popped up his funny head out of the water. There was a big tear in each
of the Tortoise's round eyes.
The Jackal stopped moaning and groaning when he saw the Tortoise.
"What's the matter, Shelly?" said he. "Aren't you well?"
"Quite well, thank you," said the Tortoise, and the tears slowly rolled
down his nose. He was going to call the Jackal Snarly, which was the
nickname the Jackal went by; but he thought better of it, because it
would have been rather rude. All the same, he did not like being called
Shelly in that offhand way.
"Wife and brats all right?" asked the Jackal. "No measles or mumps?"
This was also very rude of the Jackal, because a Tortoise is sensitive
about mumps. If he gets mumps when his head is inside his shell, he
can't put it out; and if his head is outside, that is still worse, for
it swells up so that he can't get it in again.
"No, thank you, my wife is all right," said the Tortoise, who was rather
confused; "at least, she would be all right if I had one, but that's
just it--I can't get a wife! Nobody will look at me! and that is my
trouble," and two more big tears trickled down his nose.
At this moment an idea came into the Jackal's crafty head. "What a pity
you didn't tell me before," said he; "I could easily have found you a
wife last week, but now she has gone to live on the other side of the
river."
"Do you really mean it?" said the Tortoise.
"Honour bright," answered the Jackal; "do I look like a person who would
tell a lie?" He certainly did, only the Tortoise was too simple to see
it.
The Tortoise rubbed away his tears on a stump, for he had no
handkerchief, and brightened up considerably.
"I can carry you across, friend," said he, "if you will jump on my
back."
The Jackal wanted nothing better, so down he jumped on the back of the
Tortoise, and the Tortoise swam across. When they got across, the
Tortoise was quite tired, because the Jackal was very heavy for a
Tortoise to carry.
A fine time the Jackal had on the further side of the river. He ran
about among the fields, and ate melons till he was nearly bursting.
Every day the Tortoise came to the bank, asking whether the match was
yet arranged, and every day the Jackal told him that all was going well.
"You have no notion how pleased they are," said the Jackal. "Just see
how fat I am getting. They feed me like a fighting-cock, all because of
you." It was indeed because of the Tortoise that the Jackal was so well
fed, but not as he meant it.
By-and-by the season of melons came to an end, and all that the Jackal
had left were cut and sold in the market. Melons were dear that season,
because the Jackal had eaten so many of them before they could be cut.
Then the Jackal stole a white dress and a veil, and hung them on the
stump of a tree which stood near the river side; and next day, when the
Tortoise popped his funny head out of the water, said the Jackal--
"There's your wife at last, old Shelly! There she stands, dumb as a
stone. Not a word will she have to say to you till I am out of the way,
because she is too modest. Come, hurry up, Shell-fish, and take me
across."
The Tortoise was angry at being called a shell-fish, because tortoises
are not fish at all, and they feel insulted if you call them so.
However, he was so glad to get a wife at last, that he said nothing,
only presented his back for the Jackal to jump on. Flop! came the
Jackal, so heavy by this time that it was all the Tortoise could do to
get him across safely. If he was tired before, he was nearly dead now.
But he swam across at last; and the Jackal ran off into the forest,
chuckling at the simplicity of the poor Tortoise.
Back went our Tortoise across the river, and climbed up on the bank.
"Wife!" he called out, in a tender voice.
No answer.
Again he called "Wife!" but still no answer.
He could not make it out a bit. He crawled up to the stump which the
Jackal had decked out in wedding finery, and put out his flapper to
touch his wife's hand: lo and behold, it was only an old tree-stump.
The rage of the Tortoise knew no bounds, and he determined to have his
revenge.
Next day the Jackal came down to drink at the river. The Tortoise was
watching for him under water; and while the Jackal was drinking, the
Tortoise nipped his teeth into the Jackal's leg.
How the Jackal did howl, to be sure! He was a great coward, and even
used to cry when his teeth were pulled out by the dentist. So now he
howled at the top of his voice, "Let me go! Let me go!"
But the Tortoise held on like grim death. He was
too weak to pull the Jackal under, but he was too heavy
for the Jackal to pull out; so there he bides his time.
By-and-by the tide began to rise. The tide rose to the
Jackal's middle, it rose to his head; and his last howls
came up from underneath the water in big
bubbles, which showed that the crafty
Jackal would play his mean
tricks never more.