Long ago, in the ruins of an abandoned city, there flourished a great colony of mice. Grass had grown over the fallen walls, the old wells still held water, and thousands of mice lived there in peace, with a wise king of their own. Not far away lay a broad lake where a mighty herd of elephants came to drink whenever the summer heat dried the streams of their forest.
One year a terrible drought struck, and the elephant king led his thirsty herd toward the lake — straight through the ruined city. The elephants meant no harm, but under their enormous feet the mice's homes crumbled and countless little lives were crushed. When the herd had passed, the weeping survivors gathered before their king. “If they return by the same path,” the mouse king said gravely, “nothing of us will remain. I shall go and speak with them.”
So the tiny king climbed a rock beside the elephant king and bowed. “O great lord, your single footstep is our earthquake. We beg you: lead your herd to the lake by another path. We are small, but the small can also be of use — perhaps one day we may repay your kindness.” The elephant king looked kindly at the little creature. It seemed impossible that mice could ever help elephants, but compassion needs no reason, and he agreed. From that day the herd took a longer road around the ruins.
Some seasons later, a king's elephant-catchers spread strong nets in the forest, and the great herd was trapped, the elephant king with them. Struggling only bound them tighter. Then the king remembered his little friends. An elephant cow who had escaped ran to the ruined city with the news, and the whole nation of mice came pouring out. All night thousands of tiny teeth gnawed at the ropes, and by sunrise every knot lay in pieces and every elephant walked free. The elephant king gently bowed his great head to the mouse king, for he had learned that no friend is too small.