THE STAG AND THE HEDGEHOG
A Stag and a Hedgehog were once standing upon a steep hill, and the Hedgehog invited the Stag to roll down with him into the ditch.
“Do you roll down first,” replied the Stag.
Without further words the Hedgehog rolled himself into a round ball and rolled down the slope. The Stag followed and broke his neck.
Then thought the Hedgehog, “What shall I do with you now?” At last the thought occurred to him to call a butcher, and he immediately set out to seek one. On the way he met a Fox.
“Whither away?” asked Reinecke; and the Hedgehog answered, “To seek a butcher.”
“Gossip,” said the Fox, “I am a butcher.”
“Then show me your teeth, Master,” said the Hedgehog.
Reinecke showed his teeth, but the Hedgehog told him they were not sharp enough, and went on his way.
After a while he met a Wolf, who asked him, “Whither away, Gossip?”
“To seek a butcher,” said the Hedgehog.
“I am a butcher, sure enough,” said the Wolf.
“Then show me your tools.”
Isegrim showed his teeth, and the Hedgehog, well pleased, said to him, “Follow me, then.”
The Wolf followed him, and they came to the dead Stag. In a trice the Wolf had torn him in pieces, and inviting all his kindred to the feast, he gave each of them a fine morsel, and kept a whole leg for himself, without the least consideration for the Hedgehog.
“Well, and what am I to get?” asked the Hedgehog, quite vexed; and the Wolf replied, “The entrails.”
This seemed to the Hedgehog very unfair, and he began to reason with Isegrim. But the Wolf only answered, “If you aren’t satisfied, go to the judge and make a complaint.”
So the Hedgehog went to seek a judge, and the Wolf followed after. Now the Hedgehog knew where there was a trap, and he led Isegrim in that direction. The Hedgehog tapped lightly upon the knocker, but this quite disgusted Isegrim.
“Wait, let me knock!” said he, and he thumped with all the strength of his paw. So he was caught, and the Hedgehog ran away laughing.
“It is done too quick, little grandmother,” observed the little boy after a moment’s thought. “I am not patient yet.”
“Then my medicine is not the right kind,” said the grandmother. “Run away home and hold some yarn for your sister. I heard her say that she was going to knit some warm mittens for you to wear on the journey. Holding yarn is an excellent school for patience.”
CHAPTER XI
THE PATIENT LITTLE BOY
The door of the grandmother’s room opened very slowly, and the little boy peeped in.
“Grandmother, I did hold the yarn, and I am very patient now. Do you think you could tell me another story?”
“It is such a good thing to be patient,” said the grandmother, “and so hard to learn, that I am sure you deserve a reward. So come in and shut the door tight, and I will tell you about