well. I carried heavy loads and carried them far. Now that I am old and
weak and cannot work, he leaves me without food or water, to die by the
wayside. Men are a thankless lot. Let the Tiger eat the Brahmin."

The Tiger sprang, but the Brahmin spoke very quickly,--

"Oh, but this is only the second, Brother Tiger; you promised to ask
five."

The Tiger grumbled a good deal, but at last he went on again with the
Brahmin. And after a time they saw an Eagle, high overhead. The Brahmin
called up to him imploringly,--

"Oh, Brother Eagle, Brother Eagle! Tell us if it seems to you fair that
this Tiger should eat me up, when I have just saved him from a frightful
cage?"

The Eagle soared slowly overhead a moment, then he came lower, and spoke
in a thin, clear voice.

"I live high in the air," he said, "and I do no man any harm. Yet as
often as they find my eyrie, men stone my young and rob my nest and
shoot at me with arrows. Men are a cruel breed. Let the Tiger eat the
Brahmin!"

The Tiger sprang upon the Brahmin, to eat him up; and this time the
Brahmin had very hard work to persuade him to wait. At last he did
persuade him, however, and they walked on together. And in a little
while they saw an old Alligator, lying half buried in mud and slime, at
the river's edge.