Part 2

There was once a king who had a daughter at whose birth a wise man foretold that she would be killed by a tiger when she was a maiden grown. In order that no animal might approach her, the king built her a house set upon one huge pillar, and there she and her attendants ever dwelt.

And it fell upon a day, when the daughter was well grown, that one of the hunters, whose labor it was to kill the tigers of the country, brought a dead one to the palace of the king. The princess, seeing her dead enemy, came down from her tower and plucked a whisker from the tiger, and, as she blew her breath on it, she cried, "I do not fear thee, O my enemy, for thou art dead!" But the poison, which is in the whiskers of a tiger, entered into the blood of the princess, and she died.

Then did the king make a proclamation, and sent messengers throughout all his realm, commanding that, when a tiger was killed, all his whiskers be immediately pulled out and burned, that a tiger may not be able to slay when dead; and until this day, the people obey the command of the king.

The Monkeys and the Crabs

All the monkeys which live in the forests near the great sea in the south, watch the tide running out, hoping to catch the sea-crabs which are left in the soft earth. If they can find a crab above the ground, they immediately catch and eat it.

Sometimes, the crabs bury themselves in the mud, and the monkeys, seeing the tunnels they have made, reach down into them with their long tails, and torment the crabs until they, in anger, seizing the tormenting tail, are drawn out and devoured by their cunning foes. But, sometimes, alas, the crab fails to come out! No matter with what strength the monkey pulls and tugs, the crabs do not appear, and the poor monkey is held fast, while the tide comes in and drowns it. When the tide goes out again, leaving the luckless monkey on the beach, the crabs come out from their strongholds and feast on the dead enemy.

III Nature's Riddles and Their Answers

The Man in the Moon

There was a blacksmith once, who complained: "I am not well, and my work is too warm. I want to be a stone on the mountain. There it must be cool, for the wind blows and the trees give a shade."

A wise man, who had power over all things, replied, "Go thou, be a stone." And he was a stone, high up on the mountain-side.

It happened a stone-cutter came that way for stone, and, when he saw the one that had been the blacksmith, he knew it was what he sought and he began to cut it.

The stone cried out: "This hurts. I no longer want to be a stone. A stone-cutter I want to be. That would be pleasant."

The wise man, humoring him, said, "Be a cutter." Thus he became a stone-cutter and, as he went seeking suitable stone, he grew tired, and his feet were sore. He whimpered, "I no longer want to cut stone. I would be the sun, that would be pleasant."

The wise man commanded, "Be the sun." And he was the sun.

But the sun was warmer than the blacksmith, than a stone, than a stone-cutter, and he complained, "I do not like this. I would be the moon. It looks cool."

The wise man spake yet again, "Be the moon." And he was the moon.

"This is warmer than being the sun," murmured he, "for the light from the sun shines on me ever. I do not want to be the moon. I would be a smith again. That, verily, is the best life."

But the wise man replied, "I am weary of your changing. You wanted to be the moon; the moon you are, and it you will remain."

And in yon high heaven lives he to this day.

The Origin of Lightning

There was once a great chief who desired above all things to be happy in the future life, therefore he continually made feasts for the priests and the poor; spending much money in making merit. He had ten wives, nine of whom helped him in all the merit-makings, but the head wife, his favorite, would never take part. Laughing, and making herself beautiful in soft garments and jewels, she gave naught to the priests.

And on a day, when the great chief and his nine merit-making wives were no more, but had gone to live in the sky on account of their merit-making, the great chief longed for his favorite, and taking a glass, he looked down on the earth to see her. After many days, he beheld her as a crane hunting for food on the border of a lake. The great chief, to try her heart and to see if she had repented, came down from his home in the sky in the form of a fish, and swam to the crane. Seeing the fish, the crane pecked at it, but the fish sprang out of the water, and when the crane saw it was alive, she would not touch it. Again the fish floated near the crane and she pecked at it, but on finding it was alive let it escape. Then was the heart of the great chief glad, for he saw that his favorite wife would not destroy life even to satisfy her hunger, and he knew that her merit was such she could be born in the form of a woman again.

It happened on a day that the crane died, and, when again born, had the form of a gardener's child. As the child grew in years and stature, she was fairer than any other in the land, and, when a maiden, the father and mother made a feast, inviting all the people to come. During the feast, they gave a wreath of beautiful flowers to their daughter and said, "Throw this into the air, and on whosesoever head it falls, that one will be to thee a husband."

The great chief, her husband of old, seeking her, came down to the earth in the form of an old man, and, when the maiden cast the wreath into the air, it fell on the head of this old man.

Great sport was made of him, and tauntingly the people cried, "Does this bent stick think he is mate for our lotus flower?"

But the fair maiden placed her hand in the old man's hand, and, together they rose into the air. In vain they sought to detain them--the father even shot at the old man, but they were soon lost to sight, and to this day, when the people see the chain lightning in the sky, they say it is the wreath of the beautiful maiden; when the lightning strikes, they say it is the gardener shooting at the old man, and, when the heat lightning flashes, they say it is the great chief flashing his glass over the earth in search of his favorite and beautiful wife.

Why the Parrot and the Minor Bird but Echo the Words of Man

Long ago people caught and nourished the sao bird, because it learned the language of man more readily than either the parrot or minor bird. While they had to be taught with much care, the sao bird had but to hear a word and it could readily utter it; moreover, the sao bird could utter its own thoughts.

Upon a time a man of the north country, owning a sao bird, stole a buffalo from his neighbor and killed it. Part of the buffalo the man cooked and ate; the rest he hid either in the rice bin or over the rice house.

Seeking the buffalo, next day, the neighbor asked the man if he had seen it.

The man replied, "No." The sao bird, however, cried out, "He killed it; part he hid in the rice bin, part over the rice house."

The neighbor searched in both of these places and found the parts just as the sao bird had said.

"I did not steal the buffalo," insisted the man.

But the bird ever called, "He killed it and put part into the rice bin, and part over the rice house."

Unable to decide between the words of the man and the words of the bird, the neighbor appealed to the court. And, it happened, the night before the trial, that the man took the sao bird, placed it in a jar, covered the jar and poured water over the cloth and beat on the outside of the jar. The noise of the beating was low and rumbling. All that night was the bird kept in the jar, and not once did it see the bright moonlight, which was almost as bright as day, for it was in the midst of the dry season and full moon. When the eye of day opened, the man removed the bird from the jar and placed it in its cage, and then took it to the court as a witness.

When the bird was called, it said, as before, "He killed it; part he put in the rice bin, and part over the rice house."

All people believed the bird.

"Ask it another question. Ask it what manner of night it was last night. Will you condemn me to death on the word of a bird?" cried the man.

The question was put to the bird, but, remembering its fear, during the night, of the rumbling noise and the sound of running water, it answered, "Last night the sky called and the rain fell."

Then the people cried, "Of a truth, the bird cannot be believed. Because it has imperilled the life of an innocent man, from this time forth, the sao bird must not be cherished by man."

The thief was set free because there were but the words of the bird to condemn him.

No longer is the sao bird nourished by man, but lives in the forest. Those who are full of fear, when they hear them talking in the forest, say, "it is the spirits."

When the sao bird saw the bright plumage of the parrot, and the black and gold of the minor bird, it knew they were strangers who had come to dwell in the north, and it asked the crow and the owl what manner of birds they were.

"Beautiful in plumage, as thou canst readily see," answered they. "Moreover, they speak the words of man."

"Speak the words of man," echoed the sao bird. "I'll warn them. Come, let us greet them." And they went forth to meet the beautiful strangers.

And upon a day, as they all came together in one place, the sao bird cried out, "We, the chief birds of the north land, come to greet you and to give you of our wisdom, as you are but strangers in our land. It is told me you speak as does man; even so can I. Nourished by the hand of man many years, I did see with my eyes and hear with my ears, and my tongue uttered not only the things I beheld and heard, but things displeasing to my masters. At one time, all men spoke well of me, but afterward was I cruelly punished and driven from the homes of men. Therefore come I this day unto you to warn you that, if man learns of your speaking tongue, he will capture you and nourish you in his home. Yet, should you speak other than he teaches you, you will be punished and driven from the homes of men, for man loves only to hear _his_ thoughts repeated and loves not even a bird that has wisdom or truth greater than his own."

* * * * *

Fearful of uttering their thoughts, lest man resent it, the parrot and minor bird but echo the words of man.

The Fatherless Birds

A mother bird sat brooding on her nest. Her heart was sad, for her mate had flown away in the morning and had not returned. When the little ones stirred and clamored for food, with drooping wings she flew in quest of it that they might not hunger.

Day after day her heart grew sadder, for her mate came not, and alone she struggled to provide for her fledglings.

When the little birds had grown strong and were able to fly, sorrow and heart hunger had so weakened the mother bird that she lay dying. The little birds crowded about her asking what they could do to aid her, and with her dying breath she cried, "Call, oh, call your father."

The little birds, flying low over the plains, cried, "Paw hueey, paw hueey," and children, left alone in their homes, while their parents labor in the rice fields, hearing the wail of the birds, wept, crying too, "Paw hueey, maa hueey."[8]

Never has the father bird been found, and, to this day, flying low over the plains, the little birds cry, in their plaintive voices, "Paw hueey, paw hueey," and lonely children echo, "Paw hueey, maa hueey."

8: Paw hueey--Oh, father! Maa hueey--Oh, mother!

IV Romance and Tragedy

The Lovers' Leap

Many, many years ago there lived, on the mountains among the rapids of the Maa Ping, a young man who loved a maiden and the maiden loved him truly, but her father refused his consent to their union and commanded that his daughter see her lover no more, nor hold communication with him. At all times and in all ways the father of the maiden endeavored to overcome her regard for her lover, but she would think of no other, although many came to woo her.

Often did the young lovers seek to meet, but so constantly were they watched it was impossible and they could only wait patiently. Each knew the other was true and each heart rested in this assurance.

And upon a time the father of the maiden thought she had forgotten her lover, and, greatly rejoiced, he made a feast and invited all the people of the province to come and make merry with him, and he reasoned, "Now that she has forgotten her former lover, will she not consent to marry a man I choose for her?"

While they were feasting the maiden wandered out to think of the one she had not seen for so long and weary a time, and, suddenly, the dark evening became to her as the bright noonday, for her lover was before her. He entreated her to come with him and to be his wife. Thinking of the dreary days she had passed and the more dreary ones to come, should she see her heart's choice no more, she consented. As they were mounting his strong, young horse, a servant saw them and ran to the house and gave the alarm. Soon the father and all the men were in pursuit of the lovers. For a time the young horse kept far ahead of its pursuers, but, wearying of its double burden, it began to lag just as it reached the top of a lofty hill overhanging a rushing torrent of the river far below.

Nearer and nearer came the father and all the men. The only escape, and a most desperate venture was it, was to leap across the rushing torrent to the hill on the other side. Looking into each other's eyes, then back at their approaching pursuers, and then at the wide chasm, they chose death together rather than life apart, and, urging their jaded horse to the leap, they missed the opposite cliff and were dashed to pieces on the rocks of the rapids below.

The Faithful Husband[9]

Upon a day in years long since gone by, Chow[10] Soo Tome, wearied of the talking of his slaves, wandered into the forest. As he walked in an unfrequented path, he came to a lake where seven beautiful winged nymphs were disporting themselves in the water. One, Chow Soo Tome readily saw was more beautiful than the others, and he loved her and desired her for his wife. On seeing the Chow, however, they all fled, but the most beautiful one permitted herself to be overtaken.

"When I saw thee, my heart was filled with love for thee. If thou dost not consent to be my wife, of sorrow will I die," cried Chow Soo Tome.

"Easily could I have escaped, had not love for thee made me loath to leave thee," replied the nymph. And in great joy they returned to the Chow's home.

"My son, let me take the wings of thy wife, lest she fly and leave thee in sorrow," urged the Chow's mother, and, readily did the nymph wife lay aside her wings.

But it happened that the head chow heard of the beauty of the wife of Chow Soo Tome, and he coveted her, and seeking to do away with Chow Soo Tome, he sent him to war, and commanded that he lead the battle.

The young nymph wife knew the design of the head chow, and, as soon as her husband had gone, she sought her mother-in-law and begged that she give her back her wings.

"I am filled with sorrow. Without Soo Tome I cannot remain in the house. Give me my wings that I may fly in the air and be comforted," pled the wife.

"Consent that I tie a rope to thy feet. Then, I will give thee the wings," answered Soo Tome's mother.

The young wife consented, but, having donned her wings and flown up in the air, she cut the rope fastened to her feet and was safe from the head chow's pursuit. Her freedom made her think of the home of her father in the kingdom of Chom Kow Kilat,[11] and thither she flew.

Chow Soo Tome, unhurt and victorious, returned from the war and found his home desolate without his nymph wife, and would not be comforted but determined to seek her. "Now, I will go seek her in her father's kingdom, Chom Kow Kilat, though seven years, seven months and seven days be required for the journey."

Through forest, over mountains and across plains toiled Chow Soo Tome patiently. And, as he journeyed, upon a day, he met an ape.

"My friend, where do you go?" asked the ape.

"To a land far away, where the love of my heart abides, in the kingdom of Chom Kow Kilat. The way I do not know, but my heart guides me," answered Chow Soo Tome.

The ape pitied him and sought to aid him, and what food he had or found he shared with Chow Soo Tome gladly. Together they travelled many days until they reached the sea. They had no means of crossing, and when the ape realized he could no longer aid Chow Soo Tome, he cried bitterly, saying, "No longer can I aid thee, now; therefore is my sorrow greater than I can bear," and, lo, he died! For three days did Chow Soo Tome mourn this kind friend, and, as he mourned, a fly came to eat of the ape.

"I am but alive and fear I will die if I do not have food at once," said the fly. "The ape is dead and can feel no pain. I am alive and hunger, thou art in trouble and need aid. If thou wilt give me to eat of the flesh of the dead ape, whenever thou needst me, think on me and I will come to thee," added the fly.

"Eat," said Chow Soo Tome, and then he went on his way, but shortly after, sat down under a tree. While there, he saw two eagles alight on the tree.

"When we are rested, we will fly across the sea and eat of the feast which the king of Chom Kow Kilat gives in honor of the return of his beautiful daughter," said one of the eagles to its mate.

Hearing these words, Chow Soo Tome cautiously climbed into the tree and crept under the wing of the larger eagle, who shortly after said to its mate: "Before we fly hence, I must rid myself of an insect which is under my wing and annoys me."

"This is a sacred day, and, for some punishment has the insect come under your wing; let it remain," counselled the other eagle, and then they flew over the sea. When they rested in a tree on the other shore, Chow Soo Tome crept from under the wing and climbed down the tree. After a time he reached a _sala_[12] near a large city. Near the sala was a well, and, as Chow Soo Tome rested, seven slaves of the king of Chom Kow Kilat came from the city for water.

"Why dost thou draw of the water?" asked Chow Soo Tome of a slave.

"We are this day glad, for the most beautiful daughter of the king of Chom Kow Kilat hath returned from the land of men and the water will be poured over her head," said the slave addressed.

Approaching the seventh slave, Chow Soo Tome asked that he might place a ring in her water jar. Now, the ring was one which he had received from his nymph wife, and he sought thus to turn her thoughts to him again.

"Pour your water in such a manner that, when it falls, the ring will fall upon the hands of the princess," directed Chow Soo Tome.

The slave did as directed, and, as the ring fell on the hands of the young princess, she knew her husband was near, and she asked the slave who was at the well when she drew the water.

"A chow of a far country," said the slave, "who rests in the sala by the sacred well outside the city gate."

In great haste and joy, did the young princess seek her father. "Outside the city gate, in the sala by the sacred well, doth my husband await me. Let me go to him, father," she pleaded.

"I must first prove that he be thy husband. Let all my daughters make ready a table spread with the best of the feast, and hide themselves. The man shall be called, and, if he selects thy table, he is thy husband, but, if he knows not thy table, he shall die," replied the king.

The tables were made ready, Chow Soo Tome was summoned and commanded to select the table prepared by the princess whom he claimed as his wife. Sore perplexed, Chow Soo Tome bethought himself of the fly's promise, and he called it to his aid. Immediately the fly appeared and sat on the table prepared by the wife of Chow Soo Tome, and there Chow Soo Tome sat down.

"Yet another test," said the king. "Make ready seven curtains and place my daughters behind the seven curtains, allowing but one finger of each princess to be seen. Then, from among the fingers, select that of thy wife."

Immediately did the grateful fly rest upon the curtain where lay the finger of the young wife, and unhesitatingly Chow Soo Tome walked up to the curtain and clasped the right finger.

"It is enough. She is thy wife," declared the king, and so pleased was he that he made Chow Soo Tome second in power in the kingdom of Chom Kow Kilat.

9: This represents a very well-known maerrchen.

10: Chow--a prince or high official.

11: A fabulous city.

12: A rest-house for guests.

The Faithful Wife

The young and beautiful son of a head chow sought of a wise man what manner of wife should be his.

"As you walked by the way, whom did you meet?" asked the wizard.

"No one," replied the young man.

"Nay, my son, you saw a slave of your father's, cutting grass in a garden. She is to be your wife."

Distressed that such a woman should be his wife, the young man fled from his own country.

And it came to pass, that the chow saw the slave girl that she was kind, noble, and beautiful, and he took her to his house as a daughter, and she became more kind, more noble, and more beautiful.

Years had gone by, and, upon a day the son returned, and, seeing in the one-time slave a most lovable and lovely woman, sought and gained her as his wife. Word reached the young man then that this was but a slave, and, on learning the truth, he begged that he might be released to go on a long journey. The young wife consented.

A boat was made ready, and the chow's son had it in his heart never to return. So, secretly, the chow had a gold image hidden in the bottom of the boat. When the day of departure had come, the chow in haste sent his servants to inquire of his son what he had in the boat.

"I have but my possessions," replied the son.

"Nay, you have the image of gold, which is the possession of my master, the chow," insisted the servants. "If we find it in the boat, what will you do?" they asked.

"Return with you as a slave to my father!" exclaimed the son.

All the goods were removed from the boat and the image was found. Then the son returned as a slave to his father and was made keeper of the elephants.

Upon a day, the young wife of the son came to the chow and sought permission to go to the forest to find her husband.

Willingly did the chow say, "Go, my child," and forthwith he had a boat put in readiness for her and sent with her many of his servants. One servant was called, "Eye That Sees Well," another, "Ear That Hears Well."

Sailing down the river, they reached the province where the young man was searching for elephants, and there they remained.

The chow of the province sent a servant secretly to hide a golden image in the boat. But the "Ear That Hears Well" heard and the "Eye That Sees Well" saw, and together they took the image from the boat and hid it in the sand.

The following day, the chow sent a messenger asking why the princess had taken the image.

"I have not seen it," were the words of the princess.

"If it is found in your boat, what will you promise?" asked the chow's messenger.

"I and my servants will be slaves to him, if the image be found in my boat," replied the princess, "but, should the image not be found there, what will your master promise?"

"All his goods and his province, if the image be not found," readily answered the messenger.