XIV.
There was a man who died and left behind him three sons, and nothing but two pennies to each. So, as there was little to be gained by scraping the dish at home, off they packed to the king’s house, where they might find better faring. The two elder lads were smart fellows enough; as for Peterkin, he was the youngest—why, nobody thought much of him.
So off they went—tramp! tramp! tramp!—all three together. By and by they came to a great black forest where little was to be seen either before or behind them.
There old Father Hunger met them, and that was the worse for them, for there was nothing at all to eat. They looked here and there, and, after a while, what should they come across but a little grey hare caught in a snare.
Then, if anybody was glad, it was the two elder brothers. “Here is something to stay our stomachs,” said they.
But Peterkin had a soft heart in his breast. “See, brothers,” said he, “look how the poor thing turns up its eyes. Sure it would be a pity to take its life, even though our stomachs do grumble a bit.”
But the two elder brothers were deaf in that ear. They had gone without their dinners long enough, and they were no such foolish fellows as to throw it away, now that it had come to them.
But Peterkin begged and begged, until, at last, the two said that they would let the Little Grey Hare go free if he would give them the two pennies that he had in his pocket.