"Thus," replied Speckle-neck: "I was pecking about one day in the Deccan forest, and saw an old tiger sitting newly bathed on the bank of a pool, like a Brahman, and with holy kuskus-grass[[3]] in his paws.
'Ho! ho! ye travellers,' he kept calling out, 'take this golden bangle!'
Presently a covetous fellow passed by and heard him.
'Ah!' thought he, 'this is a bit of luck—but I must not risk my neck for it either.
"Good things come not out of bad things; wisely leave a longed-for ill.
Nectar being mixed with poison serves no purpose but to kill."
'But all gain is got by risk, so I will see into it at least;' then he called out, 'Where is thy bangle?'
The Tiger stretched forth his paw and exhibited it.
'Hem!' said the Traveller, 'can I trust such a fierce brute as thou art?'
'Listen,' replied the Tiger, 'once, in the days of my cub-hood, I know I was very wicked. I killed cows, Brahmans, and men without number—and I lost my wife and children for it—and haven't kith or kin left. But lately I met a virtuous man who counselled me to practise the duty of almsgiving—and, as thou seest, I am strict at ablutions and alms. Besides, I am old, and my nails and fangs are gone—so who would mistrust me? and I have so far conquered selfishness, that I keep the golden bangle for whoso comes. Thou seemest poor! I will give it thee. Is it not said,
'Give to poor men, son of Kûnti—on the wealthy waste not wealth;
Good are simples for the sick man, good for nought to him in health.'