slope of a mountain side; but at the hour of evening they went down to the stream together to drink, and after that they disported themselves together.
There was a fox, however, who had been used to feed on the remnants of the lion's meals, and continued now to profit by those of the cub; he saw with a jealous eye this growing intimacy with the calf, and determined to set them at variance[2].
One day, therefore, when the cub had just killed a beast and lay sucking its blood, the fox came to him with his tail no longer cockily curled up on his back, but low, sweeping the ground, and his ears drooping. When the cub saw him in this plight, he exclaimed, "Fox! what hath befallen thee? Tell me thy grief, and console thyself the while with a bite of this hind." But the fox, putting on a doleful tone, answered him, "How should I, thine uncle, take pleasure in eating flesh when thou hast an enemy? hence is all pleasure gone from me." But the cub answered carelessly, "It is not likely any one should be my enemy, fox; therefore set to and eat this hind's flesh." "If thou refusest in this lighthearted way to listen to the words of thine uncle," answered the fox, "so shall the day come when thou wilt berue it." "Who then, pray, is this mine enemy?" at last inquired the cub. "Who should it be but this calf? Saith he not always, 'The lioness killed my mother; therefore when I am strong enough I will kill the cub.'" "Nay, but we two are
