It was heart-rending to see how the wild
beasts had thrown themselves upon the sheep just for sport--just to
hunt them and tear them to death.
The big ram did not pause in front of the dead, but walked by them in
silence. But the boy, meanwhile, could not help seeing all the horror.
Then the big ram went up on the mountain height again; but when he was
there he stopped and said: "If someone who is capable and wise could see
all the misery which prevails here, he surely would not be able to rest
until these foxes had been punished." "The foxes must live, too," said
the boy. "Yes," said the big ram, "those who do not tear in pieces more
animals than they need for their sustenance, they may as well live. But
these are felons." "The peasants who own the island ought to come here
and help you," insisted the boy. "They have rowed over a number of
times," replied the ram, "but the foxes always hid themselves in the
grottoes and crevices, so they could not get near them, to shoot them."
"You surely cannot mean, father, that a poor little creature like me
should be able to get at them, when neither you nor the peasants have
succeeded in getting the better of them." "He that is little and spry
can put many things to rights," said the big ram.
They talked no more about this, and the boy went over and seated himself
among the wild geese who fed on the highland.
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