After this, the little Jackal did not like to risk going near the water, so he ate no more crabs.  But he found a garden of wild figs, which were so good that he went there every day, and ate them instead of shell-fish.

Now the old Alligator found this out, and he made up his mind to have the little Jackal for supper, or to die trying.  So he crept, and crawled, and dragged himself over the ground to the garden of wild figs.  There he made a huge pile of figs under the biggest of the wild fig trees, and hid himself in the pile.

After a while the little Jackal came dancing into the garden, very happy and free from care,—­but looking all around.  He saw the huge pile of figs under the big fig tree.

“H-m,” he thought, “that looks singularly like my friend, the Alligator.  I’ll investigate a bit.”

He stood quite still and began to talk to himself,—­it was a little way he had.  He said,—­

“The little figs I like best are the fat, ripe, juicy ones that drop off when the breeze blows; and then the wind blows them about on the ground, this way and that; the great heap of figs over there is so still that I think they must be all bad figs.”

The old Alligator, underneath his fig pile, thought,—­

“Bother the suspicious little Jackal!  I shall have to make these figs roll about, so that he will think the wind moves them.”  And straight-way he humped himself up and moved, and sent the little figs flying,—­and his back showed through.

The little Jackal did not wait for a second look.  He ran out of the garden like the wind.  But as he ran he called back,—­

“Thank you, again, Mr Alligator; very sweet of you to show me where you are; I can’t stay to thank you as I should like:  good-bye!”

At this the old Alligator was beside himself with rage.  He vowed that he would have the little Jackal for supper this time, come what might.  So he crept and crawled over the ground till he came to the little Jackal’s house.  Then he crept and crawled inside, and hid himself there in the house, to wait till the little Jackal should come home.

By and by the little Jackal came dancing home, happy and free from care,—­but looking all around.  Presently, as he came along, he saw that the ground was all raked up as if something very heavy had been dragged over it.  The little Jackal stopped and looked.

“What’s this? what’s this?” he said.

Then he saw that the door of his house was crushed at the sides and broken, as if something very big had gone through it.

“What’s this?  What’s this?” the little Jackal said.  “I think I’ll investigate a little!”

So he stood quite still and began to talk to himself (you remember, it was a little way he had), but loudly.  He said,—­

“How strange that my little House doesn’t speak to me!  Why don’t you speak to me, little House?  You always speak to me, if everything is all right, when I come home.  I wonder if anything is wrong with my little House?”