There one lived a woodcutter who would go every morning to the forest to cut trees. Once it so happened all the wood that he brought from the jungle were sold very quickly in the market. He though, “Let me go back to forest and get some more woods. May be I can earn double today.” It was then he discovered that his favorite axe was missing. He could not find it anywhere. Then he noticed his neighbor’s son standing near the woodshed. The woodcutter thought, “Aha! That boy must have stolen my axe. I see how he lurks about the shed, shifting uneasily from foot to foot, greedy hands stuffed in his pockets, a guilty look on his face. I cannot prove it, but he must have stolen my axe.”
A few days later the woodcutter was surprised and happy to come upon the axe under a pile of firewood. “I remember now,” he said, “Just where I had left it!”
The next time he saw his neighbour’s son, the woodcutter looked intently at the boy, scrutinizing him from head to toe. How odd, he thought, somehow this boy has lost his guilty look . . .
