The herd increased year by year, as did his family. Mrs. Two-Legs had now borne her husband seven sons and seven daughters, who were all doing well and helping in the house and with the cattle.
And the animals were more and more pleased to be in his service.
The horse carried him when he went hunting and walked beside him when he struck the tent and moved to a new pasturage. He came at Two-Legs’ call and neither he nor any other animals thought seriously of running away, so that Trust had an easy job in watching over them. Now and then they felt an inclination for freedom, especially when they were talking to the wild animals. But it went no further than the inclination.
For instance, one night in the rainy season, the stag came to the tent which Two-Legs had put up to protect his animals:
“Well, you’re nice and dry here,” said the stag and looked enviously into the tent.
“You’re right,” replied the sheep. “It is really much better than in the old days, when we used to take shelter under a tree and get drenched all the same.”
“Just so,” said the cow. “And in the dry season too it was pleasant every day to get our food, which Two-Legs had stored up for us, instead of having to go all over the country as before, in search of a blade of grass.”
“But I thought you had to drudge for it,” said the stag. “I have often seen you drudging and toiling for your master.”
“One good turn deserves another,” said the horse. “For the rest, I can’t deny that my presentiments have been fulfilled. All my limbs hurt me terribly after the day’s work.”