Once upon a time there lived in a certain village a Beg whose whole property consisted of a horse, a greyhound, and a musket. He had no other occupation than hunting, and by this he gained his living.

One fine day he mounted his horse, threw his musket over his shoulder, called to his greyhound, and set off to hunt upon the high mountains. After riding a long distance he reached an elevated plain, where he tied his horse to a tree and went forward into the thick woods, with his gun upon his shoulder and his dog by his side. While he was hunting on the mountain a Fox drew near to the horse and lay down in the grass beside him.

The Beg hunted about in the woods for a long time, but he only made out to kill a single deer. When he went back to his horse and saw the Fox lying there beside it he was astonished, and raised his musket to make an end of the Master. But when the Fox saw what the Beg was about to do he sprang up quickly and implored him, for the love of Heaven, to spare his life, promising to be a faithful guard and protector to his horse.

The Beg took pity on the Fox and gave him his life. Then mounting his horse, he laid the deer before him, set the Fox behind him, and went home. On arriving at home he put the deer upon the spit to roast for supper, and threw the offal to the Fox, that he might have a good meal too.

So the night passed. In the first dawn of morning the Beg again set out, taking the Fox along. He went again to the same high plain, tied his horse to the same tree, and went forward to hunt, leaving the Fox to guard the horse. After his departure the Fox remained alone for a time. But he soon had company, for a Bear came along, intending to devour the horse. But the Fox stopped him and begged him to spare the horse, advising him to stay till the Beg returned, for he was a good master and would feed them both at his house. The Bear joyfully accepted this proposal, and lay down beside the Fox to await the worthy Beg’s return.

When the Beg came back from hunting he was not a little surprised to see the Bear lying peacefully with the Fox beside the horse, and he quickly raised his musket to him. But the Fox sprang forward and began to beseech the Beg to spare the Bear and take him home with him. The Bear, he said, would keep him company in guarding the horse, and would rush to the Beg’s aid in every need and danger. At these entreaties the Beg laid down his gun, threw across his horse the two deer which he had killed, and returned home in high good-humor, accompanied by the Fox and the Bear.

The following day the Beg went hunting again and left his horse on the same high plain. This day a Wolf joined the company and was taken home with the others. On the fourth day a Mouse and a Mole presented themselves and were accepted in the family, and at last came the bird Kumrikusha,1 which was so large that it could easily have carried away the horse and his rider through the air. All these animals were fed by the Beg at his own house.

One day the Fox said to the Bear, “Up, Master Petz! Bring me here a log! I will sit upon it and give orders, and you must all execute them.”

Upon this the Bear betook himself to the forest and dragged home the trunk of a mighty tree. Then Reinecke climbed upon it and uttered the following discourse:

“All right! Well, then! See here, now, worthy companions and friends! We must marry our Beg.”

“Good!” replied the others; “but how shall we begin? For we don’t know where to find a maiden for him.”

“The Emperor has a daughter,” replied Reinecke; “let us marry our Beg to her. Kumrikusha, do you begin. Set off at once for the imperial castle, lie in wait for the young lady when she takes her walk, seize her and bring her here.”

Kumrikusha, nothing loath, set out at once, alighted near the imperial castle, and watched for the Emperor’s little daughter. Just at nightfall she came out of the castle to walk, accompanied by her waiting-woman. In a trice Kumrikusha was upon the spot, seized the Princess, set her upon his back, and flew homeward.

When the Emperor heard of the abduction of his daughter he was beside himself with grief, and offered to reward with untold wealth the person who should bring her home again. But all in vain, for no one dared undertake the adventure, until at last, one day, a gypsy-wife presented herself before the Emperor and said to him:

“Lord Emperor, what shall I get if I bring you back your daughter?”

The Emperor could hardly believe his own ears, and he cried out in delight, “Ask what you will, it shall be granted; only bring her back safe!”

The gypsy-wife went home, took some beans in her hand, and began to practise enchantment with them, according to ancient custom. She soon divined from the beans that the Princess was distant ten days’ journey, and she at once prepared to follow her. She took a piece of carpet and her riding-whip, seated herself upon the carpet, cracked the whip, and up rose the carpet into the air. It carried her straight to the place where the Beg was living with his wife, the Emperor’s daughter.

Arrived within a short distance of the Beg’s stronghold, the gypsy-wife let herself down to the ground, left her carpet and riding-whip lying there, and found a hiding-place where she could see the Princess when she came out before the door for her evening walk. She had not long to wait. The Princess soon came out for a little walk, and in a trice the gypsy-wife was at her side, entering into conversation with her. As they talked she gradually led her farther and farther away from the Beg’s castle, and at last turned off into a by-path, where the carpet lay.

No sooner did the Princess see the carpet spread upon the grass than she exclaimed, “Why, here is a carpet! Let us sit down upon it.”

Nothing could have pleased the gypsy better. They sat down together. The gypsy took up her riding-whip, struck the carpet, and away they both went through the air, straight to the imperial castle.

The Emperor’s joy was boundless when he saw his daughter, and he richly rewarded the gypsy. But he shut the Princess up in a room and strictly forbade her to leave it, appointing two maids to watch and wait upon her.

When Reinecke heard what had happened to his Beg’s wife, he summoned his companions to a council and addressed them in the following words:

“Friends and comrades! We have indeed married our Beg to the Emperor’s daughter, but, as you see, she has been forcibly taken away from us, and here is our Beg a lonely bachelor again. Nothing remains for us to do but to bring the Princess back to our Beg. But this is an undertaking beset with difficulties. The Emperor keeps his daughter under strict watch, and never permits her to leave her chamber. You see, therefore, that only stratagem can avail us here.”

“What, then, shall we do?” asked Petz.

“There is nothing better to do than for me to transform myself into a beautiful striped kitten and play about under the Princess’s window. When she sees me she will send her maids down to catch me. But I shall not allow myself to be caught until the Princess herself comes down. At the very moment she appears, do you, Kumrikusha, arrive upon the scene, seize her, and carry her to our Beg. Meanwhile I shall look sharp to outrun the pursuers and get off with a whole skin.”

Thus spoke the Master, and all the others agreed that the plan was good.

The bird Kumrikusha immediately took the Fox under his wing, flew with him into the kingdom where the Emperor’s daughter languished, and set him down near the imperial castle. The Master no sooner felt solid ground under his feet than he transformed himself into a beautiful striped kitten, crept under the balcony where the Princess was sitting, and began to spring about in the most graceful and fantastic manner. Thus he succeeded in attracting her attention, and, as he had anticipated, the Princess at once sent her maids down to bring the kitten to her. But Reinecke, though in a cat’s form, was still a fox at heart, and was not to be caught at any price.

When the Emperor’s daughter saw this she herself went down to catch Pussy. But hardly had she stepped out of the door when the bird Kumrikusha swooped down, seized her, and bore her home to the Beg, while Reinecke ran off in another direction and thus saved his skin.

As soon as the Emperor heard of this mishap he ordered out his hounds to hunt the cat that had decoyed away his daughter. But the cat, when he saw himself chased, took refuge in the cleft of a rock into which the hounds could not follow him. So they returned home from a bootless chase.

Then the cat crept out, transformed himself back into a fox, and followed Kumrikusha, who by this time had brought the Princess home to the Beg.

The Emperor, convinced that he should not recover his daughter by peaceful means, levied an immense army and declared war against the beasts. When Reinecke heard of this he summoned the other animals that lived with the Beg, and which, as I have told you, were a Bear, a Wolf, a Mouse, a Mole, and the bird Kumrikusha, and spoke to them thus:

“Listen! The Emperor, with his whole army, is marching against us to exterminate us. Very well; let us also summon our forces, that we may make a brave stand against him. Master Petz, how many bears can you muster?”

“More than three hundred.”

“And you, Isegrim?”

“I can bring five hundred wolves.”

“And you, Mouse—speak up; how great is your command?”

“I can bring three thousand mice.”

“And how many moles can you bring, Mole?”

“Eight thousand.”

“And you, Kumrikusha, will you join us?”

“Yes, with two or three hundred birds like myself.”

“Good! Now go and levy your forces as has been agreed. When they are assembled, come here, that I may tell you what to do next.”

As soon as Reinecke had given these orders the beasts all betook themselves to the forest in order to summon their troops. Soon heaven and earth resounded with the din of approaching multitudes. Here came the army of the Bears, there came the Wolves, and close behind were the Mice and the Moles. Woods and fields were filled with them, and when they were all drawn up in martial array Reinecke held a review and gave the following orders:

“You, Bears and Wolves, must lead the van, and when the Emperor has encamped for the night do you fall upon the camp and kill all the horses. On the second night, you, Mice, must gnaw all the saddles, for they will have procured fresh horses in the meantime. On the third night, you, Moles, must dig around the camp a subterranean passage fifteen ells broad and twenty deep. And as soon as the army is stirring in the morning, you, Kumrikushas, must rain down great pieces of rock upon them.”

The review ended, the several detachments of the army of the beasts set forth. The first night, when the imperial host had encamped, the Bears and the Wolves fell upon the imperial horses and tore them all to pieces. Early in the morning the soldiers announced to the Emperor that wild beasts had killed all the horses during the night. The Emperor made diligent search into the cause of the sudden calamity, and meanwhile he commanded that fresh horses should be procured without delay. This was done and the army moved on.

During the second night’s encampment the Mice came and gnawed all the trappings of the horses. In the morning when the soldiers awoke and saw that all the saddles were nibbled they told the Emperor, who at once commanded that new ones should be made. This done, again the army marched on.

The third night the Fox sent the Moles to surround the camp with a subterranean passage fifteen ells broad and twenty deep. That the work might be the sooner accomplished, he directed the Bears to carry away the loosened earth. The Moles began the work about midnight, leaving only one hole open at one side where the earth was to be carried out. While the Moles were digging under the ground and throwing up the clods, the Bears were busily carrying the earth to some distance from the camp.

When the Emperor’s troops awoke in the morning they mounted their horses to ride away; but hardly had they gone a few steps when they began to fall through the treacherous earth. At the same time the Kumrikushas let fall a rain of rocks and stones upon them.

When the Emperor saw his great army thus miserably perishing he cried aloud, “Let us beat a retreat! It is the judgment of God upon us for undertaking to make war upon the beasts. Let them keep my kidnapped daughter, in Heaven’s name!”

Immediately the army wheeled about to retreat, but even on that side the earth gave way beneath their feet.

“God is punishing us already,” cried the Emperor in despair, “by causing the earth to swallow us up! Oh, why, then, does He slay us with stones and rocks from the sky?”

The confusion was universal; every one was pushing and crowding his neighbor; and so the Emperor’s whole army melted away.

After a time the Fox removed his residence to Stamboul and began to rule there, and the Beg gave up hunting and went also to Stamboul to be near his Fox. There, with his wife, whom no one again dared to kidnap, he lived in joy and peace until his blessed end.

The little boy had left his stool and was standing near his grandmother, his eyes shining in the darkness. When she stopped speaking he drew a long breath.

“That was a good Fox, grandmother,” he said. “I should like to know that Fox.”