“And now, my little kids,” whispered the mother, “do you each one of you bring me a big round stone, but be very quick and quiet, for your lives depend upon it.”
So the little kids ran away, and hunted around, and each fetched her back a big round stone, and they were very quick and quiet about it, just as their mother had bade them be.
The old goat put the stones inside the wolf, where the little kids had been, and then she drew the hide together and sewed it up, using the stout, strong thread. After that she and the little kids hid themselves behind the rocks, and watched and waited.
Presently the old wolf yawned and opened his eyes. Then he got up and shook himself, and when he did so the stones inside him rattled together so that the goat and the little kids could hear them, where they hid behind the rocks.
“Oh, dear! Oh, dear me!” groaned the wolf;
“What rattles, what rattles against my poor bones?
Not little goats, I fear, but only big stones.”
Now what with the stones inside of him and the hot sun overhead the wolf grew very thirsty. Near by was a deep well, with water almost up to the brink of it. The old wolf went to drink. He leaned over, and all the stones rolled up to his head and upset him. Plump! he went down into the water, and the stones carried him straight to the bottom. He could not swim at all, and so he was drowned.
But all the little kids ran out from behind the rocks and began to dance around the well.
“The old wolf is dead, A-hey! A-hey!