There was once a lion with a bushy mane, whose name was Muffler. He lived in a country, called Antartika, where the hills were high, the valleys low, the forests thick, and the waters broad and deep. It was a fertile land, where grass and fruits and flowers grew in abundance. It was also a rich, rich country, full of precious stones lying on the ground, shining in the beds of the rivers, and glittering on the face of the mountains. Antartika was indeed a beautiful land.

But no people lived there, nothing but birds and beasts and fishes, and a wonderful race of tailless apes that died out long ago. And Muffler, the lion, was king.

On a certain day, a law-court day, Muffler sat on a diamond rock, and at his back was a rock of ruby blazing in the sun. On his head was a crown of laurel powdered with gold-dust and pearls. Beside him stood Old Primeval the ape, his faithful adviser, wearing on his neck a wreath of white poplar leaves dusted with silver, and holding in his hand a club inlaid with shining emeralds. On each side of the king and behind him were many young lions looking respectful and brave. Some distance in front was a crowd of all kinds of beasts, such as tigers, panthers, bears, wild-boars, wolves, hyenas, foxes, wild-cats, and even deer, sheep and goats, while the trees around were covered with birds of brilliant plumage. And they were all very quiet, because they were expecting something.

“Who is next?” enquired the king.

“Crafticus, come forward,” cried old Primeval.

There was a movement among the beasts as of someone pushing his way, and then there came out from among them a snow-white fox with a bushy tail. He walked forward with bowed head till he stood before the great Muffler, who looked down at him sternly and haughtily.

“Stand up,” commanded the king.

Crafticus stood on his hind legs, and his eyes blinked because of the light from the ruby, which made him look as if covered with blood.

“State the charge,” said the king turning to his counsellor.

“Crafticus,” said Primeval solemnly, “you are charged with wilfully slaying Awkwardibus, the king’s gander, last night up beside Lake Snow among the Topaz Hills. What have you got to say in self-defence?”

“I did not know that the gander was the king’s,” replied the fox in a humble tone.

“Crafticus, you must have known, knowing that the king’s ganders and geese are green, while all the others are gray, black, and white,” and the counsellor thought he had promptly caught the fox, and that the king would be highly pleased.

But Crafticus replied “There was a storm up there last night, and the gander was covered with snow in my eyes he was white.”

Old Primeval looked perplexed and annoyed.

But king Muffler laughed and his mane shook. “Crafticus is clever,” said he. “I know something myself about the case, nevertheless call for witnesses.”

“There is but one witness, O king, and that is the gander’s widow.”

“Call her,” said the king.

“Stupidify, come to the front,” cried the counsellor.

The green goose waddled up before the king, napped her wings, cackled, and screamed hysterically.

“Be silent, you idiot, don’t you see the king?” Primeval shouted between her cries.

“Where?” replied the goose, looking around her confused.

“There,” said Primeval emphatically, pointing his emerald club at Muffler’s nose.

“Oh yes, I think I see him,” cried the goose through her tears. “But I thought the king was like my lovely husband. Oh dear me,” and she cried bitterly.

King Muffler cast his eyes down towards her with pity and contempt.

“Stupidify,” said Primeval gravely, “was there a fall of snow last night?”

“What? What?” enquired the goose.

“Are you deaf, you silly creature?” cried Primeval angrily. “Was there not a fall of snow last night?” He wanted to frighten her into saying there was, for he thought the king admired the fox and wished him to escape.

“Be patient, be patient,” said king Muffler, “my counsellor’s conduct should be dignified. Be gentle with the poor widow.”

“Pardon me, O king,” replied Primeval bowing low. Then turning to the goose he enquired,

“Are you deaf, dear?”

“Yes, sir,” answered she, and receiving such sympathy she screamed loudly; which was rather annoying to Muffler’s ears, for they jerked as if wasps were at their tips.

When the goose quieted down, Primeval asked: “You don’t think of course there was any snow last night, my dear?” He wanted to coax her to say there wasn’t, for he now thought the king was in her favor.

“I don’t remember,” answered Stupidify; and Primeval scratched his head in disgust, while the king gave a muffled laugh.

“O king Muffler,” said Primeval, “I can proceed no further, for the green goose is no use as a witness. Is the explanation given by Crafticus satisfactory? Does he go free?”

“No,” replied the king, “his explanation is cunning, but untrue. I went to the top of the Topaz Mountain last night to get nearer the ear of the man in the moon, in order to invite him down to see me and my country. He did not seem to hear me, although I roared and shouted at him all night, and during the time I was there not a flake of snow fell. Therefore my judgment is that Crafticus did know that Awkwardibus the gander was mine, for it was green and nothing else all the time. Crafticus, I do therefore sentence you to leave your wife and children, with all the rest of the Craftikites, and to stay with widow Stupidify in my barn and its near surroundings, and to provide food and comfort for her as long as she lives.”

This was a deep humiliation, and Crafticus howled with shame and disgust. When he moved away from the king’s presence with the fat goose waddling by his side, all the hyenas laughed and laughed. And this was so vexing to him that he slyly turned his head toward Stupidify and showed her all his teeth in anger.

So they walked away in the direction of the king’s barn, which was to be their home when they were not out in search of food.

That night before the goose came in, Crafticus thought and thought how he could get rid of Stupidify. At last he rose up and sniffed through the dried grass in search of Furrier, the black cat.

Furrier was asleep; but Crafticus nipped his left ear gently, and he awoke with a yawn and stretched out his claws.

“What do you want?” said he, looking up.

“I wish you to help me to get rid of that hateful goose, dear Furrier.”

“I am afraid of the king,” replied the cat.

“You needn’t, you will be quite safe. I have a cunning plan, but I need your help, and I will reward you well.”

Crafticus then told his plan, and Purrier agreed and went out to meet the goose, while the fox lay down in a low broad box, as if fast asleep.

“Hail, Stupidify, lovely fat goose,” cried Furrier, when he met her and saw her by the light of the moon.

“Joy be with you, dear sooty cat.”

“Has Crafticus provided any food for you to-day?”

“Not a single speck, and I have been searching till now and have scarcely got any this place is new to me, as you know.”

“Oh my poor dear goose, how sorry I am.”

And hearing this she sat down and screamed.

“Arise and assert your rights,” said Purrier, “and I will help you. Let us go together to Crafticus, and if he be as careless about your bed as about your food, you just scream and scream till you get what you want.”

So they went along side by side, and when they entered the barn and looked into the box, Crafticus appeared to be in a deep sleep, but he was only pretending.

Purrier leaped in softly and lay beside him. “Oh this is cold,” said he. Then he went to the other side and lay down. “Oh, this is cold also,” and he rose up shivering. Then he poked his paw under the fox and whispered “Ha, ha, this is warm. The selfish fellow it is just like him to choose the warmest spot. Come and judge for yourself, poor neglected Stupidify.”

The goose jumped in clumsily and fell on her fat breast. Then she poked her beak under Crafticus and found it to be as the cat had said. It never struck her that the heat came from the fox’s own body.

“Now, demand your rights,” said Purrier, “demand a share of the comfortable spot,” and he went away and lay down among the dried grass.

“I want my rights,” cried the goose, in the fox’s ear.

“What?” said Crafticus, rubbing his eyes.

“I want my rights, I want you to move.”

“You have got your rights and double your rights. You can rest on either side of me and I have only the centre.”

“I want my share of the warm part.”

“How can the centre be warmer than the sides?”

“Let me try,” said the goose.

“All right, but it is very disturbing,” replied the fox, and he rose up and let the goose sit down.

“It is just as I felt with my beak, it is the warmest spot, and you can’t deny it. Now, I want my share of it.”

“You won’t get it, your request is absurd,” and he pushed her aside. Then he lay down and buried his eyes in his tail, as if trying to sleep.

Stupidify looked as if she might give in.

“Demand your rights,” cried Purrier, in a shrill menacing voice; “the king is on your side,” he added, with an emphatic yell.

“I want my rights,” cried the goose, encouraged to quarrelsomeness, and she bit Crafticus on the ear.

“Stupidify,” said the fox, slowly raising his head, “you are breaking my rest. Don’t you know that I have to run in the king’s chamois chase to-morrow, and that I need all the sleep I can get?”

“The king is my friend,” answered the goose with a chuckle and a stubborn look.

“Do let me alone,” rejoined the fox, as he buried his face again in his tail. But it was no use.

“I want my rights, I want my rights,” screamed the goose, and she went on demanding them or scolding and hissing every now and then till midnight.

At last Crafticus arose and said “I can’t stand this any longer. I can’t get any sleep, and I shall be quite unfit for the king’s chase.” Then turning to the goose he cried “Wretch, you have provoked me to kill you, and you have yourself to blame”; and having said this, he seized Stupidify by the neck and killed her.

Purrier now sprang from his bed and leaped into the box beside Crafticus, and they had a right royal feast together. They chatted and laughed, and Purrier told what he said to the goose when he met her and walked with her towards the barn.

“You have done well, Purrier, and I’ll never forget you.”

“Oh, my part was nothing,” replied he, “it was your own wise head that planned the whole trick. And when your case comes again before the king, I am sure it can’t be broken.”

“Thank you sincerely,” rejoined Crafticus. “I shall now get back to my dear, sorrowing wife and children.”

Two days afterwards, the fox stood again before the king.

“Crafticus,” said the counsellor, with a grave face, “you are charged this time with wilfully killing Stupidify, the king’s fat goose. Now what have you to say for yourself?”

Then Crafticus told the whole story of his provocation in a persuasive, modest manner, and he finished by saying

“Purrier, if I mistake not, was present at the time, and, if so, he will be able to support every word I have spoken.”

“Call for the black cat,” commanded the king.

“Purrier, to the front,” cried Primeval.

With a few fine springs the cat was in his place and on his hind legs before the king. But his eyes were closed because of the glare of light from the ruby and the diamond.

“Tell king Muffler all you know about Stupidify’s treatment of Crafticus.”

Purrier did so and added

“I was so sorry and indignant after the selfish goose sat down in the poor fox’s warm place that I called out to him ’Demand your rights, the king is on your side.’”

Then Purrier finished by saying

“Pardon me, O king, if I venture to say that such senseless, irritating conduct as the goose exhibited all that night might almost try your own great patience.”

“It would indeed,” said Muffler, “it was absurd and provoking in the highest degree, and if there be nothing to set aside your testimony, Crafticus shall go free.” And when Purrier bowed and sprang away, the king smiled approvingly and called after him “You are a sympathetic, clever little fellow, and I like your glossy, black coat.”

“Next witness,” said Muffler.

“Niblius, come forward,” cried the counsellor.

But although everyone looked, no one could see Niblius, and they wondered if he had dared not to be present. At last a little mouse with a white face and white feet was seen running up the hairy body of Primeval and out along his extended arm, and then sitting bolt upright on his broad palm. Then it bowed with a pretty jerk to king Muffler, and he nodded back and smiled.

“I suppose you will be able to prove the black cat’s words to be true?” remarked Primeval.

“No, my king,” replied the little fellow bravely, and he told everything he overheard in the barn.

King Muffler opened his eyes in astonishment and enquired

“Is Niblius truthful?”

“He was never known to tell a lie in all his life,” answered Primeval.

“Then Purrier must be very treacherous,” rejoined the king.

“He is,” said the counsellor.

“It is no new thing,” remarked the king, “for crafty creatures to get the simple to begin a foolish quarrel.”

“True, O king, and the crafty gain their end by seeming to be in the right.”

“If not found out,” said Muffler. “Crafticus,” he added, indignantly, “such trickery, if practised by all my subjects, would break up my mighty realm. And, besides, you showed no mercy. I do therefore sentence you to be struck down by the lion Thunderpeal, my grumbling uncle, or, if you choose, to be torn in pieces by the tiger Clawnailia, my cruel cousin, or to the mercy of anyone as cruel-hearted as yourself, and if you can escape their terrible clutches, good and well. I am sorry for you, and I am doubly sorry that talent like yours should be so much abused.”

“I bow to your will, O King,” said Crafticus meekly.

The fox’s wife and children now came forward to bid him farewell forever. They were beautiful creatures, especially the little foxes, and their cries were heart-rending. They looked wistfully into the eyes of the condemned Crafticus, and placed their heads gently and affectionately beside his drooping head.

When Thunderpeal advanced by the counsellor’s request to separate them, he had much difficulty in pushing them away, and king Muffler’s big heart was touched with sorrow.

Then Crafticus stood alone by the side of Thunderpeal, who waited impatiently the signal to strike him down.

“O king,” said Crafticus, “may I speak one word?”

“You may, but make haste, for my uncle’s face is getting dark and cloudy.”

“You gave me my choice of a slayer, O king?”

“I did, but of one as cruel as yourself.”

“You placed me in their mercy, O king?”

“I did, and I am very sorry for you, but the law must take its course.”

“Then, O king Muffler, I choose my wife.”

On hearing this the king’s eyes opened wide, while Thunderpeal broke into a roar of anger, but a flash of Muffler’s eyes sent him howling away. Then the king turned toward his counsellor and said

“Well, well, isn’t Crafticus clever? He catches at words as a lawyer handles them among mankind. Who would have thought that he would turn my words in his own favor?” Then Muffler laughed, and said “he deserves to escape. After all, it was only a goose, and the goose was my own, and I can well afford the loss.” And he laughed till his mane shook. “Go, Crafticus,” he added, “and be slain by the mercy of your wife by one indeed as cruel as yourself when it is a case of geese and ganders.”

Crafticus bowed low and answered

“I am deeply thankful, O king Muffler, for your justice and sympathy.”

“Before you go,” said the king, “there is one command I desire to make.”

“I await your pleasure, O king.”

“Make a right use of your talents, my Crafticus be straightforward, be straightforward.”

“I will, my king, I will.”

Old Primeval smiled but said nothing.

Then Crafticus left with a bound, and getting into the presence of his wife and children, they killed him nearly with kindness.