The Lion and the Clever Hare

There was a season when a great lion came down from the rocky hills and made his home in a cave at the edge of the forest. He was old, and his bones were tired, and chasing antelopes through the grass had become a young animal's work.

So the lion called all the beasts of the forest together and stood on a high stone. "Hear me," he roared. "I am Sarki — the king. Every day, one of you shall walk to my cave and offer himself to be my meal. In return, the rest of you may live in peace."

The animals trembled. They were many, and Lion was one, but his teeth were long and the law of the bush is the law of the bush. They drew lots. The first day Antelope went. The second day Bush Pig went. The third day Duiker. The fourth day the gentle Hartebeest. Every evening at sundown, one of their number walked the lonely path to the cave and did not return, and the rest of the forest mourned.

At last the lot fell to Zomo the hare.

Now Zomo was the smallest creature in the gathering, and the most clever, and he did not believe that being small meant being food. He sat all night under a baobab tree and thought.

In the morning he set out, but he walked slowly. Very slowly. He stopped to greet every beetle. He stopped to watch a line of ants. He stopped at the river to drink, and to drink, and to drink again.

It was nearly midday before Zomo reached the cave, and Lion was lashing his tail with hunger.

"You dog!" the lion roared. "You worm! You little nothing! Do you know how long I have waited? My belly is grinding stones."

Zomo bowed very low. "Great Sarki," he said in a small, frightened voice, "forgive me. I was bringing you a second hare as a gift, so that one mouthful might not seem too small for a king of your size. But on the road we met another lion — a stranger, bigger than you, with a louder roar — and he took my friend and ate him in one bite, and said that he is the true king of this forest now, and that you are an old beggar he will visit tomorrow."

Lion stood up. The fur on his neck rose. "Another lion? In MY forest? Take me to him. NOW."

"Yes, great king," said Zomo, trembling. "He is hiding at the bottom of the deep well by the dry river."

Zomo led Lion to the old stone well — the one the village had dug long ago and abandoned. He stood at the lip and pointed down. "There, my lord. Look."

Lion put his great head over the edge and looked down into the dark water. From the bottom of the well, another lion looked back at him — golden, huge, fierce, with a mouth open in challenge.

Lion roared. The well roared back, deeper.

Lion bared his teeth. The lion in the well bared his teeth.

"Coward!" cried the old lion. "Come up and fight!" The lion in the well opened his mouth and seemed to shout the same thing.

Mad with rage, Lion gathered himself, and with one mighty leap he flung his whole body down into the well to fight the impostor.

There was a great splash. Then silence.

Zomo turned around and walked back to the forest, whistling.

That evening, when the moon rose, the animals gathered under the baobab and the hare told the story. They laughed until their sides hurt, and they laughed until they cried, and they laughed until the children begged them to tell it again.

From that night on, the elders of the bush taught a saying to every young creature setting out into a hard world: When you cannot be the biggest, be the cleverest. When you cannot fight the lion with your teeth, lead him to a well.