Not far from a Hare’s form a Bear once had her den, and Master Lampe often gave himself the treat of visiting the den in Petz’s absence and teasing the little Petzes.

“You dear little birds,” he would say, “do let me hear your enchanting songs!” And he would spit at them, and make all manner of game of them into the bargain.

Whenever Mrs. Petz came home the young ones would bitterly complain how a little Hare had been there making game of them. At this old Petz waxed very angry, and growled, “Just wait once, wait, Master Lampe! I’ll catch you yet and fling you into a hole.”

So Mrs. Petz hid herself in the back of the den, and sure enough along came Master Lampe and began to tease the young bears. No sooner did Mrs. Petz hear him than she sprang upon him from her hiding-place. But, quick as lightning, Lampe was off in the woods, with Mrs. Petz after him. Lampe fled through bush and brier, Petz always close upon his heels.

At last Lampe sprang through a cloven tree and Petz followed him. Unluckily she stuck fast in the narrow cleft and, do what she would, she could not escape from her prison.

Presently a Man came along, and Mrs. Petz implored him thus:

“Ah, Man, do set me free! I know where there is a hollow tree full of honey in the forest; you could bring a great cask and fill it as full as you like.”

“Are you telling the honest truth?” asked the Man.

“The honest truth,” replied Mrs. Petz. “I can make you rich in honey, and all I have to say is to give you this warning: Never, if you love your own life, do you tell a living soul how a miserable little Hare made a fool of a strong She-bear.”

The Man promised her, trust and true, and lifting his axe he struck a blow at the cloven tree. The tree fell apart, Petz was again free, and she at once led the Man to the honey-tree. The Man returned home, yoked up his oxen, put a cask in the cart, and went to the wood for the honey. When he had filled the cask he returned home.

Meantime it had grown dark, and Petz crept noiselessly behind the cart and crouched down under the peasant’s window, saying to herself, “Just wait, you fellow, till I listen a little!”

The Man brought the cask of honey into the house, and the children, seeing the prize, crowded around the father with questions. “O little father, where did you get that honey?”

“I found it in the forest, dear children.”

Then the wife put in her word. “Tell me, father, how did you come by so much honey?”

And the Man replied, “Oh, don’t bother me! It was an old trotter of a Bear that was chasing a little Hare and got stuck fast in the cleft of a tree. Then I came along and helped her out of the scrape, and for thanks she showed me the hollow tree where the honey was. So I brought it home. But it served her right, the lazy old fat tramper; what business had she chasing a Hare?”

Mrs. Petz did not lose a word of all this, and she growled to herself, “Just wait once, wait! I’ll be even with you with a vengeance for jeering at me.”

She went away home, and presently the Man, wife, and children all went to bed. Early next morning the Man got up and went out to till his field. He yoked his oxen, filled a sack with grain, put it and a plough into the cart, and with a “Gee-up, you oxen!” set out for his field, which lay on the edge of the forest. He was just about to begin ploughing when Mrs. Petz came along.

“Oho, cousin, so there you are! Didn’t you promise me, trust and true, not to say a word to mortal soul of what had happened to me, and didn’t you go home and tell the whole story to your wife and children? Hey?”

But the Man replied, “Friend, what an idea! I haven’t said a word to any one.”

“Silence!” interrupted the Bear. “I was listening under your window.”

Then the Man thought to himself, “Well, the cat is out of the bag, sure enough. She knows the whole story.”

“And now,” said Mrs. Petz, “it is all up with you.”

Now little Master Reinecke was listening to all this, and he rustled in the bushes with his tail, and cried:

For, in fact, the moujik had a mighty ox-goad in his hand, and he stood there quaking with fear of the enraged She-bear, and trying to contrive how he should get out of the scrape. Reinecke never stopped crying:

At this a bright thought struck the Man, and he resolved to try his luck. So he poured the grain from his sack upon the ground and said to Petz:

“I am a pious Christian and have not yet prepared for death, either by confession or penance. So do you, Mrs. Petz, step into this sack, and as penance for all my sins I will carry you around the field, heavy as you are. When I have gone around the field two or three times with you on my back, you may do with me what you like.”

“Gracious Heaven,” cried Mrs. Petz, “how high I shall hold my head when people say that a man carried me around upon his shoulders!” But scarcely had she crawled into the sack when the Man tied it up tight and belabored her head with his ox-goad until she gave up the ghost.

Then Reinecke stepped up to the Man and asked, “And what am I to get, Man, for the good counsel I gave you?”

“What shall I give you?” asked the Man. “Will you have geese?”

“No.”

“Ducks?”

“No.”

“Hens?”

“No.”

“Then what the mischief do you want?”

“I want to bite off your nose.”

At this the man thought to himself, “What the dickens! How should I look going around without a nose?”

Cold sweat broke out all over him, and he cried aloud in agony. Reinecke heard him, and said, “Oho, what does this mean?”

The Man gave a second and a third cry; it startled the Master, and he asked, “Now what’s all this about?”

“Oh, nothing,” replied the Man; “only last evening I fed nine hunting-dogs, and they are trying with all their might to get out!”

But Reinecke interrupted him: “The cuckoo take your nose and all the rest of you, only don’t let your hunting-dogs come out here until I have put my hide in safety!” And away he went, across lots and out of sight.

So the Man saved his nose, and full of joy he went home that night, carrying Petz with him.

“Master Reinecke wasn’t so clever that time,” said the little boy.

“He is not always clever,” said the grandmother. “But he was very clever when he took revenge on Isegrim.”

“Oh, tell me that, tell me that!” cried the little boy.

“Not now,” said the grandmother. “Did I not tell you that I had not done my stint of spinning? Come this evening after supper and I will tell you. Now run away home.”