anapes; he shall play no more pranks in my garden." And,
watching his opportunity, he returned there when the Jackal and all
his friends had left, and tied a long knife to the largest of the
cucumbers that still remained; then he went home and said nothing of
what he had seen.

Early next morning the Jackal thought to himself, "I'll just run down
to the garden and see if there are no cucumbers or melons left." So he
went there, and, picking out the largest of the cucumbers, began to
eat it. Quick as thought, the long knife, that was concealed by the
cucumber leaves, ran into him, cutting his muzzle, his neck and his
side.

"Ah, that nasty Barber!" he cried; "this must be his doing!" And
instead of going home, he ran as fast as he could, very far, far, away
into the jungle, and stretching himself out on a great flat rock,
prepared to die.

But he did not die. Only for three whole days the pain in his neck and
side was so great that he could not move; moreover, he felt very weak
from loss of blood.

At the end of the third day he tried to get up, but his own blood had
sealed him to the stone! He endeavoured to move it by his struggles,
but could not succeed. "Oh dear! oh dear!" he murmured; "to think that
I should recover from my wound, only to die such a horrible death as
this! Ah, me! here is the punishment of dishonesty!" And, having said
this, he began to weep. It chanced, however, that the god of Rain
heard his lamentations, and taking pity on the unfortunate animal, he
sent a kindly shower, which, wetting the stone, effected his release.

No sooner was the Jackal set free than he began to think what he could
do to earn a livelihood, since he did not dare return to the Barber's
house. It was not long before a feasible plan struck him: all around
was the mud made by the recent rain; he placed a quantity of it in a
small chattee, covered the top over carefully with leaves (as people
do jars of fresh butter), and took it into a neighbouring village to
sell.

At the door of one of the first houses to which he came stood a woman,
to whom the Jackal said, "Mahi, here is butter--beautiful fresh
butter! won't you buy some fresh butter?"

She answered, "Are you sure it is quite fresh? Let me see it."

But he replied, "It is perfectly fresh; but if you open the chattee
now, it will be all spoiled by the time you want it. If you like to
buy it, you may take it; if not, I will sell it to some one else."

The woman di