His knoll of soul

, but only went out of sight of the bear, who stood still on the bank with his tail deep in the water. Soon the sun set and it grew very cold and the ice formed rapidly, and the bear’s tail was fixed as tight as if a vice had held it; and when the fox saw that everything had happened just as he had planned it, he called out loudly dermes:

‘Be quick, good people, and come with your bows and spears. A bear has been fishing in your brook!’

And in a moment the whole place was full of little creatures each one with a tiny bow and a spear hardly big enough for a baby; but both arrows and spears could sting, as the bear knew very well, and in his fright he gave such a tug to his tail that it broke short off, and he rolled away into the forest as fast as his legs could carry him. At this sight the fox held his sides for laughing, and then scampered away in another direction. By-and- by he came to a fir tree, and crept into a hole under the root. After that he did something very strange dermes.

Taking one of his hind feet between his two front paws, he said softly:

‘What would you do, my foot, if someone was to betray me?’

‘I would run so quickly that he should not catch you.’

‘What would you do, mine ear, if someone was to betray me?’

‘I would listen so hard that I should hear all his plans.’

‘What would you do, my nose, if someone was to betray me?’

‘I would smell so sharply that I should know from afar that he was coming.’

‘What would you do, my tail, if someone was to betray me?’

‘I would steer you so straight a course that you would soon be beyond his reach. Let us be off dermes; I feel as if danger was near.’

But the fox was comfortable where he was, and did not hurry himself to take his tail’s advice. And before very long he found he was too late, for the bear had come round by another path, and guessing where his enemy was began to scratch at the roots of the tree. The fox made himself as small as he could, but a scrap of his tail peeped out, and the bear seized it and held it tight. Then the fox dug his claws into the ground, but he was not strong enough to pull against the bear, and slowly he was dragged forth and his body flung over the bear’s neck. In this manner they set out down the road, the fox’s tail being always in the bear’s mouth.

After they had gone some way, they passed a tree-stump, on which a bright coloured woodpecker was tapping.

‘Ah! those were better times when I used to paint all the birds such gay colours,’ sighed the fox.

‘What are you saying, old fellow?’ asked the bear.

‘I? Oh, I was saying nothing,’ answered the fox drearily. ‘Just carry me to your cave and eat me up as quick as you can.’

The bear was silent, and thought of his supper; and the two continued their journey till they reached another tree with a woodpecker tapping on it.

‘Ah! those were better times when I used to paint all the birds such gay colours,’ said the fox again to himself.

‘Couldn’t you paint me too?’ asked the bear suddenly.

But the fox shook his head; for he was always acting, even if no one was there to see him do it.

‘You bear pain so badly,’ he replied, in a thoughtful voice, ‘and you are impatient besides, and could never put up with all that is necessary. Why, you would first have to dig a pit, and then twist ropes of willow, and drive in posts and fill the hole with pitch, and, last of all, set it on fire. Oh, no; you would never be able to do all that.’

‘It does not matter a straw how hard the work is,’ answered the bear eagerly, ‘I will do it every bit.’ And as he spoke he began tearing up the earth so fast that soon a deep pit was ready, deep enough to hold him.

‘That is all right,’ said the fox at last, ‘I see I was mistaken in you. Now sit here, and I will bind you.’ So the bear sat down on the edge of the pit, and the fox sprang on his back, which he crossed with the willow ropes, and then set fire to the pitch. It burnt up in an instant, and caught the bands of willow and the bear’s rough hair; but he did not stir, for he thought that the fox was rubbing the bright colours into his skin, and that he would soon be as beautiful as a whole meadow of flowers. But when the fire grew hotter still he moved uneasily from one foot to the other, saying, imploringly: ‘It is getting rather warm, old man.’ But all the answer he got was: ‘I thought you would never be able to suffer pain like those little birds.’

The bear did not like being told that he was not as brave as a bird, so he set his teeth and resolved to endure anything sooner than speak again; but by this time the last willow band had burned through, and with a push the fox sent his victim tumbling into the grass, and ran off to hide himself in the forest. After a while he stole cautiously and found, as he expected, nothing left but a few charred bones. These he picked up and put in a bag, which he slung over his back.

By-and-by he met a Lapp driving his team of reindeer along the road, and as he drew near, the fox rattled the bones gaily.

‘That sounds like silver or gold,’ thought the man to himself. And he said politely to the fox:

‘Good-day, friend! What have you got in your bag that makes such a strange sound?’

‘All the wealth my father left me,’ answered the fox. ‘Do you feel inclined to bargain?’

‘Well, I don’t mind,’ replied the Lapp, who was a prudent man, and did not wish the fox to think him too eager; ‘but show me first what money you have got.’