“Never mind, you were always a wise one. Can you help me?”
“No,” he said, “I cannot help you. This sudden fall has upset me, and I feel queer and sick.”
“What,” cried the fox, “you are not going to be sick here; that is more than I can stand; out you go!”
So he got hold of the hedgehog by the snout, and the hedgehog coiled himself up with his little paws into a little ball round the fox’s mouth, the fox lifted up his head with a jerk and threw the little fellow out of the pit.
As soon as he saw himself safely out of the pit, the little hedgehog, bending over the mouth of the pit, said, chuckling to the fox:
“Where is your wisdom, you fool? You boast that you have a bagful of wits, whilst it is I who get myself out of the pit though I have only a little wit.”
“Oh,” said the fox, whining, “do have pity on me! you are such a clever old fellow, help me out of it too.”
“Well,” said the hedgehog, “I will help you. Now, you pretend to be dead, and when the people come and find you stiff and stark, and a nasty smell about you, they will say, ‘The fox has died and his carcase is rotting; it is going to make all the poultry yard offensive.’ They will take you and throw you out. And then see whither your way lies.”
The fox did as the hedgehog had advised him, and when the people came and found him in that state, they hauled him out and threw him out of the yard on to the road.
Quicker than you could clap your hands, the fox was on his legs, and he ran as if the ground was burning under him.