‘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 protector at last gave him the form of a tiger—­considering him all this while, and treating him withal, like nothing but a mouse.  The country-folk passing by would say, ’That a tiger! not he; it is a mouse the Saint has transformed.’  And the mouse being vexed at this, reflected, ’So long as the Master lives, this shameful story of my origin will survive!’ With this thought he was about to take the Saint’s life, when he, who knew his purpose, turned the ungrateful beast by a word to his original shape.  Besides, your Majesty,” continued the Vulture, “it may not be so easy to take in Camphor-island—­