the bird as much money as he wanted. So he called a fisherman, and
asked him to bring his net and catch the bird when it came that night.
The fisherman said he would for one thousand rupees. That night the
fisherman, the Mahárájá, and the doorkeeper, all waited under the
tree. Soon the bird came, and asked after the Mahárájá, after his
children, and all his servants and elephants, and camels and horses,
and then after the doorkeeper, and then it called the Mahárájá a fool.
Then it cried, and then it laughed, and just as it laughed the
fisherman threw the net over the bird and caught it. Then they shut it
up in an iron cage, and the next morning the Mahárájá took it out and
stroked it, and said, "What a sweet little bird! what a lovely little
bird!" And the Mahárájá felt something like a pin in its head, and he
gave a pull, and out came the pin, and then his own dear wife, the
Pomegranate-flower Rání, stood before him. The Rájá was exceedingly
glad, and so were his two children. And there were great rejoicings,
and they lived happily ever after.
Told by Dunkní at Simla, 26th July, 1876.
[Decoration]
III.
THE CAT AND THE DOG.
_Introduction._
Now all cats are aunts to the tigers, and the cat in this story was
the aunt of the tiger in this story. She was his mother's sister. When
the tiger's mother was dying, she called the cat to her, and taking
her paw she said, "When I am dead you must take care of my child." The
cat answered, "Very well," and then the tiger's mother died. The tiger
said to the cat, "Aunt, I am very hungry. Go and fetch some fire. When
I go to ask men for fire they are afraid of me, and run away from me,
and won't give me any. But you are such a little creature that men are
not afraid of you, and so they will give you fire, and then you must
bring it to me." So the cat said, "Very good," and off she started,
and went into a house where some men were eating their dinner: they
had thrown away the bones, and the cat began to eat them. This house
was very near the place where the tiger lived, and on peeping round
the corner he saw his aunt eating the bones. "Oh," said he, "I sent my
aunt to fetch fire that I might cook my dinner as I am very hungry,
and there she sits eating the bones, and never thinks of me." So the
tiger called out, "Aunt, I sent you to fetch fire, and there you sit
eating bones and leave me hungry! If ever you come near me again, I
will kill you at once." So the cat ran away screaming, "I will never
go near the tiger again, for he will kill me!" This is why all cats
are so afraid of tigers, or of anything like a tiger. And this is why,
when the cat in the story saw the tiger, her nephew, fighting with the
man, she ran away as hard as she could.
_The Story._
There were once a dog and a cat. It was a very rainy day, and some men
were eating their dinner inside their house. The cat sat inside too,
eating her dinner, and the dog sat on the door-step. The cat called
out to the dog, "I am a high-caste person, and you are a very
low-caste person." "Oh," said the dog, "not at all. I am the
high-caste person and you are of very low caste. You eat all the men's
dinner up, and snatch the food from their hands just as they are
putting it into their mouths. And you scratch them, and they beat you;
while I sit away from them, and so they don't beat me. And if they
_give_ me any dinner I'll eat it; but if they don't, I won't." "Oh,"
says the cat, "not a bit of it. I eat nice clean food; but you eat
nasty, dirty food, which the men have thrown away." "No," said the
dog, "I am high caste and you are very low caste, for if I gave you a
slap you would tumble down directly." "No, no!" said the cat. And they
went on disputing and began to fight, till the dog said, "Very well,
let us go to the wise jackal and ask him which of us is the better."
"Good," said the cat. So they went to the jackal and asked him. Said
the cat, "I am of the higher caste, and the dog is of the lower
caste." "No," said the jackal, "the dog is of the higher caste." The
cat said, "No," and the jackal said, "Yes," and they began to fight.
Then the jackal and the dog proposed to go and ask a great big beast
who lived in the jungle and was like a tiger. But the cat said, "I
cannot go near a tiger or anything like one." So then they said, "When
we come near the beast, you can remain behind, and we will go on and
speak to him." So they ran into the jungle, where there was a tiger
who had been lying on the ground with a great thorn sticking in his
foot. When his aunt, the cat, saw him, she scampered off, for she was
dreadfully frightened.
The thorn had given the tiger great pain; for a long while he could
get no one to take it out, so had lain there for days. At last he had
seen a man passing by, to whom he called and said, "Take out this
thorn, and I promise I won't eat you." But the man refused through
fear, saying, "No, I won't, for you will eat me." Three times the
tiger had promised not to eat him; so at last the man took out the
thorn. Then the tiger sprang up and said, "Now I will eat you, for I
am very hungry." "Oh, no, no!" said the man. "What a liar you are! You
promised not to eat me if I would take the thorn out of your foot, and
now that I have done so you say you will eat me." And they began to
fight, and the man said, "If you won't eat me, I will bring you a cow
and a goat." But the tiger refused, saying, "No, I won't eat them; I
will eat you."
At this moment the jackal and the dog came up. And the jackal asked,
"What is the matter? why are you fighting?" So then the man told him
why they were fighting; and the jackal said to the tiger, "I will tell
you a good way of eating the man. Go and fetch a big bag." So the
tiger went and fetched the bag, and brought it to the jackal. Then the
jackal said, "Get inside the bag, and leave its mouth open and I'll
throw the man in to you." So the tiger got inside the bag, and the
jackal, the dog and the man quickly tied it up as tight as they could.
Then they began to beat the tiger with all their might until at last
they killed him. Then the man went home, and the jackal went home, and
the dog went home.
[Decoration]
IV.
THE CAT WHICH COULD NOT BE KILLED.
There were once a dog and a cat, who were always quarrelling. The dog
used to beat the cat, but he never could hurt her. She would only
dance about and cry, "You never hurt me, you never hurt me! I _had_ a
pain in my shoulder, but now it is all gone away." So the dog went to
a _mainá_[1] and said, "What shall I do to hurt this cat? I beat her
and I bite her, and yet I can't hurt her. I am such a big dog and she
is rather a big cat, yet if I beat her I don't hurt her, but if she
beats me she hurts me so much." The _mainá_ said, "Bite her mouth
very, very hard, and then you'll hurt her." "Oh, no," said the cat,
who had just come up, laughing; "you won't hurt me at all." The dog
bit her mouth as hard as he could. "Oh, you don't hurt me," said the
cat, dancing about. So the dog went again to the _mainá_ and said,
"What shall I do?" "Bite her ears," said the _mainá_. So the dog bit
the cat's ears, but she danced about and said, "Oh, you did not hurt
me; now I can put earrings in my ears." So she put in earrings.
The dog went to the elephant. "Can you kill this cat? she worries me
so every day." "Oh, yes," said the elephant, "of course I can kill
her. She is so little and I am so big." Then the elephant came and
took her up with his trunk, and threw her a long way. Up she jumped at
once and danced about, saying, "You did not hurt me one bit. I _had_
a pain, but now I am quite well." Then the elephant got cross and
said, "I'll teach you to dance in another way than that," and he took
the cat and laid her on the ground and put his great foot on her. But
she was not hurt at all. She danced about and said, "You did not hurt
me one bit, not one bit," and she dug her claws into the elephant's
trunk. The elephant ran away screaming, and he told the dog, "You had
better beware of that cat. She belongs to the tiger tribe." The dog
felt very angry with the cat. "What shall I do," said he, "to kill
this cat?" And he bit her nose so hard that it bled. But she laughed
at him. "Now I can put a ring in my nose," said she. He got furious.
"I'll bite her tail in half," said he. So he bit her tail in half, and
yet he did not hurt her.
He then went to a leopard. "If you can kill this cat I will give you
anything you want." "Very well, I'll kill her," said the leopard. And
they went together to the cat. "Stop," said the cat to the leopard; "I
want to speak to you first. I'll give you something to eat, and then
I'll tell you what I want to say." And then she ran off ever so far,
and after she had run a mile she stopped and danced, calling out, "Oh!
I'll give you nothing to eat; you could not kill me." The leopard went
away very cross, and saying, "What a clever cat that is."
The dog next went to a man, and said, "Can you kill this cat, she
worries me so?" "Of course I can," said the man; "I'll stick this
knife into her stomach." And he stuck his knife into the cat's
stomach, but the cat jumped up, and her stomach closed, and the man
went home.
And the dog went to a bear. "Can _you_ kill this cat? I can't." "I'll
kill her," said the bear; so he stuck all his claws into the cat, but
he didn't hurt her; and she stuck her claws into the bear's nose so
deep that he died immediately.
Then the poor dog felt very unhappy, and went and threw himself into a
hole, and there he died, while the cat went away to her friends.
Told by Dunkní at Simla, July 26th, 1876.
FOOTNOTE:
[1] A kind of starling.
[Decoration]
[Decoration]
V.
THE JACKAL AND THE KITE.
There was once a she-jackal and a she-kite. They lived in the same
tree; the jackal at the bottom of the tree, and the kite at the top.
Neither had any children. One day the kite said to the jackal, "Let us
go and worship God, and fast, and then he will give us children." So
the jackal said, "Very good." That day the kite ate nothing, nor that
night; but the jackal at night brought a dead animal, and was sitting
eating it quietly under the tree. By-and-by the kite heard her
crunching the bones, instead of fasting. "What have you got there,"
said the kite, "that you are making such a noise?" "Nothing," said the
jackal; "it is only my own bones that rattle inside my body whenever I
move." The kite went to sleep again, and took no more notice of the
jackal. Next morning the kite ate some food in the name of God. That
night again the jackal brought a dead animal. The kite called out,
"What are you crunching there? Why are you making that noise? I am
sure you have something to eat." The jackal said, "Oh, no! It is only
my own bones rattling in my body." So the kite went to sleep again.
Some time after, the kite had seven little boys--real little boys--but
the jackal had none, because she had not fasted. A year after that the
kite went and worshipped God, asking Him to take care of her children.
One day--it was their great day--the kite set out seven plates. On one
she put cocoa-nuts, on another cucumbers, on a third rice, on a
fourth plantains, and so on. Then she gave a plate to each of her
seven sons, and told them to take the plates to their aunt the jackal.
So they took the seven plates, and carried them to their aunt, crying
out, "Aunty, aunty, look here! Mamma has sent you these things." The
jackal took the plates, and cut off the heads of the seven boys, and
their hands, and their feet, and their noses, and their ears, and took
out their eyes. Then she laid their heads in one plate, and their eyes
in another, and their noses in a third, and their ears in a fourth,
and their hands in a fifth, and their feet in a sixth, and their
trunks in the seventh, and then she covered all the plates over. Then
she took the plates to the kite, and called out, "Here! I have brought
you something in return. You sent me a present, and I bring you a
present." Now the poor kite thought the jackal had killed all her
seven children, so she cried out, "Oh, it's too dark now to see what
you have brought. Put the plates down in my tree." The jackal put the
plates down and went home. Then God made the boys alive again, and
they came running to their mother, quite well. And instead of the
heads and eyes, and noses and ears, and hands and feet, and trunks,
there were again on the plates cocoa-nuts and cucumbers, and plantains
and rice, and so on.
Now the jackal got hold of the boys again. And this time she killed
them, and cooked them and ate them; and again God brought them to
life. Well, the jackal was very much astonished to see the boys alive,
and she got angry, and said to the kite, "I will take your seven sons
and throw them into the water, and they will be drowned." "Very well,"
said the kite, "take them. I don't mind. God will take care of them."
The jackal took them and threw them into the water, and left them to
die, while the kite looked on without crying. And again God made them
alive, and the jackal was so surprised. "Why," said she, "I put these
children into the water, and left them to drown. And here they are
alive!" Then God got very angry with the jackal, and said to her, "Go
out of this village. And wherever you go, men will try to shoot you,
and you shall always be afraid of them." So the jackal had to go away;
and the kite and her children lived very happily ever afterwards.
Told by Dunkní.
[Decoration]
[Decoration]
VI.
THE VORACIOUS FROG.
There were a rat and a frog. And the rat said to the frog, "Go and get
me some sticks, while I go and get some flour and milk." So the frog
went out far into the jungle and brought home plenty of sticks, and
the rat went out and brought home flour and milk for their dinner.
Then she cooked the dinner, and when it was cooked she said to the
frog, "Now, you sit here while I go to bathe, and take care of the
food so that no one may come and eat it up." Then the rat went to take
her bath, and as soon as she had gone the frog made haste and ate up
the dinner quickly, and went away.
When the rat came back she found no dinner, and she could not find the
frog. So she went out to look for him, calling to him as loudly as she
could, and she saw him in the distance, and overtook him. "Why have
you eaten my dinner? Why did you go away?" said the rat. Said the
frog, "Oh, dear! it was not I that ate your dinner, but a huge dog
that came; and I was only a tiny, tiny thing, and he was a great big
dog, and so he frightened me, and I ran away." "Very well," said the
rat; "go and fetch me more sticks while I go for flour and milk." So
the frog went out far into the jungle and brought back plenty of
sticks. And the rat went to fetch flour and milk. Then she lit the
fire and cooked the dinner, and told the frog to take care of the
dinner while she went to bathe. As soon as she had gone, the frog ate
up all the dinner, and went away and hid himself. When the rat came
back she saw no frog, no dinner. She went away into the jungle and
called to him, and the frog answered from behind a tree, "Here I am,
here I am." The rat went to him and said, "Why did you eat my dinner?"
"I didn't," said the frog. "It was a great big dog ate the dinner, and
he wanted to eat me too, and so I ran away." The rat said, "Very well.
Go and fetch me some more sticks, and I will go for flour and milk."
Then she cooked the dinner again and went to bathe. The frog ate up
all the dinner, and went away and hid himself. When the rat returned
she saw no dinner, no frog. So she went far into the jungle, found the
frog, and told him that it was he that had eaten the dinner. And the
frog said, "No," and the rat said, "Yes." And the frog said, "If you
say that again, I will eat you up." "All right," says the rat, "eat me
up." So he ate her up and sat behind a tree, and the baker came past.
The frog called out, "Baker, come here! come here! Give me some
bread." The baker looked about everywhere, could not see anybody,
could not think who was calling him. At last he saw the frog sitting
behind a tree. "Give me some bread," says the frog. The man said, "No,
I won't give you any bread. I am a great big man, and you are only a
little frog, and you have no money." "Yes, I have money. I will give
you some pice, and you will give me some bread." But the man said,
"No, I won't." "Well," said the frog, "if you won't give me bread, I
will eat you up first, and then I will eat up your bread." So he ate
up the man, and then ate up his bread. Presently a man with oranges
and lemons passed by. The frog called to him, "Come here! come here!"
The man was very much afraid. He didn't know who had called him. Then
he saw the frog, and the frog said, "Give me some lemons." The man
wouldn't, and said, "No." "Very well," says the frog, "if you won't,
I'll eat you up." So he ate up the man with his lemons and oranges.
Presently a horse and his groom went by. The frog says, "Please give
me a ride, and I will give you some money." "No," said the horse, "I
won't let you ride on me. You are like a monkey,--very little--I won't
let you ride on my back." The frog said, "If you won't, I'll eat you
up." Then the frog ate him up, and his groom too. Then a barber passed
by. "Come and shave me," says the frog. "Good," says the barber, "I'll
come and shave you." So he shaved him, and he thought the frog looked
_very_ fat, and so as he was shaving him he suddenly made a cut in his
stomach. Out jumped the rat with her flour and milk--the baker with
his bread--the lemon-seller with his oranges and lemons--the horse and
his groom. And the barber ran away home. And the frog died.
[Decoration]
[Decoration]
VII.
THE STORY OF FOOLISH SACHÚLÍ.
There once lived a poor old widow woman named Hungní, who had a little
idiot son called Sachúlí. She used to beg every day. One day when the
son had grown up, he said to his mother. "What makes women laugh?" "If
you throw a tiny stone at them," answered she, "they will laugh." So
one day Sachúlí went and sat by a well, and three women came to it to
fill their water-jars. "Now," said Sachúlí "I will make one of these
women laugh." Two of the women filled their water-jars and went away
home, and he threw no stones at them; but as the last, who also had on
the most jewels, passed him, he threw a great big stone at her, and
she fell down dead, with her mouth set as if she were smiling. "Oh,
look! look! how she is laughing!" said Sachúlí, and he ran off to call
his mother.
"Come, come, mother," said he, "and see how I have made this woman
laugh."
His mother came, and when she saw the woman lying dead, she was much
frightened, for the dead woman belonged to a great and very rich
family, and she wore jewels worth a thousand rupees. Hungní took off
all her jewels, and threw her body into the well.
After some days the dead woman's father and mother and all her people
sent round a crier with a drum to try and find her. "Whoever brings
back a young woman who wears a great many gold necklaces and bracelets
and rings shall get a great deal of money," cried the crier. Sachúlí
heard him. "I know where she is," said he. "My mother took off all her
jewels, and threw her into the well."
The crier said, "Can you go down into the well and bring her up?"
"If you will tie a rope round my waist and let me down the well, I
shall be able to bring her up."
So they set off towards the well, which was near Hungní's house; and
when she saw them coming, she guessed what they came for, and she ran
out and killed a sheep, threw it into the well, and took out the dead
woman and hid her.
The crier got some men to come with him, and they let Sachúlí down the
well. "Has she got eyes?" said Sachúlí. "Of course, every one has
eyes," answered the men. "Has she a nose?" asked Sachúlí. "Yes, she
has a nose," said the men. "Has she got a mouth?" asked Sachúlí.
"Yes," said the men. "Has she a long face?"
"What does he mean?" said the men, who were getting cross. "No one has
a long face; perhaps she has, though. Yes, she has a long face," cried
the men.
"Has she a tail?"
"A tail! Why no one has a tail. Perhaps, though, she has long hair. No
doubt that is what he calls a tail. Yes, she has a tail."
"Has she ears?"
"Of course, every one has ears."
"Has she four feet?"
"Four feet!" said the men. "Why, no one has four feet. Perhaps you
call her hands feet. Yes, she has four feet. Bring her up quickly."
Then Sachúlí brought up the sheep.
The men were very angry when they saw the sheep, and they beat
Sachúlí, and called him a very stupid fellow and a great liar, and
they went away feeling very cross.
Sachúlí went home to his mother, who, as soon as she saw him coming,
ran out and put the woman's body back in the well, and when he got
home she beat him. "Mother," said he, "give me some bread, and I will
go away and die." His mother cooked him some bread, and he went away.
He walked on, and on, and on, a long way.
Now, some Rájá's ten camels had been travelling along the road on
which Sachúlí went, each carrying sacks of gold mohurs and rupees, and
one of these camels broke loose from the string and strayed away, and
the camel-drivers could not find it again. But Sachúlí met it, and
caught it and took it home.
"See, mother! see what a quantity of money I have brought you!" cried
Sachúlí. Hungní rushed out, and was delighted to see so much money.
She took off the sacks at once and sent the camel away. Then she hid
the rupees and the gold with the jewels she had taken from the dead
woman. And, as she was a cunning woman, she went and bought a great
many comfits and scattered them all about her house, when Sachúlí was
out of the way. "Oh, look! look!" cried Sachúlí, "at all these
comfits." "God has rained them from heaven," said his mother. Sachúlí
began to pick them up and eat them, and he told all the people in the
village how God had rained down comfits from heaven on his mother's
house. "What nonsense!" cried they. "Yes, he has," said Sachúlí, "and
I have been eating them." "No comfits have fallen on our houses," said
they. "Yes, yes," cried he, "the day my mother got all those rupees,
God rained comfits on our house." "What lies!" cried the people; "as
if it ever rained comfits. Why did not the comfits rain down on our
houses? Why did they fall only on your house? And what's all this
about rupees?" And then they came to see if there were any rupees or
comfits in Hungní's house, and they found none at all, for Hungní had
hidden the rupees and thrown away the comfits. "There," said they to
Sachúlí, "where are your rupees? where are your comfits? What a liar
you are! as if it ever rained comfits. How can you tell such stories?"
And they beat him. "But it did rain comfits," said Sachúlí, "for I ate
them. It rained comfits the day my mother got the rupees."
Now the Rájá who had lost his camel sent round the crier with his drum
to find his camel and his money-bags. "Whoever has found a camel
carrying money-bags and brings it and the money back to the Rájá, will
get a great many rupees," cried the crier. "Oh!" says Sachúlí, "I know
where the money is. One day I went out and I found a stray camel, and
he had sacks of rupees on his back, and I took him home to my mother,
and she took the sacks off his back and sent the camel away." So the
crier went to find the rupees, and the people in the bazar went with
him. But Hungní had hidden the rupees so carefully that, though they
hunted all over her house, they could find none, and they beat
Sachúlí, and told him he was a liar. "I am not telling lies," said
Sachúlí. "My mother took the rupees the day it rained comfits on our
house." So they beat him again, and they went away. Then Hungní beat
Sachúlí, and said, "What a bad boy you are! trying to get me beaten
and put into prison, telling every one about the rupees. Go away; I
don't want you any more, such a bad boy as you are! go away and die."
He said, "Very well, mother; give me some bread, and I'll go."
Sachúlí set off and took an axe with him. "How shall I kill myself?"
said he. So he climbed up a tree and sat out on a long branch, and
began cutting off the branch between himself and the tree on which he
was sitting. "What are you doing up there?" said a man who came by.
"You'll die if you cut that branch off." "What do you say?" cries
Sachúlí, jumping down on the man, and seizing his hand. "When shall I
die?" "How can I tell? Let me go." "I won't let you go till you tell
me when I shall die." And at last the man said, "When you find a
scarlet thread on your jacket, then you will die."