He is friend, and he is kinsman--less would make the name a lie.'

"Small-wit answered nothing, but betook himself to examining the snare
very closely.

'This will certainly hold,' muttered he; then, turning to the Deer, he
said, 'Good friend, these strings, you see, are made of sinew, and
to-day is a fast-day, so that I cannot possibly bite them. To-morrow
morning, if you still desire it, I shall be happy to serve you,'

When he was gone, the Crow, who had missed the Deer upon returning that
evening, and had sought for him everywhere, discovered him; and seeing
his sad plight, exclaimed--

'How came this about, my friend?'

'This came,' replied the Deer, 'through disregarding a friend's advice,'

'Where is that rascal Small-wit?' asked the Crow.

'He is waiting somewhere by,' said the Deer, 'to taste my flesh,'

'Well,' sighed the Crow, 'I warned you; but it is as in the true verse--

'Stars gleam, lamps flicker, friends foretell of fate;
The fated sees, knows, hears them--all too late.'

And then, with a deeper sigh, he exclaimed,'Ah, traitor Jackal, what an
ill deed hast thou done! Smooth-tongued knave--alas!--and in the face of
the monition too--