Nor had he forgotten which of the animals had spoken of him most slightingly. He had imprinted the names of more than one in his memory and he would know how to be even with them when the time came and order was restored in the forest. Every day he had to bear his consort’s gibes, but he no longer heeded them. She would have to beg his pardon and yield him her love and admiration once again. His children would honour him as they had honoured him of old and even more. He would be remembered in the history of the forest as the monarch in whose reign the kingdom had incurred a great danger and misfortune, which he had finally overcome.
2
The lion rose and went slowly through the forest.
“The king of beasts is out hunting,” said the hedgehog, creeping under the bushes.
“See how thin he is,” said the bat. “His skin is hanging loose on his bones.”
“It is many nights since he went hunting,” said the owl. “His eyes are glaring with hunger.”
But the king of the forest was not thinking of hunting. He went, as though in a dream, in the direction of Two-Legs’ house. A deer darted across his path and he did not see her. Slowly he went until he came to the open space on the hill where Two-Legs’ house stood.
He went straight up to it, leapt nimbly over the hedge and crouched in some bushes that grew at the door. He there lay concealed. No one could see him, only his yellow eyes gleamed through the leaves. And one bound would bring him to the door.