2
But, a little before daybreak, he stole up to Two-Legs’ cave, hid in the bushes and waited patiently until the stone was rolled away. This happened immediately after sunrise. The lion made ready to leap. He saw blood before his eyes and sprang, almost without thinking, upon the first form that appeared, struck it down with his powerful claws and carried it back with a bound into the bushes.
A terrible scream brought Two-Legs to the entrance of the cave. He stood holding a spear in either hand. The lion saw that he had not killed his enemy, but only one of his children. He let go the corpse and prepared to make a fresh spring. Two-Legs now saw him among the leaves. He flung one spear and missed him. Then he threw the other, but the lion was gone, with great bounds.
With tears and lamentations, Two-Legs and his wife bore the dead child into the cave. The lion, hurried by fear, fled through the forest. Wherever he came, the terrified animals fell aside.
“The lion is flying from Two-Legs,” announced the sparrow.
And the rumour spread through the whole forest and grew.
“Two-Legs has wounded the lion with his spear,” screamed the crow.
“Two-Legs has killed the lion and is hunting the lioness,” squeaked the mouse.
And the lion fled on.
He rushed past his lair, as though he dare not look his wife in the face. He did not come home until late at night.
“Are you still alive?” asked the lioness, scoffing. “The whole forest believes you dead. And what about Two-Legs?”
“I have killed one of his young,” answered the lion, angrily.
“What’s the good of that?” asked she.
Then he caught her a box on the ear the like of which she had never had before, lay down and stared before him with his yellow eyes.
But the animals in the forest wondered and whispered to one another:
“The lion is afraid.... The lion runs away from Two-Legs.”
“Didn’t I tell you so?” said the ox. “We ought to have killed him then and there.”
“Ah, yes!” said the horse. “If the lion had only taken our advice!”
“Ah, yes!” sighed the duck and the goose and the hen.
But the orang-outang went to one side in the forest and reflected:
“My cousin is not such a fool as I thought,” said he to himself. “I really don’t know why I shouldn’t go and do the same. I am like him, but have many advantages which he has not; and I ought to do at least as well as he.”
He took a stick and tried if he could walk like Two-Legs. He succeeded quite nicely and then he made for the other animals. He lifted his stick, yelled and made terrible eyes. But the animals crowded round and laughed at him. The fox snatched the stick from his hand, the stag butted him in the back, the sparrow behaved uncivilly on his head and they all made such fun of him that he ran away and hid in the copsewood where it was thickest.
SHE PULLED OUT HIS FEATHERS