.

That night, when the panther returned from hunting, she said to him as
usual, 'Jackal, bring out my little ones.'

But the jackal replied: 'Bring out your little ones, indeed! Why, you
know as well as I do that you have eaten them all up.'

Of course the panther had not the least idea what the jackal meant by
this, and only repeated, 'Jackal, bring out my children.' As she got
no answer she entered the cave, but found no jackal, for he had crawled
through the hole he had made and escaped. And, what was worse, she did
not find the little ones either.

Now the panther was not going to let the jackal get off like that, and
set off at a trot to catch him. The jackal, however, had got a good
start, and he reached a place where a swarm of bees deposited their
honey in the cleft of a rock. Then he stood still and waited till the
panther came up to him: 'Jackal, where are my little ones?' she asked.

And the jackal answered: 'They are up there. It is where I keep school.'

The panther looked about, and then inquired, 'But where? I see nothing
of them.'

'Come a little this way,' said the jackal, 'and you will hear how
beautifully they sing.'

So the panther drew near the cleft of the rock.

'Don't you hear them?' said the jackal; 'they are in there,' and slipped
away while the panther was listening to the song of the children.

She was still standing in the same place when a baboon went by. 'What
are you doing there, panther?'

'I am listening to my children singing. It is here that the jackal keeps
his school.'

Then the baboon seized a stick, and poked it in the cleft of the rock,
exclaiming, 'Well, then, I should like to see your children!'

The bees flew out in a huge swarm, and made furiously for the panther,
whom they attacked on all sides, while the baboon soon climbed up out of
the way, crying, as he perched himself on the branch of a tree, 'I wish
you joy of your children!' while from afar the jackal's voice was heard
exclaiming: 'Sting, her well! don't let her go!'

The panther galloped away as if she was mad, and flung herself into the
nearest lake, but every time she raised her head, the bees stung her
afresh so at last the poor beast was drowned altogether.

The Little Hare

Contes populaires des Bassoutos. Recueillis et traduits par E. Jacottet.
Paris: Leroux, Editeur.

A long, long way off, in a land where water is very scarce, there lived
a man and his wife and several children. O