With that he threw a piece of bread and a slice of ham to the little fox, who after she had eaten, said:
“Well, Useless Wagoner, in place of a good deed look for a good deed. Though thou hast not told me, still I know why thou art here. I know, too, that the king is breaking his head to kill thee; but he won’t, for I shall help thee out of trouble. I’ll make for thee the chariot which will go of itself, without horses; but do thou lie down and rest.”
And so it was. The Useless Wagoner reclined his head in rest; and meanwhile the little fox fashioned a chariot beautifully. When all was ready she roused the Useless Wagoner, and said,—
“Here is the chariot which runs of itself; thou hast but to step in and command it to stop in the king’s court-yard. But I would tell thee this: Here is a whistle that will serve thee; shouldst thou fall into trouble, just blow,—it will help thee.”
The Useless Wagoner thanked the fox for her kindness, and entered the chariot, which stopped not till it reached the king’s court-yard.
When the king saw the chariot he said nothing, but shook his head, turned on the Useless Wagoner in a rage, and cried,—
“Useless Wagoner, I revile thy mother! In my stable there are a hundred hares; and if thou dost not herd them three days, if thou dost not drive them a-field in the morning and bring them back at night so that not one shall be missing from the hundred, I’ll strike off thy head.”
What was the poor Useless Wagoner to do? Against his will, and of need, he let the hundred hares out of the stable and drove them a-field. They had barely touched the edge of the field when they ran in as many directions as there were hares. Who could bring them together again? The poor Useless Wagoner ran first after one and then after another hare; he chased the whole day, but could not bring back a single hare. It was already growing late, time to go home, but the hundred hares were in a hundred places; therefore the Useless Wagoner became terribly sad, and wished to make an end of his own life,—it was all the same whether he or the king took it; there was no salvation for him anyhow. So he put his hand in his bosom to take out his clasp-knife and strike himself in the heart, but instead of the knife he found the whistle which the little fox had given him. That was all he wanted; he drew out the whistle, sounded it, and, behold! all the hares ran up to him,—as tame as pet lambs fed from the palm of the hand.
When all the hares had come together he drove them home.
The king stood at the gate and let them in singly, counting, “One, two, three ... ninety-nine, a hundred.” Not one was missing.