Then his master began to consider how he might best save his keep; but the Donkey, seeing that no good wind was blowing, ran away and set out on the road to Bremen.
“There,” he thought, “I can surely be town-musician.”
When he had walked some distance, he found a Hound lying on the road, gasping like one who had run till he was tired.
“What are you gasping so for, you big fellow?” asked the Donkey.
“Ah,” replied the Hound, “as I am old, and daily grow weaker and no longer can hunt, my master wants to kill me. So I have taken to flight. But now how am I to earn my bread?”
“I tell you what,” said the Donkey, “I am going to Bremen, and shall be town-musician there. Come with me and engage yourself also as a musician. I will play the lute, and you shall beat the kettledrum.”
The Hound agreed, and on they went.
Before long, they came to a Cat, sitting on the path, with a face like three rainy days!
“Now then, old shaver, what has gone askew with you?” asked the Donkey.
“Who can be merry when his neck is in danger?” answered the Cat. “Because I am now getting old, and my teeth are worn to stumps, and I prefer to sit by the fire and spin, rather than hunt about after mice, my mistress wants to drown me, so I have run away. But now good advice is scarce. Where am I to go?”