Part 28

Now when Friend Tiger heard these words of the Mouse-deer, he said to himself, “So I suppose if you catch me, you’ll eat me into the bargain, will you?” And Friend Tiger stayed not a moment longer, but fled for his life, fetching very lofty bounds. And soon he met with the Black Ape, and Friend Ape asked, “Why running so hard, Friend Tiger? Why so much noise, and why, just when the Rams are upon us, too, do you go fetching such lofty bounds?” Friend Tiger replied, “What do you mean by ‘So much noise’? What was the Thing that was got upon Friend Elephant’s back, that had caught Friend Elephant and was devouring him so that he went writhing and wriggling for the pain of it, and the blood went streaming down in floods? Moreover the Thing that was on Friend Elephant’s back said, to my hearing, that a single Elephant was very short commons; but if It could catch a fat old Tiger like myself that would be just enough to satisfy Its hunger.” Friend Ape said, “What was that Thing, Friend Tiger?” “I don’t know,” said the Tiger. “Ah,” mused the Ape, “I wonder if It _could_ be Friend Mouse-deer!” “Certainly not,” said the Tiger; “why, how in the world could Friend Mouse-deer swallow _Me_? To say nothing of his not being used to meat food” (said he). “Come and let us go back again.”

Then they went back again to find the Elephant, and first the Ape went the faster, and then the Tiger went the faster, and then the Ape got in front again. But Friend Mouse-deer sitting on Friend Elephant’s back saw them coming and shouted, “Hallo, Father Ape” (said he), “this is a dog’s trick indeed; you promise to bring me two Tigers and you only bring me one. I refuse to accept it, Father Ape.”

Now when the Tiger heard this, he ran off at first as fast as he could, but presently he slackened his pace and said, “It is too bad of you, Friend Ape, for trying to cozen me in order to pay your own debts. For shame! Father Ape! It was only through good luck that he refused to accept me; if he had accepted, I should have been dead and done with. So now, if you come down to the ground, you shall die the death yourself, just for your trying to cheat me.”

Thus the Tiger and the Ape were set at enmity, and to this day the Tiger is very wroth with the Ape for trying to cheat him. And here the story ends.

HOW THE TORTOISE OUTRAN THE DEER

By C. F. Hartt

A Tortoise met a Deer out walking, one day, and asked him what he was looking for. The Deer answered, “I am out for a walk, to see if I cannot find something to eat; and pray where are you going, Tortoise?”

“Oh, out walking, looking for water to drink.”

“How soon do you expect to reach the water?” asked the Deer.

“Why do you ask that question?” returned the Tortoise.

“Because your legs are so short.”

“Well!” answered the Tortoise, “I can run faster than you can. If you are long-legged you cannot run so fast as I.”

“Then let us run a race!” said the Deer.

“Well,” answered the Tortoise, “when shall we run?”

“To-morrow.”

“At what time?”

“Very early in the morning.”

“All right,” assented the Tortoise, who then went into the forest and called together his relations, the other Tortoises, saying, “Come on, let’s catch him!”

“But how are you going to catch him?” they inquired.

“I said to the Deer,” answered the Tortoise, “‘Let us run a race, to see who can run the faster.’ Now I am going to cheat that Deer. You scatter yourselves along the edge of the campo, in the forest, keeping not very far from one another, and see that you keep perfectly still, each in his place! To-morrow, when we begin the race, the deer will run on the campo, but I will remain quietly in my place. When he calls out to me, if you are ahead of him, answer, but take care not to respond if he has passed you.”

Early the next morning the Deer went out to meet the Tortoise.

“Come,” said the former, “let us run!”

“Wait a bit!” said the Tortoise, “I am going to run in the woods.”

“Why, how are you, a little, short-legged fellow, going to run in the forest?” asked the Deer, surprised.

The Tortoise insisted that he could not run in the campo, but that he was accustomed to run in the forest, so the Deer assented, and the Tortoise went into the woods, saying: “When I take my position I will make a noise with a little stick, so that you may know I am ready.”

When the Tortoise, having reached his place, gave the signal, the Deer started off leisurely, laughing to himself, not thinking it worth his while to run. After the Deer had gone quite a little distance, he turned round and called out, “Hullo, Tortoise!” When to his astonishment, a Tortoise a little way ahead cried out, “Hullo, Deer!”

“Well,” said the Deer to himself, “that Tortoise does run fast!” Whereupon he hurried up for a bit and then called out again, but the voice of the Tortoise still seemed to be beyond him.

“Why, how’s this?” exclaimed the Deer, and he ran briskly for a little ways till, thinking that he surely must have passed the Tortoise, he stopped, turned about, and called again. “Hullo, Deer!” the answer came from the edge of the forest just ahead.

On this the Deer set off at full speed, and, after a little, but without stopping this time, he called to the Tortoise. And still the cry, “Hullo, Deer!” came back to him from ahead. He then redoubled his forces, but with no better success, and at last, tired and bewildered, he ran against a tree and fell dead.

The noise made by the feet of the Deer having ceased, the first Tortoise listened. Not a sound was heard. Then he called to the Deer, but received no response. So he went to see what was the matter and found the Deer lying at the foot of the tree.

This is an Amazonian myth of the Tupi-speaking population, as related in the Lingua Geral.—CHARLES F. HARTT.

A myth of the slow Tortoise (Sun) and the swift Deer (Moon), a race which the Sun always wins.

WHICH WAS THE STRONGER, THE TORTOISE, THE TAPIR, OR THE WHALE?

By C. F. Hartt

One day a Tortoise went down to the sea to drink. A Whale saw him and called out: “Here, what are you doing, Tortoise?”

“Why, I’m drinking, ’cause I’m thirsty.”

Then the Whale began to make fun of the Tortoise’s short legs, but the Tortoise indignantly replied: “Even if my legs are short, I am stronger than you, and I can pull you on shore.”

The Whale laughed, “Come on, let me see you do it!”

“Well!” said the Tortoise, “just wait until I go into the forest and get a sipó!”[5]

Away went the Tortoise into the forest, and there he met a Tapir, who asked him what he was looking for.

“I am looking for a sipó.”

“And what are you going to do with a sipó?” asked the Tapir.

“I want it to pull you down to the sea.”

“You!” exclaimed the Tapir, surprised. “I’ll pull you into the forest, and, what’s more—but never mind, let’s try who may be the stronger! Go get your sipó!” The Tortoise went off, and presently came back with a very long sipó, one end of which he tied around the body of the Tapir.

“Now,” said the Tortoise, “wait here until I go down to the sea. When I shake this sipó, run with all your might into the forest.” Having attached one end to the Tapir, he dragged the other down to the sea and fastened it to the tail of the Whale. This accomplished, he said, “I will go up into the forest, and when I shake the sipó, pull as hard as you can, for I am going to draw you on shore.”

The Tortoise then went into the wood, midway between the Whale and the Tapir, shook the sipó, and awaited the result. First the Whale, swimming vigorously, dragged the Tapir backward to the sea, but the latter, resisting with all his might, finally gained a firm foothold and began to get the better of the Whale, drawing him in toward the shore. Then the Whale made another effort, and in this manner they kept tugging against one another, each thinking the Tortoise at the other end of the sipó, until at last, both gave up the struggle from sheer exhaustion.

The Tortoise then walked down to the shore, and the Whale called out to him: “Well, you certainly are strong, Tortoise; I am very tired.”

The Tortoise untied the sipó from the Whale, and, having dipped himself in the water, went over to where the Tapir was puffing after his labors.

“Well, Tapir,” he said, as he untied the sipó, “you see that I am the stronger.”

“It is true, Tortoise, you are very, very strong.”

The Tortoise (Sun) has a trial of strength with the Tapir (Moon) or perhaps this is the Tortoise (Sun) provoking the everlasting tidal contest between sea and land.—C. F. HARTT.

[5] A sipó is a long root growing in the air, often used as a rope.

HOW THE TURTLE GOT HIS SHELL

By Annie Ker

Long ago, our fathers have told us, the Turtle and the Wallaby were friends. Now on a certain day the Turtle was hungry, and asked his friend to go with him to the beach and from thence to the Hornbill’s garden, where was much sugarcane and where bananas also were plentiful. This they did, and fed plentifully on all that was there. The Wallaby trod upon the stalks of the bananas and bowed them to the ground that his friend might eat. Thus did he also to the tall sugarcanes and the flowering rush. And they both did eat and their hunger was stayed.

Now while they were eating the Birds were at work in their gardens, tilling the ground. When the work was finished they dug up much taro and returned to the village to cook their food. They peeled the roots and cut them up and placed them in the pots for cooking. Then said Binama the Hornbill, “Let one of you go down to the beach and bring sea water that our food may be salted.”

But nothing came of it, for one by one the Birds made excuse, fearing lest an enemy lay in wait. At last the Wagtail arose, and ran into the house to make ready to go to the beach. He hung his shell breastplate round his neck, tied waving feathers round his head, and took his spear and went forth. As he went he leaped from side to side the better to avoid the foe, if foe there were. In a little while he came to Binama’s garden and saw the Turtle and Wallaby feeding. Their hearts trembled; nevertheless the Turtle made bold and said to the Wagtail, “Thy master has bidden us eat of his bananas that our hunger may be stayed.”

Now the Wagtail knew in his heart that they lied, but he answered never a word, but filled his bottles with sea water and ran back to the village by another way. When he reached the village he cried aloud, “Friends, the Turtle and the Wallaby are eating in our master’s garden!” At this word all arose and ran for their spears, and surrounded the garden. The Wallaby lifted up his head, and seeing naught but enemies round about him, tarried not but leaped mightily, and escaped. The Turtle could not jump, as he well knew, so he crawled with haste into a yam patch and hid himself under the leaves.

The Birds knew he was still there, and they hunted for him diligently until they found him and dragged him forth. The Turtle feared greatly, and cried, “Take not vengeance on me, for truly the Wallaby bade me come hither and with his feet he broke the stalks, while I only ate of the fruit.” The Birds cared little for his words, and tied him to a pole and thus carried him to Binama’s house, where they laid him upon a shelf till the morrow.

The next day Binama called his servants together and all went to dig food to make a feast, when they should slay the Turtle. None were in the house but the children whom Binama had set to guard the captive. Then the Turtle made his voice soft, and called to the children, “Loosen my bonds, O children,” quoth he, “that we may play together.” Now the children knew not what was in the Turtle’s mind, and they did as he bade them. He crawled down from the shelf, and stretched himself, for he was stiff and sore. Then he said to the children, “Where are your ornaments? Leave the poor ones in the basket, and bring forth only the good ones, that I may see them.”

The children ran to the place where Binama kept his ornaments, and brought forth a long necklace of shell money, also two shell armlets and a wooden bowl, and laid them before the Turtle. He forthwith wound the necklace many times round his neck, and put on both the shell armlets. Moreover the bowl he fastened upon his back. Then he said to the children, “Ye behold me now richly attired. Watch while I run a little and back again, and tell me if the sight is a good one or no.”

The children watched him crawl a few paces and called him to return. This the Turtle did and all sat together in the shade of a tree. Then the Turtle crawled once more, and the children laughed to watch his ungainly form decorated with their father’s ornaments. Again the Turtle returned to the children, but this time he did not sit with them. For on a sudden he heard voices and knew the men were drawing near. Then he saw them as they came forth, and ran swiftly to the sea. The children cried aloud to their father, “Come, for the Turtle is running away!”

When Binama heard this cry, he and the Birds with him threw the sheaves of taro aside and gave chase to the runaway. But the Turtle had already reached the sea, and he hastened to dive. The Birds called, “Show thyself now. Lift up thy head.” So the Turtle did so, and the angry Birds cast great stones into the sea, and the left armlet which the turtle wore was shattered. So he dived, but they called again, “Show thyself. Lift up thy head,” and a stone fell upon the right armlet and broke it into small pieces. Again they called, and again the Turtle raised himself in the water, and this time the stones cut the string on which the necklace of shell money was threaded.

And now for the last time came the call, “Show thyself. Lift up thy head.” The Turtle once more raised himself and the Birds flung after him all the great stones they could find. They fell in scores upon the wooden bowl which had been carried away from Binama’s home, but it was not destroyed, nay, nor was it harmed at all. And the Turtle fled far over the sea, nor was he seen again of Binama or his followers.

But since that day even until now, so our fathers have told us, all turtles carry upon their backs the bowl which in the old days was in the house of Binama.

THE LEGEND OF RATA

By Sir George Grey

Wahieroa had been treacherously slain by a chief named Matuku, so it became the duty of his young son Rata to revenge his father’s death. By the time he had grown up he had devised a plan for doing this, and gave the necessary orders to his followers. He then started on a journey.

Arrived at the entrance to Matuku’s place he found a Man sitting in the courtyard who had been left in charge.

“Where is the man who killed my father?” he asked.

“He lives down in the earth and I call to warn him when the new moon appears. That is when he comes upon earth to do battle.”

“How can he know when the proper time comes?”

“I call to him in a loud voice.”

“When will there be a new moon?”

“In two nights. Return to your village, but come here again on the morning of the second day.”

On the morning appointed, Rata returned and found the Man sitting in the same place.

“Do you know any spot where I can conceal myself from the enemy with whom I am about to fight?” he inquired.

The Man replied, “Come with me and I will show you the two fountains of clear water.”

“This spot that we stand on,” said the Man, when they arrived at the place, “is the place where Matuku rises up from the earth, and yonder fountain is the one on which he combs and washes his dishevelled hair; but this fountain is the one he uses to reflect his face in while he dresses it. You can not kill him while he is at the fountain he uses to reflect his face in, because your shadow would also be reflected in it and he would see it; but at the fountain in which he washes his hair you may smite and slay him.”

“Will he make his appearance this evening?”

“Yes.”

They had not waited long when the moon became visible and the Man told Rata to hide himself near the brink of the fountain in which Matuku would wash his hair. Then he shouted aloud, “Ho, ho, the new moon is visible—a moon two days old.”

Matuku heard him and, seizing his two-handed wooden sword, rose from the earth. He laid his sword on the ground at the edge of the fountain where he dressed his hair, and kneeling down on both sides of it he loosened the strings which bound up his long locks, shook them out, and plunged his head into the clear cool water. Rata crept out from where he lay hid, and rapidly moved up and stood behind him. As Matuku raised his head above the water Rata with one hand seized him by the hair, while with the other he smote and slew him.

“Where shall I find the bones of my father?” he next asked the Keeper.

“They are not here; a strange people who live at a distance came and carried them off.”

Upon hearing this reply Rata returned to his village to think matters over. He went to the forest and, having found a very tall tree that grew straight throughout its entire length, he felled it and cut its noble branching tops, intending to fashion the trunk into a canoe.

The Insects which inhabit trees and the Spirits of the Forest were very angry at this, and as soon as Rata had returned to the village, when his day’s work was done, they took the tree and raised it up again. The multitude of Insects, Birds and Spirits worked away at replacing each little chip and shaving in its proper place, and sang as they worked:

“Fly together, chips and shavings, Stick ye fast together, Hold ye fast together; Stand upright again, O tree.”

Early the next morning Rata came back. When he got to the place where he had left the trunk lying on the ground, he could not at first find it. That fine tall straight tree, which he saw standing whole and sound, was the same he thought he had cut down, and there it was now, erect again; however, he stepped up to it and, hewing away, he felled it to the ground once more. Off he cut its fine branching top, and he began to hollow out the hold of the canoe, and round off the prow and the stern into their proper, gracefully curved forms. In the evening when it became too dark to work, he returned to his village.

As soon as he was gone the multitudes of Insects, Birds and Spirits raised up the tree upon its stump once more. They sang as they worked, and when they had ended the tree again stood as sound as ever in its former place in the forest.

Morning dawned, and Rata returned once more to work at his canoe. When he reached the place was not he amazed to see the tree standing, untouched, just as he had first found it? Nothing daunted, however, he hews away at it again and down it topples, crashing to the earth. As soon as he saw the tree on the ground Rata went off, as if going home, but turned back and hid himself in the underwood, in a spot whence he could peep out and see what took place. He had not been hidden long when he heard the innumerable multitude of the children of Tane approaching singing their incantations, and at last they arrived at the place where the tree was lying on the ground.

Rata rushed upon them. He seized some of them, shouting: “Ha, ha, it is you, is it, who have been exercising your magical arts upon my tree?”

Then the children of Tane all cried aloud in reply, “Who gave you authority to fell the forest god to the ground? You had no right to do so.”

When Rata heard this he was overcome with shame at what he had done. The children of Tane called out to him: “Return, O Rata, to thy village, we will make a canoe for you,” and Rata obeyed their orders without delay.

They were so numerous and each understood so well what to do that they had no sooner begun to adze out a canoe, than it was finished. When the canoe was afloat upon the sea, one hundred and forty warriors embarked on board it and they paddled off to seek their foe.

One night, just at nightfall, they reached the fortress of their enemy. Rata landed alone, leaving all his warriors on board. As he stole along the shore he saw that a fire was burning on the sacred place where the enemy sacrificed to their gods. Without stopping he crept directly towards the fire and hid behind some thick bushes. There were several priests, and to assist them in their magical arts they were using the bones of Wahieroa, knocking them together to beat time while repeating a powerful incantation known only to themselves.

Rata listened attentively to this incantation until he had learned it by heart, and when he was quite sure he knew it he rushed suddenly upon the priests. Being ignorant of the numbers of the enemy or whence they came, they made little resistance and were in a moment overcome. The bones of his father Wahieroa were then eagerly snatched up. He hastened with them back to the canoe, embarked on board it, and his warriors at once paddled away. Rata’s task of avenging his father’s death being thus ended, his tribe hauled up his large canoe on the shore and roofed it over with thatch to protect it from the sun and weather.

WHY THE HIPPOPOTAMUS LIVES IN THE WATER

By Elphinstone Dayrell, F.R.G.S., F.R.A.I.

Many years ago the Hippopotamus, whose name was Isantim, was one of the biggest kings on the land; he was second only to the Elephant. The Hippo had seven large fat Wives, of whom he was very fond. Now and then he used to give a big feast to the people, but a curious thing was that, although every one knew the Hippo, no one, except his seven Wives, knew his name.

At one of the feasts, just as the people were about to sit down, the Hippo said, “You have come to feed at my table, but none of you know my name. If you cannot tell my name you shall all of you go away without your dinner.”

As they could not guess his name, they had to go away and leave all the good food behind them. Before they left, however, the Tortoise stood up and asked the Hippopotamus what he would do if he told him his name at the next feast? So the Hippo replied that he would be so ashamed of himself that he and his whole family would leave the land, and for the future would dwell in the water.

Now, it was the custom for the Hippo and his seven Wives to go down every morning and evening to the river to wash and have a drink. Of this custom the Tortoise was aware. The Hippo used to walk first, and the seven Wives followed. One day when they had gone down to the river to bathe, the Tortoise made a small hole in the middle of the path, and then waited. When the Hippo and his Wives returned two of the Wives were some distance behind, so the Tortoise came out from where he had been hiding and half buried himself in the hole he had dug, leaving the greater part of his shell exposed. When the two Hippo Wives came along, the first one knocked her foot against the Tortoise’s shell, and immediately called out to her husband, “Oh, Isantim, my husband, I have hurt my foot.” At this the Tortoise was very glad, and went joyfully home.

When the next feast was given by the Hippo, he made the same condition about his name; so the Tortoise got up and said, “You promise you will not kill me if I tell you your name?” and the Hippo promised. The Tortoise then shouted as loud as he was able, “Your name is Isantim,” at which a cheer went up from all the people, and then they sat down to dinner.

When the feast was over, the Hippo with his seven Wives, in accordance with his promise, went down to the river, and they have always lived in the water from that day till now. Although they come on shore to feed at night, you never find a Hippo on the land in the daytime.

WHY THE ELEPHANT HAS SMALL EYES

By Elphinstone Dayrell, F.R.G.S., F.R.A.I.