During this while, Rat was plucking pepper-pods and chewing them, retaining them in his mouth. Returning again to the entrance, he saw Frog still watching, and he said, “Rângi! get out of my way, and let me pass. Let me out!” Frog replied, “I will not!” Rat asked, “Do you know me?” Frog replied, “Not very well.” Then Rat said, “Come near! Open your eyes wide, and take a good look at me!” As soon as Frog’s eyes were wide open, Rat blew the pepper into them. This so startled Frog that he fell back, his eyes blinded by the smarting; and Rat jumped out and ran away. Frog, heedless of his prisoner, was jumping about in pain; and, abandoning his post, crawled to the water of the brook not far away, and tumbled into it to wash his eyes.
Now, by this time, Leopard had returned with his fire. Seeing no one on guard, he called out, “Rângi! Rângi! where are you?” Frog, at the bottom of the brook, was still in agony with his eyes. He knew well that Rat was gone; but, in his vexation, he answered, “Ntori is there! Put in your fire!” So, Leopard put fire into the hole, and made a great smoke, but there was no sign of Rat.
After a long time, Leopard became tired at not finding Rat, and called out, “Rângi! Rângi! Where indeed is Ntori? He has not come out by this fire!” Then Frog answered, “Ntori is not there. I just lied to you in vexation of the pain I got through serving you.” So, Leopard was very angry and said to Frog, “You have deceived and fooled me! I will just come and eat you up!” Said Frog, “Good! come on!”
Leopard ran to the brook, but, as Frog was at the bottom, Leopard had first to drink all the water, before he could reach him. Leopard drank and drank. But, as soon as the water was nearly drunk up, Frog jumped out, and hopped away to an adjacent pond. There Leopard followed, and began to drink up that water also. He drank, and drank, and drank, until he became so full and his belly so swollen that his feet no longer touched the ground; and he fell over on his back, before he had entirely emptied the pond. He was in such great pain, in his swollen belly, that he was helpless, and cried out to passersby, “Please, open a little hole in my body, and let out this water!” But each of the passersby said, “No! I am afraid that after I have helped you, then you will eat me.”
At last, among those who passed by, came Crab. Leopard pleaded with him, “Igâmbâ! please! open my skin. Let out this water, so that I may live!” At first, Crab replied as the others, “No! I fear that after I help you, you will eat me.” But Leopard begged so piteously that Crab consented, and scratched Leopard’s skin with one of his claws. And the water spurted out! It came in so fast a current that it began to sweep Crab away. So Leopard cried out, “Igâmbâ! Please! do not let yourself be taken away! Catch hold on some root or branch!” Crab did so, holding on to a projecting root. When the water had subsided, and Crab was safe, Leopard was able to rise; and he said, “Igâmbâ! you have been kind to me; let me take you home, and I will be good to you; I will cook dinner, so we can eat together.” Crab agreed, and they went together.
Leopard began to cook a kind of yam called nkwa, making a pot full of it. (When it is thoroughly cooked, it is soft and sticky.) The yam being finally ready to be eaten, Leopard said, “We do not put this food out on plates, but we bring the entire pot, and every one will help himself from it with his hands.” Leopard thereupon began to take out handfuls of the nkwa, and to eat it. Crab tried to do the same, putting a claw into the sticky mass. But its heat burned his tender skin, and, in jerking his claw away, it stuck fast in the nkwa, and broke off. As soon as that happened, Leopard snatched up the claw and ate it. Crab protested, “Ah! Njĕgâ! you are eating my claw!” Said Leopard, “Excuse me! No, I thought it was nkwa.” So the dinner went on; Leopard greedily eating, Crab trying in vain to eat, and losing claw after claw, which Leopard in succession promptly ate.
Now, when Leopard had finished eating all the food, Crab’s claws were all gone, and he had not been able to eat at all, and was left hungry. So Leopard says to Crab, “Now, as you are so helpless, what must I do for you?” He hoped that Crab, in despair, would tell him to eat him. But Leopard really was not hungry just then; and, when Crab said, “If you will just put me into some shallow water for two months, then all my claws will grow all right again,” Leopard replied, “Good!” and he took Crab and placed him in a small stream of water.
The next day, Leopard, being now hungry to eat Crab, came to the water and called out, “Igâmbâ! Igâmbâ! have you your claws grown now?” The reply was, “Why! No! I told you two months yesterday, when you put me in here.”
On the third day, Leopard came again to the water, and cried out to Crab, “Have your claws sprouted? Have they grown again?” “No!” said Crab curtly.
Leopard continued thus day by day, vexing Crab with inquiries, as if anxious about his health, but really desirous of an excuse to eat him, yet ashamed to do so by violence, because of Crab’s kindness to him when he had the water-colic.