One fine day Jackal and Wolf saw a wagon loaded with kegs of butter coming down the road. "Brother Wolf," said Jackal, "I know how we can get our paws on one of those kegs."
Wolf loved butter. "Just tell me what to do," he said.
"Go and lie down in the road and play dead. The farmer will stop and load you onto the wagon. As soon as you get the chance, push off a keg. I'll be waiting to roll it into the bushes. Then you can jump down and we'll run off to eat the butter."
Wolf couldn't wait. He lay down in the road and pretended to be dead. The farmer stopped the wagon and got down with his sjambok and walked up to Wolf. "Hmm, he's still warm, though he looks dead enough," he cried. Just to make sure, he whacked Wolf with the sjambok. Wolf never stirred. The farmer let fly again and the whip cracked till the fur flew, but still Wolf didn't utter a whimper. "No, he's dead all right," said the farmer and threw Wolf onto the back of the wagon.
Jackal laughed till his sides ached when he saw what a thrashing Wolf was getting. Then he slunk through the bushes after the wagon. Poor old Wolf. Bruised and beaten, he lay among the kegs. Presently he pushed off a keg, which Jackal caught. Then he jumped down and ran to Jackal to eat that butter.
But Jackal said: "First we must run away or the farmer will soon catch us. Let's hide the keg here and wait for a few days before coming back to eat it."
The next morning Jackal trotted past Wolf's house. "A very good morning to you, brother Wolf," he cried cheerfully. "Guess what! My wife had a baby last night and I'm off to the christening."
Jackal, the rogue, trotted straight to the keg of butter, gorged himself and then hid the keg carefully from view. When he passed Wolf's house again Wolf asked: "What have you called the little one?"
"Little Beginning," answered Jackal and trotted hastily past.
The next morning Jackal passed again and called: "Brother Wolf, we have another child and I'm off to the christening again!"
He went to the keg, ate the butter down to the first hoop and concealed the keg. As he passed on his way home Wolf asked: "And what have you called the second child?"
"First Hoop," replied Jackal and scurried off home.
And the very next day he passed by Wolf's house with the same story. And the next day and the day after. When Wolf asked the names of the children, Jackal answered: "Second Hoop", "Third Hoop", "Fourth Hoop" - exactly as far down the keg as he had eaten. On the last day he answered: "This last one's called 'All Gone'." And then he stopped and frowned as if he's just that moment remembered something important. "Goodness, brother Wolf, we've forgotten all about that butter! Tomorrow we must go and see if it's still there."
"Oh yes, I'm just dying to get at it," whined Wolf. "I've only been waiting for you to finish christening all your children."
And so the next day the two of them went to find the keg of butter. Wolf was drooling at the mouth. What a beating he had endured for the sake of that butter! But when they got there only a smear of butter was left at the very bottom of the keg. Wolf and Jackal turned on each other. "You thief, you've eaten it up yourself!" "Nonsense, how could I have done that?" On and on they fought till the fur flew.
"Wait!" cried Jackal at last. "This is no way to get to the bottom of this skullduggery. Let us both go and lie in the sun. And if butter begins to melt out of your mouth or mine, then we shall know who the thief is and he will get the beating of his life from the other one."
Wolf agreed but the hot sun made him sleepy and soon he was snoring. Then Jackal scraped the last little morsel of butter out of the bottom of the keg and smeared it on Wolf's lips. He shook Wolf to wake him. "Oh-ho! What have we here! Look at your chops, brother Wolf!" Wolf ran his tongue over his lips and, blow me down if there wasn't butter all over them! He licked again. Butter it certainly was! "Could I have eaten the butter in my sleep?" he groaned.
"You're so greedy you even steal in your sleep!" yelled Jackal and he whacked Wolf mercilessly with a switch until the poor animal ran howling away into the bush. And when he stopped running he shook his head sadly: "How is it that all I got out of the whole affair was two sound beatings and not a scrap of butter?"
Story Time � 1984-1989 by Rubicon Press CC