One day twelve men went into the forest to cut sticks for firewood. They cut
twelve bundles of sticks. Then one man said, ‘ It is time to go home. Are we
all here?’
He counted the men, but he did not count himself. ‘ There are only eleven men,’ he said. ‘ Where
is the other one?’
The foolish workmen all counted the men, but each man did not count himself. ‘
Ah!’ they all cried. ‘ Where is our friend? There are twelve bundles of sticks,
but there are only eleven men. We must go into the forest and look for the
twelfth man.’
They went into the forest and cried loudly, but no one answered them. They came
back to their bundles of sticks. They counted the sticks again. Yes! There were
twelve bundles of sticks. They counted the men again, but each forgot to count
himself. ‘There are only eleven men,’ they said, and they all began to cry.
Soon a man from another village come that way. He said to the workmen: ‘ Why
are you crying?’
The workmen told him: ‘ We have twelve bundles of sticks, but there are only
eleven men. We have lost one of our friends.
The other man counted them, and then he laughed.‘ Each of you take your bundle
of sticks and go back to your village,’ he said, and he went on his way.
The foolish workmen each picked up a bundle of sticks; There were twelve
bundles of sticks, and each man had a bundle. There were no sticks on the
ground. '
‘ How foolish we are!’ said the twelve workmen, and they went back to their
village.