Morning light lay soft on the canal road, and there stood a cart loaded high with sacks of rice — but no ox to pull it. Goose beat her great white wings. “It's market day! Who needs an ox? There are three of us!” Down in the canal, Catfish twirled his long whiskers. “Aye — we'll haul it there ourselves!”
They tied three strong ropes to the cart. “My wings hold the strength of the sky!” said Goose. “My tail holds the strength of the river!” said Catfish. Crab raised both claws. “And these pincers grip like iron!” Ready they were, all three. But which way to pull? Nobody thought to ask.
“Heave-ho!” Goose pulled for the sky — flap, flap! Catfish pulled for the deep water — splash! Crab pulled backwards down the road — click, clack! They pulled and they strained and they dripped. And the cart? Creeeak. Not one inch. Only the dust flew.
“You're not pulling properly!” snapped Goose. “You're pulling the wrong way!” huffed Catfish, whiskers bristling. “Quiet, both of you! Again!” said Crab. So they pulled harder. And harder. And harder still. The cart stayed exactly, precisely, stubbornly where it was.
Evening came. The three friends sat in silence — wings drooping, whiskers wilting, claws flat in the dust. Far away the market drums were fading. Dum… dum… The stalls were coming down. And the cart stood right where it had stood all day.
Suddenly Crab's eyes lit up on their stalks. “Listen! I walk backwards — I've been watching you two all day! Goose pulls for the sky, Catfish pulls for the canal, I pull down the road. Three friends, three directions!” Goose blinked. “Then what do we do?” “Pull ONE way — toward the market!”
One… two… three — HEAVE! Creak-creak — the cart rolled! The market was long over, of course. That market day never came back. But down the moonlit road three friends sang as they pulled: “One way — heave! Together — ho! Pull apart, you go nowhere. Pull together — you GO!”