Hindu Literature | Page 7

him and set a snare. The Deer came again very shortly, and was caught in it, and (after vainly struggling) exclaimed, 'I am fast in the net, and it will be a net of death to me if no friend comes to rescue me!' Presently Small-wit, the Jackal, who had been lurking near, made his appearance, and standing still, he said to himself, with a chuckle, 'O ho! my scheme bears fruit! When he is cut up, his bones, and gristle, and blood, will fall to my share and make me some beautiful dinners,' The Deer, here catching sight of him, exclaimed with rapture, 'Ah, friend, this is excellent! Do but gnaw these strings, and I shall be at liberty. How charming to realize the saying!--
'That friend only is the true friend who is near when trouble comes; That man only is the brave man who can bear the battle-drums; Words are wind; deed proveth promise: he who helps at need is kin; And the leal wife is loving though the husband lose or win,'
And is it not written--
'Friend and kinsman--more their meaning than the idle-hearted mind. Many a friend can prove unfriendly, many a kinsman less than kind: He who shares his comrade's portion, be he beggar, be he lord, Comes as truly, comes as duly, to the battle as the board-- Stands before the king to succor, follows to the pile to sigh-- He is friend, and he is kinsman--less would make the name a lie.'
"Small-wit answered nothing, but betook himself to examining the snare very closely.
'This will certainly hold,' muttered he; then, turning to the Deer, he said, 'Good friend, these strings, you see, are made of sinew, and to-day is a fast-day, so that I cannot possibly bite them. To-morrow morning, if you still desire it, I shall be happy to serve you,'
When he was gone, the Crow, who had missed the Deer upon returning that evening, and had sought for him everywhere, discovered him; and seeing his sad plight, exclaimed--
'How came this about, my friend?'
'This came,' replied the Deer, 'through disregarding a friend's advice,'
'Where is that rascal Small-wit?' asked the Crow.
'He is waiting somewhere by,' said the Deer, 'to taste my flesh,'
'Well,' sighed the Crow, 'I warned you; but it is as in the true verse--
'Stars gleam, lamps flicker, friends foretell of fate; The fated sees, knows, hears them--all too late.'
And then, with a deeper sigh, he exclaimed,'Ah, traitor Jackal, what an ill deed hast thou done! Smooth-tongued knave--alas!--and in the face of the monition too--
'Absent, flatterers' tongues are daggers--present, softer than the silk; Shun them! 'tis a jar of poison hidden under harmless milk; Shun them when they promise little! Shun them when they promise much! For, enkindled, charcoal burneth--cold, it doth defile the touch.'
When the day broke, the Crow (who was still there) saw the master of the field approaching with his club in his hand.
'Now, friend Deer,' said Sharp-sense on perceiving him, 'do thou cause thyself to seem like one dead: puff thy belly up with wind, stiffen thy legs out, and lie very still. I will make a show of pecking thine eyes out with my beak; and whensoever I utter a croak, then spring to thy feet and betake thee to flight.'
The Deer thereon placed himself exactly as the Crow suggested, and was very soon espied by the husbandman, whose eyes opened with joy at the sight.
'Aha!' said he, 'the fellow has died of himself,' and so speaking, he released the Deer from the snare, and proceeded to gather and lay aside his nets. At that instant Sharp-sense uttered a loud croak, and the Deer sprang up and made off. And the club which the husbandman flung after him in a rage struck Small-wit, the Jackal (who was close by), and killed him. Is it not said, indeed?--
'In years, or moons, or half-moons three, Or in three days--suddenly, Knaves are shent--true men go free,'
"Thou seest, then," said Golden-skin, "there can be no friendship between food and feeder."
"I should hardly," replied the Crow, "get a large breakfast out of your worship; but as to that indeed you have nothing to fear from me. I am not often angry, and if I were, you know--
'Anger comes to noble natures, but leaves there no strife or storm: Plunge a lighted torch beneath it, and the ocean grows not warm.'
"Then, also, thou art such a gad-about," objected the King.
"Maybe," answered Light o' Leap; "but I am bent on winning thy friendship, and I will die at thy door of fasting if thou grantest it not. Let us be friends! for
'Noble hearts are golden vases--close the bond true metals make; Easily the smith may weld them, harder far it is to break. Evil hearts are earthen vessels--at a touch they crack a-twain, And what craftsman's