"He was no true brave, that one!"
The four who were left went on till they came to a swampy place, and there the Grasshopper stuck fast. In his struggles to get out of the bog he pulled both legs off, and so there were only three to go upon the war-path!
The Dragonfly mourned for his friend. He cried bitterly, and finally blew his nose so hard that his slender neck broke in two.
"Ah!" declared the other two, "we are better off without those feeble ones!"
The Pickerel and the Turtle, being left alone, advanced bravely into the country of the enemy. At the head of the lake they were met and quickly surrounded. The Pickerel escaped by swimming, but the Turtle, that slow one, was caught!
They took him to the village, and there the head men held a council to decide what should be done with him.
"We will build a fire and roast him alive in the midst of it," one proposed.
"Hi-i-i!" the Turtle shrilled his war-cry. "That is the brave death I would choose! I shall trample the fire, and scatter live coals among the people!"
"No," declared another, "we will boil water and throw him into the pot!"
"Hi-i-i!" again cried the Turtle. "I shall dance in the boiling pot, and clouds of steam will arise to blind the eyes of the people!"