The Crocodile's Tail

　　The crab， the jackal and the crocodile had one thing in common. They ate anything， absolutely anything. The crocodile even ate the jackal， when he could catch him！

　　Besides being very greedy， the crocodile also had the worst temper of anyone in the forest. No one could be nastier. Not even the wart-hog. Not even the buffalo. Not even the elephant when he had nose-bleed.

　　When the crocodile in a really bad mood， he caught his tail between his teeth and slithered round and round in circles in the oozy mud of the river bank.

　　On this hot and hungry， dry and dusty day， the crocodile was in the worst of all possible moods.

　　'Where is everyone？' he grunted.

　　He had been lying by the drinking place at the edge of the river for two whole days. Not a single creature had come out of the forest to drink. The only sound he had heard was the howling of the jackal. If there was one creature whose voice the crocodile hated， it was the jackal.

　　'Typical！' snorted the crocodile. 'No thought for others！ My belly is emptier than a hollow log and no one comes to be eaten. Not even that worthless jackal. The forest would be better without him.'

　　The only creature in sight was the crab， whose hard shell protected him from the crocodile. Now， the crab and the crocodile were not exactly friends， but they rubbed along together like two old porcupines， keeping a watchful eye out for each other's bad moods. The crab was full of curiosity and had a voice like vinegar. He did not like the taste of it himself. He walked sideways， trying to edge into everybody else's conversation.

　　'Well！' snapped the crocodile. 'Where is everyone？'

　　'If you want to catch them，' said the crab， in his tart voice， 'it's time you learnt to smile.'

　　'I do smile，' said the crocodile， who practiced every day.

　　'No one believes you，' said the crab. 'That's the trouble.'

　　'What about that beastly jackal？' asked the crocodile. 'He's usually down here two or three times a day.'

　　'The more he stays away the better，' said the crab. 'He snuffles like pig for roots. Have you heard him snore？'

　　'If I got that close，' said the crocodile， 'he would never snore again， I promise you.'

　　'You would not eat him！' squeaked the crab in a horrified voice. The himself would eat last week's dinner or a monkey's dustbin， if he could， but he liked to pretend that he only ate the best.

　　'I could eat a swamp snake right now，' said the crocodile. 'My teeth are falling out， I'm so hungry.'

　　'Why not go and catch something？' asked the crab. 'You are clever enough，' he said， 'most of the time.'

　　'It's no good，' moaned the crocodile. 'They all hide. No must have died at least five days before. He was feeling quite full and rather comfortable. For once in his life， he felt just a little sorry for the crocodile. It was probably a foolish thing to feel.

　　'Can I help？' asked the crab.

　　'Well，' said the crocodile， becoming a little more cheerful. 'Now you mention it， you can. Go and invite the jackal down for a drink. Tell him it's quite safe and I'll not hurt him. Tell him. I know he must be very thirsty.'

　　The crab went sideways up the river bank towards the line of mangrove trees. He looked as if he had a guilty secret. Inside the forest it was cool and full of shadows. Sunlight slipped between the leaves.

　　The jackal was sitting on a giant tree-root， eating the last of a guinea fowl and snuffling like a dog at the bottom of a door.

　　'That looks good，' said the crab.

　　'That is，' said the jackal.

　　'I bet that makes you thirsty，' said the crab.

　　'That does，' said the jackal.

　　'Why not come with me to the river for a quick drink？' said the crab.

　　'That crocodile，' said the jackal. He was too busy gnawing the bones of the guinea fowl to say more than two words at a time.

　　'No need to worry about him，' said the crab. 'He has eaten once today. You will find him very friendly now.'

　　'Too friendly，' said the jackal.

　　'He will be very hurt if you don't come，' said the crab. 'He especially wished to have a word with you.'

　　'Not likely，' said the jackal and turned his back on the crab.

　　'Very well， then，' said the crab. 'I'll go and tell him.'

　　He sidled off down to the river bank again.

　　As soon as he had gone， the jackal trotted after him， keeping to the shadows. He had behind a log at the edge of the forest， where he could hear what the crab and the crocodile said but could not be seen by them.

　　'Is he coming？' asked the crocodile， opening his great jaws with a hungry grin.

　　'No，' said the crab. 'He refuses.'

　　The crocodile snapped at a dragonfly and missed.

　　'Did you tell him I would be friendly？' he asked.

　　'Of course，' said the crab. 'He didn't believe me.'

　　'He was right，' snorted the crocodile. 'I'm not friendly now. I'm furious. How dare he refuse！ Was he thirsty？'

　　'His tongue looked as dry as an old anion skin，' said the crab.

　　'Then we will play a better trick on him，' said the crocodile. 'Go and tell him I'm dead.'

　　'He will not believe that either，' said the crab.

　　'He will if he is thirsty enough，' snarled the crocodile. 'I'll lie half-way between the forest and the river. When he comes past me I'll snap him up. I promise you， I'll look as dead as a fish floating upside-down.'

　　'That sounds very dead，' agreed the crab， licking his lips at the thought.

　　'Get some flowers，' said the crocodile， 'and spread them over me. Make a lot of noise， as if you really think that I'm dead. Do you understand？'

　　The crocodile dragged himself up the bank and lay down beside the log where the jackal was hiding. He lay down as dead as a drunken monkey. The crab scuttled off and found some brilliant orchids. He scattered them over the crocodile.

　　'The crocodile is dead！' he wailed in a voice like sandpaper on the skin. 'The crocodile is dead！'

　　'Idiot！' whispered the crocodile through the side of his mouth. 'Go and find the jackal and tell him quickly. I don't want to lie here all day waiting for him.'

　　'I seem to be doing all the work，' complained the crab. 'What do I get out of it？'

　　'Stop grumbling and get on with it，' muttered the crocodile. 'If we catch him you can pick my teeth afterwards for scraps.'

　　'Very kind，' said the crab sarcastically.

　　He went off into the mangrove trees to fetch the jackal again. Meanwhile the jackal had slipped away from his hiding-place back into the forest.

　　'Fancy that old fool trying a trick like that on me，' he chuckled to himself. 'And trust that sneaky crab to do all the dirty work for him.'

　　He was picking his ear clean with his back toenail when the crab found him.

　　'Psst？' said the crab， nudging him in the side. 'Take your foot out of your ear and listen to me.'

　　'What's that？' said the jackal. 'I can't hear.'

　　The crab nipped his leg with a pincer.

　　'Ouch！' yelped the jackal. 'That was unnecessary. What do you want？'

　　'The crocodile is dead，' said the crab.

　　'Since when？' asked the jackal， suspiciously.

　　'Since just now，' said the crab. 'He's as dead as that guinea fowl you ate.'

　　'I want to see for myself，' said the jackal.

　　'Come on， then，' said the crab.

　　They walked back to the river bank and every now and then the jackal started laughing to himself.

　　'What's funny？' asked the crab.

　　'Oh，' said the jackal， 'I was just wondering if you found it hard to walk sideways all the time.'

　　'No thank you，' said the crab in a sharp， stuffy voice. 'It helps me to see backwards and forwards at the same time.'

　　'Very useful，' said the jackal， hiding his smile.

　　'There，' said the crab. 'There is the crocodile. Dead.'

　　'I must admit，' said the jackal， 'that he does look like a dead crocodile.'

　　'I told you so，' said the crab.

　　The jackal looked hard at the crocodile， who was doing his best to hold his breath and to keep very， very still.

　　'Are you quite sure he's dead？' asked the jackal.

　　'Of course I am，' said the crab. 'You can walk right past him and come for a drink without any fear.'

　　The jackal kept his distance from the crocodile and shouted out suddenly， 'Are you dead， there， old man crocodile？'

　　The crocodile very nearly opened his eyes and answered but he managed to keep on lying still.

　　'Satisfied？' asked the crab.

　　'Well， I'm just a bit puzzled，' muttered the jackal.

　　'What is it now？' asked the crab， who was getting pretty impatient.

　　'I was thinking，' said the jackal， that I never did see a dead crocodile keep that still before.'

　　'Is that true？' said the crab.

　　'They do say that a really dead crocodile is never absolutely still，' said the jackal. 'His tail goes on wagging for an hour or two after he dies. Like a chicken that keeps on running.'

　　'Well， I never，' said the crab.

　　'It's true，' said the jackal.

　　Just then， the crocodile's tail began to move. Just the tip of it. Just a little.

　　'I do declare， you are right，' said the crab.

　　'I know，' laughed the jackal. 'I do declare I am. I had you then， old man crocodile，' he laughed. 'Good to see you still alive！'

　　And with that he ran laughing back into the forest.

　　You can imagine how bad-tempered the crocodile was when he lost his only meal of the week. He was more bad-tempered than a rhinoceros with an itch. Even the crab found it too much to bear. He went to find somewhere else to live and left the crocodile to sulk by himself in the mangrove swamp.

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