The Fox and Wolf were keeping house together near the shore, and as might naturally be expected, were very poor and at times hard up for food. At first the fox kept himself in good condition, and was not so voracious as the wolf. After a heavy storm in winter time the two went along the shore to see what the sea had cast up. This is still done by poor people in the islands, and in those places where wood does not grow. They are often fortunate enough to find logs and planks of wood. On the occasion of the wolf and the fox’s journey they were fortunate enough to find a keg of butter. Probably it had come from Ireland and been swept or thrown overboard in the storm. It was particularly welcome to the poor finders, and the rascally fox at once coveted it for himself. He said to the wolf that, as this was the winter time, they had not so much need of it, but when the hungry summer (_samhradh gortach_) would come, it would be doubly welcome; they had better bury it, and no one would know of its existence but themselves. They dug a deep hole, buried the keg of butter, and went home with their other provisions. Some days after that the fox came in, and wearily throwing himself on a settle, or seat, which formed part of the furniture, he heaved a deep sigh and said, “Alas! Alas! Woe is me (_Och! Och! fhéin thall_).” “Alas! Alas!” said the sympathising wolf, “what is it that troubles you?” “Dear me,” said the fox, “they are wanting me out to a christening (_Och! Och! tha iad ’gam iarraidh mach gu goisteachd_),” still pretending a weary indifference, and the Gaelic expression is here noticeable, as, being asked out to a baptism means literally being asked to be god-father, or gossip at the baptism, a practise observed in the Highlands, even where the Roman Catholic and Episcopal systems have disappeared. “Alas! Alas!” said the wolf, “are you going?” “Alas! Alas!” said the fox, “I am.” When he came home, the wolf asked what name they had given the child. “A queer enough name,” said the fox, “_Blaiseam_,” (let me taste). Some days after that again the same manœuvre was gone through, and when the fox returned and the wolf asked him the child’s name, he said it was as queer a name as the former one,--“_Bi ’na mheadhon_,” (be in its middle). A third time the manœuvre was gone through and the child’s name was said to be the queerest of all, “_Sgrìob an clàr_,” (scrape the stave). At last the “hungry summer” came; and it was such as is well known even in eastern countries when the stores of the preceding harvest are exhausted, and the stores of the year’s harvest are not yet ready. The fox and the wolf went for the keg of butter, but it had disappeared. The fox being prepared for this emergency began at once to accuse the wolf of having taken it, “No one knew it was there but our two selves, and I see the colour of it on your fur.”