“Let us see,” retorted the Partridge, somewhat piqued; “there is a huntsman with his dogs coming along the road. Just creep into that hollow tree and watch me; if you don’t weep scalding tears, you must have no feeling in you!” The Jackal did as he was bid, and watched the Partridge, who began fluttering about the bushes till the dogs caught sight of her, when she flew to the hollow tree where the Jackal was hidden. Of course the dogs smelt him at once, and set up such a yelping and scratching that the huntsman came up, and seeing what it was, dragged the Jackal out by the tail. Whereupon the dogs worried him to their heart’s content, and finally left him for dead. By and by he opened his eyes—for he was only foxing—and saw the Partridge sitting on a branch above him. “Did you cry?” she asked anxiously. “Did I rouse your high emo—” “Be quiet, will you!” snarled the Jackal; half dead with fear!” So there the Jackal lay for some time, getting the better of his bruises, and meanwhile he became hungry. “Now is the time for friendship!” said he to the Partridge. “Get me a good dinner, and I will acknowledge you a true friend.” “Very well!” replied the Partridge; “only watch me, and help yourself when the time comes.” Just then a troop of women came by, carrying their husbands dinners to the harvest field. The Partridge gave a little plaintive cry, and began fluttering along from bush to bush as if she were wounded. “A wounded bird! a wounded bird!” cried the women; “we can easily catch it.” Whereupon they set off in pursuit, but the cunning Partridge played a thousand tricks, till they became so excited over the chase that they put their bundles on the ground in order to pursue it more nimbly. The Jackal, meanwhile, seizing his opportunity, crept up, and made off with a good dinner. “Are you satisfied now?” asked the Partridge. “Well,” returned the Jackal, “I confess you have given me a very good dinner; you have also made me laugh—and cry—ahem! But, after all, the great test of friendship is beyond you—you couldn’t save my life!” “Perhaps not,” acquiesced the Partridge mournfully, “I am so small and weak. But it grows late—we should be getting home; and as it is a long way round by the ford, let us go across the river. My friend the Crocodile will carry us over.” Accordingly they set off for the river, and the Crocodile kindly consented to carry them across, so they sat on his broad back and he ferried them over. But just as they were in the middle of the stream the Partridge remarked. “I believe the Crocodile intends to play us a trick. How awkward if he were to drop you into the water!” “Awkward for you, too!” replied the Jackal, turning pale. “Not at all! not at all! I have wings, you haven’t.” On this the Jackal shivered and shook with fear, and when the Crocodile, in a gruesome growl, remarked that he was hungry and wanted a good meal, the wretched creature hadn’t a word to say.