ox, did not run away as the others had done, but smiled
in a friendly manner, and remarked: 'Things taste so stale in a valley;
one's appetite is so much better up on a mountain.' The wolf and the
bear agreed, and they turned out of the hollow where they had been
walking, and chose a path that led up the mountain side. The fox trotted
cheerfully by his two big companions, but on the way he managed to
whisper to the wolf: 'Tell me, Peter, when I am eaten, what will you
have for your next dinner?'

This simple question seemed to put out the wolf very much. What would
they have for their next dinner, and, what was more important still, who
would there be to eat it? They had made a rule always to dine off the
smallest of the party, and when the fox was gone, why of course, he was
smaller than the bear.

These thoughts flashed quickly through his head, and he said hastily:

'Dear brothers, would it not be better for us to live together as
comrades, and everyone to hunt for the common dinner? Is not my plan a
good one?'

'It is the best thing I have ever heard,' answered the fox; and as they
were two to one the bear had to be content, though in his heart he would
much have preferred a good dinner at once to any friendship.

For a few days all went well; there was plenty of game in the forest,
and even the wolf had as much to eat as he could wish. One morning the
fox as usual was going his rounds when he noticed a tall, slender
tree, with a magpie's nest in one of the top branches. Now the fox was
particularly fond of young magpies, and he set about making a plan by
which he could have one for dinner. At last he hit upon something which
he thought would do, and accordingly he sat down near the tree and began
to stare hard at it.

'What are you looking at, Michael?' asked the magpie, who was watching
him from a bough.

'I'm looking at this tree. It has just struck me what a good tree it
would be to cut my new snow-shoes out of.' But at this answer the magpie
screeched loudly, and exclaimed: 'Oh, not this tree, dear brother, I
implore you! I have built my nest on it, and my young ones are not yet
old enough to fly.'

'It will not be easy to find another tree that would make such good
snow-shoes,' answered the fox, cocking his head on one side, and gazing
at the tree thoughtfully; 'but I do not like to be ill-natured, so
if you will give me one of your young ones I will seek my snow-shoes
elsewhere.'

Not knowing what