idge, somewhat piqued; "there is a
huntsman with his dogs coming along the road. Just creep into that
hollow tree and watch me; if you don't weep scalding tears, you must
have no feeling in you!"

The Jackal did as he was bid, and watched the Partridge, who began
fluttering about the bushes till the dogs caught sight of her, when she
flew to the hollow tree where the Jackal was hidden. Of course the dogs
smelled him at once, and set up such a yelping and scratching that the
huntsman came up and, seeing what it was, dragged the Jackal out by the
tail. Whereupon the dogs worried him to their hearts' content, and
finally left him for dead.

By and by he opened his eyes--for he was only foxing--and saw the
Partridge sitting on a branch above him.

"Did you cry?" she asked anxiously. "Did I rouse your higher emo--"

"Be quiet, will you!" snarled the Jackal; "I'm half-dead with fear!"

So there the Jackal lay for some time, getting the better of his
bruises, and meanwhile he became hungry.

"Now is the time for friendship!" said he to the Partridge. "Get me a
good dinner, and I will acknowledge you are a true friend."

"Very well!" replied the Partridge; "only watch me, and help yourself
when the time comes."

Just then a troop of women came by, carrying their husbands' dinners to
the harvest-field.

The Partridge gave a little plaintive cry, and began fluttering along
from bush to bush as if she were wounded.

"A wounded bird!--a wounded bird!" cried the women; "we can easily catch
it!"

Whereupon they set off in pursuit, but the cunning Partridge played a
thousand tricks, till they became so excited over the chase that they
put their bundles on the ground in order to pursue it more nimbly. The
Jackal, meanwhile, seizing his opportunity, crept up, and made off with
a good dinner.

"Are you satisfied now?" asked the Partridge.

"Well," returned the Jackal, "I confess you have given me a very good
dinner; you have also made me laugh--and cry--ahem! But, after all, the
great test of friendship is beyond you--you couldn't save my life!"

"Perhaps not," acquiesced the Partridge, mournfully. "I am so small and
weak. But it grows late--we should be going home; and as it is a long
way round by the ford, let us go across the river. My friend, the
crocodile, will carry us over."

Accordingly, they set off for the river, and the crocodile kindly
consented to carry them across; so they sat on his broad back, and he
f