by Yoti Lane
Now the buffalo were under the rule of a leader, a big, cunning old fellow who was a regular bully. After they had been there for some time so much damage had been done that the animals held a meeting.
They all sat round, and tried to decide what to do.
The tortoise who was a peaceful fellow suggested that they should talk to the buffalo chief, point out how much damage he and his family had caused, and see if they could be persuaded to be more careful.
So they went in search of the old chief. They found him asleep. “If we wake him he’ll be very cross,” said the deer. “I think we had better put it off.” “Nonsense,” said the lion. “After walking all this way we are going to say what we have to say,” so he roared, “Buffalo,” and the old fellow woke up with a great start.
“What do you mean by waking me?” he snorted, as he eyed the animals angrily. “We are very sorry that we had to awaken you, but we have come from all over the forest in order to talk to you.”
“What do you want with me?” grunted the buffalo.
“We wish to ask you to be a little more careful,” said the tortoise. “Probably you aren’t aware that you have caused us some trouble, quite unintentionally, no doubt.” Here the lion snarled because he was in no mood for diplomacy, but the tortoise went on smoothly. “You have walked on a number of birds and small animals, and killed them. You have also walked on myself and members of my family, and we only escaped with our lives because of our thick shells. Worse still you have trodden down the crops on the farms, and man is getting angry, and will come to hunt you out. Once he starts hunting there is no knowing where he will stop, and we shall suffer also. We have come to beg of you to keep away from the crops, to leave some of the river bank for myself and my family, and the turtle family who live there also.”
“And to be a bit more careful when you walk,” squeaked the hare. The buffalo lashed his tail angrily.
“I am living as I have always lived. We are the lords of the bush, and we cannot be bothered with all this nonsense from lesser folks. Look after your own affairs, and I’ll look after mine, and if man interferes with me so much the worse for him!”
At this the lion became very angry indeed.
“So you think you are the Lord of the Bush,” he roared. “You big, stupid bully, why everyone knows that the lions are the Kings of the animal world. Come and prove your foolish boast. Come on and fight!” and with that the lion rushed at the buffalo.
“Please,” called the tortoise. “Please, gentlemen, this will never do!”
But he was swept aside, and the two combatants sprang at each other. The other animals formed a large ring, and watched with great anxiety. They knew the lion was getting middle-aged, and he hadn’t fought for a long time, and they were very much afraid that he would be defeated.
They soon realised that their worst fears were true. The buffalo seemed quite indifferent to the claws of the lion, although he was badly mauled, but in a little while he had the lion down, and then he broke the lion’s back, and the lion died.
The animals were most upset when they saw this. They were not intimate with the lion, but they had known him for years, and they were used to him. The python was more angry than anyone, because secretly, he believed, that he was more powerful than any lion, and that if he had attacked the buffalo he would have won.
The buffalo shook himself and glared around.
“I hope this settles who is lord of this district. Does anyone else want to dispute it?” he roared.
“Yes, I do,” hissed the python, and made for the buffalo.
“Dear, dear,” squeaked the hare, “this is very serious!” It was very serious because it soon became clear that the python was also getting the worst of things. Unlike the lion, however, the python knew when he was beaten, and he had no intention of fighting to the death. Torn and bleeding, he dragged himself away leaving the buffalo triumphant. The other animals followed the python and helped him home.
“We should never have gone near the fellow. We should have tried other methods,” lamented the hare. “For once I agree with you,” said the tortoise. “We’ll have to rely on brains, not brawn.” “What do you mean to do?” asked the deer. “I’ll do some thinking,” replied the tortoise. “If the hare will stay with me he can take a message later on. I advise all you people to go home, and lie low.”
“This is bad, you know,” the hare said as the others went away. “I went over to the farms for a little corn this morning, and I heard men threatening to come and hunt out the buffalo, and once they start that no one will be safe till they get him—if they get him.”
“With our assistance I think they may,” said the tortoise. “Will you go and fetch the Queen Bee here, and also a monkey.” So the hare ran off and fetched back the Queen Bee and a monkey.
“Would you do us a great favour, Queen Bee, and give us a hive so that we may catch the buffalo who is causing us so much trouble.”
The Queen Bee buzzed. “It’s a very great sacrifice to give you a hive, but if you think it will help I suppose I’ll have to agree.”
“I want you to allow two monkeys to take it away.”
“Very well, come in an hour, and you may have it,” said the Queen, and away she flew.
“Now would you call the wild pigs, and bring some of them here?” the tortoise asked the hare. So the hare set off to find the wild pigs. As usual they were busy digging, but he persuaded some of them to come along.
“I want you to dig a very big, very deep hole under that tree,” the tortoise told them. “What do we get for doing it?” asked a pig. “Nothing, but you get rid of the buffalo if that interests you.” “It certainly does,” squealed the pig. “All the fungus in this part of the bush will be ruined if that clumsy brute isn’t put in his place.” “He’ll be put in his place all right,” the tortoise replied.
So the pigs dug an enormous hole, and then the tortoise asked the monkeys to cover the hole with leaves, and branches. “A trap, a trap,” shrieked the monkeys, and set to with a will, because there was nothing they enjoyed more than playing tricks, and a trick that might capture the buffalo was really worth while. They concealed the trap so cunningly that no one could guess it was there.
When it was done the tortoise instructed the monkeys to fetch the beehive, and place it just on the other side of the trap.
When the monkeys had done this also, the tortoise drew one of them aside, and whispered in his ear. The monkey nodded eagerly, his eyes sparkling in anticipation, and then off he went to find the buffalo leader.
He eventually found him wallowing in mud. The monkey sat on the river bank, wept loudly, and shrilly, and rubbed himself with mud.
“What on earth is the matter with you?” thundered the buffalo.
“I have had a most unfortunate accident,” sobbed the monkey. “I was helping myself to a little honey this morning, and I accidentally knocked down a hive, and the bees returned and attacked me most cruelly. I’m stung all over, and there is all that beautiful honey and I feel too ill to eat any of it.”
“Where is it?” asked the buffalo.
“Under that very big tree just over there,” said the monkey. “Oh dear, I think I’ll lie down in the mud, and see if that helps!” So the monkey lay down, covered his eyes with his paws, and pretended to be in agony while he watched the buffalo go slowly towards the tree by a very roundabout route.
“Here he comes,” squeaked the hare, who had been acting as a scout. “Off with you and wait, he’s a very cunning fellow,” replied the tortoise.
So they stayed at a safe distance until the buffalo came, very quietly for one of his build, spied the hive, and went towards it. Then there was a most terrific crash and the buffalo landed in the pit. His roars positively shook the ground.
·The hare ran out, and danced for joy.
“We’ve got him. We’ve got him,” he squeaked.
“We haven’t finished the job yet,” said the tortoise. “Now you run to the vill
age, and frisk around till the dogs see you, and then when they chase you, you lead them here.”
So the hare ran off to the village, and frisked around until a dog saw him. The dog immediately barked, and began to chase the hare, and then all the other dogs in the village joined in, and they all ran after the hare. Of course they had chased him before, and they knew, and the hare knew, that they hadn’t the slightest chance of catching him, but still it was good fun. The hare led them straight to the trap where the buffalo was roaring, and when he got there he jumped over the trap, and ran to safety. The dogs, their hair rising with excitement, stood on the edge of the pit and barked madly.
Back in the village the terrible commotion made by the dogs attracted the attention of the men. “What are the dogs up to?” they asked. “Without doubt they have cornered some quarry. Let us go and see,” suggested an old man. So the men got together, and made their way into the bush until they came to the place where the buffalo was trapped. When they saw what had happened they cried out for joy. “It’s the buffalo who has been tramping down our crops. We shall kill him, and have a big feast!”
So they killed the buffalo and dragged the body away, and made a great fire, and held a magnificent feast. The men ate buffalo, and the dogs ate buffalo, and back in the bush the buffalo family decided that as they had lost their leader they had better find a safer place, so they moved off deeper into the bush, and never came back.
The tortoise and the hare and the monkey congratulated each other heartily, and the snake nursed his wounds, and was well content.
WHY PIGS DIG
YOU MAY NOTICE that pigs, wherever they may be, always seem to spend their spare time digging, and snuffling in the ground, and they go on and on as if they were looking for something. All this began a long time ago in the good old days when all the animals could talk to each other.
There was a turtle who was heavily indebted to a pig, and who was always making excuses for not paying his debts. One day when the pig felt that matters had dragged on for long enough, he announced that he would call at the home of the turtle to collect his money. When the pig arrived he found the place in an uproar with the turtle sitting in front of the house wailing loudly.
“Whatever is the matter, old man?” enquired the simple pig.
“Alas, my poor father has passed away,” wept the turtle. “He was a fine old chap, and I am stricken with grief,” and the turtle broke into heartbreaking sobs.
The pig felt very compassionate.
“All right,” he said. “I won’t bother you with business matters now, I shall return tomorrow.”
So the pig went home, and told his friends what had happened. By next day, however, some of the pig’s natural caution had returned, and he decided that this time he would bring a friend with him as witness to any more excuses.
When they arrived at the turtle’s home everything seemed quiet, very quiet indeed. Everyone was sitting around as if they had nothing to do, and nowhere to go.
“I’m glad to find everyone seems calmer today,” the pig said to the turtle. “Now perhaps we can talk quietly, and you will see how much you can pay off your debt to me.”
The turtle shook his head mournfully.
“I am deeply grieved that I can pay nothing today. After you left yesterday there came news of the death of my mother-in-law, and all the money I had has gone to pay for singers at her funeral. There is nothing left, all we can do is to sit here, and wait and see if things are better tomorrow.”
The pig began to feel suspicious about these bereavements, but he decided to give the turtle another chance. “Very well,” he grunted. “I hope things are better tomorrow, because I shall come back, and I really must insist that some repayment is made to me.”
Next day the pig returned, and brought two other pigs with him. Again everything seemed suspiciously quiet, and the turtle began to talk before the pig could say a word.
“My dear fellow,” the turtle said, “Believe me I am most anxious to repay you, but this week one thing after another seems to be happening. Yesterday after you had gone I received a reminder that today was my grandmother’s centenary, and all the money and food I had, has been taken away for a feast. It is, of course, a most important function, and custom demands that I should give everything I have. I should be at the celebration now, but I waited until you came in order to explain matters to you. We must have another meeting soon, but I must get away now.”
“Then I shall return tomorrow,” squealed the pig, now thoroughly enraged, and he turned tail, followed by his two friends, and stamped off.
The turtle was now in an awful fix. His excuses were outworn, but he loathed the idea of paying his debts. At last he thought of a scheme to put things off for some time.
“You must pretend to be a doctor,” he told his eldest son, “And you will say that after all the troubles I have had lately I became very ill, and that you have ordered me away for a change, and that it’s no use the pig coming here day after day as I won’t be here.”
“And where will you be?” asked the son.
“I shall be here, of course, but the pig mustn’t know. Just before he comes tomorrow, you can turn me upside down, spread herbs over me, and pretend I’m a grinding stone. Then the pig and his friends may search all over the place. They won’t find me, and they’ll go away.”
“I don’t like this trickery,” the son said. “You’ll have to pay him something sooner or later.”
“Then it will be later—much later,” snapped the turtle.
So when the pig arrived he found all the turtle’s relatives working around the place, and the youngest son was apparently grinding herbs on an old grinding stone. He saw no sign of the turtle.
“Where is your father?” he demanded of the youngest boy.
“There is a message for you,” mumbled the youngster.
At this the eldest son came out, informed the pig—who had brought three friends with him this time—that the turtle was ill from grief and had been sent away for a change of air.
While he told this tale, the youngest son, who found it impossible to remain calm, and pretend to grind the herbs, moved back into the house, leaving the “grinding stone” unattended in front of the pig, but the wily turtle didn’t move. He was quite sure his disguise was complete protection, and he remained quite still and listened to his eldest son telling the story as planned.
“And when will the turtle be back?” enquired the pig, almost suffocating with rage at the end of the tale.
“I’m sure I can’t tell you,” replied the “doctor” smoothly.
Beside himself with anger the pig rushed at the first thing he saw which happened to be the “grinding stone,” picked it up and threw it into the bush. Then he sat down.
“I shall stay here till he returns, and so will my friends,” he snorted. “These excuses have gone on long enough. The turtle must take me for a complete fool !”
Meanwhile the turtle picked himself up out of the bush, and crept into the house by the back door. His youngest son was terrified. “Don’t be alarmed,” said the turtle. “I see a way out of this at last. Call your brother in.”
When the eldest son came in the turtle whispered that he now had a plan which was going to settle matters, and they were to follow his lead, and back him up in everything he said. Then he crept out through the bush, made his way to the road, and with as much noise as possible, calling out as he came, he moved towards the front of the house.
“Why it’s my father,” exclaimed the eldest son. “He has come back.”
“Now what is he up to?” grunted the pig.
“I had to return,” announced the turtle. “I was so ill last night I forgot all about my appointment with you,” he told the pig. “But this morning I remembered it and I came back. I feel I must do something to repay you.”
“Good,” replied the pig. “Give me what you owe me, and let me go, that’s all I ask.”
“Yes,” said the turtle. “Y
es, I shall call my sons, and we shall see what we can arrange. What have you been doing this morning? I hope you have entertained the Doctor properly. Did you grind the herbs, and make him a meal?” he asked the youngest son.
“I was grinding the herbs when the pig came,” said the youngest son.
“Let me see if they are properly ground, where is the grinding stone?” asked the turtle.
“Well, the pig got rather annoyed, and threw it into the bush,” said the youngest son.
“Fetch it at once,” demanded the turtle.
“I’ll fetch it,” said the pig, feeling a bit of a fool. So off he trotted into the bush and went to the spot where he judged the grinding stone to have fallen. Of course it was not there.
“Have you found the grinding stone?” called the turtle.
“No,” replied the pig. “It must have rolled away.”
The turtle set up a wail.
“Oh dear, and it’s a most valuable stone. It was my grandfather’s, it’s been in the family for hundreds of years. It’s priceless. Please find it at once.”
“We’ll help you,” cried the pig’s friends, and they went, and rooted round in the bush as well, but of course there was no grinding stone to be found. All the while they searched the turtle became more and more anguished. “It has fallen into a deep hole, or it has been stolen,” he wailed.
The pigs continued to search frantically, but after a time they had to give up, and they went back to the turtle feeling very guilty.
The turtle was sitting in front of his house, weeping, and quite beside himself.
“Look what has happened now,” he cried, “and all over that silly debt that I could have paid in no time, now you have lost my precious grinding stone which was worth a hundred times as much as my debt to you. It must be found. I don’t care how far you search or how long it takes, but you must find my grinding stone. I refuse to repay anything until it is found.”
The poor pig realised he was in a hopeless position unless he found the grinding stone, so he decided to call out all his friends to help in the search, and to send out messages to all pigs everywhere to find the lost or stolen grinding stone. Then he went back to snuffling and digging himself. By next day all the pigs in the bush were hard at the task, and as appeals went out more and more pigs joined in the search. Needless to say they have been searching ever since, all over the world, but they have never found the grinding stone.