"Why did nature make me like geese, then?" said the fox. "Live
and let live; give me my share, and I won't touch yours."

"I don't understand your fine talk," answered the farmer; "but I
know that you are a thief, and that you deserve to be hanged."

"His head is too thick to let me catch him so," thought the fox;
"I wonder if his heart is any softer! You are taking away the
life of a fellow-creature," he said; "that's a
responsibility--life is a curious thing, and who knows what comes
after it?

"You say I am a rogue--I say I am not; but at any rate, I ought
not to be hanged--for if I am not, I don't deserve it; and if I
am, you should give me time to repent! I have him now," thought
the fox; "let him. get out if he can."

"Why, what would you have me do with you?" said the man.

"My notion is that you should let me go, and give me a lamb, or
goose or two, every month, and then I could live without
stealing; but perhaps you know better; my education may have been
neglected; you should shut me up, and take care of me, and teach
me. Who knows but I may turn into a dog? Stranger things than
this have happened."

"Very pretty," said the farmer; "we have dogs enough, and more,
too, than we can take care of, without you. No, no, Master Fox, I
have caught you, and I am determined that you shall swing. There
will be one rogue less in the world, anyhow."