donkey who had carried sacks to the mill for his master a great many years became so weak that he could not work for a living any longer. His master thought that he would get rid of his old servant, that he might save the cost of his food. The donkey heard of this, and made up his mind to run away. So he took the road to a great city where he had often heard the street band play. "For," thought he, "I can make music as well as they."
He had gone but a little way when he came to a dog stretched out in the middle of the road and panting for breath, as if tired from running.
"Why are you panting so, friend?" asked the donkey.
"Oh, dear!" he replied. "Now that I am old and growing weaker and weaker, and am not able to hunt any more, my master has ordered that I should be killed. So I have run away, but how I am to earn a living I am sure I do not know."
"Will you come with me?" said the donkey. "You see, I am going to try my luck as a street musician in the city. I think we might easily earn a living by music. You can play the bass drum and I can play the flute."
"I will go," said the dog, and they both walked on together.
Not long after they saw a cat sitting in the road, with a face as dismal as three days of rainy weather.
"Now what has happened to you, old Whiskers?" said the donkey.
"How can I be happy when I am in fear for my life?" said the cat. "I am getting old, and my teeth are only stumps. I cannot catch mice any longer, and I like to lie behind the stove and purr. But when I found that they were going to drown me, away I ran as fast as my four legs could carry me. But now that I have come away, what am I to do?"
"Go with us to the city," said the donkey. "You often give night concerts, I know, so you can easily become a street musician."