Chapter Seven.
The Jackal and the Wren.
“Now, Bolo! let us hear something from you.”
The old Kaffir took a pinch of snuff, and began about the jackal and the netikee, the smallest of all South African birds, and a member of the wren family.
“The jackal one day was boasting. Said he, ‘When we go on the hunt all the animals are still. We—the lion and I—we rule the forest. When we growl the trees shiver, when we roar the earth shakes, when we strike the biggest goes down before us. Even the elephant turns out of our path.’ So he shook his tail and loped off to tell the lion that a fat eland was drinking at the vlei. Then up stood the lion, and crawled on his stomach to the shelter of a rock, while the jackal went round beyond. ‘Look out, eland,’ said the jackal; ‘here comes the lion.’ So the eland ran, and he ran straight for the lion, who rose through the air and broke the eland’s neck. The lion ate, and the jackal sat on his tail, licking his chops and whimpering. But the lion ate, and ate—first the hind legs, then the stomach, and the jackal ran up to take a bite. ‘Wait,’ grunted the lion, and the jackal sat on his tail and howled. Bymby the lion went off to the vlei to drink, and the jackal snap at the carcase, but before he gets a mouthful down swoop the ring crows and the aasvogels. ‘Away,’ said the jackal, ‘away—this food is mine and the lion’s.’
“‘Tell the lion we are obliged to him for giving us a meal,’ said the chief aasvogel, and with his big wing he hit the jackal, ker-bluff—long side the head, and the black crow dig him in the back. So the jackal run away, and jump, and howl.”
“‘Why don’t you roar?’ said the netikee.
“The jackal looked up, and there he sees the netikee on a thorn tree.
“‘Growl,’ says the netikee; ‘growl, and the tree will shake me off,’ and he laughed.