asked the BÁby.

“Yes, indeed, that I should!” cried the little boy.

So the grandmother began:

Once upon a time there was a moujik who had a perfectly white Dog, which he called Whiteling. Now Whiteling had struck up a great friendship with Isegrim, the Wolf, and one day each made a solemn compact never to betray the other in any of their stealings.

Not long after, Isegrim said to Whiteling one day, “I intend to make a call upon your master’s swine to-night; so do you keep no watch, but just lie as still as possible, and don’t wake up the whole family with your barking, as you usually do, for you know that they will move heaven and earth to capture me.”

“Kill all the swine, if you like,” replied Whiteling; “I won’t betray you.”

“A word is enough, brother; I shall be there,” said Isegrim; and so the friends parted.

Punctually at nightfall Isegrim appeared and greeted Whiteling heartily, saying, “I gave you my word, and as you see, here I am.”

“Get to work, then,” replied Whiteling; “you have nothing to fear from me.”

Isegrim crept cautiously to the swine-pen. He had all the work in the world to get in, and once in, he had hardly begun his meal when the swine broke out in fearful squealings and gruntings. Whiteling, at the house-door, no sooner heard the noise than he began to bark and whine with all his might, waking all the family with his noise.

“What makes our Whiteling howl so?” they said. “We must go out and see what the trouble is.”

So all the family went out, and hearing the squealing of the swine, they hastened to the pigpen. Peeping in, they saw the Wolf and set upon him with clubs and fists, belaboring him so soundly that he barely escaped with a whole skin.

Waiting till the family had returned to bed, Isegrim crept back, and seizing Whiteling by the throat, “Aha!” he cried, “I have caught you now. You pledged me your word not to bark, and you broke your promise. No, I’ll never forgive you. Just look at me once, what a plight I’m in.”

Whiteling began to beg. “Ah, let me go, let me go, dear, sweet brother Isegrim; forgive me just this once; I’ll never do it again; come again and steal whenever you like; you may be perfectly sure of me!”

“Will you ever play me another such trick?” asked Isegrim.

“Never, never again!” said Whiteling.

“Very well, then,” said the Wolf, “you may go free this once; but next time, remember, hold your tongue!”

A few days later Isegrim paid the swine a second visit, but he had hardly crept into the pen when Whiteling set up a howl so loud and clear that all the household sprang out of bed to see what was the matter. A second time they found the Wolf, fell upon him, and beat him half-dead. The unlucky visitor barely escaped with his life, and full of wrath, he hid behind the hedge and waited till the household were asleep. Then, seeing Whiteling before the house-door, he cried to him, “Just wait once, Whiteling; your last half-hour strikes when you fall into my clutches! If you weren’t just where you are, safe at the house-door, I’d soon pay you off; but my time will come before long.”

Again Whiteling began to beg. “Dearest Isegrim, it is indeed true that I have brought you into a terrible pickle, but don’t kill me; let me go this time. I’ll never do it again.”

But the Wolf replied, “Neither now nor ever; you cheated me out of that meal of swine’s flesh, and three days from now you must meet me in battle. I will summon my forces, and do you summon yours—that is, if you can muster any. If you don’t show up, I’ll soon know where to find you, and I’ll drag you there myself!”

“All right,” returned Whiteling, “come what may, I’ll be there without fail.”

So Isegrim hastened away to get his troops together, and meeting the Wild Boar he said to him, “Will you be on my side? There is going to be war between me and Whiteling three days from now.”

“Oh,” replied the Wild Boar, “indeed I will be on your side!”

A little farther Isegrim met Master Petz, the Bear, told him the whole matter, and begged him to be on his side. Petz most cheerfully promised his help.

Later, he met Reinecke, the Fox, and told him the whole story. Reinecke assured him that he might certainly count upon his help—how could he ever hesitate to stand by his old crony against the common enemy?

Then said Isegrim, “Now we are quite enough; but I must spy out Whiteling and learn what forces he has. Then I will let you know that we are all ready for war.”

Isegrim betook himself to Whiteling’s house, and standing in the lane looked over the hedge. “Are you ready, Whiteling?” he asked. “To-morrow is the day.”

“I shall be ready,” replied Whiteling in a tone of deepest dejection; “but tell me precisely, where is the battle to be?”

“You know very well,” replied Isegrim; “yonder, under the tree we agreed upon.”

“Very well,” said the Dog, and slunk sorrowfully away to the other side of the farm-yard. There the Tomcat met him and said, “Why, my dear Whiteling, what can be the matter, what makes you so sad?”

And Whiteling answered, “My dear Grimalkin, you don’t know where the shoe pinches. Will you come to my aid?”

“Why, what are you talking about?” asked the surprised Cat.

“Just think of it,” replied the Dog, “to-morrow I have to fight Isegrim; we have declared war to the knife.”

“Oh, oh, my Whiteling, cheer up! I’ll stand by you to the death. Just you go to friend Quacker, the Drake, and engage his help.”

With a lighter heart Whiteling sought friend Quacker and begged his friendly aid.

“To be sure, to be sure; I am your comrade. Why should I leave a friend in the lurch? Go to friend Ganner, the Gander, and ask him if he feels like having a part in the war.”

So said and so done. Whiteling found the Gander, explained the affair and begged for his help. “Of course, why should I not be ready to help? Aren’t you our guard every night to keep Reinecke from making off with us?”

“Now,” said Whiteling, “I think we are strong enough.”

Early next morning Isegrim met his allies upon the battle-field under the appointed tree. He hid the Wild Boar beneath a thick bed of moss which grew upon the ground, and bade Reinecke climb into the tree, saying, “You must be our sentinel, Master. Keep watch when Whiteling appears with his troop, and give us secret intelligence. You, too, Petz, must scramble up the tree, but I will crouch down in ambush behind the trunk.”

Meanwhile Whiteling was also disposing his forces. “Grimalkin and Ganner, you are the infantry. I see that your weapon is ready, Grimalkin” (for Grimalkin held his tail upright, by way of musket); “and you, Ganner, must hiss your very best. Quacker, you shall be the drummer. I reserve to myself the command. March according to orders, and fall to when I give the word.”

So Whiteling and his comrades went gayly to the battle—Whiteling and his drummer in front, Grimalkin and Ganner bringing up the rear. Quacker drummed his prettiest—“Quack-quack, quack-quack, quack-quack!” The Gander hissed and the Tomcat strutted along in dignified silence, carrying his tail straight upright like a musket.

When Reinecke perceived the approaching company he cried to Isegrim, “Cousin, cousin, here come two soldiers with a drummer and a captain!”

“What’s that you say?” asked Isegrim in dismay.

“I say, here come two soldiers with a drummer and a captain,” replied Reinecke. “The soldier is loading his gun, he takes aim, he is about to fire——”

“Alas! woe be to us poor fellows,” moaned the Wild Boar from under the moss. “It’s all over with us! We fight with unequal forces!”

“Courage, courage, fellows,” cried Isegrim, trying to rally his troops; “just bear yourselves bravely; all is not lost; we’ll make short work of them yet!”

In the midst of all this confusion Whiteling and his troops reached the spot unperceived. Grimalkin, catching a glimpse of the Wild Boar’s ear sticking out of the moss, took it for a mouse, and springing upon it, bit into it with his sharp teeth. The Wild Boar sprang up in terror and took wildly to flight, while Grimalkin, no less terrified, scrambled frantically up the tree into the very face of Master Petz. The Bear, not prepared for this unexpected encounter, lost his balance and tumbled to the ground, half-killing himself by the fall. More frightened than ever, the Tomcat scrambled blindly up to the tree-top.

“Now, it’s my turn,” thought Reinecke to himself, and immediately tumbled down in affright. Grimalkin tumbled after, while the Drake kept drumming, “Quack-quack, quack-quack, quack-quack,” and Ganner hissed with all his might. Thus was Isegrim’s host ignominiously routed. The Wolf himself, however, still cowered behind the tree, his head buried in the moss.

When the besiegers had withdrawn, Isegrim’s scattered forces drew together and began to count their honorable scars. Said Master Petz, “More dead than alive from my heavy fall, I barely managed to make my escape.”

“A piece of my ear is gone,” said the Boar. “He cut it off with his sword.”

“Let us be thankful, fellows,” concluded Reinecke, “that we are no worse off, for if they had been able to fire off one more cannon we should have been hopelessly lost!”

“I wish I knew that Dog,” said the little boy. “I think he is wiser than our Watch.”

“The beasts were wiser those days,” replied the grandmother. “That was my great-great-grandmother’s time.”