m him,' he said. 'He would give his word not to attempt
to escape, and if he was once set free he could soon pound her rice for
her.' 'Then you can have a little rest,' he went on, 'for rice pounding
is very tiring work, and not at all fit for weak women.' These last
words melted the good woman completely, and she unfastened the bonds
that held him. Poor foolish creature! In one moment the Tanuki had
seized her, stripped off all her clothes, and popped her in the mortar.
In a few minutes more she was pounded as fine as the rice; and not
content with that, the Tanuki placed a pot on the hearth and made ready
to cook the peasant a dinner from the flesh of his own wife!

When everything was complete he looked out of the door, and saw the old
man coming from the forest carrying a large bundle of wood. Quick as
lightning the Tanuki not only put on the woman's clothes, but, as he was
a magician, assumed her form as well. Then he took the wood, kindled the
fire, and very soon set a large dinner before the old man, who was very
hungry, and had forgotten for the moment all about his enemy. But when
the Tanuki saw that he had eaten his fill and would be thinking about
his prisoner, he hastily shook off the clothes behind a door and took
his own shape. Then he said to the peasant, 'You are a nice sort of
person to seize animals and to talk of killing them! You are caught in
your own net. It is your own wife that you have eaten, and if you want
to find her bones you have only to look under the floor.' With these
words he turned and made for the forest.

The old peasant grew cold with horror as he listened, and seemed frozen
to the place where he stood. When he had recovered himself a little,
he collected the bones of his dead wife, buried them in the garden, and
swore over the grave to be avenged on the Tanuki. After everything was
done he sat himself down in his lonely cottage and wept bitterly, and
the bitterest thought of all was that he would never be able to forget
that he had eaten his own wife.

While he was thus weeping and wailing his friend the hare passed by,
and, hearing the noise, pricked up his ears and soon recognised the old
man's voice. He wondered what had happened, and put his head in at the
door and asked if anything was the matter. With tears and groans the
peasant told him the whole dreadful story, and the hare, filled with
anger and compassion, comforted him as best he could, and promised to
help him in his