said to himself. But they did not look up, and by and by Wang Chih got
so interested in the game that he put down his axe, and sat on the floor
to watch it better.
The two old men sat cross-legged on the ground, and the chessboard
rested on a slab, like a stone table, between them.
On one corner of the slab lay a heap of small brown objects which Wang
Chih took at first to be date stones; but after a time the chess-players
ate one each, and put one in Wang Chih’s mouth, and he found it was not
a date stone at all.
It was a delicious kind of sweetmeat, the like of which he had never
tasted before; and the strangest thing about it was that it took his
hunger and thirst away.
He had been both hungry and thirsty when he came into the cave, as he
had not waited to have his mid-day meal with the other field-workers;
but now he felt quite comforted and refreshed.
He sat there some time longer, and noticed that as the old men frowned
over the chessboard, their beards grew longer and longer, until they
swept the floor of the cave, and even found their way out of the door.
“I hope my beard will never grow as quickly,” said Wang Chih, as he rose
and took up his axe again.
Then one of the old men spoke, for the first time. “Our beards have not
grown quickly, young man. How long is it since you came here?”
“About half an hour, I dare say,” replied Wang Chih. But as he spoke,
the axe crumbled to dust beneath his fingers, and the second
chess-player laughed, and pointed to the little brown sweetmeats on the
table.
“Half an hour, or half a century—aye, half a thousand years are all
alike to him who tastes of these. Go down into your village and see what
has happened since you left it.”
So Wang Chih went down as quickly as he could from the mountain, and
found the fields where he had worked covered with houses, and a busy
town where his own little village had been. In vain he looked for his
house, his wife, and his children.
There were strange faces everywhere; and although when evening came the
Feast of Lanterns was being held once more, there was no Ho-Seen-Ko
carrying her red and yellow fish, or Han Chung with his flaming red
ball.
At last he found a woman, a very, very old woman, who told him that when
she was a tiny girl she remembered her grand-mother saying how, when
_she_ was a tiny girl, a poor young man had been spirited away by the
Genii of the mountains on the day of the Feast of Lanterns, leaving his
wife and little children with only a few handfuls of rice in the house.
“Moreover, if you wait while the procession passes, you will see two
children dressed to represent Han Chung and Ho-Seen-Ko, and their mother
carrying the empty rice-bowl between them; for this is done every year
to remind people to take care of the widow and fatherless,” she said. So
Wang Chih waited in the street; and in a little while the procession
came to an end, and the last three figures in it were a boy and girl,
dressed like his own two children, walking on either side of a young
woman carrying a rice-bowl. But she was not like his wife in anything
but her dress, and the children were not at all like Han Chung and
Ho-Seen-Ko; and poor Wang Chih’s heart was very heavy as he walked out
of the town.
He slept out on the mountain, and early in the morning found his way
back to the cave where the two old men were playing chess.
At first they said they could do nothing for him and told him to go away
and not disturb them; but Wang Chih would not go, and they found the
only way to get rid of him was to give him some really good advice.
“You must go to the White Hare of the Moon, and ask him for a bottle of
the elixir of life. If you drink that you will live forever,” said one
of them.
“But I don’t want to live forever,” objected Wang Chih. “I wish to go
back and live in the days when my wife and children were here.”
“Ah, well! For that you must mix the elixir of life with some water out
of the sky-dragon’s mouth.”
“And where is the sky-dragon to be found?” inquired Wang Chih.
“In the sky, of course. You really ask very stupid questions. He lives
in a cloud-cave. And when he comes out of it he breathes fire, and
sometimes water. If he is breathing fire you will be burned up, but if
it is only water, you will easily be able to catch some in a little
bottle. What else do you want?”
For Wang Chih still lingered at the mouth of the cave.
“I want a pair of wings to fly with, and a bottle to catch the water
in,” he replied boldly.
So they gave him a little bottle and before he had time to say “Thank
you!” a white crane came sailing past and lighted on the ground close to
the cave.
“The crane will take you wherever you like,” said the old men. “Go now,
and leave us in peace.”
So Wang Chih sat on the white crane’s back, and was taken up and up
through the sky to the cloud-cave where the sky-dragon lived. And the
dragon had the head of a camel, the horns of a deer, the eyes of a
rabbit, the ears of a cow, and the claws of a hawk.
Besides this, he had whiskers and a beard, and in his beard was a bright
pearl.
All these things show that he was a real, genuine dragon, and if you
ever meet a dragon who is not exactly like this, you will know he is
only a make-believe one.
Wang Chih felt rather frightened when he perceived the cave in the
distance, and if it had not been for the thought of seeing his wife
again, and his little boy and girl, he would have been glad to turn
back.
While he was far away the cloud-cave looked like a dark hole in the
midst of a soft woolly mass, such as one sees in the sky on an April
day; but as he came nearer he found the cloud was as hard as a rock, and
covered with a kind of dry, white grass.
When he got there, he sat down on a tuft of grass near the cave, and
considered what he should do next.
The first thing was, of course, to bring the dragon out, and the next to
make him breathe water instead of fire.
“I have it!” cried Wang Chih at last; and he nodded his head so many
times that the little white crane expected to see it fall off.
He struck a light, and set the grass on fire, and it was so dry that the
flames spread all around the entrance to the cave, and made such a smoke
and crackling that the sky-dragon put his head out to see what was the
matter.
“Ho! Ho!” cried the dragon, when he saw what Wang Chih had done, “I can
soon put this to rights.” And he breathed once, and the water came out
of his nose and mouth in three streams.
But this was not enough to put the fire out. Then he breathed twice, and
the water came out in three mighty rivers, and Wang Chih, who had taken
care to fill his bottle when the first stream began to flow, sailed away
on the white crane’s back as fast as he could go, to escape being
drowned.
The rivers poured over the cloud rock, until there was not a spark left
alight, and rushed down through the sky into the sea below.
Fortunately, the sea lay right underneath the dragon’s cave, or he would
have done some nice mischief. As it was, the people on the coast looked
out across the water toward Japan, and saw three inky-black clouds
stretching from the sky into the sea.
“My word! There is a fine rain-storm out at sea!” they said to each
other.
But, of course, it was nothing of the kind; it was only the sky-dragon
putting out the fire Wang Chih had kindled.
Meanwhile, Wang Chih was on his way to the moon, and when he got there
he went straight to the hut where the Hare of the Moon lived, and
knocked at the door.
The Hare was busy pounding the drugs which make up the elixir of life;
but he left his work, opened the door, and invited Wang Chih to come in.
He was not ugly, like the dragon; his fur was quite white and soft and
glossy, and he had lovely, gentle brown eyes.
The Hare of the Moon lives a thousand years, as you know, and when he is
five hundred years old he changes his color from brown to white, and
becomes, if possible, better tempered and nicer than he was before.
As soon as he heard what Wang Chih wanted, he opened two windows at the
back of the hut, and told him to look through each of them in turn.
“Tell me what you see,” said the Hare, going back to the table where he
was pounding the drugs.
“I can see a great many houses and people,” said Wang Chih, “and
streets—why, this is the town I was in yesterday, the one which has
taken the place of my old village.”
Wang Chih stared, and grew more and more puzzled. Here he was up in the
moon, and yet he could have thrown a stone into the busy street of the
Chinese town below his window.
“How does it come here,” he stammered, at last.
“Oh, that is my secret,” replied the wise old Hare. “I know how to do a
great many things which would surprise you. But the question is, do you
want to go back there?”
Wang Chih shook his head.
“Then close the window. It is the window of the Present. And look
through the other, which is the window of the Past.”
Wang Chih obeyed, and through this window he saw his own dear little
village, and his wife, and Han Chung and Ho-Seen-Ko jumping about her as
she hung up the colored lanterns outside the door.
“Father won’t be in time to light them for us, after all,” Han Chung was
saying.
Wang Chih turned, and looked eagerly at the White Hare.
“Let me go to them,” he said. “I have got a bottle of water from the
sky-dragon’s mouth, and——”
“That’s all right,” said the White Hare. “Give it to me.”
He opened the bottle, and mixed the contents carefully with a few drops
of the elixir of life, which was clear as crystal, and of which each
drop shone like a diamond as he poured it in.
“Now, drink this,” he said to Wang Chih, “and it will give you the power
of living once more in the past, as you desire.”
Wang Chih held out his hand, and drank every drop.
The moment he had done so the window grew larger, and he saw some steps
leading from it down into the village street.
Thanking the Hare, he rushed through it, and ran toward his own house,
arriving in time to take from his wife’s hand the taper with which she
was about to light the red and yellow lanterns which swung over the
door.
“What has kept you so long, father? Where have you been?” asked Han
Chung, while little Ho-Seen-Ko wondered why he kissed and embraced them
all so eagerly.
But Wang Chih did not tell them his adventures just then; only when
darkness fell, and the Feast of Lanterns began, he took his part in it
with a merry heart.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
LUMAWIG ON EARTH
One day when Lumawig, the Great Spirit, looked down from his place in
the sky, he saw two sisters gathering beans, and he decided to visit
them. When he arrived at the place he asked them what they were doing.
The younger, whose name was Fukan, answered:
“We are gathering beans, but it takes a long time to get enough, for my
sister wants to go bathing all the time.”
Then Lumawig said to the older sister:
“Hand me a single pod of the beans.”
And when she had given it to him, he shelled it into the basket and
immediately the basket was full. The younger sister laughed at this, and
Lumawig said to her:
“Give me another pod and another basket.”
She did so, and when he had shelled the pod, that basket was full also.
Then he said to the younger sister:
“Go home and get three more baskets.”
She went home, but when she asked for three more baskets her mother said
that the beans were few and she could not need so many. Then Fukan told
her of the young man who could fill a basket from one pod of beans, and
the father, who heard her story, said:
“Go, bring the young man here, for I think he must be a god.”
So Fukan took the three baskets back to Lumawig, and when he had filled
them as he did the other two, he helped the girls carry them to the
house. As they reached their home, he stopped outside to cool himself,
but the father called to him, and he went into the house and asked for
some water. The father brought him a cocoanut shell full, and before
drinking Lumawig looked at it and said:
“If I stay here with you, I shall become very strong.”
The next morning Lumawig asked to see their chickens, and when they
opened the chicken-coop out came a hen and many little chicks.
“Are these all of your chickens?” asked Lumawig; and the father assured
him that they were all. He then bade them bring rice meal that he might
feed them, and as the chickens ate they all grew rapidly till they were
cocks and hens.
Next Lumawig asked how many pigs they had, and the father replied that
they had one with some little ones. Then Lumawig bade them fill a pail
with sweet potato leaves, and he fed the pigs. And as they ate they also
grew to full size.
The father was so pleased with all these things that he offered his
elder daughter to Lumawig for a wife. But the Great Spirit said he
preferred to marry the younger, and so it was arranged. Now when his
brother-in-law learned that Lumawig desired a feast at his wedding, he
was very angry and said:
“Where would you get food for your wedding feast? There is no rice, nor
beef, nor pork, nor chicken.”
But Lumawig only answered, “I shall provide our wedding feast.”
In the morning they all set out for Lanao, for Lumawig did not care to
stay any longer in the house with his brother-in-law. As soon as they
arrived he sent out for some tree trunks, but the trees that the people
brought in were so small that Lumawig himself went to the forest and cut
two large pine trees which he hurled to Lanao.
When the people had built a fire of the trees he commanded them to bring
ten kettles filled with water. Soon the water was boiling hot and the
brother-in-law laughed and said:
“Where is your rice? You have the boiling water, but you do not seem to
think of the rice.”
In answer to this Lumawig took a small basket of rice and passed it over
five kettles and they were full. Then he called, “Yish-tjau,” and some
deer came running out of the forest. These were not what he wanted,
however, so he called again and some pigs came. He told the people that
they were each to catch one, and for his brother-in-law he selected the
largest and best.
They all set out in pursuit of the pigs and the others quickly caught
theirs, but though the brother-in-law chased his until he was very tired
and hot he could not catch it. Lumawig laughed at him and said:
“You chase that pig until he is thin and still you cannot catch it,
though all the others have theirs.”
Thereupon he grasped the hind legs of the pig and lifted it. All the
people laughed and the brother-in-law said:
“Of course you can catch it, because I chased it until it was tired.”
Lumawig then handed it to him, and said: “Here, you carry it.” But no
sooner had the brother-in-law put it over his shoulder than it cut loose
and ran away.
“Why did you let it go?” asked Lumawig. “Do you care nothing for it,
even after I caught it for you? Catch it again and bring it here.”
So the brother-in-law started out again, and he chased it up stream and
down, but he could not catch it. Finally Lumawig reached down and picked
up the pig and carried it to the place where the others were cooking.
After they had all eaten and drunk and made their offerings to the
spirits, Lumawig said:
“Come, let us go to the mountain to consult the omen concerning the
northern tribes.”
So they consulted the omen, but it was not favorable, and they were
starting home when the brother-in-law asked Lumawig to create some
water, as the people were hot and thirsty.
“Why do you not create water, Lumawig?” he repeated, as Lumawig paid no
attention to him. “You care nothing that the people are thirsty and in
need of drink.”
Then they quarreled and were very angry and Lumawig said to the people,
“Let us sit down and rest.”
While they rested, Lumawig struck the rock with his spear, and water
came out. The brother-in-law jumped up to get a drink first, but Lumawig
held him back, and said he must be the last to drink. So they all drank,
and when they had finished the brother-in-law stepped up, but Lumawig
gave him a push which sent him into the rock, and water came from his
body.
“You must stay there,” said Lumawig, “because you have troubled me a
great deal.” And they went home, leaving him in the rock.
Some time after this Lumawig decided to go back to the sky to live, but
before he went he took care that his wife should have a home. He made a
coffin of wood and placed her in it with a dog at her feet and a cock at
her head. And as he set it floating on the water, he told it not to stop
until it reached Tinglayen. Then, if the foot struck first, the dog
should bark; and if the head end was the first to strike, the cock
should crow. So it floated away, on and on, until it came to Tinglayen.
Now a widower was sharpening his axe on the bank of the river, and when
he saw the coffin stop, he went to fish it out of the water. On the
shore he started to open it, but Fukan cried out, “Do not drive a wedge,
for I am here.” So the widower opened it carefully and took Fukan up to
the town, and then, as he had no wife of his own, he married her.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
IN UNION IS STRENGTH
A lion was wandering over the desert, seeking water. It was very hot,
and the sun had dried so many pools that it was a long time before he
found a well where he could assuage his thirst. But this he did at last,
although the water in it was not at all fresh. However, he was too
thirsty to care much whether it was stale or not.
He reached down to drink, and then his ears were assailed with the
buzzing of mosquitoes, who said to him:
“Lion, leave us in peace. We did not ask you to come here and drink up
our home, and you are not welcome.”
This surprised the Lion, who was not used to being spoken to in such an
impertinent manner. He roared and said: “Do you know whom you are
speaking to? I am the Lion, the King of all beasts. What affair of yours
is it what I do? Leave me at once, or I will kill you all.”
But the Mosquitoes said: “You are one, and we are many. For generations
has this old well been our home, and it is not for you to say that we
must go. Take our advice and seek another well, or trouble will visit
you.”
“You insignificant little creatures, how dare you address me in such
manner,” roared the Lion. “Why, in one minute I can swallow you all and
you will make only the very smallest part of a mouthful for me. Know
that when I speak all beasts of the forest and the wilderness bow before
me, and tremble. Now fly away, all of you, for I am going to drink.”
“We know how great is your renown,” said the Mosquitoes, “but we do not
fear you. If you wish to fight us we are very willing to have it so, but
we will not allow you to destroy our home.”
The Lion was now enraged more than he had ever been before. Such
language to him, the King, meant that destruction must be meted out to
those who dared to use it. He roared again, and made ready to kill the
foolish Mosquitoes.
But he found that he had undertaken no easy task. The Mosquitoes flew
into his ears, his eyes, his nose and his mouth. They stung him all over
his body, and soon he knew that he was conquered. He shook himself; he
rolled over and over on the ground, but he could not drive them away.
Then he jumped high into the air, and when he came down his head and
fore feet went into the well, and he was unable to release himself.
And so he died, thus teaching a lesson to those who are so proud of
their own might that they all think all others must bow down to them.
The water in the well was the home of the Mosquitoes, and he had no
right to deprive them of it. Had he made a request for water with gentle
words, it would without doubt have been given to him, but in the
foolishness of his pride and anger he demanded that which was not his.
Gentleness, and consideration for others will bring their reward.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
THE STORY OF BANTUGAN
Before the Spaniards occupied the island of Mindanao, there lived in the
valley of the Rio Grande a very strong man, Bantugan, whose father was
the brother of the earthquake and thunder.
Now the Sultan of the Island had a beautiful daughter whom Bantugan
wished to marry, but the home of the Sultan was far off, and whoever
went to carry Bantugan’s proposal would have a long and hazardous
journey. All the head men consulted together regarding who should be
sent, and at last it was decided that Bantugan’s own son, Balatama, was
the one to go. Balatama was young but he was strong and brave, and when
the arms of his father were given him to wear on the long journey his
heart swelled with pride. More than once on the way, however, his
courage was tried, and only the thought of his brave father gave him
strength to proceed.
Once he came to a wooden fence which surrounded a stone in the form of a
man, and as it was directly in his path he drew his fighting knife to
cut down the fence. Immediately the air became as black as night and
stones rained down as large as houses. This made Balatama cry, but he
protected himself with his father’s shield and prayed, calling on the
winds from the homeland until they came and cleared the air again.
Thereupon Balatama encountered a great snake in the road, and it
inquired his errand. When told, the snake said:
“You cannot go on, for I am guard of this road and no one can pass.”
The animal made a move to seize him, but with one stroke of his fighting
knife the boy cut the snake into two pieces, one of which he threw into
the sea and the other into the mountains.
After many days the weary lad came to a high rock in the road, which
glistened in the sunlight. From the top he could look down into the city
for which he was bound. It was a splendid place with ten harbors.
Standing out from the other palaces was one of crystal and another of
pure gold. Encouraged by this sight he went on, but though it seemed
only a short distance, it was some time before he at last stood at the
gate of the town.
It was not long after this, however, before Balatama had made known his
errand to the Sultan, and that monarch, turning to his courtiers, said:
“You, my friends, decide whether or not I shall give the hand of my
daughter to Bantugan in marriage.”
The courtiers slowly shook their heads and began to offer objections.
Said one, “I do not see how Bantugan can marry the Sultan’s daughter
because the first gift must be a figure of a man or woman in pure gold.”
“Well,” said the son of Bantugan, “I am here to learn what you want and
to say whether or not it can be given.”
Then a second man spoke: “You must give a great yard with a floor of
gold, which must be three feet thick.”
“All this can be given,” answered the boy.
And the sister of the Princess said: “The gifts must be as many as the
blades of grass in our city.”
“It shall be granted,” said Balatama.
“You must give a bridge built of stone to cross the great river,” said
one.
And another: “A ship of stone you must give, and you must change into
gold all the cocoanuts and leaves in the Sultan’s grove.”
“All this can be done,” said Balatama. “My uncles will give all save the
statue of gold, and that I shall give myself. But first I must go to my
father’s town to secure it.”
At this they were angry and declared that he had made sport of them and
unless he produced the statue at once they would kill him.
“If I give you the statue now,” said he, “there will come dreadful
storms, rain, and darkness.”
But they only laughed at him and insisted on having the statue, so he
reached into his helmet and drew it forth.
Immediately the earth began to quake. A great storm arose, and stones as
large as houses rained until the Sultan called to Balatama to put back
the statue lest they all be killed.
“You would not believe what I told you,” said the boy; “and now I am
going to let the storm continue.”
But the Sultan begged him and promised that Bantugan might marry his
daughter with no other gifts at all save the statue of gold. Balatama
put back the statue into his helmet, and the air became calm again to
the great relief of the Sultan and his courtiers. Then Balatama prepared
to return home, promising that Bantugan would come in three months for
the wedding.
All went well with the boy on the way home until he came to the fence
surrounding the stone in the form of a man, and there he was detained
and compelled to remain four months.
Now about this time a Spanish general heard that Bantugan was preparing
to marry the Sultan’s daughter, whom he determined to wed himself. A
great expedition was prepared, and he with all his brothers embarked on
his large warship which was followed by ten thousand other ships. They
went to the Sultan’s city, and their number was so great that they
filled the harbor, frightening the people greatly.