So he drew out his fiddle, and fiddled away lustily. Presently a fox slunk through the trees.
‘Aha! what have we here?’ said the Musician. ‘A fox; well, I haven’t the smallest desire for his company.’
The Fox came straight up to him and said:
‘My dear friend, how beautifully you play the fiddle; I would like to learn how you do it.’
‘Nothing easier,’ said the Musician, ‘if you’ll promise to do exactly as I tell you.’
‘Certainly,’ answered the Fox, ‘you have only to say the word.’
‘Well, then, follow me,’ replied the Fiddler.
When they had gone a bit of the way, they came to a path with high trees on each side. Here the Musician halted, bent a stout hazel bough down to the ground from one side of the path, and put his foot on the end of it to keep it down. Then he bent a branch down from the other side and said:
‘Give me your left front paw, my little Fox, if you really wish to learn how it’s done.’
The Fox did as he was told, and the Musician tied his front paw to the end of one of the branches.