“But Brother Tiger,” said the Brahmin, “you know if I should let you out, you would spring on me and eat me up.”

“Never, Brother Brahmin!” said the Tiger.  “Never in the world would I do such an ungrateful thing!  Just let me out a little minute, to get a little, little drink of water, Brother Brahmin!”

So the Brahmin unlocked the door and let the Tiger out.  The moment he was out he sprang on the Brahmin, and was about to eat him up.

“But, Brother Tiger,” said the Brahmin, “you promised you would not.  It is not fair or just that you should eat me, when I set you free.”

“It is perfectly right and just,” said the Tiger, “and I shall eat you up.”

However, the Brahmin argued so hard that at last the Tiger agreed to wait and ask the first five whom they should meet, whether it was fair for him to eat the Brahmin, and to abide by their decision.

The first thing they came to, to ask, was an old Banyan Tree, by the wayside. (A banyan tree is a kind of fruit tree.)

“Brother Banyan,” said the Brahmin, eagerly, “does it seem to you right or just that this Tiger should eat me, when I set him free from his cage?”

The Banyan Tree looked down at them and spoke in a tired voice.

“In the summer,” he said, “when the sun is hot, men come and sit in the cool of my shade and refresh themselves with the fruit of my branches.  But when evening falls, and they are rested, they break my twigs and scatter my leaves, and stone my boughs for more fruit.  Men are an ungrateful race.  Let the Tiger eat the Brahmin.”

The Tiger sprang to eat the Brahmin, but the Brahmin said,—­

“Wait, wait; we have asked only one.  We have still four to ask.”

Presently they came to a place where an old Bullock was lying by the road.  The Brahmin went up to him and said,—­

“Brother Bullock, oh, Brother Bullock, does it seem to you a fair thing that this Tiger should eat me up, after I have just freed him from a cage?”

The Bullock looked up, and answered in a deep, grumbling voice,—­

“When I was young and strong my master used me hard, and I served him well.  I carried heavy loads and carried them far.  Now that I am old and weak and cannot work, he leaves me without food or water, to die by the wayside.  Men are a thankless lot.  Let the Tiger eat the Brahmin.”

The Tiger sprang, but the Brahmin spoke very quickly,—­

“Oh, but this is only the second, Brother Tiger; you promised to ask five.”

The Tiger grumbled a good deal, but at last he went on again with the Brahmin.  And after a time they saw an Eagle, high overhead.  The Brahmin called up to him imploringly,—­

“Oh, Brother Eagle, Brother Eagle!  Tell us if it seems to you fair that this Tiger should eat me up, when I have just saved him from a frightful cage?”

The Eagle soared slowly overhead a moment, then he came lower, and spoke in a thin, clear voice.