Indonesia Mythology - Miscellaneous Tales
( Originally Published Early 1900's )
IN Melanesia, and perhaps also in New Zealand, one of the themes found to be characteristically developed was that of the swan-maiden, i. e. the descent of a heavenly maiden to earth and her capture and marriage by an earthly hero; and since tales embodying this motif are numerous in Indonesia, a consideration of the remainder of the mythology of this region may well begin with examples of this type. The Toradja in central Celebes say that once a woman gave birth to seven crabs which, in terror and disgust, she threw into the river. The crabs gained the bank, however, and there fixed seven places for bathing and built a house; but when they entered the water, they put off their crab disguise and assumed their human form. One day, when they were disporting themselves in the river and had left their crab garments on the shore, seven men crept up and stole their clothing, thus making it impossible for the maidens to resume their animal guise; and each of the men then took one of the maidens as his wife.
Another tale from the same tribe shows a more typical form of the story. According to this, seven parakeets one day flew down to bathe, doffing their bird garments and laying them on a bench while they made merry in the water as beautiful maid-ens. Magoenggoelota crept up and stole the garment of the youngest, who, realizing that something was wrong, called to her sisters, "Whew! I smell human flesh," at which the others were vexed and said, "Oh, how could any mortal come here? You are joking." Soon they all went out to resume their garments, but though the older sisters found theirs and donned them, the youngest was unable to perceive her own until she saw a man who held it in his hand. Her sisters had disappeared, for they had flown up to the sky; and when they arrived, they said to their mother, "Kapapitoe has gone away, for someone took her dress," at which their mother shed tears and berated them for abandoning their sister, so that they did not dare to go bathing any more. Meanwhile the younger sister wept and begged Magoenggoelota to give her back her feather garment, but he refused, saying, "Come, stop your crying. I shall do you no harm, but shall take you to my house as my wife," to which she answered, "Very well, if you will, take me with you; but first give me back my clothes." When she had promised not to fly away, he returned her feather garment, but when she put it on, he held her fast until she said, "You don't need to hold me; I will not go away, for I do not know the road. If you are fond of me, put me in your betel-box," and accordingly he took out his betel-box, put her in it, and took her to his home.
A version from Halmahera 3 shows a further development. A man once had seven sons. Attacked by a mysterious illness, he gradually turned to stone, and the sons, wishing to seek for medicine with which to cure him, determined at once to set out in search of it. The youngest son, however, being very ugly and covered with sores, was left behind; but he, resolving to do what he could, started off alone in another direction and came to the house of an old woman, who took pity on him, cured his sores, clothed him, and listened to the story of his quest. When she had heard his tale, she told him to hide among the bushes near a pool of water which was close by, and he had not been there long before five maidens came to bathe. They took off their garments and laid them on the bushes under which he was concealed; and while they were bathing, he stole the clothes of the youngest. The . others, when they came out, put on their winged garments and flew away, but the youngest, unable to escape, begged in vain that he would return to her her magic robes, only to have him re-fuse and take her home as his wife. When he had told her of his quest and had asked her if she could help him, she immediately called for her flying-palace, and in it they both ascended to the sky. She brought her husband to the presence of the lord of heaven, who gave him, after hearing his story, the medicine for which he had been seeking, and with this the son now returned to his father, thanks to the aid of his wife's magic flying-house. There he cured his parent; but his six brothers returning empty-handed, and being angry because the youngest had succeeded where they had failed, were later turned into dogs, while the hero and his wife lived happily ever after.
One more version of this theme may be given, in this instance from Java. A poor widow found in the forest an infant that had been abandoned and left at the foot of a tree, and in pity she took the child home with her, bringing it up as her own. The boy developed into a keen hunter and used to wander in the forest with his blowgun in search of birds, until one day he saw a very lovely one at which he shot and shot in vain. He followed it far into the jungle, and at last, losing sight of it entirely, he found himself on the margin of a beautiful pool, to which, as he looked, he saw a number of heavenly maidens flying down to bathe. From his hiding-place he beheld them lay aside their wings and enter the water, when he quietly reached out, and possessing himself of one pair, made a slight noise. At this alarm the bathers took fright, and hastening out of the water, seized their garments and flew away, — one, however, being unable to escape because the youth had possession of her wings. She begged him to return them; but he refused, saying that he would give her other garments if she would agree to be his wife; and being forced to assent to this proposal, she accompanied him to his home. One day she went to the river to wash clothes and left her husband to mind the kettle in which the rice was cooking, warning him on no account to take off the cover of the pot or to look within. After she had gone, he could not overcome his curiosity to see what it was she did not wish him to observe, his inquisitiveness being especially keen since she had always been able to provide abundant meals although he had given her only one measure of rice. Accordingly he raised the lid, but saw nothing in the pot except boiling water and a single grain of rice; and so, replacing the cover, he awaited his wife's return. When she came, she hurried to the pot and looked in, only to find the single grain of rice, since the magic power by which she had hitherto been able to produce food miraculously had been destroyed by her husband's curiosity. This, of course, made her angry, because henceforth she was obliged to labour and to prepare rice for every meal in the usual manner. The store of rice in the bin now rapidly decreased, and one day, when she came to the bottom, she found her magic garment which her husband had hidden there. On his return she informed him that she must now go back to the sky, though she said that she would leave with him their child, which was still but young, and told him that whenever the baby cried, he was to climb up, place it on the roof, and burn a stalk of rice below, and that then she would descend to give her daughter food. When she had said this, she took a stalk of rice, lit it, and rose up to the sky in its smoke. The sorrowing husband followed her commands, and the child grew up to be as beautiful as her mother.
In these and other versions 6 we may trace many variations of the theme, from the simple forms like the first, which seem to rest on the wide-spread belief which prevails throughout the region, of human beings in animal guise who can put off their animal shape and resume that of man; to those like the latter, where it assumes the type common in Indian and European mythology. It would seem that we have here, as in the case of the trickster tales, one group whose direct Indian origin is unmistakable and which has spread widely wherever this early influence has come; and another which is native in all its essentials, although this simple and apparently aboriginal type may, after all, be a local imitation of a foreign theme. The extension of the tale in its more typically Indian form to Melanesia' and even to western Polynesia (New Zealand) 8 is of great interest, and raises questions which may better be discussed in a consideration of the Indonesian tales as a whole.
Many of the stories in Indonesia are based upon the theme of the animal disguise, or "Beauty and the Beast," the following being typical of this class.' Once there was an old woman who lived alone in the jungle and had a lizard which she brought up as her child. When he was full grown, he said to her, "Grandmother, go to the house of Lise, where there are seven sisters; and ask for the eldest of these for me as a wife." The old woman did as the lizard requested, and taking the bridal gifts with her, went off; but when she came near the house, Lise saw her and said, "Look, there comes Lizard's grandmother with a bridal present. Who would want to marry a lizard! Not I."
The old woman arrived at the foot of the ladder, ascended it, and sat down in Lise's house, whereupon the eldest sister gave her betel, and when her mouth was red from chewing it, asked, "What have you come for, Grandmother? Why do you come to us?" "Well, Granddaughter, I have come for this: to pre-sent a bridal gift; perhaps it will be accepted, perhaps not. That is what I have come to see." As soon as she had spoken, the eldest indicated her refusal by getting up and giving the old woman a blow that knocked her across to the door, following this with another that rolled her down the ladder. The old woman picked herself up and went home; and when she had reached her house, the lizard inquired, "How did your visit succeed?" She replied, "O! alas! I was afraid and almost killed. The gift was not accepted, the eldest would not accept it; it seems she has no use for you because you are only a lizard." "Do not be disturbed," said he, "go tomorrow and ask for the second sister," and the old woman did not refuse, but went the following morning, only to be denied as before. Each day she went again to another of the sisters until the turn of the youngest came. This time the girl did not listen to what Lise said and did not strike the old woman or drive her away, but agreed to become Lizard's wife, at which the old woman was delighted and said that after seven nights she and her son would come. When this time had passed, the grandmother arrived, carrying the lizard in a basket. Kapapitoe (the youngest sister) laid down a mat for the old woman to sit on while she spread out the wedding gifts, whereupon the young bride gave her food, and after she had eaten and gone home, the lizard remained as Kapapitoe's husband. The other sisters took pains to show their disgust. When they returned home at night, they would wipe the mud off their feet on Lizard's back and would say, "Pitoe can't prepare any garden; she must stay and take care of her lizard," but Kapapitoe would say, "Keep quiet. I shall take him down to the river and wash off the mud." After a while the older sisters got ready to make a clearing for a garden, and one day, when they had gone to work, the lizard said to his wife, "We have too much to bear. Your sisters tease us too much. Come, let us go and make a garden. Carry me in a basket on your back, wife, and gather also seven empty coconut-shells." His wife agreed, put her husband in a basket, and after collecting the seven shells, went to the place which they were to make ready for their garden. Then the lizard said, "Put me down on the ground, wife, so that I can run about," and thus he scurried around, lashing the grass and trees with his tail and covering a whole mountain-side in the course of the day; with one blow he felled a tree, cut it up by means of the sharp points on his skin, set the pieces afire, and burned the whole area, making the clearing smooth and good. Then he said to Kapapitoe, "Make a little seat for me, so that I can go and sit on it," and when this was done, he ordered the seven coconut-shells to build a house for him, after which he was carried home by his wife. The older sisters returning at evening, saw the new clearing and wondered at it, perceiving that it was ready for planting. When they got home they said to their sister, "You can't go thus to the planting feast of Ta Datoe. Your husband is only a lizard," and again they wiped their feet on him.
The next day Lizard and his wife went once more to their clearing and saw that the house had already been built for them by the coconut-shells, which had turned into slaves; whereupon the lizard said, "Good, tomorrow evening we will hold the preliminary planting festival, and the next day a planting feast." Ordering his seven slaves to prepare much food for the occasion, he said to his wife, "Let us go to the river and get ready," but on arriving at the stream, they bathed far apart, and the lizard, taking off his animal disguise, became a very handsome man dressed in magnificent garments. When he came for his wife, she at first did not recognize him, but at last was convinced; and after she had been given costly new clothes and ornaments, they returned toward Lise's house. As they came back, the preliminary planting festival had begun, and many people were gathered, including Kapapitoe's elder sisters, Lise, and the old woman. The six sisters said, "Tell us, Grandmother, who is that coming? She looks so handsome, and her sarong rustles as if rain were falling. The hem of her sarong goes up and down every moment as it touches her ankles." The old woman replied, "That is your youngest sister, and there comes her husband also," whereupon, overcome with jealousy, the six sisters ran to meet their handsome brother-in-law and vied with each other for the privilege of carrying his betel-sack, saying, "I want to hold the sirih-sack of my brother-in-law." He, however, went and sat down, and the six went to sit beside him to take him away from their youngest sister, but the lizard would have none of them.
Next day was the planting, and his sisters-in-law would not let the lizard go in company with his wife, but took possession of him and made him angry. Accordingly, when Lise and the sisters were asleep, the lizard got up, waked Kapapitoe, and taking a stone, laid four pieces of bark upon it and repeated a charm, "If there is power in the wish of the six sisters who wipe their feet on me, then I shall, when I open my eyes, be sitting on the ground just as I am now. But if my wish has power, when I open my eyes, I shall be sitting in my house and looking down on all other houses." 10 When he opened his eyes, he was seated in his house high up on the mountain, for the stone had grown into a great rock, and his house was on top of it. His sisters-in-law tried to climb the cliff, but in vain, and so had to give up, while he and his wife, Kapapitoe, lived happily ever after.
A tale wide-spread in the Archipelago, and interesting because of its further extension elsewhere, introduces the theme of the descent to the underworld, though not as in the Polynesian examples of the Orpheus type. As told by the Galela, it runs as follows. Once upon a time there was a man who was accustomed to keep watch in his garden to prevent its being plundered by wild pigs. One night a pig appeared at which the man threw his spear; but the creature was only wounded and ran away with the missile sticking in its back. Next day the man followed the trail of the stricken animal and after a long chase found that the tracks led to a deep cleft in the rocks, which conducted him down into the earth, so that at last he came out in the middle of a town. The tracks led directly to one of the houses, which the man entered, and looking around, he saw his spear leaning by the door. From a neighbouring room he heard sounds of crying, and shortly a man appeared, who asked him who he was and what he wanted. When he replied that he had come to find his spear, which had been carried off in the body of a pig the night before, the owner of the house said, "No, you speared my child, and her you must cure. When she is well again, you shall marry her." While talking, the man who was in search of his spear happened to look up and saw hanging from the rafters a bunch of pigs' skins, which were the disguises that the people of this underworld assumed when they visited the upper earth to plunder the gardens of men. He finally agreed to try his skill in curing the woman whom he had thus unwittingly wounded, and in a short time she had wholly recovered. Some time after he had married her, she said to him, "Come now, you act just as if you had forgotten all about your wife and children," to which he answered, "No, I think of them often; but how shall I find them?" A plan was proposed which he accepted, and in accordance with which they were both to put on the pig disguises and visit the upper world. No sooner said than done, and for three months he lived in the underworld, visiting the gardens of his own town in the upper world in the guise of a pig. Then one day, when he and others had come to the upper earth, they said to him, "Now, shut your eyes, and don't open them until we give the word. After this, when you make a garden plot and the pigs come to break in and make trouble, do not shoot at them, but go and call out, saying that they must not come to this field but go to some others; and, then they will surely go away." He did as they commanded and closed his eyes, but when he opened them, he was back once more in human form in his own garden and his spirit wife of the underworld he never saw again.
A still more characteristic version is told in Celebes. Seven brothers were hunting and drying the meat of the pigs which they had killed, but, as in one of the trickster tales, a man appeared who stole the food and made away with it, the brother who had been left on guard being unable to stop him. When the turn of the youngest came, he succeeded in spearing the robber in the back, but the culprit ran off and disappeared with the spear still sticking in him. Now the spear belonged to the boys' grandfather, who, angry at its loss, demanded that they find it and return it." The brothers, therefore, went to a great hole in the earth, from which, they had discovered, the robber usually emerged. Taking a long vine, the others lowered the eldest, but he, soon terrified at the darkness, demanded to be hauled up again; and thus it went with all six older brothers, only the youngest being brave enough to reach the bottom. Once arrived, he found himself in the underworld and there soon discovered a town. Asking if he might come in, he was refused admittance on the ground that the chief was suffering from a great spear with which he had been wounded, and which was still embedded in his back. The young hero thereupon declared that he could cure the sufferer and was accordingly admitted to the chief's house; but when he was alone with the patient, he killed him, pulled out the spear, and hastened to regain the place where he had been let down. On the way he met seven beautiful maidens who wished to accompany him to the upper world, and so all were pulled up together by the brothers stationed above, and each of them then took one of the girls for his wife. The occurrence of this tale in Japan," and on the north-west coast of America 18 is a feature of considerable interest.
A story of quite wide distribution is that of the half-child. According to the Loda version, the first man and woman lived by a river, on whose banks they had a garden. A boy was born to them, but later, when a second child was about to be brought into the world, a great rain and flood came and washed away half of the garden, whereupon the woman cursed the rain, the result of her malediction being that when the child was born, it was only half a human being and had but one eye, one arm, and one leg. When Half-Child had grown up, he said to his mother, "Alas, what shall I do, so that I may be like my brother, who has two arms and two legs?" Determining to go to the great deity in the upper world. and beg him to make him whole, he climbed up and laid his request before the god, who, after some discussion, agreed to help him, telling him to bathe in a pool which he showed him, and at the same time cautioning him not to go into the water if he saw any one else bathing. Half-Child went to the pool, found no one else there, and after bathing came out restored to his proper shape and made very handsome.
Returning to his home, he found his brother eating his dinner, and the latter said to him, "Well, brother, you look very beautiful!" "Yes," said Half-Child, "the deity, granted me to be even as you are." Then his elder brother asked, "Is the god far away?" and the other replied, "No, he is not far, for I was able to reach him easily." The elder brother at once went up to see the divinity, and when asked why he had come, he said that he wished to be made as handsome as his younger brother. The deity replied, "No, you are now just as you ought to be, and must remain so"; but since the other would not be satisfied, at length the god said, "Well, go to that pool there and bathe; but you must not do so unless you see a dog (i. e. the image or reflection of a dog) in it, in which case you must bathe with a piece of white cloth tied round your neck." So the elder brother went to the pool, tied a piece of cloth around his neck, and bathed, and behold! he was turned into a dog with a white mark around his throat; whereupon he returned to this world and found his brother, Half-Child, at dinner. "Alas!" said the younger brother, "I told you not to go, but you would do so, and now see what has become of you!" and he added, "Here, my brother, you must always remain under my table and eat what falls from it."
Tales which involve themes of the "grateful animals" and the "impossible tasks" are quite common; and as an example of one type of these we may take a Dusun story from British North Borneo. Serungal was an ugly man, but he wished very much to marry a rajah's daughter. On his way to the village of the rajah he saw some men killing an ant, but when he remonstrated with them, they ran away and left the insect, which crawled off in safety. A little farther on Serungal heard some people shouting and found that they were trying to kill a fire-fly, whose life he saved in the same manner as he had that of the ant; and before he reached the rajah's gate he also rescued a squirrel. Arrived before the rajah, Serungal made known to him that he had come to ask for the hand of one of his daughters; but since the rajah did not want him for a son-in-law, he said to him, "If you can pick up the rice which is in this basket, after it has been scattered over the plain, you may have my daughter." Serungal thought that he could not succeed in this impossible task, for the rajah allowed him only a short time to complete it; but nevertheless he determined to try, only to find that achievement was hopeless. He began to weep, but soon an ant came to him, and learning the reason of his lamentation, said, "Well, stop crying, and I will help you, for you helped me when men wished to kill me," and accordingly the ant called his companions, who quickly sought and gathered the grains of rice, so that the basket soon was full once more. When Serungal carried the receptacle to the rajah and announced that he had accomplished the task, the latter said, "Well, you may have my daughter, but first you must climb my betel-nut tree and pluck all the nuts." Now this tree was so tall that its top was lost in the clouds, and Serungal, after several vain attempts, sat at the foot of the tree, weeping. To him then came the squirrel whom he had befriended, and in gratitude for the aid which Serungal had given him it climbed the tree for him and brought down all the nuts. The rajah had one more task, however, for Serungal to accomplish, telling him that he might have his youngest daughter if he could pick her out from among her six other sisters when all were shut up in a perfectly dark room. Serungal again was in despair when the fire-fly came to him and said, "I will search for you and I will settle on the nose of the seventh daughter; so wherever you see a light, that will be the place where the rajah's youngest daughter is." 22 Accordingly Serungal went into the darkened room, and seeing the fire-fly, carried away the woman on whom it had settled; whereupon the rajah admitted Serungal's success and thus was obliged to recognize him as his son-in-law 23 Tales of this type present such close analogies to Indian and wide-spread European types that it is probable that they are directly or indirectly due to Hindu contact.
Widely disseminated in Indonesia, and also occurring far outside its limits, are stories based on a theme involving the miraculous providing of food by women of supernatural origin. A Bornean version may serve as an example of this type. One day a man named Rakian was out hunting for honey, when in the top of a mangis-tree he saw a number of bees' nests. The bees belonging to one of these were white, and as this was a curiosity, he selected this nest, removed it carefully, and carried it home. He spent the next day working in his garden and did not return to his house until evening; but when he entered, he found rice and fish already cooked and standing on his food-shelf above the fire. "Who can have cooked for me?" he thought, "for I live here alone. This fish is not mine, although the rice is. The rice is cold, and must have been cooked some time. Perhaps someone has come and cooked for me and then taken away my bees' nest." On going to look, however, he found his bees' nest still where he had left it; so he sat down and ate, saying, "Well, if someone is going to cook for me, so much the better." In the morning he went off again to his garden, and when he came back at night, there was his food already cooked as before; and this continued for some time until one day he resolved to return early to see if he could not solve the mystery. Accordingly he set off as if to go to his garden and then quietly came back and hid himself where he could watch. By and by the door of the house creaked, and a beautiful woman came out and went to the river to get water; but while she was gone, Rakian entered the house and looking at his bees' nest found that there were no bees in it. So taking the nest and hiding it, he secreted himself in the house; and after a while the woman re-turned and went to the place where the nest had been. "Oh," said she, weeping, "who has taken my box? It cannot be Rakian, for he has gone to his garden. I am afraid he will come back and find me." When it was evening, Rakian came out as if he had just returned from his garden, but the woman sat there silent. "Why are you here?" said he; "perhaps you want to steal my bees?" but the woman answered, "I don't know anything about your bees." Rakian went to look for his bees' nest, but of course could not find it, for he had hidden it away; whereupon he again accused her of taking his honey, while she denied all knowledge of it. "Well, never mind," said he; "will you cook for me, for I am hungry?" She, how-ever, replied that she did not wish to cook, for she was vexed; and then she taxed Rakian with having taken her box, which, she said, contained all her clothes; but he replied that he would not give it to her because he was afraid that she would get into it again. "I will not get into it," said she. "If you like me, you can take me for your wife. My mother wished to give me to you in this way, for you have no wife here, and I have no husband in my country." Accordingly Rakian gave her the bees' nest, and the woman then said, "If you take me as your wife, you must never call me a bee-woman, for if you do I shall be ashamed." Rakian promised, and so they were married; and by and by his wife bore him a child. Now one day there was a feast at a neighbour's, to which Rakian went as a guest; but when the people asked him where his wife had come from, as they had never before seen so beautiful a woman, he replied evasively. After a while, however, all the men got drunk, and then, when they kept asking him where his wife had come from, he forgot his promise and said, "The truth is my wife was at first a bee."
When Rakian got home, his wife was silent and would not speak to him, but after a while she said, "What did I tell you long ago? I think you have been saying things to make me ashamed." Her husband denied that he had said anything wrong, but she insisted, declaring, "You are lying, for though you were far away, I heard what you said," whereupon Rakian was silent in his turn. "I shall now go to my home," said she, "but the child I will leave with you. In seven days my father will pass by here, and I shall go with him." Rakian wept, but could not move her, and seven days later he saw a white bee flying by, whereupon his wife came out of the house, and saying, "There is my father," she turned into a bee once more and flew away, while Rakian hurried into the house, seized the child, and hastened off in pursuit. For seven days he followed the bees, and then losing sight of them, found himself on the banks of a stream where he lay down with the child and slept. By and by a woman came from a house near by, woke him, and said, "Rakian, why don't you go to your wife's house, and sleep there? The house is not far off." "When I have bathed, you must show me the way," said he, and she replied, "Very well"; so they went, and the woman pointed his wife's house out to him. "Her room is right in the middle. There are eleven rooms in the house. If you enter, you must not be afraid, for the roof-beams are full of bees, but they do not attack men." Accordingly Rakian climbed up into the house and found it full of bees, but in the middle room there were none. The child began to cry, whereupon a voice from the middle room asked, "Why do you not come out? Have you no pity on your child, that is weeping here?" Then, after a time, Rakian's wife appeared, and the child ran to her, and Rakian's heart was glad; but his wife said to him, "What did I tell you at first, that you were not to tell whence I came? If you had not been able to follow me here, certainly there would have been distress for you." When she finished speaking, all the bees dropped down from the roof-beams to the floor and became men; while as for Rakian and his child, they stayed in the bees' village and did not go back any more.
A version from the Philippines 25 adds several features of interest. "`We go to take greens, sister-in-law Dinay, perhaps the siksiklat [a sort of vine, whose leaves are used for greens] will taste good. I have heard that the siksiklat is good,' said Aponibolinayen. They went to get her siksiklat. When they arrived at the place of small trees, which they thought was the place of the siksiklat, they looked. Aponibolinayen was the first who looked. As soon as she began to break off the siksiklat which she saw she did not break any more, but the siksiklat encircled and carried her up. When they reached the sky, the siksiklat placed her below the alosip-tree. She sat for a long time. Soon she heard the crowing of the rooster. She stood up and went to see the rooster which crowed. She saw a spring. She saw it was pretty; because its sands were oday and its gravel pagatpat and the top of the betel-nuttree was gold, and the place where the people step was a large Chinese plate which was gold. She was surprised, for she saw that the house was small. She was afraid and soon began to climb the betel-nut-tree, and she hid herself.
"The man who owned the house, which she saw near the well, was Ini-init — the sun. But he was not in the place of his house, because he went out and went above to make the sun, because that was his work in the daytime. And the next day Aponibolinayen saw him, who went out of his house, because he went again to make the sun. And Aponibolinayen went after him to his house,. because she saw the man, who owned the house, who left. When she arrived in the house, she quickly cooked, because she was very hungry.
"When she finished cooking, she took the stick used in roasting fish and cooked it, and the fish stick which she cooked became cut-up fish, because she used her magic power. When she finished to cook the fish, she took out rice from the pot, and when she had finished to take out the rice from the pot, she took off the meat from the fish. When she finished taking the fish from the pot, she ate. When she finished eating, she washed. When she finished washing, she kept those things which she used to eat, the coconut shell cup and plate, and she laid down to sleep.
"When the afternoon came, Ini-init went home to his house after he finished fishing. He saw his house, which appeared as if it was burning, not slowly. He went home because it appeared as if his house was burning. When he arrived at his house, it was not burning, and he was surprised because it appeared as if there was a flame at the place of his bed. When he was in his house, he saw that which was like the flame of the fire, at the place of his bed, was a very pretty lady.
"Soon he cooked, and when he had finished to cook he scaled the fish, and when he had finished scaling he cut it into many pieces, and he made a noise on the bamboo floor when he cut the fish. The woman awoke, who was asleep on his bed. She saw that the man who cut the fish was a handsome man, and that he dragged his hair. The pot she had used to cook in looked like the egg of a rooster, and he was surprised because it looked like the egg of a rooster; and the rice which she cooked was one grain of broken rice. Because of all this Ini-init was surprised, for the pot was very small with which she cooked. After Ini-init cooked, the woman vanished and she went to the leaves of the betel-nut, where she went to hide.
"After Ini-init finished cooking the fish, he saw the bed, the place where the woman was sleeping, was empty. He was looking continually, but he did not find her. When he could not find her, he ate alone, and when he finished eating he washed, and when he finished washing the dishes he put away, and when he had finished putting away he went to the yard to get a fresh breath. . . . When it began to be early morning, he left his house, he who went up, because it was his business to make the sun. And Aponibolinayen went again into the house.
"When it became afternoon, Ini-init went to his home, and Aponibolinayen had cooked, after which she went out to the betel-nut trees. When Ini-init arrived, he was surprised because his food was cooked, for there was no person in his house. As soon as he saw the cooked rice and the cooked fish in the dish, he took the fish and the rice and began to eat. When he had finished eating, he went to his yard to take a fresh breath and he was troubled in his mind when he thought of what had happened. He said, `Perhaps the woman, which I saw, came to cook and has left the house. Sometime I shall try to hide and watch, so that I may catch her.' He went to sleep, and when it became early morning he went to cook his food. When he had finished eating, he went again to make the sun, and Aponibolinayen went again to his house.
"When the sun had nearly sunk, he sent the big star who was next to follow him in the sky, and he went home to spy on the woman. When he had nearly reached his home, he saw the house appeared as if it was burning. He walked softly when he went up the ladder. He slammed shut the door. He reached truly the woman who was cooking in the house. He went quickly and the woman said to him, `You cut me only once, so that I only cure one time, if you are the old enemy.' `If I were the old enemy, I should have cut before,' said Ini-init, and he sat near her who cooked. He took out the betel-nut, and he arranged it so that they began to chew the betel-nut, and he said, `Ala! young lady, we are going to chew, because it is bad for us to talk who do not know each other's names.' Aponibolinayen answered, `No, for if the rich man who practises magic is able to give to the rich woman who has magical power, soon there will be a sign.' Ini-init said, `No, hurry up even though we are related, for you come here if we are not related.'
"He begged her, and he cut the betel-nut, which was to be chewed, which was covered with gold, and he gave it to the woman who had magical power, and they chewed. When she laid down the quid, it looked like the agate bead, which has no hole for the thread. And the quid of Ini-init looked like a square bead.
"`My name is Ini-init, who often goes to travel over the world. I always stop in the afternoon. What can I do, it is my business,' he said. Aponibolinayen was next to tell her name. `My name is Aponibolinayen, who lives in Kaodanan, who am the sister of Awig,' she said, and when they had finished telling their names, both their quids looked like the agate bead, which is pinoglan, which has no hole. Ini-init said, `We are relatives, and it is good for us to be married. Do not be afraid even though you did not come here of your own accord. I go to Kaodanan,' he said. Then they married, and the sun went to shine on the world, because it was his business, and the big star also had business when it became night."
In some versions the woman who provides food miraculously is a tree-spirit, or comes from a plant or fruit; while in other stories she appears from the sea. In its distribution the tale extends eastward into Melanesia.
The following tale 29 embodies, among other incidents in the Indonesian area, that in which an animal, insect, or inanimate object answers for an escaping fugitive, and so aids his flight. Two sisters, whose parents had been killed and eaten by a tiger and a garuda bird, saved themselves from their parents' fate by hiding in a drum; but one day a man went out hunting, and his arrow falling on the roof of the house where the two were hidden, he found the girls and took the older, whose name was Sunrise, as his wife.
After a time the man said to his sister-in-law, "Bring me a piece of bamboo, that I may knock out the partition (at the nodes) and make a water-vessel for you to get water in, but when he fixed it, he secretly made holes through the bottom also. He then gave her the water-vessel, and she went to the stream to bring water, but the bamboo would not hold it; and after she had tried for a long time, she discovered the holes in the bottom. Accordingly she returned to the house, but found that Sunrise and her husband had gone, for he had pierced the bottom of the water-vessel so that he and his wife might have time to run away. Before going off, however, Sunrise had left two lice behind her and had instructed them to answer for her when her sister should return and thus delay pursuit, her orders being, "If she calls me from the land-side, do you answer from the sea-side; if she calls me from the sea-side, do you answer from the land-side; if she asks you the way, show it to her." When the deserted sister returned to the house, she called to Sunrise and thought she heard an answer, but when she went thither, the reply came from the opposite direction. Thus deceived by the false calls, she was long delayed; but finally she discovered the trick, asked the way which Sunrise had taken, and set off in pursuit."
By and by she came upon an old woman, to whom she called, "Oh, granny! Oh, granny! look here!" The old woman said to herself, "Well, ever since the world was made, I have lived alone, so I won't look," but, nevertheless, she did look, and then asked, "Well, Granddaughter, where do you come from?" "Granny, I am seeking my older sister," said the other sister, whose name was Kokamomako; and then hearing the sound of a drum, she inquired, "Granny, why are they having a feast over there?" The old woman answered, "Just now they went by with your sister," and so Kokamomako continued on her way.
When she came to the house, she called out, "Show me the hair of my sister in the window," but the people inside held up the hair of a cat, whereupon Kokamomako said, "My sister is indeed ugly, but that is the hair of a cat. You must show me her foot." Then the people took the foot of a cat and thrust it out of the window, saying, "If you want us to produce your sister, you must pick up a basket of rice that we will throw out," whereupon they threw it out and scattered it. Then Kokamomako wept, for this was a task which she could not accomplish; but a rice-bird came up to her and asked,
"What is your trouble, and what do you want, that you are picking that up?" She replied, "I have no trouble, and I don't want anything, but they have hidden my elder sister." Then the rice-bird helped her, and it was not long before the rice was all gathered; but still the people would not bring out her sister, Sunrise;- whereupon Kokamomako said, "If you don't produce my sister, I will go home and set fire to my house," adding, "when you see blue smoke, that will be the furniture; when you see white smoke, that will be money; when you see red smoke, that will be I." Then she went away, and soon they saw that she had set fire to her house, perceiving that the smoke was first blue, then white, and then red. Knowing that her sister was now dead, Sunrise went and bathed, and when she came back to the house, she took a knife and stabbed herself and died. By and by her husband went to carry her food, and found her dead, whereupon he also took a knife and tried to kill himself, but did not succeed.
Now there was a slave in the house who went to get water at the river, and when she looked in the stream, seeing the reflection of Sunrise, she thought it was her own and called out, "Oh, sirs, you said that I was ugly, but really I am beautiful." Proud of her supposed good looks and thinking herself too good to be a slave, she threw away her water-vessel and broke it; but when she went back to the house, they sent her back again for water and once more she saw the reflection of Sunrise, for the latter and her younger sister (their ghosts) were hidden in the top of a tree that leaned over the stream. This, however, the slave did not know, and again she said, "Oh, sirs, you said that I was ugly, but I am really beautiful," and again she threw away the water-vessel and broke it, doing this seven times before she told the people in the house that she had seen the reflection of Sunrise.
In the house was another slave who suffered from wounds on his legs, and the husband of Sunrise ordered him to dive into the stream in order to seize her, but he refused. So all set upon him, and he was forced to do as he was bid; but though he dove and dove, and broke open his wounds, and coloured the stream with his blood, he could not find Sunrise. Accordingly he came ashore and said, " I told you just now that I could not do it, and now you have forced me to try, and I have broken my wounds open again." Thereupon, as they sat by the stream, the husband happened to look up, and seeing his wife in the top of the tree, he called out, "Let down a rope, so that I may climb up." So she lowered a copper wire, saying, "When you get half way up, don't hold on so tight," but when he climbed up and reached the half-way point, she cut the wire, and he fell and was dashed to pieces.
In the Polynesian and Melanesian areas the tales relating to cannibals were numerous; and they are also common in Indonesia, as several examples will show. Once there was an ogress called Bake, and a princess who spent her time weaving. The brothers of the princess went fishing, and while they were gone, she dropped her shuttle, whereupon she began to sing a song calling upon them to come and pick it up. Then the ground suddenly split asunder, and out of it came Bake who wanted to carry the princess away, but when the latter said, "I must wait, I must wait for my brothers," Bake said to her, "Very well, pound some rice for me." After the maiden had pounded a little rice, she rested, for she wished to delay until her brothers should come back from fishing; but when the ogress could wait no longer, she herself took the pestle and finished preparing the rice. The princess set water on to boil and cooked the rice, which she ate from a tiny vessel using a needle for a spoon, whereas Bake ate from a trough with a great stone plate as a spoon. When, in spite of all delay, the princess had finished, the ogress refused to wait longer, and taking the maiden on her back she carried her off.
The princess, however, had secretly tied the end of a skein of thread about the tip of her finger so that the thread unwound itself behind the ogress as she went; 35 and just as the process was completed, the two brothers of the girl returned. They called to her, but getting no reply, searched diligently and found the thread, whereupon they started off at once in pursuit, following the trail thus left for their guidance. They came to some people who were making a garden and asked them if they had seen any one passing, going inland; and when the people replied, "Yes, Inang-i-Bake has just gone by, carrying a white pig on her back, and dragging something that constantly unwound as she went," the two brothers pursued their quest. From time to time they met other people, all of whom gave the same information, until at last the brothers learned that Inang-i-Bake's. home was near by. Now close to the house was a deep river over which was a bridge, and as the two brothers went toward Bake's house, they saw something very white underneath it in a pen. When they got near, they perceived that this was their sister; for Bake had taken away all her clothes and had cut off her hair, and even shaved off her eyebrows. So the brothers threw their head-cloths to the princess for a covering, and then climbed into the house, but found that Bake was not at home, though her daughter, Gina-bai, was there. She asked them why they had come, and when they replied that they had heard that she was looking for someone to work for her, she answered, "Yes, you are right. You can cook dinner for me. Go down and kill the pig that you will find beneath the house." Accordingly the brothers went below the house to cook the dinner, but first they re-leased their sister from the pen, and one of the brothers took her away across the river. When he returned, he secretly cut through all but one of the supports of the bridge, so that it could barely sustain the weight of a man; 36 and then came back to help his brother. Again they went up into the house, and killing Ginabai, they shore off her hair and hung it out of the window of her room; after which they cut up her body and cooked and spiced it well, and ordered a louse from her head to answer for her when any one should call.
On Inang-i-Bake's return they set before her the food which they had cooked, and it happened that. Ginabai's brother found one of her fingers in his portion. When he recognized it, he cried out, and the bird which was sitting on the roof of the house said, "Inang-i-Bake has eaten her child, and is angry," whereupon the people that were working in the garden, hearing the bird accuse Inang-i-Bake, said to each other, "Keep still, what is that that it is saying, `Inang-i-Bake has eaten her child and is angry'?" Then one of them replied, "Be still! shut your mouth! why don't you keep quiet and listen to the bird who speaks, and who tells what is forbidden; who speaks of what is not allowed?" Then Ginabai's brother sent his blind slave to look for his sister, and the slave went and called, "Mistress, mistress!" The louse answering in place of Ginabai, the slave returned and said, "My mistress is there." When, however, the bird had again called out, and Ginabai's brother had once more sent his slave, he finally went himself and found that his sister was not there, but only the louse which had answered for her. So he slew the louse and cut it into small pieces and cried out to the brothers of the princess, "Wait a bit, you have killed my sister," but they ran away as fast as they could to the other side of the river, and when Ginabai's brother followed them across the bridge, it broke and he fell into the water and was drowned.
Another version from the Moluccas 38 runs as follows. Two women once went fishing, and coming to a river, one said to the other, "There are many fish in that pool; reach down for them," but when the other stooped for the fish, the first woman gave her a push, so that she fell into the water, and then she held her under with a forked stick. Great bubbles came up as the victim struggled, but at last they ceased and she was drowned, whereupon the murderess drew out the body, cut off some flesh, put it in a bamboo vessel, and going home, set the vessel on the fire to cook. Now the dead woman had two children, a boy and a girl, and they asked the wicked woman what she was cooking. She replied, "Fish and eels," and then saying that she was going back to her comrade, she told the children to watch what she had left to cook. After she had left, the flesh of the children's mother soon began to boil, saying, "I am your breasts here; I am your mother here!" The girl, who heard this, called to her brother, and he came and listened, whereupon the children said to one another, "We must run away, whether we meet with good fortune or bad." The wicked woman now came home, and the children asked her where their mother was, to which she replied that her companion was still busy smoking the fish which they had caught, and that she was now going to take her some food. Then she went off again, telling the children to look after her own little one, who was younger than they; but when she had gone, the two children took the young child of the wicked woman, put it in the pan to cook over the fire, and ran away. They went across seven mountains and seven valleys and came to a river which was full of crocodiles, so that they could not pass. A bird saw them, however, and learning of their trouble, told them of a log that lay athwart the river some distance up-stream; and after they were safe on the other side, the bird flew across the log, which it nearly severed with its beak. The wicked woman returning to the house and finding her child all shrivelled and burned, set out at once in pursuit, saying, "You who did this shall die this very day." By and by she came to the log by which the children had crossed, but when she attempted to follow them, it broke under her weight, and she fell into the stream, and the crocodiles ate her up. The bird now told the children that they must not follow the path that led to the left, but must take that going to the right. They did not heed this advice, however, and turning off to the left, after a time they met Kine-kine-boro, an ogre who had a carrying-basket on his back in which a man was stuck head down. The children called out, "Good grand-father, grandfather, look here!" and he, replying, "Ha! from the beginning of the world, I have never had any children or grandchildren," looked around and called to them, "Grand-children, come here!" Accordingly they went with him to his house, and after they had been there half a moon, they said to him, "Grandfather, haven't you an axe?" "Yes," said he, "here is the axe, what do you want with it?" "We want to make a canoe to play with." So they went to cut down a tree, and Kine-kine-boro felled one and carried it home for them; but next day, when the ogre and his wife had gone off to seek for men to eat, the children finished their canoe, loaded it with rice and precious goods belonging to the ogre, and paddled away. Not long after, Kine-kine-boro and his wife re-turned, and as they had not found any men, they went to the enclosure where the children were kept, purposing to eat them. Since, however, their intended victims were not there, the ogre and his wife climbed into a tree to look for them, but could not see them, though by climbing a very tall tree Kine-kine-boro at last descried them, the sail of their canoe being a mere speck on the horizon. Then he took his hair and from it plaited a rope, which he threw after the canoe like a lasso, so that finally he caught the little boat and began to pull it in. The two children tried to cut the rope, but in vain, until, after sawing at it for a long time with a kris, it broke, where-upon — so tightly had the rope been stretched — the tree, in whose top Kine-kine-boro was, snapped back. Seven times it swayed toward the land, and seven times toward the sea, and Kine-kine-boro fell from the tree upon his wife who was below, and they both burst with a noise like thunder and died, but the children got safely away."
As an example of a different type of cannibal-story the following may serve. A swangi (one who is secretly a vampire) once was going out to eat the flesh of men when a youth met him and begged to be allowed to accompany him, to which the swangi agreed, but said, "If you go with me, you must shut your eyes, and open them only when I tell you." The young man promised and closed his eyes, and when, soon afterward, the swangi said, "Open your eyes," he found that he and the swangi were on the top of a sirih-plant that grew up a tall tree. At the foot of this plant was a house, and one of the children of the people living there was ill. Then the swangi, saying, "You stay here. I will go down," descended and took the liver out of the child, and not only ate it himself, but also gave the young man a small piece. The latter, however, did not swallow it, but only pretended to do so, eating instead a bit of coconut which he held concealed in his hand. Then the swangi said to the young man, "Tell me, friend, isn't it good?" and the latter replied, "It is very good." Thereupon the swangi climbed down again to get him more liver, but after he had gone, the youth also descended, tied a rope to a heavy rice-mortar, and then went up once more, hauling the mortar to the top of the tree. By and by the swangi came out, but just as he reached the foot of the tree, the young man let the rice-mortar drop and called out, " It is falling; catch it." Thus the rice-mortar fell on the swangi and killed him, where-upon the youth climbed down and showed the people in the house the liver of their child, saying, "Look, this is your child's liver. A swangi has eaten the liver, so your child died. But it was fortunate that I was there, for now the swangi is dead."
The following Philippine tale 41 introduces a number of incidents whose distribution is of interest. Aponibolinayen said, "I am anxious to eat the fruit of the bolnay-tree belonging to Matawitawen;" but when Ligi asked, "What did you say?" she replied, "I said that I want some fish roe." Accordingly, Ligi took his net and went off after fish, and when he had caught some, he took out the roe, brought it back to the house, and gave it to Aponibolinayen. She accepted it, but did not eat it; and after Ligi had gone away, she threw the roe to the dogs, who fought for it. Ligi heard them and said, "What are the dogs fighting about? I think you threw away the fish roe," to which Aponibolinayen replied, "I dropped some." Again Aponibolinayen said to herself that she wanted the fruit of the bolnay-tree of Matawitawen; but when Ligi heard her and asked what she said, she replied, "I am anxious for some deer liver." So Ligi went to kill a deer, and he got one and brought the liver home; but though Aponibolinayen again took what he brought, she did not eat it, but when Ligi slept, flung it to the dogs, who quarrelled over it and woke Ligi. Once more he accused her of having thrown the food away, but she again denied it, after which she went to her room and lay down, while Ligi, turning himself into an ant, crept through the cracks of the floor, and hearing what Aponibolinayen, was saying to herself, learned that she had not told him the truth. Thereupon he resumed his human form, and going to Aponibolinayen, said, "Why did you not tell the truth?" She answered, "I didn't, because Matawitawen is very far, and I am afraid that you will be lost," to which he replied, "No, give me a sack," and so he took it and went off to get the bolnay fruit.
Arriving at the place where the tree grew, Ligi took the fruit and put it in the sack and carried some also in his hand; but when he was passing the spring in Kadalayapan on his way home, he met some beautiful girls, who said to him, "How pretty the bolnay fruit is! This sack is filled, and you have some also in your hands. Will you not give us some?" Ligi, however, gave them all the fruit, whereupon they said, "The child which Aponibolinayen is about to bear, and which asks for the bolnay fruit, is not your child. It is the child of Maobagan." At this Ligi was angry, and when he got home, he gave Aponibolinayen only the empty sack; but there was a small piece of the fruit which the other women had overlooked, and Aponibolinayen ate it and said, "I am anxious to eat more, if there are more." "What is that?" cried Ligi, angrily. "Get ready, for I will put you in the place where the tree is, if you want more," and so saying, he seized her and dragged her away to the tree, and digging a hole at its foot, he buried her in it and went away. Soon Aponibolinayen was about to give birth to her child.° "What can I do?" she asked Ayo, her spirit helper; and when Ayo replied, "The best thing to do is to prick your little finger," Aponibolinayen did so, and from the wound was born a child which was given the name of Kanag.
Every time that he was bathed, he grew, and by and by, when he had become a boy, he was anxious to leave the pit; but his mother was afraid lest his father should find them. Nevertheless, the boy got out, and when he was safely away from the hole, he listened until he heard the sound of other children playing and then went to where they were swimming. The others inquired who he was, and one of them, called Dagolayan, saying, "He looks like my uncle in Kadalayapan," asked Kanag who his father was, to which he re-plied that his parent was of Matawitawen. Dagolayan and Kanag decided that they would go to fight, and Kanag went back to where his mother was in the pit at the foot of the tree to tell her; but though she did not want him to go, he insisted and said, "No, I am going. I will plant a vine; and if it wilts, you will know that I am dead."
Next day Dagolayan and Kanag went off to fight, and when they struck their shields, it sounded as though a thousand men were coming. They met Ligi, who was surprised and who asked where he got the other boy who was with him; but when he heard, he wished to kill Kanag, who was saved only by the pleading of Dagolayan. Then they went and lay in wait to catch heads, and when a pretty young girl went by the place in which Kanag was hidden, he seized her and cut off her head, whereas Ligi and Dagolayan were able to get only the heads of an old man and an old woman. At this Dagolayan was angry and said to Kanag, "What did you say when you took the girl's head?" Kanag replied, "The son of an alan [a minor spirit] of Matawitawen kills the pretty girl," is what I said; but Dagolayan answered, "No, that is not what you said. You said that you were the son of a man who lived in Kadalayapan," and thereupon they both went to live with Ligi in that place. Now, one day they played and danced in Kadalayapan, and when Kanag danced, the whole town trembled, and when he moved his feet, the fish were about his feet, which they went to lap, for the water came up into the town; but when he stamped, the coco-nuts fell from the trees, so that Ligi was angry, and taking his head-axe, he cut off Kanag's head. At this instant Aponibolinayen looked at the vine which Kanag had planted, and behold, the leaves were withered; so she made haste to go in search of him. When she reached the place where Ligi lived, he saw her, but she reproached him, saying, "How angry you were, Ligi, for you killed your son." At this Ligi hung his head, because he did not know that Kanag was his son; but Aponibolinayen said, "I will use magic, so that when I whip my perfume, alikadakad, he will stand up."
Thus she restored Kanag to life, and when he came to himself, he said, "How long my sleep is!" "No, do not say that, your father killed you," said Aponibolinayen. Ligi tried to keep Aponibolinayen and Kanag with him, but refusing to stay, they went back to Matawitawen, and when they arrived there, Aponibolinayen said, "I will use my power so that Ligi cannot see us, and the trail will become filled with thorns." Accordingly Ligi could not walk in the trail, could not find them, and was sad; and therefore he lay down, while his hair grew like vines along the ground; and he did not eat, for he was always grieving about the things which he had done to his wife and son. At last, however, they forgave him and returned to Kadalayapan; and Ligi ordered his spirit helper to kill those women whom he had met at the spring, and to whom he had given the bolnay fruit, for they had told him lies about Aponibolinayen.
Tales embodying the theme of the "magic flight" seem to be rare in the Oceanic area, and the few which have been reported may well be introduced. As an example, a story from Halmahera may be taken. A woman once ate some mangoes belonging to a giant, while her dog devoured the skins, the consequence being that the woman bore seven children, and the dog, seven puppies. When the giant heard of it, he said, "Ha! ha! one of the children is mine." So they brought out one, but he would not take it; then they brought out another, but he would not take that; and not until they brought out the last, the seventh, did he say, "Ha! ha! that is my child." He took the boy home with him, saying, "Stay here, while I go to get food," and when he came back, he shut up the men whom he had caught. One day he said to the boy, whose name was Badabangisa, "You must not go away, but stay in the house, and prepare your food and eat. I shall be gone a week." The next time he went off, he said that he would be absent two weeks; but when he had left, Badabangisa released the men whom the giant had shut up, and taking the monster's entire store of treasure, they all ran away after setting fire to the house. The cinders from the burning dwelling fell on the giant's breast far away, and as he brushed them off, he said, "Badabangisa has set my house afire." Accordingly he went home, and finding only the ashes of his abode, which were not yet quite cold, he immediately set out in pursuit. The fugitives, however, heard him coming, and when presently he asked, "Badabangisa, what wrong has your father done, that you should leave him?" Badabangisa replied, "I am waiting for you here." Then Badabangisa's companions, the men whom he had freed, threw salt behind them, and it became a great sea 49 which delayed the giant, though finally he drank it all up.
Again he came after them, but when Badabangisa said to his friends, "Throw some ashes behind you," they did so, and the giant's eyes thus being blinded, he could not see. Yet still he pursued, so that Badabangisa said to his friends, "Throw some jungle marbles behind you," and when they had done this, the thorny plants on which these little fruits grow, sprang up everywhere and covered the whole body of the giant. This also he finally overcame, and again followed after them, whereat Badabangisa said, "Throw some millet behind you," and when they did so, the ogre stopped to eat it. Once more the monster came on, and since nothing was left to delay him, Badabangisa said, "Now my father will eat us up." Thereupon he called out to the giant, "Father, what is that in your flesh?" and the giant replied, "Do not touch that; it is the life of my body. If you strike that, I shall die." 5° But Badabangisa struck it, and his father dropped dead, and when he struck the earth, he made part of the mountain fall.
Then Badabangisa called out, "People, be still! because you have urged me on, I hive killed my father," and he ordered them to bring him three pieces of white cloth to bury the giant, but the monster was so large that these were quite insufficient. After this they went on, and coming to a town, Badabangisa kept firing guns for seven days and seven nights, so that the people issued forth and said, "Who has become a king, that he fires so many guns?" Then they came to Badabangisa, and taking him with them to the town, they made him a king, and held a feast for nine days and nine nights.
A tale which is wide-spread in Indonesia and which in spite of traces of outside influence seems to be largely local in development, is that of the "wonder-tree." Once there were three orphan sisters, the two eldest of whom one day found in a harvested field a bird called Kekeko, and bringing it home, they put it in a cage. A few days later they heard the bird call, "Set me in a basket, and I will lay;" and though at first they paid no attention, they finally did as it demanded, since it frequently repeated the request; and lo! the next morning the basket was full of cooked rice and fish, steaming hot. This continued daily, and thus the children obtained their food; but as there was always too much in the basket, and it could not be kept, after a while they asked the bird to give them uncooked rice instead. This it did, and before long so great a store of rice was thus accumulated that all who came to the house were amazed at the wealth of provisions which the three poor orphans had.
One day their uncle, who had heard of the great amount of rice possessed by the children, came to visit them; and when he asked them how they secured their supply, they said, "We have a bird, Kekeko, which we caught, and it gives us all the paddy." The jealous uncle asked them to lend him the bird, and they agreed to do so, but first whispered to it not to give their uncle any rice, or at best, paddy of a poor grade. This order the bird carried out; but when the uncle saw that the bird failed to give him any rice, in his anger he killed it and ate it. After a time the two oldest orphans, his nieces, came to him to get their bird back, but the uncle said, "He does not exist any longer, for I ate him up." On hearing this, the orphans were sad and rolled on the ground in grief, because they thought that they had lost forever the Kekeko which had helped them. However, they gathered up the bones of the bird and buried them near their house; and lo! from them a wonderful tree soon grew, whose leaves were of silken stuffs, whose blossoms were ear-rings, and whose fruits produced a pleasing sound. Thus the children were again helped by the Kekeko, even after its death
Another tale, similarly open to suspicion of extra-Indonesian influences, though probably in essence of Indonesian development, is as follows. Once upon a time there was a hunter who had a beautiful white cat to whom he one day happened to give food out of a coco-nut-shell which he had used for house-hold purposes, the result being that the cat later gave birth to a beautiful girl-child. The hunter adopted the infant as his own, but later, when she was seven years old, he took to himself a wife, who was very jealous of the girl and did not know that the cat was her mother. When he went off to the fields, the husband always told his wife to take good care of the child and the cat and to give them plenty to eat; but the woman did nothing of the kind, for she starved them both, and then clapping the empty rice-basket on the girl's head, filled her hair with crumbs. When the father came back home and asked, "Did the child have enough to eat?" his wife would reply, "Just see! she has even got rice all over her hair," but if she ever gave the girl and the cat anything to eat, it was old rice mixed with ashes. One day, when the man had gone off to his fields, the girl went down to the edge of the stream, and standing near a tall noenoek-tree, whose ripe fruits fell into the stream and were carried away, she held the cat in her arms, and the latter sang:
"The noenoek fruits are sweet,
By and by the man came home, and finding his child absent, asked where she was, to which his wife replied, "She has gone to the river." After a while the man followed her thither and heard the song which the cat was singing; but when he reached the place, he saw his daughter sitting on the top of a niboeng palm, holding the cat in her lap. Though the tree was very tall, the man tried to climb up, weeping and beseeching his daughter to come down; but she refused, and as he climbed, the tree became taller and taller, until at last, when it had grown almost up to the moon, a golden ladder was let down, and the girl with her cat climbed up and entered into the moon. The father tried to follow her, but no ladder was lowered for him, and trying to reach the moon without one, he slipped, fell, and was killed. To this day, when the moon is full, one can easily see Nini-anteh, as she is called, sitting beside a spinning-wheel with the cat beside her.