AS long as the old Lion lived — and he reached a good age — never once had he cause to regret his choice of a counselor, for, under Redlegs's advice, the Land of Fourlegs grew richer and stronger and happier every year. No one could well say why, but The Bear ground more snow than he knew what to do with. The Wolf built seven fine houses, and bought a hundred pairs of boots. The Dog bred more Sheep than he cared to sell. The Donkey found Thistles. The Cat caught Mice. The Mole grew fatter and fatter. Even the Frog kept clear of the terrible Duck, while both Duck and Goose paid no end of tribute to the King. He who was fond of his wealth saw his money-box so full of gold at last, that he had to melt some of it down into bars, and stack it up in the back yard.

Of course these pleasant times could not last forever, and sad to say, one morning, very early, the good old Lion died, but it was not until he was very, very old indeed, and feeble, and nearly blind.

All Fourlegs mourned for the good old King, who had reigned over them so long, and they buried him in right royal state, before they even thought about getting another ruler.

But after their tears were in some sort dry, they found that a kingdom must have a king, so all Fourlegs set to work choosing a new one, when they found that between their love for the old Lion and their love for themselves they could not make up their minds at all.

Day after day they met, but nothing came of that.

Night after night they met, but with no better luck.

All this time when days and nights went on, the great land of Fourlegs was falling into sixes and sevens. The golden stack had gone from out of the back yard. The Bear ground up all his snow, and was taking to animal food. The wolf had burned down his houses in a rage at having worn out his hundred pairs of boots. The Dog was thinking about eating his own Sheep, and, indeed, there was a terrible to-do. The Mole grew thin. The Duck gobbled up Jack Frog; the Donkey could not find any thistles. What was to be done for a king?

“For my part,” said Bruin the Bear, “I am not very wise myself, but I shall vote for a Fox.”

“I don't know,” growled Graynose the Wolf. “Foxes are wise enough sometimes, I allow, but they have so many followers, there is no trusting them.”

“Well, come now,” argued Keeper the Dog; “if that is all, we can soon settle it. Look at Redlegs the Wise Counselor — there is a Fox without a follower for you: his thirteen brothers have disowned him long ago.”

And when they put it to the vote, sure enough, Redlegs was elected. A better monarch they could not have chosen, for if he was wise as a Counselor, he was even wiser as a King. Fourlegs again grew cheerful, and no animals dared to lift their voices against good King Redlegs — none, indeed, but his brothers; and when they had dug up all the gold out of their mines, and had spent it into the bargain, after they had worn out all their clothes, and been sent to prison for stealing some more, they consoled themselves in all their rags, by abusing their royal brother. Said Sharpnose:

“Well, King Redlegs may perhaps have been the Wise Counselor, but he certainly was also the Foolish Fox.”