The little jackal was terribly frightened. “Is it possible,” he thought, “that the wicked alligator has come to hunt for me here in my own house and is waiting inside to catch me?” Then he cried out aloud, “What is the matter, little house? Every day when I come home you say ‘All is well, little jackal,’ but to-day you say nothing, and I am afraid to come in.” This was not true; the little house did not really speak to him, but he wanted to find out whether the alligator was there. But the stupid alligator believed him. He thought to himself, “I will have to speak in place of the little house, or this tiresome little jackal will not come in.” He made his voice as small and soft as he could, and said, “All is well, little jackal.” When the jackal heard the alligator speak, and knew he was really inside the house, he was more frightened than ever. However, he answered quite cheerfully, “Very well, little house! I will come in as soon as I have been to the brook for a drink of water.” When the alligator heard that he was filled with joy, but he lay quite still under the leaves without moving. “Now I will have that little jackal at last,” he thought. “This time he shall not escape me.” But while he waited the little jackal gathered together a great heap of dead-wood and underbrush and piled it up against the door of the house. When it was big enough he set fire to it, and it blazed up with a great noise and burned the wicked alligator to death, and that was the end of him. But the little jackal danced about and sang: “The alligator’s dead, and I am so glad! The alligator’s dead, and I am so glad! Ring-a-ting, ring-a-ting! Ring-a-ting, ring-a-ting! The alligator’s dead, and I am so glad!” And always after that the little jackal could go wherever he pleased in safety, and he ate so many ripe figs and so many crabs that he grew as fat as fat could be. THE BABA YAGA A RUSSIAN FAIRY TALE THERE were once a man and wife who had no child, though they wished for one above all things. One day, when the husband was away, the wife laid a big stick of wood in the cradle and began to rock it and sing to it. Presently she looked and saw that the stick had arms and legs. Filled with joy, she began to rock and sing to it again; she kept it up for a long time, and when she looked again, there, instead of the stick of wood, was a fine little boy in the cradle. The woman took the child up and nursed him, and after that he was to her as her own son. She named him Peter, and made a little suit of clothes and a cloth cap for him to wear. One day Peter put on his little coat and went out in a boat to fish on the river. At noon his mother went down to the bank of the stream and called to him, “Peter, Peter, bring your boat to shore, for I have brought a little cake for you to eat.” Then Peter said to his boat: “Little boat, little boat, float a little nearer. Little boat, little boat, float a little nearer.”