Part 9

"_The Reward of the World_," thought the knight, "that will indeed be worth having!" for he had often heard that dragons were the guardians of immense treasures. So, overcoming his fright, he went up to the creature, and at the cost of great exertion managed to roll away the stone that was pressing on its back.

"Poof! That's better," said the dragon, blowing a cloud of smoke out of its nostrils. "I had begun to think I was doomed to stay in that place for ever!" He rubbed his sore back reflectively with one scaly paw, and looked at the knight, who stood waiting.

"Well?" said he.

"You promised me _The Reward of the World_!" said the knight.

"Did I so?" asked the dragon, still tenderly stroking his back. "Well, you shall have it!" And suddenly he launched himself upon the knight, winding his horrible coils around his body, and almost crushing him to death. The unfortunate young man struggled feebly, but he was powerless in the grip of the monster.

"Your promise!" he gasped. "Is this my reward for having saved your life?"

"Certainly," replied the dragon. "This is _The Reward of the World_. I am keeping my word!"

"I don't believe you," said the knight. "It is a trick to excuse your treachery. What a fool I was to trust a dragon's word!"

"It is just as I say," the dragon replied. "But I confess I owe you something, and I should hate to eat you feeling that you had a grievance. I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll submit this question to the first three people we meet along the road, and if they decide in my favour you must accept the verdict. Is it agreed?"

"Agreed," said the knight, who was glad of any chance to escape from the dragon's coils, so the creature released him, and the two set off together down the road.

They had not gone far before they met the dog.

"Stay a moment, master dog," said the knight. "What do you understand by _The Reward of the World_?"

The dog replied, "When I was young I was a splendid watch-dog, and guarded my master's house against all comers. In those days everybody made a fuss of me. I had plenty of good food to eat, and my own particular place before the fire. Now, alas! I am old. My sight is so weak and my powers so feeble that I can no longer work for my living, and in consequence everybody kicks me out of their way. I eat what I can get, which is not much. Even the children throw stones at me, knowing that my teeth are not sharp enough to bite, and wherever I go people say, 'There is that beastly hound again! Chase him away with a stick!' That is _The Reward of the World_."

There was little comfort for the knight in this, nevertheless he did not give up hope, but accosted the next creature they met, which happened to be a horse.

"What is _The Reward of the World_?" the knight asked him.

"Listen," said the horse bitterly, "and I will tell you. All my life I have laboured diligently for one master. Day in and day out I dragged his cart to market, working myself to skin and bone in his service. Now I am grown old and my strength begins to fail, so that I can no longer earn my keep. To-day I heard him say that he was going to send me to the knackers' yard and sell my poor old carcass for a couple of crowns. That is _The Reward of the World_, young master, and may heaven preserve you from it!"

"You see!" said the dragon, as the two went on, "my words are already justified. Come, be sensible and let me eat you without further ado!"

"No," said the knight, "we have still one person to ask. Here comes a fox. Let us see what he has to say about the matter. Reynard, what do you understand by _The Reward of the World_?"

"How do you mean?" asked the fox. "What is the case in point?"

"Well, you see," explained the knight, "I found this dragon in a position of uncommon peril, and he promised, if I would rescue him, to give me _The Reward of the World_. The question now arises as to what _The Reward of the World_ is."

"I see," said Reynard thoughtfully. "His life was in danger, you say? How was that?"

"A huge stone had fallen on to his back, pinning him down so that he could not move. I rolled the stone away, and set him free."

The fox scratched his head and pondered. "If you don't mind," said he, "I'd rather like to have this matter made a little clearer. Where did all this happen?"

"A little farther back along the road, by the side of the stream."

"I'll come and look at the place!"

So the knight led Reynard to the banks of the stream, where he stood gazing for a time at the big stone.

"I want to be quite sure I understand all the circumstances," said he at last. "Does the dragon mind getting under the stone again for a moment, so that I can see exactly how he lay?"

"Not at all," said the dragon politely, and he lay down on the bank, while the knight and the fox together rolled the stone on top of him.

"Splendid!" said Reynard, when the dragon was safely pinned down. "Now everything is as it was before!" Then turning to the knight, he added, "If you, knowing what you know now, care to release him again, you are at liberty to do so, but...." And he winked slyly. There was no need to say more.

"I am really very much obliged to you," said the knight, as he walked off down the road with Reynard, leaving the dragon still under the stone. "That was a capital idea of yours, and it certainly saved my life. I would like to show my gratitude in some way, and I shall be honoured if you will accept my hospitality for a few days."

Reynard needed no pressing, but went home with the young man there and then, and thoroughly enjoyed the good fare with which he was provided. Since, however, a fox is always a fox, no matter what company he is in, Master Reynard could not forbear from stealing, and every night he crept into the hen-house and killed one or two chickens. When the knight discovered this he was very angry, and picking up a big stick he gave the fox a good thrashing and drove him forth.

"That is _The Reward of the World_," he said to himself, as he watched Reynard disappearing into the distance. But whether he was referring to the way the fox had treated him, or to his own treatment of the fox, I cannot say.

ONE BAD TURN BEGETS ANOTHER

Tybert the Cat and Courtoys the Dog were very great friends--that is to say they were as friendly as their natures would let them be. Both of them were exceedingly greedy and selfish. The Cat was spiteful and the Dog was sullen. Master Tyb was always willing to give up to the dog what he did not need himself, and on his part, Courtoys never stole the cat's food while the cat was looking. Neither was loath to play a mean trick upon the other if he could do so without injury to himself, but except for these little matters they were quite in accord, and very friendly, as I said before, and on the whole they got on very well together.

There came a time when, in spite of Tybert's shyness and Courtoys' strength, they could by no means find anything to eat. For two days not a morsel of food had passed the lips of either; and this made them very bad tempered.

"I wish I'd never seen you," said Courtoys to Tyb. "A fine partner you are, upon my word, when you can't find food for us. Where are those wonderful wits of yours, of which you are always boasting."

"In my head," answered Tyb spitefully. "And such as they are, they have to do duty for two. If you'd talk less, and think more, and use your eyes, we would be better off. Here is a cart coming along the road; perhaps we shall find our dinner inside it!"

Sure enough, a heavy wagon was rumbling along the road towards them, driven by a peasant with a round and rather stupid face. As it came nearer, Tyb and Courtoys sniffed the air, and the water ran out of the corners of their mouths.

"Fish," said Tybert ravenously.

"Fish!" echoed Courtoys. "Here's a chance to exercise those wits of yours. How can we get it?"

"I have a plan," answered the Cat. "Come quickly and hide yourself with me in the ditch until the wagon has passed, and I will tell you all about it!"

So it was done. The wagon rumbled by, the scent of the fish with which it was laden filling the air, and the driver went on calmly smoking his pipe, little dreaming that four hungry eyes were gazing at him through the bushes that bordered the side of the road.

"Now then," cried Tybert, "our time has come. Follow the wagon and don't let it out of your sight for a moment, but take care that the driver does not see you. I shall go on in front and stretch myself out on the road, pretending to be dead. It's odds but what the driver, seeing me lying there, will covet my skin, and will pick me up and throw me into the cart. Once there, I'll throw the fish out to you, and you will know what to do with it."

"Oh, yes, I'll know what to do with it," said Courtoys to himself, with a grin, and, keeping well out of sight of the driver, he followed the wagon.

Tybert's plan worked to perfection. He ran on for about a quarter of a mile, keeping to the fields bordering the road, and then stretched himself out at full length, with his mouth open as though he were dead.

"Oho!" said the peasant, as he drove up. "What's this? A dead cat! I'll take him with me, and sell his skin for a few sous. This time next week some fine lady will be wearing him round her neck, thinking he's sable." And with that he dismounted, picked up the cat and slung him carelessly into the wagon on top of the heap of fish.

Hardly was he back in his place, than Tybert arose and began to pick out the biggest and fattest fish and throw them into the road. He had to be very careful in doing this, because now and again the peasant turned his head. Once when a very big fish was tumbled out, the noise of its fall aroused the peasant, who swung round sharply, and Tybert was only just in time to avert discovery by laying himself out and pretending to be dead as before.

When he had thrown out what he considered was a sufficient quantity, Tybert rested awhile, so that the dog could collect the spoils, and then jumped from the wagon to go and claim his share. When he came up to Courtoys, however, he found to his dismay that nothing was left of the fish but a heap of bones.

"That was a splendid plan of yours, brother," said Courtoys, licking his lips. "The fish were delicious, and I hardly feel hungry at all now! Do make haste and take your share!" And he waved his paw invitingly towards the heap of bones. Tybert gave him one look, and then grinned as though in enjoyment of an excellent joke. Not by word or action did he give any sign of the anger which was consuming him, but he determined to have his revenge.

A day or two later his chance came. Lurking in his usual stealthy way in a farmyard, he saw the farmer go into the house with a fine big ham, which he hung by a cord on a nail in the kitchen wall. Away he ran to Courtoys and told him what he had seen.

"Well," said Courtoys surlily, "and what about it?"

"Why," answered Tybert. "There is no reason why we should not feast on that ham, you and I. It will be the easiest thing in the world to steal it. The latch of the kitchen window is broken, and it cannot be locked. All you have to do is to go there to-night, creep through the window, pull down the ham, and throw it out to me."

"Why can't you get it yourself?" asked Courtoys suspiciously.

"Ah," said the cat, "I am not strong enough to pull it down."

"And what about the farmer's dogs? I seem to remember hearing they are savage brutes!"

"Well, of course, if you're _afraid_ ..." answered the cat disdainfully.

"Afraid yourself!" cried Courtoys. "You leave this to me."

So that very night, when the moon had set, the two crept into the farmyard, and the dog managed to get through the window into the kitchen unobserved. The next moment he had pulled down the ham and had thrown it out of the window to Tybert, who was waiting below. Tybert seized it in his mouth and ran off, but as soon as he reached the gate he gave a series of such blood-curdling miaows, that he roused every dog on the farm. Out they came, hair bristling, and teeth flashing, just in time to catch our friend Courtoys as he jumped down from the window.

Then occurred a ferocious fight. With his back to the wall Courtoys put up a sturdy resistance, but he was very badly mangled indeed before he managed to escape. With one ear torn off and one eye closed, bleeding from many wounds and panting with his exertions, he limped painfully up to where the cat awaited him.

"My poor friend," cried Tybert. "Are you badly hurt? Never mind, the ham was worth it--it simply melted in the mouth. I have already eaten my share, and I willingly give you yours!" So saying, he pointed to the greasy string by which the ham had been suspended, and which was now all that remained. Courtoys gazed at it blankly.

"You see," explained Tybert calmly, as he prepared to take his departure, "a cord is worth a good many fishbones!"

THE PEASANT AND THE SATYRS

One cold winter's day a peasant set out on a journey which led him through the depths of a forest into which he had not hitherto been. The result was that he lost his way, and after wandering about for many hours in the hope of finding it again, he found himself, just as dusk was coming on, in a little clearing where he was overjoyed to see a small house with a cheerful light in the window. "Here is a chance of supper and a bed," thought the peasant, and he made haste to go up to the cottage door.

Now this house in the clearing was not inhabited by men, but by some strange forest folk who were called satyrs. If you want to know what they were like, you must look at the pictures. Certainly the peasant had never seen anything like them before, although he had often heard of them, and when he nearly tumbled over the little satyr children who were playing in the snow outside the house door, he was the most surprised man in all those parts. It was too late to draw back however, so he went boldly up to the door and gave a loud knock.

"Come in!" cried a gruff voice, and the peasant accordingly went in and found himself facing the Father of all the Satyrs, who had a long beard and a pair of horns jutting from his forehead. The poor fellow's knees trembled underneath him for fright, especially when he saw all the other satyrs, the mother and the uncles and the aunts, glowering at him.

"Please forgive me for my intrusion," said he, "but I have lost my way in the woods, and I am half dead with hunger and cold. It would be an act of great kindness if you would give me some food and allow me to take shelter for the night." So saying, to give point to his remarks, he set to work to blow upon his chilled fingers, which indeed were blue with the cold.

"Why are you blowing your fingers?" asked the Father of all the Satyrs curiously.

"Why, to warm them," answered the peasant, and he blew harder than before.

"Well, sit down," said the Satyr. "As it happens we are just about to have supper, and you are welcome to share it with us."

So the peasant sat down to supper, and all the Satyr family sat down too, and watched him with big unblinking eyes, so that he felt very uncomfortable. A big basin of soup was set before him, and finding it very hot, he began to blow upon it.

At this all the Satyr family cried out in surprise, and the Father Satyr said, "Why are you blowing your soup?"

"To cool it," answered the peasant. "It is too hot, and I am afraid it may scald my mouth."

Another and a louder cry of surprise came from all the Satyrs, but the Father cried out loudest of all, and seemed very indignant. "Come," he said, advancing to the peasant and taking him by the collar. "Out you go! There is no place in my house for a man who can blow hot and cold with the same breath. That smells too much of sorcery or magic. Out you go, I say, and practise your spells in the forest."

So the poor peasant had to go supperless and spend the night in the woods, with no shelter but the trees, and the snow for coverlet.

And, if you wish to know when all this happened, all I can tell you is that it was a very long time ago, in the days when fishes flew, and cats had wings.

THE TWO FRIENDS AND THE BARREL OF GREASE

A dog and a wolf who were very great friends set up house together, and agreed to share equally any food they might obtain. One day they managed to steal a barrel of grease from the house of a countryman who lived close by, and having no immediate need of it, they decided to put it away until the winter, when they might be glad of anything they could get to appease their hunger. So the barrel of grease was carefully hidden away in the cellar.

All went well for some time, and then the wolf began to think longingly of the hidden store. Every time he thought of the grease he imagined himself licking it up, and at last he could withstand the temptation no longer, so he went to the dog and said: "I shall be out all day to-morrow. A cousin of mine has just had a little son, and he has sent for me to go and be godfather at the christening."

"Very well, my friend," answered the dog. "Go by all means. They have paid you a great honour by asking you, and of course you cannot refuse."

The wolf departed, but he went no farther than the cellar, where he spent the whole of the day by the barrel of grease, eating and eating until he could hold no more. Late at night he returned, licking his chops, and the dog said: "Well, my friend, did everything go off well?"

"Splendidly, thank you!" answered the wolf.

"Good! And what name did they give the child?"

"Oh," said the wolf, thinking of the barrel of grease, "they called him _Begun_."

"What a strange name!" cried the dog, "I never heard the like of it in my life. However, every one to his taste!"

A day or two later the wolf once again began to think of the delicious food in the cellar, so he told the dog that he had just received another summons from a different cousin, who also had a baby to which she wished him to stand godfather. "I wish to goodness they would leave me alone!" he said, pretending to be very much annoyed. "Anybody would think that I had nothing else to do but to stand godfather to other people's brats!"

"You shouldn't be so good-natured," laughed the dog. "It is clear that you make a very good godfather, or you would not be so much in demand."

Away went the wolf and spent a second satisfying day with the barrel of grease. When he returned the dog asked him the name of the child.

"_Half-Done_," said the wolf.

"Bah!" cried the dog, "that is an even sillier name than the other. I can't think what parents are coming to--in my time plain Jean or Jacques was good enough for anybody."

The wolf made no reply, being in fact fast asleep, for he had dined very well, and was drowsy. A day or two afterwards however, he played the same trick again, and devoured the last of the fat in the barrel. This time, when asked the name of the child to whom he had stood godfather, he answered: "_All-done_."

The dog had no suspicion of the way he had been deceived, and all went well until the winter came and food became difficult to procure. Then one day the dog said: "It seems to me that the time has come to tap our barrel of grease. What do you say, friend? Weren't we wise to put it away for a time like this!"

"I believe you," answered the wolf.

"Come then, let us go to the cellar and enjoy the fruits of our prudence."

So off they went to the cellar, where they found the barrel in the very place they had left it, but with nothing inside it. The dog looked at the wolf, and the wolf looked at the dog, and of the two the wolf seemed the more surprised.

"What's this?" cried the dog. "Where has our grease gone?" Then, looking at the wolf suspiciously: "This is some of your work, my friend!"

"Oh, indeed!" said the wolf, "and since when has it been proved that dogs do not like grease?"

"You mean to accuse me of stealing it?" cried the dog angrily.

"One of the two of us must have taken it, for nobody else knew it was here!"

"It was certainly not I."

"Well," said the wolf, "it is no use squabbling over the matter. Fortunately there is a way of discovering which of us is the culprit. Obviously the one who has eaten all that grease must be absolutely full of fat. Let us both go to sleep in the sunshine. At the end of an hour or two the heat will melt the grease which will soak through and show on the body of the one who is the thief."

Feeling quite secure in his innocence, the dog willingly agreed to this plan, and the two went out and lay down in a sheltered place, where the heat of the sun was strong. After a time the dog began to yawn, and in less than half an hour he was sound asleep, but the wolf had a good reason for not following his example, and although he closed his eyes to deceive his friend, he remained wide awake.

Presently, having made sure that the dog was slumbering peacefully, he arose and tiptoed softly down to the cellar. There he collected with his long tongue, every bit of the grease that still remained sticking to the sides and bottom of the barrel, and returning to the sleeper, carefully smeared the grease over his jaws, back, and thighs. Several times he did this, until the dog was covered with a thin greasy film. Then he lay down again and once more pretended to sleep.

A little while afterwards the dog woke up, and found the grease all over his body. He could not make out how it got there, and while he was still regarding himself with a look of blank surprise, the wolf cried: "Ah, now we know who was the thief! The grease has betrayed you, my friend!"

The poor dog looked very sheepish, and had not a word to say for himself. He puzzled over the matter until his head ached, and at last he came to the conclusion that he must have been sleep-walking and have stolen the grease without knowing it--a conclusion with which the wolf entirely agreed.

WHY THE BEAR HAS A STUMPY TAIL

One very cold winter, when the ground was covered with snow and the ponds and rivers were frozen hard, Reynard the Fox and all the other animals went out to enjoy themselves by sliding and skating on the ice. After a time Reynard began to feel hungry, so he wandered off by himself in search of something to eat. He nosed about here, and he nosed about there; he lay in wait behind bushes in the hope of being able to catch a bird; he lurked by the walls of farmhouses ready to spring out upon any unsuspecting chicken that might show itself, but all in vain. The birds were wary, and the fowls were all safe in the hen-houses.

Disappointed with his lack of success Reynard betook himself to the river, now covered with a glistening sheet of ice, and there, under the shelter of a bank, he found a hole in the ice which had not been frozen over. He sat down to watch the hole, and presently a little fish popped up its head for a breath of air. Reynard's paw darted, and the next moment the unfortunate creature lay gasping on the ice. Fish after fish the fox caught in this way, and when he had quite satisfied his hunger he strung the remainder on a stick and took his departure, not forgetting first of all to offer up a prayer for the repose of his victims.