“That’s all right,” he said. “I’ll go down to the river the first thing in the morning and pick out some sharp stones, in case I should lose the one I have. And, look here, I’ll tell you what: I’ll fasten one of those sharp stones to the end of a stick, with a shoot or tendril of some kind; a long stick, do you see? Then I need not go up to the sheep to hit them. I can throw the stone. For, of course, they’ll be afraid of me when they hear that I have killed one of them....”
4
While they were talking like this, all the animals of the forest had gathered in the meadow, just as on the first night when the new animals arrived:
“Two-Legs has killed the sheep!” cried the sparrow and hurried on with her news, drenched and rumpled though she was with the rain.
“Two-Legs has murdered the sheep and the ox and the goat!” screamed the crow and flapped her wet wings.
“Softly!” said the ox. “I’m alive still, thank goodness, though I’m quite prepared for the worst.”
“Two-Legs has killed all the animals in the forest ... he’s sitting in the meadow eating the lion,” whispered the reeds to one another.
Then all the animals rushed down to the meadow to hear the exact state of affairs. The lion stood in their midst, with his head proudly raised:
“What’s all this noise about?” he asked.
“May I speak?” said the orang-outang, holding up one finger. “I was sitting in the palm-tree over there and saw the whole thing. It was terrible.”