The Lion and the Mouse

A mouse darted across a sleeping lion's paw. The lion woke and caught her beneath one enormous foot.

“Please let me go,” she said. “One day I may be able to help you.”

The lion laughed so hard that the mouse felt his paw shake. What service could a creature no larger than his ear offer him? Still, the promise amused him, and he lifted his foot.

Several days later, the lion stepped into a hunter's net. Ropes sprang up around him. He fought until his mane was tangled and the ground beneath him was torn, but every struggle drew the knots tighter.

His roar carried through the trees. The mouse heard it from her burrow and came running. She found the lion held fast between two stout trunks.

“Be still,” she said. “I cannot work while you pull.”

The lion obeyed, though it was a difficult thing for him to do. The mouse climbed onto a rope and began to gnaw. Her teeth made a small sound in the great silence. Strand after strand gave way.

At last one cord snapped. The lion pushed gently against the opening, and the net fell loose around his feet.

The mouse brushed a fiber from her whiskers. The lion lowered his head until they could look at one another without either having to shout.

“I remember your promise,” he said.

“So do I,” said the mouse.

This time, neither of them laughed.