AGAIN the fox went back to his old sly ways, and for a time was quite pleased to be only a fox and live in beautiful Napantatutu. Of men and men’s ways he had quite enough, he was often heard to say, and he would cock his head to one side and wink and grin every time he thought of the poor old lady who was still waiting for her pearl.

The animals came and went, and their children and their grandchildren and their great-grandchildren, and still he lived on. Most foxes would have been happy to have such a quiet, comfortable time in an enchanted land and wouldn’t have found anything to worry about. But after a few hundred years he again got restless and tired and nothing was good enough for him. He spent all his time planning what he would do when he was a fox with nine golden tails. He talked of nothing else, and became the greatest bore in the forest. And he made so much fun of the peacock, saying it wore painted feathers, that the poor bird got ashamed to spread its tail.

Soon he was shunned by all of the animals. The frog hopped away when it saw him coming, the grasshopper whirred up to the top of the tallest tree, the owls rolled their eyes at him, flapped their wings and away they went, and even the lazy old tortoise, that every day came out to take its nap in a little spot of sunshine, tried to crawl away in a hurry when it heard him coming, and sometimes in its haste rolled all the way down the river bank.Year by year he went from bad to worse. He found fault with everybody and everything, and was so cross that after a while he didn’t have a single friend. He not only quarreled with all of his neighbors and snapped and snarled at every one who spoke to him, but he greedily swallowed any little helpless creatures that crossed his path, so that at last all of the animals hated him even more than they feared him.

Then, too, he refused to have anything to do with any other foxes that found their way into the peaceful wood, and made their lives miserable with his airs.

“You are nothing but common beasts,” he told them haughtily. “You will never have even one golden tail, while I will one day be the wonder of the world.”

“Hadn’t you better wait until you get your fine tails before you brag so much?” asked one saucy young fellow. “It may not be any better than being a woman or a wizard or even an old gray fox.”

“A fox with nine golden tails is the most magnificent thing that was ever seen or heard about,” he snarled. “I will be the King of Beasts and even men will worship me,” and he walked away switching his one bushy tail angrily. And he could only console himself by thinking what a sad thing it was not to be appreciated.

“They are all jealous of me,” he told himself, as he didn’t often get a chance to talk to any one else. And he fretted and fumed from morning until night, counting the years that must pass, and he grew old and thin worrying because the days were so long.

But everything comes if you only wait long enough, and at last the day came when he was a thousand years old. He had stayed all night by the hollow tree so that he would be on hand early in the morning, and long before it was day he began to knock and bark and call for the dragon. Even before the sun had touched the treetops the dragon came out rubbing its eyes sleepily.

“How dare you wake me up?” cried the angry creature, blowing out fire and sparks and smoke until it looked like a volcano.

“This is my thousandth birthday, and I want my nine tails of gold,” whined the fox.

“You are a blithering old bother,” roared the dragon. “You don’t know what you want and you don’t want anything after you get it. Well, this is your last visit to me. Don’t let me ever see you again.” With another snort it raised its forked tail all covered with silver scales high above its head, opened its huge mouth and yawned furiously.

Then it slowly wriggled back into its dark bed, and standing without was a fox with nine big, bright, glittering, golden tails. Never, never had such a thing been seen by man or beast!

Even the fox was stunned for a moment when he found what had happened to him. Then he puffed out with pride until he almost burst, and held his head so high that he nearly fell over backward. He stood alone—the wonder of the whole world!

His first thought was to run and show himself to all the animals of the forest. And he started to skip joyfully away, but alas! he was as one rooted to the spot. Now he found to his horror that his golden tails were so heavy he could not walk, much less run. He had never thought about this, and he stood trembling in his tracks, wondering just what he would do about it. Besides, although he knew they must be very beautiful, he could only twist his head far enough around to see the tip end of one of them, and he wanted so to see them all and know how very grand he really did look.

He kept lifting up first one foot and then another, and straining and tugging in his struggle to trot off and let himself be seen. But never again would he be able to run through the cool weeds and leap over the streams and roll in the soft moss and kick up his heels in rustling beds of leaves, for nine tails of gold were an awful load to carry. As he grew more used to them he found he could manage to totter along with slow and painful steps, but it was very hard work. But when he thought of what the other poor animals would think and say when they beheld him in all his glory he again puffed out with pride.

After all, if he couldn’t get about very well now, he would have all of them to wait upon him, so it didn’t much matter. All he need do was to stand up and be admired. It is true he wasn’t a bit comfortable, for the tails were like lead, and already his poor back was aching, but still one would be willing to have back-ache to be the most splendid creature on earth. There never had been, there never again would be anything like him. He was the one superb ornament of the world. He kept repeating this to himself with much satisfaction. And if he couldn’t walk, he could ride in the future on the backs of his adoring slaves and perhaps that was better.

As the fox strutted feebly and slowly through the leaves and over the dewy grass where he had once scampered and frolicked, suddenly he saw a procession of all the creatures of the wood, with the monkey ahead, coming to meet him, for they were very curious to know if he would get his golden tails. He stopped and stood silent and haughty, waiting for them. They gathered around him, but said never a word. And so he cried out shrilly:

“Behold your King! I am the most wonderful animal in all the world. Never again on land or on sea will there be bird or beast or fish or fowl that can compare with me. Stupid things that you are, fall down and worship me.”

Now, what the animals saw was not anything beautiful or wonderful, but just the same old gray fox, with his back bald in patches, his legs trembling and his body twisted crooked by the weight of nine stiff yellow tails that stuck out behind him. And the more they looked at him the funnier figure he cut. As he ended his proud speech he tried to spread his magnificent tails and strut as he had seen the peacock do, but he toppled over backward and kicked and squirmed in his efforts to get on his feet again.

At this the animals set up a shout that echoed through the forest. The monkey laughed until he had to hold on to the limb of a tree by his tail to keep from falling off, the bear grinned at first and then let out loud ha! ha’s! the hen cackled, the owls whoo-ed, the crickets chirped, the pigeons coo-ed with such glee they gurgled and choked, the rooster crowed, the parrot shrieked, the peafowl screamed, the ducks squawked, the frogs croaked and young Luxuriant-Thick-Mud-Master bellowed until the earth shook.

The fox was at first dazed. Then he thought that he was so marvelous an object they had all gone crazy at the sight of him, and he waited for them to come to their senses. When they had quieted down a bit he said scornfully:

“Foolish things of the wood, I am not going to hurt you. If you obey me I shall treat you kindly. But you must find me the daintiest food and carry me everywhere I wish to go. Now hurry and get me my breakfast.”But the animals saw that a fox with nine golden tails was but a helpless thing, not as much to be feared as the spry and snappy old fellow they had known for so many years. So some of them laughed and some of them sat down to watch him.

“Obey me!” he screamed, his tongue hanging out with rage. “There never before was anything made like me.”

“No, because you are useless,” said the tortoise.

“A fox with nine golden tails is the greatest thing in the world,” he went on, not noticing the tortoise.

“How do we know they are not brass tails?” asked the owl, and winked wisely.

“And who is going to keep them polished?” asked the practical ant, who was known as a good housekeeper.“Who? Who-oo?” hooted the owl.

“Not I,” said the grasshopper promptly, for he was afraid of work.

The fox, puzzled, helpless and angry, could only grit his teeth and glare at them. A spider, remembering how he had killed her whole family with a blow of his paw, crept up and stung his leg, the wee soft rabbits that he knew were such toothsome dainties hopped around him and laid back their pretty pink ears and sniffed, the fat and fuzzy little chickens, who had been taught to hide under mother’s wing and hold their breath when he came in sight, now flapped their baby wings under his very nose and then ran away and cried “peep! peep!” at him, and the monkey giggled and threw a nut that hit one of his fine tails a sounding whack.

For once the quick wit of the fox deserted him. He could only turn up his nose and snarl slowly, for he was trying with all his might to plan what to do next. He was the richest fox in the world—the only living creature with nine golden tails—but what good were they to him if these silly creatures would not wait on him and worship him? In all the years he had lived among them he had been greedy and selfish and cross and ugly, and now he had not a single friend. But he didn’t blame himself, he blamed them. And the rage shut up within him boiled and bubbled until he foamed at the mouth. How he hated every one of them! Oh, if he could only take off his golden tails long enough to whip the saucy monkey! And how very nice one of those downy little chicks would taste!

“I have all the gold in the wood,” he said at last. “I am your King and you are too stupid to know it.”

“Only men are ruled by a man because he has gold,” said the wise old tortoise. “We know better. Had you been brave and kind and good we would now be proud of you. But you have thought only of yourself, now help yourself. You have all that you wanted—be satisfied.”

“As it is daylight I don’t see very well,” said the owl, blinking, “but it doesn’t seem to me that you are any handsomer with your nine golden tails than you were with your old gray brush.”

The fox started. Could he believe his ears? Not any handsomer than any common fox—he who had nine wonderful, glittering tails of purest gold?

“You are jealous of me—jealous—jealous,” he barked.But as the animals did nothing but laugh a great fear came over him. Perhaps after all his tails were put on wrong! It had really been quite dark when the dragon came out, and as he was not used to giving away golden tails, he might have made a mistake and stuck them on backward. Something surely was the matter with them. He must go to the river at once and see for himself.

But he who had once been so light of foot that he hardly left a track in the softest mud as he skipped along, now found it very, very hard to get across the little strip of grass and weeds that lay between him and the forest mirror. He put forth every bit of his strength and swayed and tottered along, and all the animals followed him, scampering and laughing and pushing and shoving each other. And when he at last reached the bank, squirm and twist as he would, he could not get a glimpse of himself. He screwed his head around until his throat hurt, he twisted his thin body until his ribs stuck out, he stood on three legs and fell over on his nose trying to stand on two, but always the tails seemed to turn around the wrong way, and the very best he could do was to see one of them. The animals kept making fun of him as they watched him.

“What are you going to do with them?” politely asked the bear.

“Do you have to wear them all the time?” quacked the goose.

“Oh, no, he is going to lend them to the tortoise sometimes,” snickered the monkey. The fox, who had almost tied himself into a knot in his efforts to throw a proper shadow, did not take the trouble to notice them.

“One tail is enough for me,” screamed the peacock, as he spread his shimmering fan and danced until he got so pigeon-toed he had to stop.

“My grandmother—who was nine hundred if she was a day—told me it wasn’t any fun to be better than anybody else,” said the parrot, snapping his bill. “One got so dreadfully lonely.”

But the fox only turned his head first to one side and then to the other in his struggle to find out how he looked. He strained and tugged until his tongue hung out and water dripped from his jaws, he tried so hard to move his stiff tails that his muscles cracked, and all the time he kept backing out, out, until he stood on the very tip edge of the high bank. But he was so busy looking for his shadow that he never thought about anything else, and suddenly the dirt crumbled under his feet and without a moment’s warning he tumbled backward into the river with such a mighty splash and splutter that all the animals got a shower.

When he hit the water he struck out with all four of his feet, for he was a good swimmer, but the tails of gold were like iron weights upon his back, and he only churned the water into foam as he kicked and snorted. Then with one great struggle that sent the ripples flying in every direction, he shot down like a torpedo to the very bottom of the deep river. And he never came up again! The animals shrieked and ran to the river bank.

The stork, who had been standing on one leg all the morning, took down his other in a hurry and hopped over into the rushes, where he stretched his long neck as far as ever he could and peeped into the muddy stream, the monkey wrapped his tail around a bush to keep from falling as he screwed up one eye and tried in vain to see what had become of the fox, Luxuriant-Thick-Mud-Master toppled off the bank in his fright and made another splash, a fish, not knowing what to make of so much noise, jumped out in the grass and turned a somersault, the owl snapped both his glassy eyes, but saw nothing, the bullfrog dived down as far as he could and came up coughing and choking, but the fox, golden tails and all, was gone forever.

sadly said the tortoise, who prided himself on knowing a lot of real poetry. But the rabbit winked his long ears and whispered to the ant: “Good riddance!”

Once again hundreds and hundreds of years went by, as they always do if you wait a while. Every animal that had known the poor fox had been dead a long time, and those that came after them told this tale as I have told it to you, only they weren’t quite certain it was true, and some of the young beasts said it was nothing but a fairy story.

But one day a pearl fisher came up the river in his little boat, and while he was diving down in the deepest part of the water he found a queer-looking object sticking up in the mud, and when he had brought it ashore and washed and scrubbed it, he found it was a tail of pure gold. Hardly believing his good fortune, he took it away with him, and many wise men looked at it through spectacles and microscopes, and weighed it and thumped it and tasted it and wrote long papers about it filled with so many big words that no one ever read them.

And to-day you may see this very same tail, looking rather old and rusty, in one of the museums of a foreign city, and beside it is a card telling that this is undoubtedly the golden feather that the great King No-Thing-Fan of Japan once wore in his crown, which shows that even very wise people sometimes make mistakes. But it was the fairy godmother to the poor pearl diver, who sold it for so much money that he was able to buy a cozy little bamboo cottage for his family and to ever after give them as much as they wanted to eat, and so one of the tails of the fox did some good in the world after all.

THE END.