Once upon a time the fox was talking to the wolf of the
strength of man. How no animal could withstand him, and how
all were obliged to emply cunning in order to protect themselves
from him. Then the wolf answered, if I had but the chance of
seeing a man for once, I would set on him notwithstanding.
I can help you to do that, said the fox. Come to me early
to-morrow morning, and I will show you one. The wolf presented
himself betimes, and the fox took him out on the road by which
the huntsmen went daily. First came an old discharged soldier.
Is that a man, inquired the wolf. No, answered the fox, that
was one. Afterwards came a little boy who was going to school.
Is that a man. No, that will be one. At length came a
hunter with his double-barelled gun at his back, and hanger by
his side. Said the fox to the wolf, look, there comes a man,
you must attack him, but I will take myself off to my hole. The
wolf then rushed on the man. When the huntsman saw him he
said, it is a pity that I have not loaded with a bullet, aimed,
and fired his small shot in his face. The wolf pulled a very
wry grimace, but did not let himself be frightened, and attacked
him again, on which the huntsman gave him the second barrel. The
wolf swallowed his pain, and rushed on the huntsman, but he
drew out his bright hanger, and gave him a few cuts with it
right and left, so that, bleeding everywhere, he ran howling back
to the fox. Well, brother wolf, said the fox, how have you
got on with man. Ah, replied the wolf, I never imagined the
strength of man to be what it is. First, he took a stick from
his shoulder, and blew into it, and then something flew into
my face which tickled me terribly. Then he breathed once
more into the stick, and it flew into my nose like lightning and
hail. When I was quite close, he drew a white rib out of his
body, and he beat me so with it that I was all but left lying
dead. See what a braggart you are, said the fox. You throw
your hatchet so far that you cannot fetch it back again.