XVI.
THE VALIANT CHATTEE-MAKER.
LONG, long ago, in a violent storm of thunder, lightning, wind, and rain, a tiger crept for shelter close to the wall of an old woman's hut. This old woman was very poor, and her hut was but a tumble-down place, through the roof of which the rain came drip, drip, drip, on more sides than one. This troubled her much, and she went running about from side to side, dragging first one thing and then another out of the way of the leaky places in the roof, and as she did so, she kept saying to herself, 'Oh dear! oh dear! how tiresome this is! I'm sure the roof will come down! If an elephant, or a lion, or a tiger were to walk in, he wouldn't frighten me half as much as this perpetual dripping.' And then she would begin dragging the bed and all the other things in the room about again, to get them out of the way of the rain. The Tiger, who was crouching down just outside, heard all that she said, and thought to himself, 'This old woman says she would not be afraid of an elephant, or a lion, or a tiger, but that this perpetual dripping frightens her more than all. What can this "perpetual dripping" be? it must be something very dreadful.' And, hearing her immediately afterwards dragging all the things about the room again, he said to himself, 'What a terrible noise! Surely that must be the "perpetual dripping?"'
At this moment a Chattee-maker,[1] who was in search of his donkey which had strayed away, came down the road. The night being very cold, he had, truth to say, taken a little more toddy[2] than was good for him, and seeing, by the light of a flash of lightning, a large animal lying down close to the old woman's hut, mistook it for the donkey he was looking for. So, running up to the Tiger, he seized hold of it by one ear, and commenced beating, kicking, and abusing it with all his might and main.
