he drained the silver hunting bottle slung from his shoulder, and stretched his legs in the hollow tree. he never shed a single tear for his poor tame hippopotamuses who had eaten from his hand and followed him faithfully in all the pleasures of the chase for so many years. for he was a false prince, with a skin like leather and hair like hearth brushes and a heart like a stone. he never shed a tear, but he just went to sleep.