’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,’