a conceited pike took it into its head to exercise the functions of a cat. i do not know whether the evil one had plagued it with envy, or whether, perhaps, it had grown tired of fishy fare; but, at all events, it thought fit to ask the cat to take it out to the chase, with the intention of catching a few mice in the warehouse. "but, my dear friend," vaska says to the pike, "do you understand that kind of work? take care, gossip, that you don't incur disgrace. it isn't without reason that they say: 'the work ought to be in the master's power.'"

"why really, gossip, what a tremendous affair it is! mice, indeed!

why, i have been in the habit of catching perches!"

"oh, very well. come along!"

they went; they lay each in ambush. the cat thoroughly enjoyed itself; made a hearty meal; then went to look after its comrade. alas! the pike, almost destitute of life, lay there gasping, its tail nibbled away by the mice. so the cat, seeing that its comrade had undertaken a task quite beyond its strength, dragged it back, half dead, to its pond.