Once upon a time there was a Lion, who used daily to devour one of the beasts of the forest. They had to come up one after another, when called for. At last it came to the Hare's turn to be eaten, and he did not want to be eaten at all. He lingered and he dallied, and when at last he plucked up courage to come, he was very late. The Lion, when he saw the Hare coming, bounded towards him. The Hare said—
"Uncle Lion, I know I am late, and you have cause to be angry. But really it is not my fault. There is another Lion in our part of the jungle, and he says that he is master, and you are nobody. In fact, when I showed him that I positively would come to you he was very angry."
"Ha!" said the Lion, roaring; "who says he is my master? Show him to me. I'll teach him who rules the forest."
"Come along then," said the Hare.
They went a long way, until they came to a well. The Hare looked down into the well. "He was here just now," said he.
The Lion looked in, and at the bottom he saw what looked like a Lion in the water. He shook his mane—the other Lion shook his mane. He roared—the echo of a roar came up from the bottom of the well. "Let me get at him!" roared the Lion. In he jumped—splash! Nothing more was ever heard of that Lion, and the beasts of the forest were glad to be left in peace. They put their heads together, and composed a verse of poetry, which is always sung in that forest on Sundays:—
"The Hare is small, but by his wit
He now has got the best of it;
By folly down the Lion fell,
And lost his life within the well."