“Very well,” agreed the Tiger, “we will ask the judgment of six and if they all say that you are to die, I shall kill you, but if anyone of them grants you your life, I will have to let you go.”
So the Brahmin and the Tiger walked to a Banyan tree, and the Brahmin said:
“Oh, Banyan tree, Banyan tree, hear and give judgment!”
“On what must I give judgment?” asked the Banyan tree.
“This Tiger was caught in a cruel cage,” said the Brahmin. “He was thirsty and begged piteously for a drink of water. He promised not to hurt me if I set him free. But when I did so, he sprang upon me to kill me. Do you think it fair and just for him to break his word?”
The Banyan tree rustled his leaves and whispered in a mournful voice, “Men take shelter under my boughs from the scorching rays of the sun. Yet when I have protected them and they are rested, they break my pretty branches and scatter my leaves and take my fruit. Men certainly are an ungrateful race! So I say let the Tiger eat the Brahmin.”
“Now, Brother Brahmin,” growled the Tiger, “I shall eat you.”
“One moment, Brother Tiger,” begged the Brahmin. “We agreed to ask six judges, and we have had the opinion of only one. You must not eat me yet.”
“Very well,” said the Tiger, and they went on till they met a Camel.
“Brother Camel, Brother Camel,” cried the Brahmin. “Hear and give judgment.” The Brahmin then told how he had opened the cage door for the Tiger and how the Tiger had broken his word. “Do you call that just, or right, Brother Camel?” asked the Brahmin.