“The next morning there was Oom Jakhals again. ‘Tante, your child was a nice, juicy mouthful. Throw me down another. And make haste, do you hear? or I’ll fly up and eat you all.’
“‘Coo-oo, coo-oo, coo-oo,’ said Tante, crying, ‘no, I won’t give you one.’ But it was no use, and in the end she did what she had done before—just shut her eyes and fluttered round and round till a baby fell out of the nest. She thought there was no help for it, and, like some people are, she thought what the eye didn’t see the heart wouldn’t feel; but her heart was very sore, and she cried more sadly than ever, and this time she said, ‘Oo-oo, oo-oo, oo-oo!’ It was very sad and sorrowful to listen to ‘Oo-oo, oo-oo, oo-oo!’
“Here came old Oom Reijer. He is a kind old bird, though he holds his neck so crooked and looks like there was nothing to smile at in the whole wide world.
“‘Ach! why do you cry so sadly, Tante? It nearly gives me a stitch in my side.’
“‘Oo-oo! I’m very miserable. Oom Jakhals has eaten two of my little children, and to-morrow he will come for another, and soon I shall have none left.’
“‘But why did you let him eat them?’
“‘Because he said if I didn’t give him one he would fly up and eat them all. Oo-oo-oo!’
“Then Oom Reijer was very angry. He flapped his wings, and stretched out his long neck—so, my baasjes, just so” (the children hugged themselves in silent delight at Outa’s fine acting)—“and he opened and shut his long beak to show how he would like to peck out Oom Jakhals’s wicked eyes if he could only catch him.
“‘That vervlakste Jakhals!’ he said. ‘To tell such lies! But, Tante, you are stupid. Don’t you know Oom Jakhals can’t fly? Now listen to me. When he comes again, tell him you know he can’t fly, and that you won’t give him any more of your children.’
“The next day there came Oom Jakhals again with his old story, but Tante just laughed at him.