One day, the stag that had escaped from the hunters and their dogs ran until he reached a bright, clear stream, flowing through the greasy meadows . He stopped to drink, and saw his reflection in the water. He admired his wide, pointed antlers. "Nature has given me fine weapons to defend myself," he thought. Then he saw his legs. "What weak thin things they are," he said to himself "Why could they not be thick and strong." Just then he heard a deep growl, and looking up he saw a lion about to pounce on him. At once he fled, racing and leaping over the long grass. His legs, that had looked so weak and feeble, made him speed like the wind and the lion could not keep up. Then he came to a tangled wood of bushes and small trees. As he ran into it, his great antlers became caught in the branches. As he felt the hot breath of the lion on his neck, he cried "What a fool I am. My legs were my strongest weapon."