And they did make themselves at home—all but the poor ugly duckling. His life was made quite miserable. The ducks bit him, and the hens pecked him. So it went on the first day, and each day it grew worse.
The poor duckling was very unhappy. At last he could stand it no longer, and he ran away. As he flew over the fence, he frightened the little birds on the bushes.
"That is because I am so ugly," thought the duckling.
He flew on until he came to a moor where some wild ducks lived. They laughed at him and swam away from him.
Some wild geese came by, and they laughed at the duckling, too. Just then some guns went bang! bang! The hunters were all around. The hunting dogs came splash! into the swamp, and one dashed close to the duckling. The dog looked at him and went on.
"Well, I can be thankful for that," sighed he. "I am so ugly that even the dog will not bite me."
When all was quiet, the duckling started out again. A storm was raging, and he found shelter in a poor hut. Here lived an old woman with her cat and her hen. The old woman could not see well, and she thought he was a fat duck. She kept him three weeks, hoping that she would get some duck eggs, but the duckling did not lay.
After a while the fresh air and sunshine streamed in at the open door, and the duckling longed to be out on the water. The cat and the hen laughed when he told them of his wish.
"You must be crazy," said the hen. "I do not wish to swim. The cat does not; and I am sure our mistress does not."