This is the story that the old woman who was called Tante Sannie told
to the little boy who would always be talking:
A long time ago (she said) there lived in a farmyard a Cock who was
very proud of himself, and with reason, too, for he was, indeed,
a plump and handsome bird. Nothing could have been finer than his
appearance when he strutted through the yard, lifting his feet high as
he walked, and nodding his head at each step. He had a magnificent comb
of coral-red, and blue-black plumage streaked with gold, which shone so
brilliantly when the sun flashed on it that it was a joy to see him. No
wonder that his twenty wives gazed at him admiringly and followed him
wherever he went, and were quite content to let him hustle them about
and gobble up all the fattest worms and the finest grains of corn.
If this Cock was proud of his appearance, there was one thing of which
he was even prouder, and that was his voice. He was a famous songster;
he could crow you high and he could crow you low; he could utter tones
as deep as the pealing of the organ in church or as shrill as the blast
of a trumpet. Every morning, when the first streak of dawn appeared in
the sky, he would get down off his perch, raise himself on his toes,
stretch out his neck, close his eyes and crow so loudly that he roused
people who were sleeping in the next parish. And this he loved to do,
because it was his nature.
Now in the forest close to the farmyard there lived a Fox who had often
gazed with longing eyes upon the plump and handsome bird. His mouth
watered every time he thought of him, and many were the artful tricks
he played to try and catch him for his dinner. One day he hid himself
among the bushes in the garden by the farmyard and waited patiently
until the Cock happened to stray his way. After a time the bird came
along, pecking here and pecking there, wandered through the gate into
the garden, and made straight for the bush under which Master Fox was
hidden. He was just going to run into the bush after a butterfly which
was fluttering about, when he caught sight of Reynard's black snout and
cunning, watchful eyes, and with a squeak of alarm he jumped aside,
just in time, and hopped on to the wall.
At this the Fox rose to his feet. "Don't go away, my dear friend," said
he in honeyed tones. "I would not for the world do you any harm. I
know that it is my bad fortune to be disliked by your family--I can't
for the life of me think why, and it is a pity, because I have to hide
myself for the pleasure of hearing you sing. There is no cock in all
these parts has such a magnificent voice as yours, and I simply do not
believe the stories they tell about you."
"Eh, what is that?" said the Cock, stopping at a safe distance and
looking at the Fox with his head on one side. "What do they say?"
"Why," Reynard went on, edging a little nearer, "they tell me that
you can only crow with your eyes open. They say that if you were to
shut your eyes, that clarion call of yours would become only a feeble
piping, like the clucking of a new-born chick. But of course I don't
believe them. Any one can see they are merely jealous."
"I should think so," cried the Cock, bristling with anger. "Crow
with my eyes shut, indeed! Why, I never crow in any other way. Just
look here--I'll prove it to you!" And he raised himself on his toes,
stretched out his neck, closed his eyes, and was just going to crow,
when, _Snap!_ the Fox sprang upon him and caught him in his teeth!
Then began a great to-do! The poor cock flapped his wings and struggled
as the Fox ran off with him. The hens ran about the yard clucking and
squawking, and the noise they made alarmed the farmer's wife, who was
cooking in the kitchen. Out she came running, with the rolling-pin in
her hand, and, seeing the fox with the cock in his mouth, gave chase,
shrieking as she ran. The farm-hands tumbled out of barn and byre armed
with pitch-forks, spades, and sticks. All the beasts began to raise a
clatter, and what with the shouting of the men, the squealing of the
pigs, the neighing of the horses, and the lowing of the cows, to say
nothing of the clucking of the hens and the old woman's screaming, one
would have thought the end of the world was at hand.
The Fox was not a little frightened by all this clatter, but he was not
so frightened as the Cock, who saw that only cunning would save his
life.
"They will catch us in a minute," he said to the Fox, "and, as likely
as not, we shall both be killed by a single blow. Why don't you call
out and tell them I came with you of my own accord?"
"A good idea," thought the Fox, and he opened his mouth to call out to
his pursuers, thereby loosening his grip on the Cock's neck. Then, with
a squirm and a twist and a flutter of his wings, the wily bird wrenched
himself free and flew up to the branches of a tree near by.
[Illustration: "DON'T GO AWAY, MY DEAR FRIEND," SAID THE FOX]
The Fox cast a look at him and saw that he was out of reach; then he
glanced over his shoulder at his pursuers, who were getting perilously
near. "It seems to me," he said, grinning with rage, "I should have
done better to hold my tongue."
"That is true," said the Cock to himself as he smoothed his ruffled
feathers. "And I would have been better advised to keep my weather-eye
open."
[Illustration]
[Illustration: THE SOLDIER, THE FOX, AND THE BEAR]