"Will there be many?" asked El-ahrairah.
"There always are," replied the bobcat. "More than the King can ever hear in one day. Some animals have been coming here for days and still can't get a hearing."
The slope was filling up fast. Looking at all the animals, El-ahrairah felt his heart sink. He would never, he thought, be able to speak to the King with this lot all contending. Never, that was, unless he could think of a clever trick of some kind. He racked his brains. A trick, a rabbit trick! Lord Frith, a rabbit trick!
Suddenly he noticed, not far away at the top of the slope, an ornamental basin, oval and about twice as long as himself, raised upon a stone plinth a little above the level of the surrounding grass. He went up to it. It was full, not with water but with some sort of silver, shining fluid of a kind he had never seen before. It was not transparent, like water. In fact, he could not see through it at all, for the smooth surface, like a mirror, reflected the sunshine overhead and the passing animals.
"What's this for?" he asked another nearby creature, who also seemed to be some kind of cat.
"It's not for anything," replied the animal rather crushingly. "It's called quicksilver. It was given to the King some time ago as a present, and he had it put here so that everyone can admire it."
Then El-ahrairah moved like lightning. He put his front paws on the edge of the basin, pulled himself up and leaped into the pool. The quicksilver did not behave like water. It was thicker and more buoyant. Try as he would, he could not get beneath the surface. He rolled about, struggling. There were a lot of animals now, all round the edge of the pool. "Who's he?" "What's he think he's doing?" "Get him out. He's got no business to ..." "Oh, it's one of those stupid rabbits." "Come out, you!"
El-ahrairah clambered out with difficulty. He was not soaked with the stuff, but it had gone down among his fur and broken up into little droplets all over him. He shed them as he moved. Some of the animals were trying to hold him back, but he struggled free, turned, dashed to the foot of the slope and sat down at the front of the crowd just as the King, with three or four companions, came in from one side and stood looking up at his subjects.
He was a magnificent stag. His smooth coat shone in the sunlight like that of a groomed horse. His black hooves also shone, and he carried his superb, branching antlers with such grandeur and majesty that he instantly silenced the whole, chattering assembly. Walking to the center of the lawn, he turned to let his kindly gaze travel slowly here and there among his subjects.
When he noticed El-ahrairah, glittering silver not more than thirty feet away, he stared at him intently.
"What sort of animal are you?" he asked in a deep, smooth voice--the voice of one who never hurried and was always obeyed.
"May it please Your Majesty," replied El-ahrairah, "I'm an English rabbit, come from very far to petition for your royal bounty."
"Come here," said the King.
El-ahrairah came forward and sat up, rabbit fashion, before the King's gleaming front hooves.
"What is it you want?" asked the King.
"I am here to plead for my people, Your Majesty. They have no sense of smell--none at all--and this not only hinders them greatly in feeding and in finding their way about, but also leaves them in great danger from their enemies the predators, whom they can't smell coming. Noble King, only help us, I beg."
Again there was silence. The King turned to one of his retinue. "Have I this power?"
"You have, Your Majesty."
"Have I ever used it?"
"Never, Your Majesty."
The King seemed to be reflecting. Very quietly, he spoke to himself. "But this would be to assume the power of Lord Frith: to confer upon a whole species a faculty they lack."
Suddenly El-ahrairah cried out loudly to the King, "Your Majesty, do but give us this sense, and I promise you and every creature here that my people shall become to the human race the greatest scourge and tribulation in the world. We will be to them, everywhere, a relentless bane and affliction. We will destroy their greenstuff, burrow under their fences, spoil their crops, harass them by night and day."
At this, cheering broke out among all the creatures in the audience. Someone shouted, "Give it to him, Your Majesty! Let his people become the humans' worst enemy, as the humans are ours."
The babel continued for some little while, until at length the King gazed round for silence. Then he lowered his beautiful head and pressed his muzzle against El-ahrairah. His tremendous antlers seemed to enclose the Rabbit Prince like an invincible palisade. "Be it so," he said. "Take my blessing to your people, and with it the Sense of Smell, to be theirs forever."
On the instant, El-ahrairah himself could smell: the damp grass, the surrounding crowd of animals, the King's warm breath. He felt so much overcome with joy and gratitude that he could hardly find words to thank the King. All the creatures applauded him and wished him well.
A golden eagle carried him home. When it set him down in his own meadow, the first animals he saw were Rabscuttle and several more of his faithful Owsla. "You did it, then--you did it!" they cried, crowding round him. "We can all smell! All of us!"
"Come on, master," said Rabscuttle. "You must be hungry. Can you smell those splendid cabbages in the kitchen garden over there? Come and help us chew them up. I've tunneled under the fence already."
So all of you who've listened to this story, just remember, when next you steal flayrah from men: you're not only stuffing your bellies; you're fulfilling the solemn promise of El-ahrairah to the King of Tomorrow, as all good rabbits should.
2
The Story of the Three Cows