GOOD luck had come at once, come almost without asking. He had got his eyes and his ears, his teeth and his long bushy tail; and he was so proud of his good looks that off he started in search of his thirteen brothers.

“I wonder where they have got to?” said he to himself.

But he did not wonder very long, for just then, as he looked about him, they all came round the corner.

They hardly knew him at first, he looked so well and strong.

“Where are you off to?” he asked.

They told him they were just going back to the Lion, for they had heard that his Wise Counsellor was dead, and that the old King was in a dreadful pucker about it. “He cannot find anyone wise enough for Prime Minister,” said Sharpnose, “so, as Foxes are the wisest Fourlegs in all the world, we are going to try our luck there again.”

“Then,'' continued Redlegs, “I will go with you.”

But no; they would not hear of such a thing.

“You are the Foolish Fox, you know,” said they, “and had better stop behind where you are.”

“No, indeed,” said Redlegs, who had made up his mind. “Go with you I will; and, as you will not take me, I shall follow on behind.”

So he followed on behind these clever Foxes till they reached the Lion's castle, and stood quietly on one side, waiting to hear what the Lion would say. The  old Lion, who had been on the look-out for counselors ever since his Prime Minister died, came out with his hands folded behind him, very glad to see the Foxes back again.

“They may be wise enough for me, after all,” said he; yet he asked the first of the two questions that only wise animals can answer.

“Who are you?” asked the Lion.

“I am the Wise Fox,” replied Sharpnose.

“We are the Wise Foxes,” answered the twelve in a breath.

“And pray who are you?” the Lion asked Redlegs.

“They call me the Foolish Fox,” said he.

“Then I think you will do for me,” chuckled the Old King to himself, for, being so very wise himself, he knew that any Fourlegs could call himself clever. “Perhaps he is the wise one, after all.”

But, to make sure, he asked them the second question.

“What have you got?”

“Bags of gold!” cried Sharpnose, who knew how fond the Lion was of his riches.

“Bags of gold!” echoed the twelve, all in a breath.

“And you?” he asked of Redlegs. “Come, what have you got?”

“Nothing,” replied the Fox, in a low voice; “I am very poor.”

“You'll do for me!” roared the Lion, embracing the Fox. “Redlegs, you are the Wise Fox, after all. Here!” he cried. “Give this good Fox thirteen gold mines, and dress him in the diamond robe of state. Behold my Wise Counselor!”

As everyone will guess, Sharpnose and the twelve were very angry at the good fortune of the Foolish Fox. Said they, wishing to tell a great story for the last:

“We found Sheep for the Dog, Snow for the Bear, Feathers for the Goose, and even then we built a brand-new house for the Wolf, while this foolish fellow, who lost his eyes and his ears, his teeth and his tail, has only got them back again after all.”

“Well, well,” said Redlegs, the Wise Counselor, “I do not wish you any harm. I scarcely know what to do with my gold mines. Pray take them off my hands; there will be just one apiece for you.”

“And now we are certain of it,” whispered the thirteen altogether, as they went off in a huff to their gold mines. “We have put up with this Counselor Redlegs as long as we possibly could. Now we disown him forever. He is a disgrace to the Foxes.”