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friend, the jackal, Subuddhi,' he answered. To this the crow replied :—'Can you trust a new-comer? In days of yore, a kite, Jarathgava by name, died through having entertained a cat, which story I shall tell you.
On the banks of the Bhagirathi is a large fig tree. In a hole in its trunk there lived Jarathgava, an old kite. The birds that lived on the tree used to share their food with him and thus he managed to live. One day, Thirghakarna, a cat, approached- the tree noiselessly, intending to eat the nestlings. They cried out when they saw her, and Jarathgava, hearing the noise, looked out and spied the cat. The cat was sore afraid of the kite, and thought to herself:—'I am in evil case, I can only escape by my cunning.' So the cat stood before the kite and bowed to him, whereupon the kite asked her who she was. 'I am a cat, and people call me Thirghakarna.' To which the kite replied:— 'Be off at once, or it will be the worse for you.' To which the kite replied:—'Kindly let me explain.' So the kite enquired the cat's errand. To which she
