He went up to a hillside, and he began to stroke his sides on the hill.
"Oh, king! how finely a bullet would spank upon my rib just now."
Who was listening but a hunter.
"I'll try that upon thee directly," said the hunter.
"Bad luck to this place," quoth the fox, "in which a creature dares not say a word in fun that is not taken in earnest."
The hunter put a bullet in his gun, and he fired at him and killed him, and that was the end of the Russet Dog.
Smallhead and the King's Sons
