Читать книгу Two-Legs - Ewald Carl - Страница 6

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At last, however, they were so tired that they sat down. They stooped over the spring and drank and laughed at their own image in the water. They plucked juicy fruits from the trees and ate them. When the sun went down, they lay down to rest in the grass and went to sleep with their arms about each other’s necks. A little way off, the dog, who had followed in their footsteps, lay with his head on his paws, watching them. The round full moon shone straight down upon them. She also shone in the big face of the ox, who stood looking at them.

“Boo!” said the ox.

“Bo!” said the moon. “What are you staring at?”

“I’m looking at those two who are lying there asleep,” said the ox. “Do you know them?”

“I believe something of the kind used to crawl over my face years and years ago,” replied the moon. “But I’m not sure. My memory has become very bad in the last hundred thousand years. It’s almost more than I can do to concentrate my thoughts upon my celestial course.”

“Yes, thinking is not my strong point either,” said the ox. “But I am frightened.”

“Of those two there?” asked the moon.

“I don’t know why,” said the ox, “but I can’t bear them.”

“Then trample them to death!” cried the moon.

“I dare not,” said the ox. “Not by myself. But perhaps I can persuade some one to help me.”

“That’s your look-out,” said the moon. “It’s all one to me.”

And she sailed on. But the ox stood and chewed the cud and thought and got no further.

“Are you asleep?” asked the sheep, sticking out her long face beside the ox.

And suddenly the whole meadow came to life.

All the animals were there who had followed the two on their walk. There were both those who sleep by day and hunt at night and those who do their work while the sun shines. None of them was now thinking of working or resting. None thought of hurting the others. The lion and the stag, the wolf and the sheep, the cat and the mouse and the horse and the ox and many others stood side by side on the grass. The eagle sat in a tree-top, surrounded by all the little birds of the forest. The orang-outang sat on one of the lower branches eating an orange. The hen stood on a mound beside the fox; the duck and the goose lay in the brook and stuck out their necks.

“Now that we are all here together, let us discuss the matter,” said the lion.

“Have you had enough to eat?” asked the ox.

“Quite,” answered the lion. “To-night we shall keep the peace and be friends.”

“Then I move that we kill those two strange animals forthwith and without more ado,” said the ox.

“What in the wide world is the matter with you?” asked the lion. “Generally you’re such a peaceful fellow, grazing, attending to your business and not hurting a living thing. What makes you so bloodthirsty all of a sudden?”

“I can’t account for it,” said the ox. “But I have a decided conviction that we ought to kill them as soon as possible. They bring misfortune. They are evil. If you don’t follow my advice, rely upon it, one day you will all regret it.”

“I agree with the ox,” cried the horse. “Bite them to death! Kick them to pieces! And the sooner the better!”

“Kill them, kill them!” cried the sheep, the goat and the stag, with one voice.

“Yes, do, do!” screamed the duck, the goose and the hen.

“I have never heard anything like this in my life,” said the lion, looking round in surprise at the crowd. “It’s just the most peaceable and timid animals in the forest that want to take the strangers’ lives. What have they done to you? What are you afraid of?”

“I can’t tell you any more than the ox can,” said the horse. “But I feel that they are dangerous. I have such pains in my loins and legs.”

“When I think of those two, I feel as if I were being skinned,” said the ox. “I feel teeth biting into my flesh.”

“There’s a tugging at my udders,” said the cow.

“I’m shivering all over, as though all my wool had been shorn off,” said the sheep.

“I have a feeling as if I were being roasted before the fire and eaten,” said the goose.

“So have I! So have I!” screamed the duck and the hen.

“This is most remarkable,” said the lion. “I have never heard anything like it and I can’t understand your fears. What can those strangers do to you? They go about naked among us, eat an apple or an orange and don’t do the least harm. They go on two poor legs, whereas you have four, so that you can run away from them anyhow. You have horns and claws and teeth: what are you afraid of?”

“You’ll be sorry one day,” said the ox. “The new animals will be the ruin of us all. The danger threatens you as well as the rest of us.”

“I see no danger and I know no fear,” said the lion, proudly. “But is there really not one of you to take the strangers’ part?”

“If they did not belong to my family, I would do so gladly,” said the orang-outang. “But it looks bad to recommend one’s own relations. Let them go their way and starve. They are quite harmless.”

“Then I at least will say a good word for them,” said the dog. “My foot is almost well again and I believe that they are cleverer than all the rest of you put together. I shall never forget what they did for me.”

“That’s right, cousin,” said the lion. “You’re a fine fellow and one can see that you come of a good stock. I don’t believe that these Two-Legs are dangerous and I have no intention of doing them any harm. To be sure, if I meet them one day when I’m hungry, I shall eat them. That’s a different thing. Hunger knows no law. But to-night I have had enough to eat and I am going home to bed. Good night, all of you!”

Then none of the animals said another word. They went away as noiselessly as they had come. The night came to an end and the day broke in the east.