Beside a quiet lake there lived a tortoise named Kambugriva, and his dearest friends were two geese called Sankata and Vikata. Every evening the three met at the water's edge, and the tortoise — who loved nothing better than talking — chattered on and on while the patient geese listened. Years passed happily this way, until one summer the rains failed and the lake began to shrink day by day, then dried into cracked mud.
The geese came sadly to their friend. “We must fly to a great lake far from here, brother. But you can neither fly nor walk so far. How can we leave you behind?” The tortoise, quick with words as always, had an answer at once. “Bring a strong stick. Each of you hold one end in your beaks, and I shall grip the middle with my mouth. Fly steadily, and carry me with you.” The geese were delighted, but they gave one solemn warning: “Remember, friend — from the moment you bite the stick until we land, you must not open your mouth. Not one word!” The tortoise laughed. “Do you take me for a fool? I shall be as silent as a stone.”
So the geese rose into the sky with the stick between them and the tortoise dangling in the middle. Fields, hills and villages slid past below. When they flew over a town, people looked up in wonder and ran from their houses, shouting and pointing. “Look! Look! What is that strange round thing the birds are carrying? A cartwheel in the sky!”
The chatter below buzzed in the tortoise's ears until he could bear it no longer. What did these silly people mean, calling him a cartwheel? He opened his mouth to answer — “Fools! I am a torto—” — and down he fell, tumbling through the air onto the hard earth below, where his story ended. The grieving geese circled once and flew on, remembering their friend who could do everything but hold his tongue.