"The lizard is right over there in the brook," he told his wife; "but I could not get hold of him."
"I'll go and look at him with you," she said.
So together they reached the brook; and the woman glanced first into the water, and then up into the tree.
"You foolish man," she smiled. "Look in the tree for your lizard. That's just his shadow (alung [109]) in the water."
The man looked up, and saw the lizard in the tree. Then he started to climb up the trunk, but found himself so chilled and stiff from jumping into the water, that he kept slipping down whenever he tried
to climb. Then the woman took her turn, and got part way up the tree. The man looked up at his wife, and noticed that she had sores on parts of her body where she could not see them, and he called to her, "Come down! don't climb any higher; you've got sores." So she climbed down.
Then her husband wanted to get some medicine out of his bag to give her for the sores; but the lizard had his bag.
"Throw down my bag and knife to me!" he shouted up to the lizard, "because I must get busy about fixing medicine for my wife." And the lizard threw down to him his knife and his bag.
As soon as they got home, the man made some medicine for his wife; but the sores did not heal. Then he went to his friend Tuglay and said, "What is the medicine for my wife?"
Tuglay went home with the man; and when they reached the house, he told him what he was about to do. "Look!" said the Tuglay.
Then the man looked, and saw the Tuglay go to his wife and consort with her.
And the husband let him do it, for he said to himself, "That is the medicine for my wife."
When the Tuglay was done with the woman, he said, "Go now to your wife."
Then the man went to her, and said, "This is the best of all." After that, the man cared for nothing except to be with his wife. He did not even care to eat. He threw out of the house all the food they had,—the rice, the sugarcane, the bananas, and all of their other things. He threw them far away. But after they had taken no food for several days, the man and the woman began to grow thin and weak. Still they did not try to get food, because they wanted only to gratify their passion [110] for each other. At last both of them got very skinny, and finally they died.
Folk-Lore of the Buso
How to See the Buso
The Buso live in the great branching trees and in the graveyard. The night after a person has been buried, the Buso dig up the body with their claws, and drink all the blood, and eat the flesh. The bones they leave, after eating all the flesh off from them. If you should go to the graveyard at night, you would hear a great noise. It is the sound of all the Buso talking together as they sit around on the ground, with their children playing around them. You cannot see the Buso; but if you do get a glimpse of one of them, it is only for a few minutes. He looks like a shadow.
In the beginning, everybody could see the Buso, because then the Buso and the people were friendly together. Nobody died in those days, for the Buso helped the men, and kept them from dying. But many years ago the Buso and man had a quarrel, and after that nobody could see the Buso any more.
Now, there is one way to see Buso; but a man must be very brave to do it. While the coffin for a dead man is being made, if you cut some chips from it and carry them to the place where the tree was felled for the box, and lay the chips on the stump from which the wood was cut, and then go again on the night of the funeral to the same place, you will see Buso. Stand near the stump, and you will see passing before you (1) a swarm of fireflies; (2) the intestines of the dead person; (3) many heads of the dead person; (4) many arms of the dead person; (5) many legs of the dead person; (6) the entire body passing before you; (7) shadows flitting before you; and finally (8) the Buso. But no one yet has been brave enough to try it.
"But one thing I did when my uncle died," said my boy informant. "I chipped a piece of wood from the coffin, and tied it to a long string, like a fly to a fish-hook. This I let down between the slats of the floor, as I stood in the room where the dead body lay, and I held the line dangling. As a fish catches at the bait, so Buso seized that bit of wood, and for about two minutes I could feel him pulling at it from under the house. Then I drew up the string with the wood. Buso was there under the house, and smelt the chip from the coffin."
Buso and the Woman
In a little house there lived a man and his wife together. One night, after they had been married for a long time, the man told his wife that he would like to go fishing.
"Oh, yes! my husband," said the woman eagerly. "Go, and bring me some nice fish to-morrow, so that we can have a good meal."
The man went out that same night to fish. And his wife was left alone in the house.
In the night, while her husband was away, the Buso came, and tried to pass himself off as her husband, saying, "You see I am back. I got no fish, because I was afraid in the river." Then the Buso-man made a great fire, and sat down by it.
But the woman did not believe that it was her husband. So she hidher comb in a place on the floor, and she said to her comb, "If theBuso calls me, do you answer. Tell him that I have run away becauseI have great fear of the Buso."
Then, when the Buso called, the Comb answered just as the woman had told it. By and by the Buso went away. In the morning, the man came back from fishing, because daylight had come. And he had a fine catch of fish. Then the woman told him all that had happened, and the man never again let his wife sleep alone in the house. After that, everything went well; for Buso was afraid of the man, and never again attempted to come there.
The Buso's Basket
Two children went out into the field to tend their rice-plants. They said these words to keep the little birds away from the grain:—
"One, one, maya-bird, [111]Yonder in the north;Keep off from eating it,This my rice."
Just then they heard the sound of a voice, calling from the great pananag-tree, [112] "Wait a minute, children, until I make a basket for you."
"What is that?" said the boy to his sister.
"Oh, nothing!" answered the little girl. "It's the sound of something."
Then the children called to their father and mother; but only from the pananag-tree the answer came, "Just wait till I finish this basket to hold you in."
Down, then, from the tree came the great Buso, with a big, deep basket (such as women carry bananas and camotes [113] in) hanging from his shoulders. The frightened children did not dare to run away; and Buso sat down near by in the little hut where the rice was kept. Soon he said to the children, "Please comb out my nice hair."
But, when they tried to comb his hair, they found it swarming with big lice and worms.
"Well, let's go on now," said the Buso. Then he stuffed the children into his deep burden-basket, and swung the basket upon his back.
On the instant the little girl screamed out, "Wait a minute, Buso! I've dropped my comb. Let me down to pick it up."
So the Buso sat down on the ground, and let the girl climb out of the basket. He sat waiting for her to find her comb; but all the time she was picking up big stones, and putting them into the basket. Her brother got out of the basket too, and then both girl and boy climbed up into a tall betel-nut tree, [114] leaving Buso with a basket full of stones on his back.
Up to his house in the pananag-tree went Buso with the heavy basket. When his wife saw him, she laughed and shouted very loud. She was glad, because she thought there was a man in the basket, all ready to eat. But, when Buso slipped the basket down from his shoulders, there was no human flesh in it, but only big stones.
Then the angry Buso hurried back to look for the two children. At last he caught sight of them far up in the betel-nut tree, and wondered how he could get them. Now, at the foot of the tree there was a growth of the wild plant called "bagkang;" and Buso said words to make the bagkang grow faster and taller:—
"Tubu, tubu, bagkang,Grow, grow, bagkang,Baba, baba mamaa'n." [115]Handle, handle, betel-nut.
But the children, in their turn, said:—
"Tubu, tubu, mamaa'n,Grow, grow, betel-nut,Baba, baba bagkang."Handle, handle, bagkang.
By and by, when the bagkang-stems had grown so tall as almost to reach the clusters of betel-nuts at the top of the trunk, the boy and girl said to each other. "Let us pick betel-nuts, and throw them down on the bagkang."
And as soon as they began to pick, the betel-nuts became so big and heavy that the bagkang-plants fell down when the betel-nuts dropped on them.
Then the Buso went away; and the children climbed down in haste, ran home, and told their mother and father how the Buso had tried to carry them off.
The Buso-Child
Datu Ayo was a great man among the Bagobo, well known throughout the mountain-country for his bravery and his riches. He had gathered in his house many products of Bagobo workmanship in textiles and brass and fine weapons. At his death, human sacrifices of slaves were offered up for him. It was not many years ago that he went down to the great city of the dead, and many of his children and grandchildren are living now. His sons like to think about their father's renown; and, as a reminder, the eldest son, Kawayun, always kept in his medicine-case two of the incisor teeth of the great Ayo, until he needed money, and sold the medicine-case with its contents. It had made Kawayun happy to look at his father's teeth.
When Datu Ayo died, his wife was about to become a mother. Now, the Bagobo women know that, when they become pregnant, they must be very careful to protect themselves from the evil Buso. On going to bed at night, an expectant mother places near her the woman's knife (gulat), the kampilan, [116] and all the other knives, to frighten Buso away. Failing this, the Buso will come to the woman while she sleeps, and change her baby into a Buso-child. One night, the wife of Datu Ayo lay down to sleep without putting any knives near her; and that very night the Buso came, and he transformed her child into a Buso-child. She did not know when he came, nor did she even think that a Buso had been near her, until her baby was born.
Everybody around the woman at the birth saw that something was the matter with the child. It was little and frail, and as weak as threads of cotton. Its body was flat, and its legs and arms were helpless and flabby. Then all the men said, "That is a Buso-child."
As the little boy grew old enough to creep, he moved just like a fish, with a sort of wriggling motion. He could not stand on his feet, for his legs were too weak to support his body; and he could not sit down, but only lie flat. He could never be dressed in umpak [117] and saroa'r, [118] and his body remained small and puny.
Now the boy is more than fourteen years old, but he cannot walk a step. He understands very well what is said to him, and he can talk, though not distinctly. When he hears it said that somebody is dead, he breaks into laughter, and keeps on laughing. This trait alone would stamp him as a Buso-child.
The Buso-Monkey
One day a man went out, carrying seventeen arrows, to hunt monkeys; but he found none. Next day he went again, and, as he walked along on the slope of the mountain called Malagu'san, he heard the sound of the chattering of monkeys in the trees. Looking up, he saw the great monkey sitting on an aluma'yag-tree. He took a shot at the monkey, but his arrow missed aim; and the next time he had no better luck. Twice eight he tried it; but he never hit the mark. The monkey seemed to lead a charmed life. Finally he took his seventeenth and last arrow, and brought down his game; the monkey fell down dead. But a voice came from the monkey's body that said, "You must carry me."
So the man picked up the monkey, and started to go back home; but on the way the monkey said, "You are to make a fire, and eat me up right here."
Then the man laid the monkey on the ground. Again came the voice,"You will find a bamboo to put me in; by and by you shall eat me."
Off went the man to find the bamboo called laya, letting the monkey lie on the ground, where he had dropped it.
He walked on until he reached a forest of bamboo. There, swinging on a branch of the laya, was a karirik-bird. And the bird chirped to the man, "Where are you going?"
The man answered, "I am looking for bamboo to put the monkey in."
But the karirik-bird exclaimed, "Run away, quick! for by and by the monkey will become a buso. I will wait here, and be cutting the laya; then, when the monkey calls you, I will answer him."
In the mean time the monkey had become a great buso. He had only one eye, and that stood right in the middle of his forehead, looking just like the big bowl called langungan (the very bad buso have only one eye; some have only one leg).
After the Buso-monkey had waited many hours for the man to come back, he started out to look for him. When he reached the forest of laya, he called to the man, "Where are you?"
Then the karirik-bird answered from the tree, "Here I am, right here, cutting the bamboo."
But the man had run away, because the bird had sent him off, and made him run very fast.
As soon as the bird had answered the Buso, it flew off to another bamboo-tree, and there the Buso spied it, and knew that he had been fooled; and he said, "It's a man I want; you're just a bird. I don't care for you."
Directly then the Buso began to smell around the ground where the man had started to run up the mountain-side, and, as quick as he caught the scent, he trailed the man. He ran and ran, and all the time the man was running too; but soon the Buso began to gain on him. After a while, when the Buso had come close upon him, the man tried to look for some covert. He reached a big rock, and cried out, "O rock! will you give me shelter when the Buso tries to eat me?"
"No," replied the rock; "for, if I should help you, the Buso would break me off and throw me away."
Then the man ran on; and the Buso came nearer and nearer, searching behind every rock as he rushed along, and spying up into every tree, to see if, perchance, the man were concealed there.
At last the man came to the lemon-tree called kabayawa, that has long, sharp thorns on its branches. And the man cried out to the lemon-tree, "Could you protect me, if I were to hide among your leaves and flowers?"
Instantly the lemon-tree answered, "Come right up, if you want to." Then the man climbed the tree, and concealed himself in the branches, among the flowers. Very soon the Buso came under the lemon-tree, and shouted to it, "I smell a man here. You are hiding him."
The Kabayawa said, "Sure enough, here's a man! You just climb up and get him."
Then the Buso began to scramble up the tree; but as he climbed, the thorns stuck their sharp points into him. The higher he climbed, the longer and sharper grew the thorns of the tree, piercing and tearing, until they killed the Buso.
It is because the monkey sometimes turns into a Buso that many Bagobo refuse to eat monkey. But some of the mountain Bagobo eat monkey to keep off sores.
How the Moon Tricks the Buso [119]
The Moon is a great liar. One night long ago, the Buso looked over the earth and could not discover any people, because everybody was asleep. Then Buso went to the Moon, and asked her where all the people were to be found.
"Oh, you will not find a living person on the earth!" replied theMoon. "Everybody in the world is dead."
"Good!" thought Buso. "To-morrow I shall have a fine meal of them."
Buso never eats living flesh, only dead bodies.
Next morning, Buso started for the graveyard; but on the way he met the Sun, and stopped to speak to him.
"How about the men on earth?" he questioned.
"They're all right," said the Sun. "All the people are working and playing and cooking rice."
The Buso was furious to find himself tricked. That night he went again to the Moon and asked for the men, and, as before, the Moon assured him that everybody was dead. But the next morning the Sun showed him all the people going about their work as usual. Thus the Buso has been fooled over and over again. The Moon tells him every night the same story.
The Buso and the Cat
The cat is the best animal. She keeps us from the Buso. One night the Buso came into the house, and said to the cat, "I should like to eat your mistress."
"I will let you do it," replied the cat; "but first you must count all the hairs of my coat."
So the Buso began to count. But while he was counting, the cat kept wriggling her tail, and sticking up her back. That made her fur stand up on end, so that the Buso kept losing count, and never knew where he left off. And while the Buso was still trying to count the cat's hairs, daylight came.
This is one reason why we must not kill the cat. If a Bagobo should kill a cat, it would make him very sick. He would get skinny, and die. Some Bagobo have been known to kill the cat; but they always got sick afterwards.
How a Dog Scared the Buso
The Tigbanua' are the worst of all the Buso; they want to be eating human flesh all the time. They live in great forests,—in the pananag-tree, in the magbo-tree, in the baliti-tree, and in the liwaan-tree.
One day a man went out to hunt, and he took his dog with him. On his way to the woods, he speared a very little pig. By the time he reached the great forest, night had come. He made a little shelter, and kindled a fire. Then he cleaned the pig and cut it into pieces, and tied three sticks of wood together, and placed them on two upright pieces of wood stuck in the ground. On this paga he laid the pig-meat to broil over the flames.
By and by he got very sleepy, and thought he would go under the shelter and take a nap. But just then he heard voices up in the big trees. He listened, and heard the Tigbanua' talking to one another.
The Tigbanua' that lives in the liwaan-tree called out to the Tigbanua' that lives in the pananag-tree, "The mighty chief of all the Tigbanua', who lives in the sigmit-tree, gives this command to his people: 'Don't make fun of the man, because he has been here many times before.' "
And right there, under the trees, the man, standing by his dog, was listening to the talk of the Buso. The dog was sleeping near the fire, and he was as big as the calf of a carabao. Very quietly his master spread his own sleeping-tunic (kisi) over the dog, and crept away, leaving him asleep in the warm place. The man hid in the shelter, and waited.
Presently many of the Tigbanua' began coming down from the trees, for some of them did not give obedience (paminug) to their Datu. They gathered around the fire, and sat down. By and by, as they sat near the fire, the penis (tapo) of every one of the Tigbanua' began to grow bigger and bigger (lanag-lanag). All at once, the Tigbanua' caught sight of the tunic spread out, and showing the form of a huge head and body under it. They all thought it was the man; and they rushed up to it, and hugged it. But the dog woke up, jumped out from under the tunic, and bit the Tigbanua'. Then they all ran. One of them climbed up the tree to his own house, the dog holding on to his leg, and biting him all the time. But when they were halfway up the tree, the dog fell down and got hurt. And the Tigbanua' called down to the dog, "Swell up, swell up!" ("Pigsa, pigsa!")
All the other Tigbanua' were afraid of the big dog, and ran away. So the man slept well all night, because the Buso could not hurt him now.
Story of Duling and the Tagamaling
Before the world was made, there were Tagamaling. The Tagamaling is the best Buso, because he does not want to hurt man all of the time. Tagamaling is actually Buso only a part of the time; that is, the month when he eats people. One month he eats human flesh, and then he is Buso; the next month he eats no human flesh, and then he is a god. So he alternates, month by month. The month he is Buso, he wants to eat man during the dark of the moon; that is, between the phases that the moon is full in the east and new in the west.
The other class of Buso, however, wants human flesh all of the time. They are the Tigbanua', the chief of whom is Datu of all the Buso. A Tigbanua' lives in his own house, and goes out only to eat the bodies of the dead.
The Tagamaling makes his house in trees that have hard wood, and low, broad-spreading branches. His house is almost like gold, and is called "Palimbing," but it is made so that you cannot see it; and, when you pass by, you think, "Oh! what a fine tree with big branches," not dreaming that it is the house of a Tagamaling. Sometimes, when you walk in the forest, you think you see one of their houses; but when you come near to the place, there is nothing. Yet you can smell the good things to eat in the house.
Once a young man named Duling, and his younger brother, went out into the woods to trap wild chickens. Duling had on his back a basket holding a decoy cock, together with the snares of running-nooses and all the parts of the trap. While they were looking for a good spot to drive in the stakes for the snare, they heard the voice of Tagamaling in the trees, saying, "Duling, Duling, come in! My mother is making a little fiesta here."
The boys looked up, and could see the house gleaming there in the branches, and there were two Tagamaling-women calling to them. In response to the call, Duling's younger brother went up quickly into the house; but Duling waited on the ground below. He wanted the Tagamaling-girls to come down to him, for he was enamoured (kalatugan) of them. Then one girl ran down to urge Duling to come up into the tree. And as soon as she came close to him, he caught her to his breast, and hugged her and caressed her.
In a moment, Duling realized that the girl was gone, and that he was holding in his arms a nanga-bush, full of thorns. He had thought to catch the girl, but, instead, sharp thorns had pricked him full of sores. Then from above he heard the woman's voice, tauntingly sweet, "Don't feel bad, Duling; for right here is your younger brother."
Yet the young man, gazing here and there, saw around him only tall trees, and could not catch a glimpse of the girl who mocked him.
Immediately, Duling, as he stood there, was turned into a rock. But the little brother married the Tagamaling-girl.
There is a place high up in the mountains of Mindanao, about eight hours' ride west of Santa Cruz, where you may see the rock, and you will know at once that it is a human figure. There is Duling, with the trap and the decoy cock on his shoulder. You may see the cock's feathers too.
The S'iring
The S'iring [120] is the ugly man that has long nails and curly hair. He lives in the forest trees. If a boy goes into the forest without a companion, the S'iring tries to carry him off. When you meet a S'iring, he will look like your father, or mother, or some friend; and he will hide his long nails behind his back, so that you cannot see them. It is the S'iring who makes the echo (a'u'd). When you talk in a loud voice, the S'iring will answer you in a faint voice, because he wants to get you and carry you away.
There was once a boy who went without a companion into the forest, and he met a man who looked just like his own father, but it was a S'iring; and the S'iring made him believe that he was his father. The S'iring said to the boy, "Come, you must go with me. We will shoot some wild birds with our bow and arrows."
And the boy, not doubting that he heard his father's voice, followed the S'iring into the deep forest. After a while, the boy lost his memory, and forgot the way to his own house. The S'iring took him up on a high mountain, and gave him food; but the poor boy had now lost his mind, and he thought the food was a milleped one fathom long, or it seemed to him the long, slim worm called liwati.
So the days went on, the boy eating little, and growing thinner and weaker all the time. When he met any men in the forest, he grew frightened, and would run away. When he had been a long time in the forest, the S'iring called to him and said, "We will move on now."
So they started off again. When they reached the high bank of a deep and swift-flowing river, the S'iring scratched the boy with his long nails. Straightway the boy felt so tired that he could no longer stand on his legs, and then he dropped down into the ravine. He fell on the hard rocks, so that his bones were broken, and his skull split open.
All this time, the mother at home was mourning for her son, and crying all day long. But soon she arranged a little shrine (tambara [121]) under the great tree, and, having placed there a white bowl with a few betel-nuts and some buyo-leaf as an offering for her son, she crouched on the ground and prayed for his life to the god in the sky.
Now, when the S'iring heard her prayer, he took some betel-nuts, and went to the place where the boy's body lay. On the parts where the bones were broken, he spit betel-nut, and did the same to the boy's head. Immediately the boy came to life, and felt well again. Then the S'iring took him up, and carried him to the shrine where the mother was praying; but she could not see the S'iring nor her boy. She went home crying.
That night, as the woman slept, she dreamed that a boy came close to her, and spoke about her son. "To-morrow morning," he said, "you must pick red peppers, and get a lemon, [122] and carry them to the shrine, and burn them in the fire."
Next morning, the woman hastened to gather the peppers, and get a lemon, and with happy face she ran to the shrine under the big tree. There she made a fire, and burned the lemon and the red peppers, as the dream had told her. And, as soon as she had done this, her son appeared from under the great tree. Then his mother caught him in her arms, and held him close, and cried for joy.
When you lose your things, you may be sure that the S'iring has hidden them. What you have to do is to burn some red peppers with beeswax (tadu ka petiukan [123]), and observe carefully the direction in which the smoke goes. The way the smoke goes points out where your things are hidden, because the S'iring is afraid of the wax of bees. He is afraid, too, of red peppers and of lemons.
How Iro Met the S'iring
Not long ago, a young man named Iro went out, about two o'clock in the afternoon, to get some tobacco from one of the neighbors. Not far from his house, he saw his friend Atun coming along; and Atun said to him, "I've got some tobacco hidden away in a place in the woods. Let us go and get it."
So they went along together. When they reached the forest, Atun disappeared, and Iro could not see which way he had gone. Then he concluded that it was not Atun, but a S'iring, whom he had met. He started for home, and reached there about eight o'clock in the evening. To his astonishment, he saw Atun sitting there in the house. Confused and wondering, he asked Atun, "Did you carry me away?"
But his friend Atun laughed, and said, "Where should I carry you? I have not been anywhere."
Then Iro was convinced that a S'iring had tried to lure him into the forest.
When you have a companion, the S'iring cannot hurt you.
Animal Stories: Metamorphosis, Explanatory Tales, Etc.
The Kingfisher and the Malaki
There came a day when the kingfisher (kobug [124]) had nothing to drink, and was thirsty for water. Then she walked along the bed of the brook, searching for a drink; but the waters of the brook were all dried up.
Now, on that very day, the Maganud went up the mountain to get some agsam [125] to make leglets for himself. And when he came near to where the bulla grows, he stopped to urinate, and the urine sprinkled one of the great bulla-leaves. Then he went on up the mountain. Just then, the kingfisher came along, still looking for a mountain-stream. Quickly she caught sight of the leaf of the bulla-tree all sprinkled with water; but the man had gone away. Then the kingfisher gladly drank a few drops of the water, and washed her feathers. But no sooner had she quenched her thirst, and taken a bath, than her head began to pain her. Then she went home to her little house in the ground.
Now, every day the kingfisher laid one egg, and that day she laid her egg as usual. But when the egg hatched out, it was no feathered nestling, but a baby-boy, that broke the shell.
"Oh!" cried the frightened bird. "What will become of me?" Then she ran off a little way from her nest, and started to fly away.
But the little boy cried out, "Mother, mother, don't be afraid of me!"
So the kingfisher came back to her baby. And the child grew bigger every day.
After a while, the boy was old enough to walk and play around. Then one day he went alone to the house of the Maganud, and climbed up the steps and looked in at the door. The Maganud was sitting there on the floor of his house; and the little boy ran up to him and hugged him, and cried for joy. But the Maganud was startled and dismayed; for he was a chaste malaki, [126] and had no children. Yet this boy called him "father," and begged for ripe bananas in a very familiar manner. After they had talked for a little while, the Maganud went with the child to the home of the kingfisher.
The kingfisher had made her nest at the foot of a great hollow tree. She had dug out a hole, about four feet deep, in the soft ground, and fixed a roof by heaping over the hole the powdered rotten bark of the old tree. The roof stood up just a few inches above the ground; and when the Maganud saw it, he thought it was a mere little heap of earth. Immediately, however, as he looked at the lowly nest, it became a fine house with walls of gold, and pillars of ivory. The eaves were all hung with little bells (korung-korung [127]); and the whole house was radiantly bright, for over it forked lighting played continually.
The kingfisher took off her feather coat, and became a lovely woman, and then she and the Malaki were married. They had bananas and cocoanut-groves, and all things, and they became rich people.
The Woman and the Squirrel
One day a woman went out to find water. She had no water to drink, because all the streams were dried up. As she went along, she saw some water in a leaf. She drank it, and washed her body. As soon as she had drunk the water, her head began to hurt. Then she went home, spread out a mat, lay down on it, and went to sleep. She slept for nine days. When she woke up, she took a comb and combed her hair. As she combed it, a squirrel-baby came out from her hair. After the baby had been in the house one week, it began to grow and jump about. It staid up under the roof of the house.
One day the Squirrel said to his mother, "O mother! I want you to go to the house of the Datu who is called 'sultan,' and take these nine kamagi [128] and these nine finger-rings to pay for the sultan's daughter, because I want to marry her."
Then the mother went to the sultan's house and remained there an hour. The sultan said, "What do you want?"
The woman answered, "Nothing. I came for betel-nuts." Then the woman went back home.
The Squirrel met her, and said, "Where are my nine necklaces?"
"Here they are," said the woman.
But the Squirrel was angry at his mother, and bit her with his little teeth.
Again he said to his mother, "You go there and take the nine necklaces."
So the woman started off again. When she reached the sultan's house, she said to him, "I have come with these nine necklaces and these nine finger-rings that my son sends to you."
"Yes," said the sultan; "but I want my house to become gold, and I want all my plants to become gold, and everything I have to turn into gold."
But the woman left the presents to pay for the sultan's daughter. The sultan told her that he wanted his house to be turned into gold that very night. Then the woman went back and told all this to her son. The Squirrel said, "That is good, my mother."
Now, when night came, the Squirrel went to the sultan's house, and stood in the middle of the path, and called to his brother, the Mouse, "My brother, come out! I want to see you."
Then the great Mouse came out. All the hairs of his coat were of gold, and his eyes were of glass.
The Mouse said, "What do you want of me, my brother Squirrel?"
"I called you," answered the Squirrel, "for your gold coat. I want some of that to turn the sultan's house into gold."
Then the Squirrel bit the skin of the Mouse, and took off some of the gold, and left him. Then he began to turn the sultan's things into gold. First of all, he rubbed the gold on the betel-nut trees of the sultan; next, he rubbed all the other trees and all the plants; third, he rubbed the house and all the things in it. Then the sultan's town you could see as in a bright day. You would think there was no night there—always day.
All this time, the sultan was asleep. When he woke up, he was so frightened to see all his things, and his house, of gold, that he died in about two hours.
Then the Squirrel and the daughter of the sultan were married. The Squirrel staid in her father's home for one month, and then they went to live in the house of the Squirrel's mother. And they took from the sultan's place, a deer, a fish, and all kinds of food. After the sultan's daughter had lived with the Squirrel for one year, he took off his coat and became a Malaki T'oluk Waig. [129]
The Cat
Very long ago the cocoanut used to be the head of the cat. That is why the cat loves cocoanut so much. When the Bagobo are eating cocoanut, they let the cat jump up and have some too, because her head once turned into a cocoanut. When the cat hears the Bagobo scraping cocoanut in the kitchen, she runs quickly to get some to eat.
We cut off some of the fur from the tip of the cat's tail, and put the hairs under one of the big stones (sigung) where the fire burns. This is why the cat loves the house where she lives.
When the cat dies, her gimokud takawanan [130] goes down to Gimokudan, where the spirits of dead people go.
Why the Bagobo Likes the Cat
An old man was fishing in the brook; but the water kept getting muddy, and he did not know what was the matter. Then he went away, and he walked and walked. After he had gone some distance, he saw in the mud a big lion [131] that eats people. The Lion had been sleeping in the mud. He said to the man, "If you'll pull me out of the mud and ride me to my town, I will give you many things." Then the man drew the Lion from the mud.
The Lion stood still a while, and then said, "Now you must ride on me."
So the man mounted the Lion, and rode until they came to a large meadow, when the Lion said, "Now I am going to eat you."
The man replied, "But first let us go and ask the Carabao."
The Lion consented, and they went on until they reached the Carabao.
"This Lion wants to eat me," complained the man.
"Yes, indeed! eat him, Lion," answered the Carabao, "for the men are all the time riding on my back, and whipping me."
There were many Carabaos in the field, and they all agreed to this.
Then the man said to the Lion, "You may eat me; but we will first go and tell the Cows."
Soon they reached the Cows' home, and the man told them that the Lion wanted to eat him.
At once the Cows exclaimed, "Yes, eat him, Lion, because all day long the people drive us away from their fields."
"All right!" assented the man; "but first let us speak to the Dogs."
When they came to the Dogs' home, the man cried, "The Lion is going to eat me."
The Dogs said to the Lion, "Devour this man; for every day, when men are eating, they beat us away from the food."
At last the man said, "Sure enough, you will eat me up, Lion; but let us just go to the Cat."
When they reached the Cat's home, they found her sitting at the door, keeping her nice house. It had groves of cocoanut-palms around it. The Cat lived all alone.
The man said to her, "This Lion wants to eat me."
"Yes, Lion," the Cat replied; "but first you make a deep hole in the ground. We will race each other into the hole. If you jump in first, then I shall lose and you will win."
And the Lion ran, and jumped into the hole. Then the Cat covered him with earth and stones until he was dead. But before he died, the Lion called to the Cat, "Whenever I see your excrement (tai), I shall eat it." That is why the Cat hides her excrement, because she is afraid the Lion will come.
Now, the Lion is the dog of the Buso.
How the Lizards got their Markings
One day the Chameleon (palas [132]) and the Monitor-lizard (ibid [133]) were out in a deep forest together. They thought they would try scratching each other's backs to make pretty figures on them.
First the Chameleon said to the Monitor-lizard, "You must scratch a nice pattern on my back."
So the Monitor went to work, and the Chameleon had a fine scratching. Monitor made a nice, even pattern on his back.
Then Monitor asked Chameleon for a scratching. But no sooner had Chameleon begun to work on Monitor's back than there came the sound of a dog barking. A man was hunting in the forest with his dog. The sharp barks came nearer and nearer to the two lizards; and the Chameleon got such a scare, that his fingers shook, and the pretty design he was making went all askew. Then he stopped short and ran away, leaving the Monitor with a very shabby marking on his back.
This is the reason that the monitor-lizard is not so pretty as the chameleon.
The Monkey and the Tortoise [134]
One day, when a Tortoise was crawling slowly along by a stream, he saw a baby-monkey drinking water. Presently the Monkey ran up to the Tortoise, and said, "Let's go and find something to eat."
Not far from the stream there was a large field full of banana-trees. They looked up, and saw clusters of ripe fruit.
"That's fine!" said the Monkey, "for I'm hungry and you're hungry too. You climb first, Tortoise."
Then the Tortoise crawled slowly up the trunk; but he had got up only a little distance when the Monkey chattered these words, "Roro s'punno, roro s'punno!" [135] ("Slide down, slide down, Tortoise!")
At once the Tortoise slipped and fell down. Then he started again to climb the tree; and again the Monkey said, "Roro s'punno!" and again the Tortoise slipped and fell down. He tried over and over again; but every time he failed, for the Monkey always said, "Roro s'punno!" and made him fall. At last he got tired and gave it up, saying to the Monkey, "Now you try it."
"It's too bad!" said the Monkey, "when we're both so hungry." Then the Monkey made just three jumps, and reached the ripe fruit. "Wait till I taste and see if they're sweet," he cried to the Tortoise, while he began to eat bananas as fast as he could.
"Give me some," begged the Tortoise.
"All right!" shouted the Monkey; "but I forgot to notice whether it was sweet." And he kept on eating, until more than half of the fruit was gone.
"Drop down just one to me!" pleaded the Tortoise.
"Yes, in a minute," mumbled the Monkey.
At last, when but three bananas were left on the tree, the Monkey called, "Look up! shut your eyes" (Langag-ka! pudung-nu yan matanu [136]).
The Tortoise did so. The Monkey then told him to open his mouth, and he obeyed. Then the Monkey said, "I'll peel this one piece of banana for you" (Luitan-ko 'ni sebad abok saging [137]).
Now, the Monkey was sitting on a banana-leaf, directly over the Tortoise; but, instead of banana, he dropped his excrement into the Tortoise's mouth. The Tortoise screamed with rage; but the Monkey jumped up and down, laughing at him. Then he went on eating the remainder of the bananas.
The Tortoise then set himself to work at making a little hut of bamboo-posts, with a roof and walls of leaves. The upper ends of the bamboo he sharpened, and let them project through the roof; but the sharp points were concealed by the leaves. It was like a trap for pigs (sankil).
When the Monkey came down from the banana-tree, the Tortoise said, "You climb this other tall tree, and look around at the sky. If the sky is dark, you must call to me; for the rain will soon come. Then you jump down on the roof of our little house here. Never mind if it breaks in, for we can soon build a stronger one."
The Monkey accordingly climbed the tree, and looked at the sky. "It is all very dark!" he exclaimed. "Jump quick, then!" cried the Tortoise.
So the Monkey jumped; but he got killed from the sharp bamboo-points on which he landed.
Then the Tortoise made a fire, and roasted the Monkey. He cut off the Monkey's ears, and they turned into buyo-leaves. [138] He cut out the heart, and it turned into betel-nut. He took out the brain, and it became lime (apog [139]). He made the tail into pungaman. [140] The stomach he made into a basket. He put into the basket the betel and the lime and the pungaman and the buyo, and crawled away.
Soon he heard the noise of many animals gathered together. He found the monkeys and the deer and the pigs and the wild birds having a big rice-planting. All the animals were rejoiced to see the Tortoise coming with a basket, for they all wanted to chew betel. The monkeys ran up, chattering, and tried to snatch the betel-nuts; but the Tortoise held them back, saying, "Wait a minute! By and by I will give you some."
Then the monkeys sat around, waiting, while the Tortoise prepared the betel-nut. He cut the nuts and the pungaman into many small pieces, and the buyo-leaf too, and gave them to the monkeys and the other animals. Everybody began to chew; and the Tortoise went away to a distance about the length of one field (sebad kinamat), where he could get out of sight, under shelter of some trees. Then he called to the monkeys, "All of you are eating monkey, just like your own body: you are chewing up one of your own family."
At that, all the monkeys were angry, and ran screaming to catch the Tortoise. But the Tortoise had hid under the felled trunk of an old palma brava tree. As each monkey passed close by the trunk where the Tortoise lay concealed, the Tortoise said, "Drag your membrum! here's a felled tree" (Supa tapo! basio' [141]).
Thus every monkey passed by clear of the trunk, until the last one came by; and he was both blind and deaf. When he followed the rest, he could not hear the Tortoise call out, "Supa tapo! basio';" and his membrum struck against the fallen trunk. He stopped, and became aware of the Tortoise underneath. Then he screamed to the rest; and all the monkeys came running back, and surrounded the Tortoise, threatening him.
"What do you want?" inquired the Tortoise.
"You shall die," cried the monkeys. "Tell us what will kill you. We will chop you to pieces with the axe."
"Oh, no! that won't hurt me in the least," replied the Tortoise. "You can see the marks on my shell, where my father used to cut my body: but that didn't kill me."
"We will put you in the fire, then, and burn you to death," chorussed the monkeys. "Will that do?"
"Fire does not hurt me," returned the Tortoise. "Look at my body! See how brown it is where my father used to stick me into the fire."
"What, then, is best to kill you?" urged the monkeys.
"The way to kill me," replied the Tortoise, "is to take the punch used for brass, bulit, [142] and run [143] it into my rectum. Then throw me into the big pond, and drown me."
Then the monkeys did as they were told, and threw him into the pond. But the Tortoise began to swim about in the water.
Exultantly he called to the monkeys, "This is my own home: you see I don't drown." And the lake was so deep that the monkeys could not get him.
Then the monkeys hurried to and fro, summoning all the animals in the world to drink the water in the lake. They all came,—deer, pigs, jungle-fowl, monkeys, and all the rest,—and began to drink. They covered their pagindis [144] with leaves, so that the water could not run out of their bodies. After a time, they had drunk so much that the lake became shallow, and one could see the Tortoise's back.
But the red-billed bakaka-bird that lived in a tree by the water was watching; and as quick as the back of the Tortoise came into sight, the bird flew down and picked off the leaves from the pagindis of the deer. Then the water ran out from their bodies until the lake rose again, and covered the Tortoise. Satisfied, the bird flew back into the tree. But the deer got fresh leaves to cover their pagindis, and began to drink again. Then the bird flew to the monkeys, and began to take the leaves from their pagindis; but one monkey saw him doing it, and slapped him. This made the bird fall down, and then all the monkeys left the Tortoise in the lake, and ran to revenge themselves on the bird.
They snatched him up, pulled out every one of his feathers with their fingers, and laid him naked upon the stump of a tree. All the animals went home, leaving the bird on the stump.
Two days later, one Monkey came to look at the Bakaka. Little feathers were beginning to grow out; but the Monkey thought the bird was dead.
"Maggots are breeding in it," said the Monkey.
Three more days passed, and then the Monkey came again. The Bakaka's feathers had grown out long by that time; and the Monkey said, "It was all rotten, and the pigs ate it."
But the bird had flown away. He flew to the north until he reached a meadow with a big tual-tree in the middle. The tree was loaded with ripe fruit. [145] Perched on one of the branches, the bird ate all he wanted, and when done he took six of the fruit of the tual, and made a necklace for himself. With this hung round his neck, he flew to the house where the old Monkey lived, and sat on the roof. He dropped one tual through the roof, and it fell down on the floor, where all the little monkey-children ran for it, dancing and screaming.
"Don't make such a noise!" chided the old Monkey, "and do not take the tual, for the Bakaka will be angry, and he is a great bird."
But the bird flew down into the house, and gave one tual to the old Monkey.
"That is good," said the old Monkey, tasting it. "Tell me where you got it." But the bird would not tell. Then the old monkey stood up, and kissed him, and begged to be taken to the tual-tree.
At last the Bakaka said to all the monkeys, "Three days from now you may all go to the tual-tree. I want you all to go, the blind monkey too. Go to the meadow where the grass grows high, and there, in the centre of the meadow, is the tual-tree. If you see the sky and the air black, do not speak a word; for if you speak, you will get sick."
At the set time, all the monkeys started for the meadow, except one female monkey that was expecting a baby. The deer and all the other animals went along, except a few of the females who could not go. They all reached the meadow-grass; and the monkeys climbed up the tual-tree that stood in the centre of the field, until all the branches were full of monkeys. The birds and the jungle-fowl flew up in the tree; but the deer and the other animals waited clown on the ground.
Then the sky grew black, for the Bakaka and the Tortoise were going around the meadow with lighted sticks of balekayo, [146] and setting fire to the grass. The air was full of smoke, and the little monkeys were crying; but the old Monkey bit them, and said, "Keep still, for the Bakaka told us not to speak."
But the meadow-grass was all ablaze, and the flames crept nearer and nearer to the tual-tree. Then all the monkeys saw the fire, and cried, "Oh! what will become of us?"
Some of the birds and most of the chickens flew away; but some died in the flames. A few of the pigs ran away, but most of them died. The other animals were burned to death. Not a single monkey escaped, save only the female monkey who staid at home. When her baby was born, it was a boy-monkey. The mother made it her husband, and from this pair came many monkeys.
It was the same with the deer. All were burned, except one doe who staid at home. When her little fawn was born, it was a male. She made it her husband, and from this one pair came many deer.
The Crow and the Golden Trees
The liver of the crow is "medicine" for many pains and for sickness. On this account the Bagobo kills the crow so that he may get his liver for "medicine." The liver is good to eat, either cooked or raw. If you see a crow dead, you can get its liver and eat some of it, and it will be "medicine" for your body.
The crow never makes its nest in low-growing trees, but only in tall, big trees. Far from here, the old men say, in the land where the sun rises, there are no more living trees; for the scorching heat of the sun has killed them.all, and dried up the leaves. There they stand, with naked branches, all bare of leaves. Only two trees there have not died from the heat. The trunks of these trees are of gold, and all their leaves of silver. But if any bird lights on one of these trees, it falls down dead. The ground under the two trees is covered with the bones of little birds and big birds that have died from perching on the trees with the golden trunks and the silver leaves. These two trees are full of a resin that makes all the birds die. Only the crow can sit on the branches, and not die. Hence the crow alone, of all the birds, remains alive in the land of the sunrise.
No man can get the resin from these trees. But very long ago, in the days of the Mona, there came a Malaki T'oluk Waig to the trees. He had a war-shield that shone brightly, for it had a flame of fire always burning in it. And this Malaki came to the golden trees and took the precious resin from their trunks.
An Ata Story [147]
Alelu'k and Alebu'tud [148]
Alelu'k and Alebu'tud lived together in their own house. They had no neighbors. One day Alelu'k said to his wife, "I must go and hunt some pigs."
Then he started out to hunt, taking with him his three dogs. He did not find any wild pigs; but before long he sighted a big deer with many-branched antlers. The dogs gave chase and seized the deer, and held it until the man came up and killed it with the sharp iron spike that tipped his long staff (tidalan [149]). Then the man tied to the deer's antlers a strong piece of rattan, and dragged it home.
When he reached his house, his wife met him joyfully; and they were both very happy, because they had now plenty of meat. They brought wood and kindled a fire, and fixed over the fire a frame of wood tied to upright posts stuck into the ground. On the frame they laid the body of the deer to singe off the hair over the flames. And when the hair was all burned off, and the skin clean, Alelu'k began to cut off pieces of venison, and Alebu'tud got ready the big clay pot, and poured into it water to boil the meat. But there was only a little water in the house, so Alubu'tud took her bucket (sekkadu [150]), and hurried down to the river. When she reached there, she stood with her bare feet in the stream, and dipped the bucket into the stream, and took it out full of water. But, just as she turned to climb up the river-bank, an enormous fish jumped out of the river, seized her, dragged her down, and devoured her.
At home, Alelu'k was watching for his wife to come back bringing the water. Day after day he waited for her, and all day long he was crying from sorrow.
The man (Alelu'k) symbolizes a big black ant that makes its nest in a hollow tree. The woman (Alebu'tud) is a little worm that lives in the palma brava tree. The fish is another man who carried off Alelu'k's wife.
New York.