The Hunter and the Farmer
Once upon a time, on the edge of a dense forest beyond the green valleys, there lived a veteran farmer who worked his soil faithfully. This hardworking man went out to his field with the first light of morning, drove his plough with his calloused hands and drew his living from the earth. One day, a proud hunter passed by the edge of the field, with a silver-inlaid rifle on his shoulder and a sharp knife at his belt. The hunter claimed to be the bravest young man of the town, and boastfully told how he had brought even the fiercest beasts of the forest to their knees. That day too he puffed out his chest and cast swaggering glances around him, searching for tracks as if he were after some enormous prey. The farmer at his plough wiped the sweat from his forehead, paused and looked this arrogant stranger up and down. The hunter turned his steps toward the farmer and began to speak in a proud tone of voice.
"Hey, old villager, have you ever come across the fresh footprints of a mighty lion around here?" he asked. The farmer looked with calm eyes at the splendid equipment with which the hunter was armed from head to toe. "There is no need at all for you to waste time looking for tracks, brave man," he said with a smile. "Right now I can show you not only his footprints, but that majestic lion himself." "He is resting a little further on, behind the thicket, in the shade of a great plane tree." At this confident and sincere answer of the farmer, the hunter's face suddenly lost its colour. The hunter, whose knees gave way beneath him, lost his proud bearing of a moment before and drew back.
With trembling lips he at once began to stammer, trying to defend himself. "Oh, my friend, I did not ask you to show me the lion himself!" he cried in fear. "What I was looking for was only the faint tracks of the wild beast in the soil, like a shadow, not the beast itself!" The hunter, holding his rifle on his back with difficulty, began to flee furiously toward the path by which he had come. The farmer, meanwhile, looked with pity after the fleeing hunter and went on driving his plough. Once again he understood how false courage turns into cowardice at the moment of danger. True courage lies not in boasting with words, but in the resolve of the moment when you face danger. Actions speak louder than words.