How the Dog outwitted the Leopard.

In the early time there was a dog and a leopard dwelling together in a cave like chums. They shared and fared alike. Exact half of everything and equal effort were the terms upon which they lived. Many and many a famous raid among the flocks and fowls in the human villages they made. The leopard was by far the strongest and boldest, and was most successful in catching prey. Dog lived so well on the spoils brought home by his friend that he became at last fat and lazy, and he began to dislike going out at night in the rain and cold dew, and to hide this growing habit from Leopard he had to be very cunning. He always invented some excuse or another to explain why he brought nothing to the common larder, and finally he hit upon a new plan of saving himself from the toil and danger.

Just before dusk one day, Leopard and Dog were sociably chatting together, when Leopard said that he intended that night to catch a fine fat black goat which he had observed in the nearest village to their den. He had watched him getting fatter every day, and he was bent upon bringing him home.

“Black is it?” cried Dog. “That is strange, for that is also the colour of the one I purposed to catch to-night.”

The two friends slept until most of the night was gone, but when there were signs that morning was not far off they silently loped away to their work.

They parted at the village which Leopard had selected to rob, Dog whispering “Good luck” to him. Dog trotted off a little way and sneaked back to watch his friend.

Leopard stealthily surveying the tall fence, saw one place which he could leap over, and at one spring was inside the village. Snuffing about, he discovered the goat-pen, forced an entrance, and seizing his prize by the neck, drew it out. He then flung it over his shoulders, and with a mighty leap landed outside the fence.

Dog, who had watched his chance, now cried out in an affected voice, “Hi, hi—wake up! Leopard has killed the goat. There he is. Ah, ah! Kill him, kill him!”

Alarmed at the noise made, and hearing a rustle in the grass near him, Leopard was obliged to abandon his prize, and to save his own life, dropped the goat and fled.

Dog, chuckling loudly at the success of his ruse, picked the dead goat up, and trotted home to the den with it.

“Oh, see, Leopard!” cried he, as he reached the entrance, “what a fat goat I’ve got at my village. Is it not a heavy one? But where is yours? Did you not succeed after all?”

“Oh! I was alarmed by the owners in the village, who pursued me and yelled out, ‘Kill him, kill him!’ and there was something rustling in the grass close by, and I thought that I was done for; but I dropped the goat and ran away. I dare say they have found the animal by this, and have eaten our meat. Never mind, though, better luck next time. I saw a fine fat white goat in the pen, which I am sure to catch to-morrow night.”

“Well, I am very sorry, but cheer your heart. You shall have an equal share with me of this. Let us bestir ourselves to cook it.”

They gathered sticks and made a fire, and began to roast it. When it was nearly ready Dog went outside, and took a stick and beat the ground, and whined out:

“Oh! please, I did not do it. It was Leopard that killed the goat. Oh! don’t kill me. It was Leopard who stole it.”

Leopard, hearing these cries and the blows of the stick, thought to himself: “Ah! the men have followed us to our den, and are killing Dog; then they will come and kill me if I do not run.” He therefore ran out and escaped.

Dog, on seeing him well away, coolly returned to the den and devoured the whole of the meat, leaving only the bones.

After a long time Leopard returned to the den, and found Dog moaning piteously. “What is the matter, my friend?” he asked.

“Ah! oh! don’t touch me; don’t touch me, I beg of you. I am so bruised and sore all over! Ah! my bones! They have half killed me,” moaned Dog.

“Poor fellow! Well, lie still and rest. There is nothing like rest for a bruised body. I will get that white goat the next time I try.”

After waiting two or three days, Leopard departed to obtain the white goat. Dog sneaked after him, and served his friend in the same way, bringing the white goat himself, and bragging how he had succeeded, while pretending to pity Leopard for his bad luck.

Three times running Dog served him with the same trick, and Leopard was much mortified at his own failure. Then Leopard thought of the Muzimu—the oracle who knows all things, and gives such good advice to those who are unfortunate and ask for his help—and he resolved, in his distress, to seek him.

In the heart of the tall, dark woods, where the bush is most dense, where vines clamber over the clumps, and fold themselves round and round the trees, and hang in long coils by the side of a cool stream, the Muzimu resided.

Leopard softly drew near the sacred place and cried, “Oh! Muzimu, have pity on me. I am almost dying with hunger. I used to be bold and strong, and successful, but now, of late, though I catch my prey as of old, something always happens to scare me away, and I lose the meat I have taken. Help me, O Muzimu, and tell how my good luck may return.”

After a while the Muzimu answered in a deep voice, “Leopard, your ill-luck comes from your own folly. You know how to catch prey, but it takes a dog to know how to eat it. Go; watch your friend, and your ill-luck will fly away.”

Leopard was never very wise, though he had good eyes, and was swift and brave, and he thought over what the Muzimu said. He could not understand in what way his good luck would return by watching his friend, but he resolved to follow the advice of the Muzimu.

The next night Leopard gave out that he was going to seize a dun-coloured goat, and Dog said, “Ah! that is what I mean to do too. I think a dun-coated goat so sweet.”

The village was reached, a low place was found in the palings, and Leopard, as quick as you could wink, was over and among the goats. With one stroke he struck his victim dead, threw it over his shoulders, and, with a flying leap, carried it outside. Dog, who was hiding near the place, in a strange voice cried, “Ah! here he is—the thief of a Leopard! Kill him! kill him!”

Leopard turning his head around, saw him in the grass and heard him yelp, “Awu-ou-ou! Awu-ou-ou! Kill him! kill him!” dropped the goat for an instant and said, “Ah, it is you, my false friend, is it? Wait a bit, and I will teach you how you may steal once too often.” With eyes like balls of fire, he rushed at him, and would have torn him into pieces, but Dog’s instinct told him that the game he had been playing was up, and burying his tail between his hind legs, he turned and fled for dear life. Round and round the village he ran, darting this way and that, until, finding his strength was oozing out of him, he dashed finally through a gap in the fence, straight into a man’s house and under the bed, where he lay gasping and panting. Seeing that the man, who had been scared by his sudden entry, was about to take his spear to kill him, he crawled from under the bed to the man’s feet, and licked them, and turned on his back imploring mercy. The man took pity on him, tied him up, and made a pet of him. Ever since Dog and Man have been firm friends, but a mortal hatred has existed between Dog and Leopard. Dog’s back always bristles straight up when his enemy is about, and there is no truer warning of the Leopard’s presence than that given by Dog—while Leopard would rather eat a dog than a goat any day. That is the way—as I heard it in Unyoro—that the chumship between Leopard and Dog was broken up.