“Alas! Alas!” said the wolf, “are you going?”
“Alas! Alas!” said the fox, “I am.” When he came home, the wolf asked what name they had given the child. “A queer enough name,” said the fox, “Blaiseam,” (let me taste).
Some days after that again the same manœuvre was gone through, and when the fox returned and the wolf asked him the child’s name, he said it was as queer a name as the former one,—“Bi ’na mheadhon,” (be in its middle). A third time the manœuvre was gone through and the child’s name was said to be the queerest of all, “Sgrìob an clàr,” (scrape the stave).
At last the “hungry summer” came; and it was such as is well known even in eastern countries when the stores of the preceding harvest are exhausted, and the stores of the year’s harvest are not yet ready. The fox and the wolf went for the keg of butter, but it had disappeared. The fox being prepared for this emergency began at once to accuse the wolf of having taken it, “No one knew it was there but our two selves, and I see the colour of it on your fur.”
The two went away home, the wolf very much cast down, and the fox persisting in his accusation that the wolf had stolen it. The wolf solemnly protested that he had never touched it.
“Will you swear then?” the fox said.
According to a Highland proverb, protestations may be loud till they are solemn oaths (’S mòr facal gu lùghadh). The wolf then held up its paw, and with great solemnity emitted this oath, “If it be that I stole the butter, and it be, and it be, may disease lie heavy on my grey belly in the dust, in the dust,” (Ma ’s mise ghoid an t-ìm, ’s gur mi, ’s gur mi, Galar trom-ghlas air mo bhronnghlas anns an ùir, anns an ùir).
“Swear now yourself,” but the fox was so impressed by the dignity and reverence of the oath, that he tried every means in his power to evade so solemn an ordeal; but the wolf would take no refusal, and at last the fox emitted this oath, “If it be I that stole the butter, and it be, and it be, Whirm, Wheeckam, Whirram, Whycam Whirrim Whew, Whirrim Whew,” (Ma’s mise ’ghoid an t-ìm ’s gur a mi, ’s gur a mi, ciream, cìceam ciream cuaigeam, ciream ciu, ciream ciu). The student of language will observe how the Gaelic C corresponds to the English Wh. This is particularly noticeable here as the difference renders the oath as ludicrous in the translation as in the original, if not more so. The wolf said nothing, but the fox, with that persistence which often accompanies evil-doing, suggested that they should both stand in front of the fire and whoever began to sweat first would be the guilty party, as the butter would be oozing out through him. The wolf thinking no evil, consented, and the fox thought he would get him to stand nearer to the fire than himself. It so turned out however, that the fox, who had kept himself in good condition by repeated visits to the keg of butter, (and they must have been more frequent than the baptisms to which he said he had been called), was getting uncomfortably warm, and said, “We are long enough at this work, we had better go out and take a walk.” When out thus cooling themselves, they passed a smithy door, at which an old white horse was standing with the point of its hind shoe resting on the ground. The wolf having gone over to it, but at a safe distance, and looking intently at the door, said to the fox, “I wish, as your eyesight is better than mine and you can read better than I can, that you would come over and read the name written on the horse shoe.”
The fox came over but could see no writing on the shoe, but flattered by the wolf’s words, and not liking to confess that his eyesight was failing, it went closer and the horse lifting its foot knocked its brains out.
“I see,” said the wolf, “the greatest scholars are not always the wisest clerks,” (Cha ’n i an ro-sgoilearachd a ’s fhearr.—Lit.—Excessive scholarship is not always the best).