it for you,' answered the monkey,
and nothing more was said about the snake.

Not long after this they reached the comrade's house, and found him just
ready to go to bed. So, without stopping to talk, the guests slung their
hammocks, the monkey taking care to place his so high that no one could
get at him. Besides, he thought it would be more prudent not to fall
asleep, so he only lay still and snored loudly. When it was quite dark
and no sound was to be heard, the puma crept out to the sheep-fold,
killed the sheep, and carried back a bowl full of its blood with which
to sprinkle the monkey. But the monkey, who had been watching out of the
corner of his eye, waited until the puma drew near, and with a violent
kick upset the bowl all over the puma himself.

When the puma saw what had happened, he turned in a great hurry to leave
the house, but before he could do so, he saw the shepherd coming, and
hastily lay down again.

'This is the second time I have lost a sheep,' the man said to the
monkey; 'it will be the worse for the thief when I catch him, I can tell
you.' The monkey did not answer, but silently pointed to the puma who
was pretending to be asleep. The shepherd stooped and saw the blood, and
cried out: 'Ah! so it is you, is it? then take that!' and with his stick
he gave the puma such a blow on the head that he died then and there.

Then the monkey got up and went to the dairy, and drank all the milk
he could find. Afterwards he returned home and married, and that is the
last we heard of him.

[Adapted from Folk-lore Bresilien.]

The Knights of the Fish

Once upon a time there lived an old cobbler who worked hard at his trade
from morning till night, and scarcely gave himself a moment to eat. But,
industrious as he was, he could hardly buy bread and cheese for himself
and his wife, and they grew thinner and thinner daily.

For a long while whey pretended to each other that they had no appetite,
and that a few blackberries from the hedges were a great deal nicer
than a good strong bowl of soup. But at length there came a day when
the cobbler could bear it no longer, and he threw away his last, and
borrowing a rod from a neighbour he went out to fish.

Now the cobbler was as patient about fishing as he had been about
cobbling. From dawn to dark he stood on the banks of the little stream,
without hooking anything better than an eel, or a few old shoes, that
even he, clever though he was, felt were