Sister Hen And The Crocodile

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Title:     Sister Hen And The Crocodile
Author: Abbie Farwell Brown [More Titles by Brown]

The Crocodile is one of the hungriest bodies that ever lived. When he is looking for a dinner he will eat almost anything that comes within reach. Sometimes the greedy fellow swallows great stones and chunks of wood, in his hurry mistaking them for something more digestible. And when he is smacking his great jaws over his food he makes such a greedy, terrible noise that the other animals steal away nervously and hide until it shall be Master Crocodile's sleepy-time. He is too lazy to waddle in search of a dinner far from the river where he lives. But any animal or even a man-swimmer had best be careful how he ventures into the water near the Crocodile's haunts. For what seems to be a greenish-brown, knobby log of wood floating on the water, has little bright eyes which are on the lookout for anything which moves. And below the water two great jaws are ready to open and swallow in the prey of Mr. Hungry-Mouth.

But no matter how hungry the Crocodile may be, he will not touch the Hen, even if she should venture into his very jaws; at least, that is what the Black Men of the Congo River will tell you. And surely, as they are the nearest neighbors of the big reptile they ought to know if any one does. Now this is the story which they tell to explain why the Crocodile will not eat the Hen.

Once upon a time there was a Hen, a common, plump, clucky mother Hen, who used every day to go down to the river and pick up bits of food on the moist banks, where luscious insects were many. She did not know that this Congo River was the home of the Crocodile, the biggest, fiercest, scaliest, hungriest Crocodile in all Africa. But one day when she went down to the water as usual she hopped out onto what looked like a mossy log, saying to herself:--

"Aha! This is a fine old timber-house. It is full of juicy bugs, I know. I shall have a great feast!"

Tap-tap! Pick-pick! The Hen began to scratch and peck upon the rough bark of the log, but Oh dear me! suddenly she began to feel very seasick. The log was rolling over! The log was teetering up on end like a boat in a storm! And before she knew what was really happening the poor Hen found herself floundering in the water in the very jaws of the terrible Crocodile.

"Ha, ha!" cried the Crocodile in his harsh voice. "You took me for a log, just as the other silly creatures do. But I am no log, Mrs. Hen, as you shall soon see. I am Hungry Crocodile, and you will make the fifth dinner which I have had this evening."

The Hen was frightened almost to death, but she kept her presence of mind and gasped frantically as she saw the great jaws opening to swallow her:--

"O Brother, don't!"

Now the Crocodile was so surprised at hearing the Hen call him Brother that he kept his jaws wide open and forgot to swallow his dinner. He kept them open for some time, gaping foolishly, wondering what the Hen could mean, and how he could possibly be her brother. And by the time he had remembered how hungry he was, there was nothing for him to eat. For the Hen had skipped away just as fast as her feet would take her.

"Pouf!" snorted the Crocodile. "Her brother, indeed! I am not her brother, and she knows it very well. What a fool I was to be caught by such a word! Just wait till I catch her again and we will see. I will brother her!" And he swam sulkily away to hide his mortification in the Congo mud, with only the end of his long nose poking out as a ventilator for his breathing.

Now, though the Hen had had so narrow an escape, it had not sufficiently taught her a lesson. A few days afterwards once more she went down to the river, for she could not resist the temptation of the bug-dinner which she knew she should find there. But she kept her eyes open sharply for any greeny log which might be floating on the water, saying to herself, "Old Hungry-Mouth shall not catch me napping this time. I know his wicked tricks!"

But this time the Crocodile was not floating on the water like a greeny log. He was lying still as still, sunning himself on the river bank behind some tall reeds. Mrs. Hen came trotting down to the water, a plump and tempting sight, cocking her head knowingly on one side as she spied a real log floating out beyond, which she took to be her enemy. And as she scratched in the soft mud, chuckling to think how sly she was, with a rush and a rustle down pounced the Crocodile upon her, and once more, before she knew it, she found herself in the horrid gateway of his jaws, threatened by the double rows of long, white teeth.

"Oho!" snapped the Crocodile. "You shall not escape me this time. I am a log, am I? Look at me again, Mrs. Hen. Am I a log?" And he came at her to swallow her at once.

But again the Hen squawked, "O Brother, don't!"

Again the Crocodile paused, thunderstruck by this extraordinary word. "Oh, bother the Hen!" he cried, "what can she mean, really? How can I be her brother? She lives in a town on the land, and I live in my kingdom of mud and water. How could two creatures possibly be more unlike? How"--but while he had been thinking of these hows, once more the Hen had managed to escape, and was pelting back to her barnyard as fast as she could go.

Then indeed the Crocodile was angry. He determined to go and see Nzambi, the wise witch princess, about the matter. She would tell him what it all meant. But it was a long journey to her palace and he was awkward and slow in traveling upon land. Before he had gone very far he was tired and out of breath, and stopped to rest under a banana tree.

As he lay panting in the shade he saw his friend Mbambi, the great Lizard, hurrying past through the jungle.

"Oh, Mbambi!" cried old Hungry-Mouth, "stop a moment. I want to speak with you. I am in great trouble."

So the Lizard drew near, wagging her head wisely, for it pleased her to be consulted by the big Crocodile. "What can it be, dear friend, that is troubling you this day?" she said amiably. "Surely, no one would be so rude or rash as to offend the King of Congo River. But tell me your trouble and perhaps I can advise you."

"Listen to me, then," said the Crocodile. "Almost every day a nice fat Hen,--Oh, Mbambi! so delightfully fat and tempting!--comes to my river to feed. Well, why don't I make her my dinner? you ask. Now hearken: each time, just as I am about to catch her and carry her to my home she startles me by calling me 'Brother.' Did you ever hear of anything so maddening? Twice I have let her escape because of the word. But I can stand it no longer, and I am on the way to Princess Nzambi to hold a palaver about it." (By "palaver" the slangy Crocodile meant a long, serious talk.)

"Silly idiot!" cried the Mbambi, not very politely. "Do nothing of the kind. You will only get the worst of the palaver and show your ignorance before the wise Nzambi. Now listen to me. Don't you know, dear Crocodile, that the Duck lives on the water, though she is neither a fish nor a reptile? And the Duck lays eggs. The Turtle does the same, though she is no bird. The Hen lays eggs, just as I do; and I am Mbambi, the great Lizard. As for you, dear old Hungry-Mouth, you know that at this moment"--here she whispered discreetly, looking around to see that no one was listening,--"at this moment in a snug nest dug out of the sand on the banks of the Congo, Mrs. Crocodile has covered with leaves to hide them from your enemies sixty smooth white eggs. And in a few weeks out of these will scamper sixty little wiggly Crocodiles, your dear, homely, scaly, hungry-mouthed children. Yes, we all lay eggs, my silly friend, and so in a sense we are all brothers, as the Hen has said."

"Sh!" whispered the Crocodile, nervously. "Don't mention those eggs of mine, I beg of you. Some one might overhear. What you say is undoubtedly true," he added pensively, after thinking a few moments. "Then I suppose I must give up my tempting dinner of Hen. I cannot eat my Sister, can I?"

"Of course you cannot," said the Mbambi, as he rustled away through the jungle. "We can't have everything we want in this world."

"No, I see we cannot," sighed the Crocodile, as he waddled back towards the banks of the Congo. Now in the same old spot he found the Hen, who had been improving his absence by greedily stuffing herself on beetle-bugs, flies, and mosquitoes until she was so fat that she could not run away at the Crocodile's approach. She could only stand and squawk feebly, fluttering her ridiculous wings.

But the Crocodile only said, "Good evening, Sister," very politely, and passing her by with a wag of his enormous tail sank with a plop into the waters of the Congo.

And ever since that time the Hen has eaten her dinner in tranquil peace, undisturbed by the sight of floating log or basking shape of knobby green. For she knows that old Hungry-Mouth will not eat his Sister, the Hen.

[The end]
Abbie Farwell Brown's short story: Sister Hen And The Crocodile

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