And the Hare just cocked his gun, put it to his shoulder, and fired. Then he did kill the poacher, and took him home, and stewed him with mushrooms for supper.
the
Strong Man and the Invalid
"Where's the good of going on grumble, grumble, grumble, all the day long?" said the strong Man to the Invalid. "Why, you get petted and have extra nice things to eat, beautiful bunches of grapes, and boiled chickens, and I don't know what."
"If you were me, you would not talk like that," said the Invalid, in a poor sick weak voice. "I'd eat dry bread, and never ask to be petted at all if I were strong, like you."
The Strong Man laughed, as if he didn't believe the Invalid.
"I have to work hard all day, and nobody seems to care a bit whether I'm tired or not," said he. "But if you only have a finger ache, everybody is running about trying to find something to do you good. And they come and read to you, and bring you flowers, and—and—"
"You just take my place for a day or two, and see how you'd like it," said the Invalid.
"Um—well, I shouldn't like to be ill, you know," said the Strong Man. "I shouldn't like to lie in bed, nor have the doctor coming to see me, because he'd give me nasty stuff to take."