“Very good,” said Sharp-Sense: “as you will.”
Next morning they went off hunting, and the Jackal said to the Deer: “I know a field of sweet corn, and I will take you there.”
So the Deer followed Small-Wit, and, sure enough, they came to a field of sweet young corn.
“You are a friend indeed!” cried the Deer, and he feasted till suddenly he fell into a snare which the farmer had laid.
“Alas!” cried the Deer, “Friend Small-Wit, here am I caught by the feet, and cannot move. Come, I pray you, and gnaw these cords with your sharp teeth and set me free!”
The Jackal came and looked at the snare. “That will hold you fast enough,” he said. “To-day is a fast day, but to-morrow I will have a fine feast on your fat carcass, my foolish friend.” And off he went.
Presently came along Sharp-Sense, the Crow, who had been looking for his friend. “Alas!” he cried, “how did this happen, Friend Deer?”
“Through not minding what you said,” replied the Deer.
“Well,” said the Crow, “we must do what we can. Here comes the farmer. Do you lie still and pretend to be dead until I croak: then spring up and be off.”