“You must then turn off toward the edge of the forest, and search among the fern-brakes till you find the hare; she sits close in her form all day. Assure her that we are extremely desirous of her company; and if she, or any other of our good neighbours, should make the smallest scruple of meeting puss or myself, be sure to mention that my lord the stag passes his word for their safety, both coming and returning. The snake will probably be sunning himself on the grass a little lower down; and in the dry part of the wood above, if you look narrowly, you will spy the viper lurking among the dead leaves. And now you may be gone.”
The hedgehog trudged off with his commission.
In the evening every one of the animals made his appearance under the yew-tree, except the little lazy dormouse, who had just opened his eyes when the hedgehog delivered his message, then turned himself round, fallen asleep again, and forgotten the whole matter.
As undoubted lord of the forest, the stag took the upper place; puss seated herself on his right, and Reynard on his left; the others placed themselves in due order below. The stag opened the business of the day by calling upon the cat to relate what she had that morning seen and heard. Immediately, the afflicted creature yelled out her dismal tale, ending with a long and melancholy mew which was echoed by every animal present in his own note; the stag brayed, the fox howled, the polecat and weasel cried, the badger and squirrel growled, the snake and viper hissed, the hare screamed, and the mouse squeaked. When the din of these discordant noises had a little subsided, “My friends,” said the stag, “lamentations are in vain, let us now consider what is to be done; shall we look on in tame submission to see our native wood levelled with the earth, and ourselves turned out upon the wide world to seek for food and shelter wherever we may find them, or shall we not rather all join to defend it with such weapons as nature has given us? Let the cat speak first.”
“I am for open war,” cried puss; “these teeth and these talons were not bestowed upon me for nothing;” (and as she spoke she unsheathed a set of claws at sight of which the mouse and the squirrel trembled all over.) “The first man who attacks my tree shall feel them in his eyes; I will defend my native home as long as I have breath in my body. Who is of the same mind?”
“Reynard, let us hear your opinion,” said the stag. “I beg to speak last,” said the crafty fox; “perhaps I have not yet made up my opinion.”
“For my part,” growled out the badger, thrusting forward his clumsy person as he spoke, “I am not so cunning as some folks; I speak my mind and care for nobody; and I have only this to say—that I never attack first, but I have strong teeth and a tough hide; and if anybody attempts to turn me out of my den, whether man, dog, or any other beast, I shall try to make him repent it.”
It was observed that the badger, as he spoke, threw a sullen look at the fox, which plainly showed that he had not forgotten the knavish trick by which Reynard had once contrived to turn him out of a hole which he had dug with the labours of his own claws, and to keep possession of it for himself.
The viper now glided forward in easy curves, and coiling himself up, and darting out his forked tongue in a threatening attitude, “Man,” said he, “is my enemy, and I am his; let him set foot in my dominions if he dares; I have a venom in my fangs which will soon teach him that my anger is not to be despised.”
“I,” murmured out the snake, “have no venom to boast; I am an innocent and defenceless creature, and I own that so far from attempting to resist the invader, I shall quickly retreat from his approach. Nature, in her bounty, has endued me with the power of swimming; and when I can no longer find a shelter beneath these quiet shades, I shall plunge into the stream which bounds our domain, and seek a safer retreat among the tall weeds which flourish on its farther shore.”