But the gudgeon looked at him with his great eyes, and asked, "Have
you got good teeth?"
"No," says the roach, "I haven't any teeth."
"You'd swallow the pike, I suppose?" says the perch.
"My mouth is too small."
"Then do not use it to talk foolishness," said the gudgeon; and the
roach's fins blushed scarlet, and are red to this day.
"I will set my prickles on end," says the perch, who has a row of
sharp prickles in the fin on his back. "The pike won't find them too
comfortable in his throat."
"Yes," said the bream; "but you will have to go into his throat to put
them there, and he'll swallow you all the same. Besides, we have not
all got prickles."
There was a lot more foolishness talked. Even the minnows had
something to say, until they were made to be quiet by the dace.
Now the little ersh had come to the meeting, with his spiny back, and
his big front fins, and his head all shining in blue and gold and
green. And when he had heard all they had to say, he began to talk.
"Think away," says he, "and break your heads, and spoil your brains,
if ever you had any; but listen for a moment to what I have to say."
And all the fish turned to listen to the ersh, who is the cleverest of
all the little fish, because he has a big head and a small body.
"Listen," says the ersh. "It is clear enough that the pike lives in
this big river, and that he does not give the little fish a chance,
crunches them all with his sharp teeth, and swallows them ten at a
time. I quite agree that it would be much better for everybody if he
could be killed; but not one of us is strong enough for that. We are
not strong enough to kill him; but we can starve him, and save
ourselves at the same time. There's no living in the big river while
he is here. Let all us little fish clear out, and go and live in the
little rivers that flow into the big. There the waters are shallow,
and we can hide among the weeds. No one will touch us there, and we
can live and bring up our children in peace, and only be in danger
when we go visiting from one little river to another. And as for the
great pike, we will leave him alone in the big river to rage hungrily
up and down. His teeth will soon grow blunt, for there will be nothing
for him to eat."
All the little fish waved their fins and danced in the water when they
heard the wisdom of the ersh's speech. And the ersh and the roach,
and the bream and the perch, and the dace and the gudgeon left the big
river and swam up the little rivers between the green meadows. And
there they began again to live in peace and bring up their little
ones, though the cunning fishermen set nets in the little rivers and
caught many of them on their way. From that time on there have never
been many little fish in the big river.
And as for the monstrous pike, he swam up and down the great river,
lashing the waters, and driving his nose through the waves, but found
no food for his sharp teeth. He had to take to worms, and was caught
in the end on a fisherman's hook. Yes, and the fisherman made a soup
of him--the best fish soup that ever was made. He was a friend of mine
when I was a boy, and he gave me a taste in my wooden spoon.
* * * * *
Then he told them the story of other pike, and particularly of the
pike that was king of a river, and made the little fish come together
on the top of the water so that the young hunter could cross over with
dry feet. And he told them of the pike that hid the lover of the
princess by swallowing him and lying at the bottom of a deep pool, and
how the princess saw her lover sitting in the pike, when the big fish
opened his mouth to snap up a little perch that swam too near his
nose. Then he told them of the big trial in the river, when the fishes
chose judges, and made a case at law against the ersh, and found him
guilty, and how the ersh spat in the faces of the judges and swam
merrily away.
Finally, he told them the story of the Golden Fish. But that is a
long story, and a chapter all by itself, and begins on the next page.