‘I would steer you so straight a course that you would soon be beyond his reach. Let us be off; I feel as if danger was near.’
But the fox was comfortable where he was, and did not hurry himself to take his tail’s advice. And before very long he found he was too late, for the bear had come round by another path, and guessing where his enemy was began to scratch at the roots of the tree. The fox made himself as small as he could, but a scrap of his tail peeped out, and the bear seized it and held it tight. Then the fox dug his claws into the ground, but he was not strong enough to pull against the bear, and slowly he was dragged forth and his body flung over the bear’s neck. In this manner they set out down the road, the fox’s tail being always in the bear’s mouth.
After they had gone some way, they passed a tree-stump, on which a bright coloured woodpecker was tapping.
‘Ah! those were better times when I used to paint all the birds such gay colours,’ sighed the fox.
‘What are you saying, old fellow?’ asked the bear.
‘I? Oh, I was saying nothing,’ answered the fox drearily. ‘Just carry me to your cave and eat me up as quick as you can.’
The bear was silent, and thought of his supper; and the two continued their journey till they reached another tree with a woodpecker tapping on it.
‘Ah! those were better times when I used to paint all the birds such gay colours,’ said the fox again to himself.
‘Couldn’t you paint me too?’ asked the bear suddenly.
But the fox shook his head; for he was always acting, even if no one was there to see him do it.