The Ducklings grew fast, and made friends of all the farmyard people. Early every morning they went to the brook. They learned to follow the brook to the river, and here were wonderful things to be seen. There was plenty to eat, too, in the soft mud under the water, and it was easy enough to dive to it, or to reach down their long necks while only their pointed tails and part of their body could be seen above the water. Not that they ate the mud. They kept only the food that they found in it, and then let the mud slip out between the rough edges of their bills. They swam and ate all day, and slept all night, and were dutiful Ducklings who minded their mother, so it was not strange that they were plump and happy. At last there came a morning when the eldest Duckling could not go to the brook with the others. A Weasel had bitten him in the night, and if it had not been for his mother and the Drake, would have carried him away. The rest had to go in swimming, and his lame leg would not let him waddle as far as the brook, or swim after he got there. "I don't know what to do," he said to his mother. "I can't swim and I can't waddle far, and I've eaten so much already that I can't eat anything more for a long, long time." "You might play with the little Shanghais," said his mother. "They run around too much," he replied. "I can't keep up with them." "Then why not lie near the corn crib and visit with the Mice?" "Oh, they don't like the things that I like, and it isn't any fun." "How would it suit you to watch the Peacock for a while?" "I'm tired of watching the Peacock." "Then," said the mother, "you must help somebody else. You are old enough to think of such things now, and you must remember this wise saying: 'When you don't know what to do, help somebody.'" "Whom can I help?" said the lame Duckling. "People can all do things for themselves." "There is the Blind Horse," answered his mother. "He is alone to-day, and I'm sure he would like somebody to visit him." "Quack!" said the Duckling. "I will go to see him." He waddled slowly away, stopping now and then to rest, and shaking his little pointed tail from side to side as Ducks do. The Blind Horse was grazing in the pasture alone. "I've come to see you, sir," said the Duckling. "Shall I be in your way?" The Blind Horse looked much pleased. "I think from your voice that you must be one of the young Ducks," said he. "I shall be very glad to have you visit me, only you must be careful to keep away from my feet, for I can't see, and I might step on you." "I'll be careful," said the Duckling. "I can't waddle much anyway this morning, because my leg hurts me so." "Why, I'm sorry you are lame," said the Horse. "What is the matter?"