'Time-not-come' and 'Quick-at-peril,' these two fishes 'scaped the net;
'What-will-be-will-be,' he perished, by the fishermen beset.'
'No,' said the Geese,' how was it?' Shelly-neck related:—
The Story of Fate and the Three Fishes
"It was just such a pool as this, and on the arrival at it of just such men as these fishermen, that three fishes, who had heard their designs, held consultation as to what should be done.
'I shall go to another water,' said "Time-not-come," and away he went.
'Why should we leave unless obliged?' asked "Quick-at-peril." 'When the thing befalls I shall do the best I can—
'Who deals with bad dilemmas well, is wise.
The merchant's wife, with womanly device,
Kissed—and denied the kiss—under his eyes.'
'How was that?' asked the other fish. Quick-at-peril related:—
The Story of the Unabashed Wife
"There was a trader in Vikrama-poora, who had a very beautiful wife, and her name was Jewel-bright. The lady was as unfaithful as she was fair, and had chosen for her last lover one of the household servants. Ah! womankind!—
'Sex, that tires of being true,
Base and new is brave to you!
Like the jungle-cows ye range,
Changing food for sake of change.'
Now it befell one day that as Jewel-bright was bestowing a kiss on the mouth of the servant, she was surprised by her husband; and seeing him she ran up hastily and said, 'My lord, here is an impudent varlet! he eats the camphor which I procured for you; I was actually smelling it on his lips as you entered.' The servant catching her meaning, affected offence. 'How can a man stay in a house where the mistress is always smelling one's lips for a little camphor?' he said; and thereat he was for going off, and was only constrained by the good man to stay, after much entreaty. 'Therefore,' said Quick-at-peril, 'I mean to abide here, and make the best I can of what befalls, as she did.'
'Yes, yes,' said What-will-be-will-be, 'we all know
'That which will not be will not be, and what is to be will be:—
Why not drink this easy physic, antidote of misery?'
'When the morning came, the net was thrown, and both the fishes inclosed. Quick-at-peril, on being drawn up, feigned himself dead; and upon the fisherman's laying him aside, he leaped off again into the water. As to What-will-be-will-be, he was seized and forthwith dispatched.—And that,' concluded the Tortoise, 'is why I wish to devise some plan of escape.'
'It might be compassed if you could go elsewhere,' said the Geese, 'but how can you get across the ground?'
'Can't you take me through the air?' asked the Tortoise.
'Impossible!' said the Geese.
'Not at all!' replied the Tortoise; 'you shall hold a stick across in your bills, and I will hang on to it by my mouth—and thus you can readily convey me,'
'It is feasible,' observed the Geese, 'but remember,
'Wise men their plans revolve, lest ill befall;
The Herons gained a friend, and so, lost all.'
'How came that about?' asked the Tortoise. The Geese related:—
The Story of the Herons and the Mongoose
"Among the mountains of the north there is one named Eagle-cliff, and near it, upon a fig-tree, a flock of Herons had their residence. At the foot of the tree, in a hollow, there lived a serpent; and he was constantly devouring the nestlings of the Herons. Loud were the complaints of the parent birds, until an old Heron thus advised them:—'You should bring some fishes from the pool, and lay them one by one in a line from the hole of yonder Mongoose to the hollow where the Serpent lives. The Mongoose will find him when it comes after the fish, and if it finds him it will kill him.' The advice seemed good, and was acted upon; but in killing the Snake the Mongoose overheard the cry of the young Herons; and climbing the tree daily, he devoured all that the Snake had left. Therefore,' concluded the Geese, 'do we bid you look well into your plan: if you should open your mouth, for instance, as we carry you, you will drop and be killed.'
'Am I a fool,' cried the Tortoise, 'to open my mouth? Not I! Come now, convey me!'
'Thereupon the Geese took up the stick; the Tortoise held fast with his mouth, and away they flew. The country people, observing this strange sight, ran after.
'Ho! ho!' cried one, 'look at the flying Tortoise!'
'When he falls we'll cook and eat him here,' said another.
'No; let us take him home for dinner!' cried a third.
'We can light a fire by the pool, and eat him,' said the first.
'The Tortoise heard these unkind remarks in a towering passion. 'Eat me!—eat ashes!' he exclaimed, opening his mouth—and down he fell directly, and was caught by the countrymen.—Said I not well,' concluded the Goose-Minister, 'that to scorn counsel is to seek destruction?'
'You have well said,' replied King Silver-sides, disconsolately.
'Yes, your Majesty,' interposed the Crane, who was just returned, 'if the Fort had been cleared, Night-cloud could not have fired it, as he did, by the Vulture's instigation.'
'We see it all,' sighed the King, 'but too late!'
'Whoso trusts, for service rendered, or fair words, an enemy,
Wakes from folly like one falling in his slumber from a tree.'
'I witnessed Night-cloud's reception,' continued the Crane. 'King Jewel-plume showed him great favor, and was for anointing him Rajah of Camphor-island.'
'Hear you that, my Liege?' asked the Goose.
'Go on; I hear!' said Silver-sides.
'To that the Vulture demurred,' continued the Crane:—'"favor to low persons," he said, "was like writing on the sea-sand. To set the base-born in the seat of the great was long ago declared impolitic—
'Give mean men power, and give thy throat to the knife;
The Mouse, made Tiger, sought his master's life.'
'How was that?' asked King Jewel-plume. The Vulture related—
The Story of the Recluse and the Mouse
"In the forest of the Sage Gautama there dwelt a Recluse named Mighty-at-Prayer. Once, as he sat at his frugal meal, a young mouse dropped beside him from the beak of a crow, and he took it up and fed it tenderly with rice grains. Some time after the Saint observed a cat pursuing his dependent to devour it, whereupon he changed the mouse into a stout cat. The cat was a great deal harassed by dogs, upon which the Saint again transformed it into a dog. The dog was always in danger of the tigers, and his