The pretended Rajah soon saw, to his vexation, that his favorite’s horns being less strong than its opponent’s, he was getting tired, and beginning to lose courage, would certainly be worsted in the fight; so, quick as thought, he left his own body and transported his soul into the ram’s body, in order to give it an increase of courage and resolution, and enable it to win.
No sooner did Vicram Maharajah, who was hanging up in a cage, see what had taken place, than he left the parrot’s body and re-entered his own body. Then Butti’s ram pushed the other down on its knees and the Wuzeer ran and fetched a sword, and cut off its head; thus putting an end, with the life of the ram, to the life of the Carpenter’s son.
Great was the joy of Anar Ranee and all the household at recovering the Rajah after his long absence; and Anar Ranee prayed him to fly away no more as a parrot, which he promised her he would not do.
But the taste for wandering and love of an unsettled life did not leave him on his resuming his proper form; and one of the things in which he most delighted was to roam about the jungles near the palace by himself, without attendant or guide. One very sultry day, when he was thus out by himself, he wandered over a rocky part of the country, which was flat and arid, without a tree upon it to offer shelter from the burning sun. Vicram, tired with his walk, threw himself down by the largest piece of rock he could find to rest. As he lay there, half asleep, a little Cobra came out of a hole in the ground, and seeing his mouth wide open (which looked like some shady cranny in a rock), crept in and curled himself up in the Rajah’s throat.
Vicram Maharajah called out to the Cobra, “Get out of my throat.” But the Cobra said, “No, I won’t go; I like being here better then under ground;” and there he stayed. Vicram didn’t know what to do, for the Cobra lived in his throat and could not be got out. At times it would peep out of his mouth, but the moment the Rajah tried to catch it, it ran back again.
“Who ever heard of a Rajah in such a miserable plight?” sighed he to Butti—“to think of having this Cobra in my throat!”
“Ah, my dear friend,” Butti would answer, “why will you go roaming about the country by yourself? Will you never be cured of it?”
“If one could only catch this Cobra, I’d be content to wander no more,” said the Rajah, “for my wandering has not brought me much good of late.” But to catch the Cobra was more than any man could do. At last, one day, Vicram, driven nearly mad in this perplexity, ran away into the jungle. Tidings of this were soon brought to Butti, who was much grieved to hear it, and sighed, saying, “Alas! alas! of what avail to Vicram Maharajah is his more than human wisdom, when the one unlucky self-chosen gift neutralizes all the good he might do with it! It has given him a love of wandering hither and thither, minding everybody’s business but his own; his kingdom is neglected, his people uncared for, and he, that used to be the pride of all Rajahs, the best, the noblest, has finally slunk out of his country, like a thief escaping from jail.”
Butti sent messengers far and wide seeking Vicram Maharajah, but they could not find him; he then determined to go himself in search of his lost friend; and having made proper arrangements for the government of the country during his absence, he set off on his travels.
Meantime Vicram wandered on and on until at last, one day, he came to the palace of a certain Rajah, who reigned over a country very far from his own, and he sat down with the beggars at the palace gate.