, dislikes
cocks, especially when they crow. Shun, moreover, certain personages
called cooks and scullions; you will know them by their paper caps,
their tucked-up sleeves, and the great knives which they wear at their
sides. They are licensed assassins, who track our steps without pity
and cut our throats without giving us time to cry mercy. And now, my
child," she added, raising her claw, "receive my blessing. May St.
James, the patron saint of pilgrims, protect thee!"

Coquerico pretended not to see the tear that trembled in his mother's
eye, nor did he trouble himself any more about his father, who
bristled his plumage and seemed about to call him back. Without caring
for those whom he left behind, he glided through the half-open door
and, once outside, flapped his only wing and crowed three times, to
celebrate his freedom--"Cock-a-doodle-doo!"

As he half flew, half hopped over the fields, he came to the bed of a
brook which had been dried up by the sun. In the middle of the sands,
however, still trickled a tiny thread of water, so small that it was
choked by a couple of dead leaves that had fallen into it.

"My friend," exclaimed the streamlet at the sight of our traveler--"my
friend, you see my weakness; I have not even the strength to carry
away these leaves which obstruct my passage, much less to make a
circuit, so completely am I exhausted. With a stroke of your beak you
can restore me to life. I am not an ingrate; if you oblige me, you may
count on my gratitude the first rainy day, when the water from heaven
shall have restored my strength."

"You are jesting," said Coquerico. "Do I look like one whose business
it is to sweep the brooks? Apply to those of your own sort." And with
his sound leg, he leaped across the streamlet.

"You will remember me when you least expect it," murmured the brook,
but with so feeble a voice that it was lost on the proud cock.

A little farther on, Coquerico saw the wind lying breathless on the
ground.

"Dear Coquerico, come to my aid," it cried; "here on earth we should
help one another. You see to what I am reduced by the heat of the day;
I, who in former times uprooted the olive-trees and lashed the waves
to frenzy, lie here well-nigh slain by the dog-star. I suffered myself
to be lulled to sleep by the perfume of the roses with which I was
playing; and, lo! here I am, stretched almost lifeless upon the
ground. If you will raise me a couple of inches with your beak and