There was an Eagle who was flying through the air when suddenly it heard the whiz of an Arrow, and felt itself wounded to death.
Slowly it fall down to the earth, with its life-blood pouring out of it.
Looking down upon the Arrow with which it had
been pierced, it found that the shaft of the
Arrow had been feathered with one of its own
quills. "Alas!" it cried, as it died,
Moral: "We often give our enemies the
means for our own destruction."