One fine day Jackal met Wolf in the veld. Wolf had killed a young hartbees and was dragging the carcass slowly home. Jackal looked at the hartbees with hungry eyes and had a cunning idea.
"Good day, good day!" Jackal grinned from ear to ear, "My what a hunter you are, dear Wolf! It's an honour to come across a fellow who can bring home a whole hartbees. No wonder you're famous."
"Me - famous?" groaned Wolf under his load.
"Yes! You're Wolf, aren't you? Why, I knew you at once - I've heard all about you. How strong you are, how brave... how very clever. Look here, can't I help you with that load?" Full of concern Jackal slipped round to the back of the hartbees and pretended to help carry though he really just shifted the whole weight forward onto Wolf's shoulders. Wolf was soon puffing and groaning under the weight. Presently Jackal said, "Wolf, old friend, you're as strong as an ox, but even you can't go on like this for ever. I have an idea. If we stop and eat some of the hartbees, the load will be lighter. I'll even help you, if you like."
"What a clever idea!" said Wolf and with a sigh of relief he threw down the carcass and the two of them gorged themselves. When they picked up the meat to go on their way, Jackal again took care that most of the weight lay on Wolf's shoulders. It wasn't long before old Wolf was panting and groaning in the midday sun. Again Jackal suggested, "Let's eat more of the meat and make the load lighter still."
They ate till their bellies hung down like waterbags and they could hardly walk. Now, when they hoisted the meat onto Wolf's shoulders he staggered and groaned. Behind him, Jackal, carrying nothing, groaned in sympathy. "You know," he said presently, "we'd be wiser to bury the hindquarters right here. Later, when it's cool, we'll come back and fetch them. Let's just take the front half home to your family."
How grateful Wolf was for this clever proposal. They buried the hindquarters in the sand. Then they trotted on under a lighter load. After a while Jackal howled and went limping in circles. "Oh, a thorn, a thorn in my foot! oh! ow! A thorn! Dear Wolf, you go on home with the meat. I'll catch up later."
No sooner was Wolf out of sight than Jackal ran back to the buried meat, dug it up and trotted off with it. Some way off he buried it again. Then he trotted back and with his bushy tail he wiped out all his footprints, leaving only Wolf's spoor in the sand by the hole. Then he limped back to Wolf and pretended to help carry home the meat.
Now, when Wolf's mother saw only half a hartbees she snarled: "What sort of a hunter are you who eats half the kill on the way home, you greedy guts!" "Oh no," cried Wolf, "I didn't do that! It was too heavy to carry so I buried the hindquarters on the way. The meat is safe, never fear!"
But Mother Wolf took one look at Wolf's sagging belly and lambasted him with a stout stick till he howled. Then she threw the rest of the meat into a big black cooking pot. There she sat growling and stirring, growling and stirring. Meanwhile cunning old Jackal was playing hide and seek with Wolf's little sister. As he jumped and pranced round the cave his wicked paws would dip into the cooking pot and slip out a chunk of juicy meat. These he threw into a hide pouch he'd left near the door. Then he'd chuck and old bone or two into the pot to keep it full. Presently he remembered his poor sore foot and limped away into the dusk.
Once out of sight he bounded - hop, skip and jump! - home to his wife with a pouch full of juicy morsels. What a supper Jackal and his wife ate by the flickering fire that night, what a chop-smacking feast! Then, slink-footed in the darkness, they slipped out to the buried hartbees meat, dug it up and took it home to their lair.
A day or two later, when Jackal had slept off the feast he'd had, he just happened to pass Wolf's place and asked: "Well, old friend, did you enjoy your plump hartbees hindquarters?"
"It wasn't there. A thief had come in the night and taken it off." Wolf sat back on his haunches and eyed Jackal suspiciously. "I wonder if it wasn't you, Jackal?"
"Me? Never! I'm not one to double-cross a friend." Jackal fawned and licked Wolf's paws.
"Who else knew where it lay buried?" growled Wolf, lifting his lip.
"The only way to settle this unjust accusation is to look for the thief's spoor", whined Jackal. "Let's go and see. Prints in the dust speak louder than words."
When they came to the place, there was no spoor but Wolf's, for Jackal, remember, had wiped his away with his bushy tail. Jackal was indignant. "Is this how you treat old friends?" he cried. "It was you who stole the meat! You didn't' want to share with your family, so you crept out at night and gobbled it all down yourself, and now you accuse me!" And with a sad face full of injured innocence, Jackal limped away into the veld.
But don't suppose he went far. Oh no, not Jackal! He crouched behind the first antheap and watched Wolf. For poor hungry Wolf would have to go hunting again, on account of his angry mother. Yes, Wolf ran and crouched and ran again and finally brought down a fat little springbok which he carried home to his mother. And before Jackal could run out to help him carry, Wolf's mother took that lovely little buck to her lair. Jackal sighed. He sat back and his nose twitched hungrily and he thought and he thought.
Then, trit-trot he skipped down to Wolf's lair. "Mother Wolf, Mother Wolf!" he yapped. "Come quickly!"
Mother Wolf dropped the springbok and came running. "Yes, Jackal?"
"Over there, over there!" Jackal pointed to the hill. "In the valley on the other side is a herd of fat blesbuck grazing. If only Wolf were here, we could go hunting together."
"I'll call him!" growled Mother Wolf. She sprang out and away over the hill to call Wolf. Her young ones followed, eager for the hunt. Jackal stood by the springbok alone. Snip-snap! He grabbed it in his jaws and ran away home!
The wolves came home hungry and footsore, tongues hanging out thirstily. Not a blesbuck had they seen in hours of running. Then Mother Wolf saw that the springbok was gone. With a snarl of rage she sprang from the lair and rushed this way and that, sniffing and searching. But all she ever found were Jackal's little footprints in the dust.
Mother Wolf has never forgiven Jackal and Jackal doesn't care to show his face when she's around - which is why, to this very day, you will not find Wolf and Jackal sharing the same lair.
Story Time � 1984-1989 by Rubicon Press CC