“Say you can help yourself, and bind me fast, do,” said the bear.
“No, thanks, I can help myself well enough,” said the man, who set to binding Bruin fast with all the ropes he had, so that at last the bear couldn’t stir a paw.
“Such fir-stumps we always drive our ax into, in our part of the world,” bawled out the voice, “for then we guide them better going down steep pitches.”
“Pretend to drive the ax into me, do now,” said the bear.
Then the man took up his ax, and at one blow split the bear’s skull, so that Bruin lay dead in a trice; and so the man and the fox were great friends, and on the best of terms.
But when they came near the farm, the fox said: “I’ve no mind to go right home with you, for I can’t say I like your dogs; so I’ll just wait here, and you can bring the wether to me; but mind you pick out one nice and fat.”
Yes, the man would be sure to do that, and thanked the fox much for his help. So when he had put the horse into the stable he went across to the sheep-pen.
“Where are you going?” asked his wife.
“Oh, I am only going over to the sheep-pen to fetch a fat ram for that good fox who saved our horse,” said the man, “as I have promised him one.”
“Why on earth give that thief of a fox any ram?” said the woman. “We have got the horse quite safe and the bear besides, and the fox has stolen more geese from us than the ram is worth; or, if he hasn’t already taken them, he is sure to do so some time. No, take the most savage pair of those dogs of yours and let them loose on him, then perhaps we’ll get rid of that thieving old rascal,” said the woman.