"I have an ax here. Is it yours?"
"That is the very one," said the woodman. "Thank you, stranger,"
and he reached out his hand to take the gold ax.
But the stranger drew back, and put the ax behind him. "It is not
your ax. It is my own, and you wish to claim it. You are both
dishonest and untruthful;" and he turned away.
THE FOX WITH HIS TAIL CUT OFF
Reynard lost his tail in a trap. Now a fox is proud of two things
--his cunning and his tail. He had allowed himself to be trapped.
This showed his lack of cunning, and he had lost his tail.
He was so ashamed of himself that he could not bear to meet
another fox. He slunk off to his den and came out only when driven
by hunger. When out hunting, he kept out of the way of all his
neighbors. He did not mean that any of them should know of his bad
luck.
At last he grew tired of living by himself. He wanted to gossip
with his friends.
He wondered whether old Rufus was still running on top of the
great meadow fence to throw the hounds off the track.
He longed to hear of the latest tricks of Fleetfoot's cubs. They
were three of the brightest little foxes that ever lived. He
wished that he could see them at their play.
He wished to know if the men were still cutting down trees near
White-ear's den.
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