who can run the faster.’ Now I am going to cheat that Deer. You scatter
yourselves along the edge of the campo, in the forest, keeping not very
far from one another, and see that you keep perfectly still, each in his
place! To-morrow, when we begin the race, the deer will run on the campo,
but I will remain quietly in my place. When he calls out to me, if you
are ahead of him, answer, but take care not to respond if he has passed
you.”
Early the next morning the Deer went out to meet the Tortoise.
“Come,” said the former, “let us run!”
“Wait a bit!” said the Tortoise, “I am going to run in the woods.”
“Why, how are you, a little, short-legged fellow, going to run in the
forest?” asked the Deer, surprised.
The Tortoise insisted that he could not run in the campo, but that he was
accustomed to run in the forest, so the Deer assented, and the Tortoise
went into the woods, saying: “When I take my position I will make a noise
with a little stick, so that you may know I am ready.”
When the Tortoise, having reached his place, gave the signal, the Deer
started off leisurely, laughing to himself, not thinking it worth his
while to run. After the Deer had gone quite a little distance, he turned
round and called out, “Hullo, Tortoise!” When to his astonishment, a
Tortoise a little way ahead cried out, “Hullo, Deer!”
“Well,” said the Deer to himself, “that Tortoise does run fast!”
Whereupon he hurried up for a bit and then called out again, but the
voice of the Tortoise still seemed to be beyond him.
“Why, how’s this?” exclaimed the Deer, and he ran briskly for a little
ways till, thinking that he surely must have passed the Tortoise, he
stopped, turned about, and called again. “Hullo, Deer!” the answer came
from the edge of the forest just ahead.
On this the Deer set off at full speed, and, after a little, but without
stopping this time, he called to the Tortoise. And still the cry, “Hullo,
Deer!” came back to him from ahead. He then redoubled his forces, but
with no better success, and at last, tired and bewildered, he ran against
a tree and fell dead.
The noise made by the feet of the Deer having ceased, the first Tortoise
listened. Not a sound was heard. Then he called to the Deer, but received
no response. So he went to see what was the matter and found the Deer
lying at the foot of the tree.
This is an Amazonian myth of the Tupi-speaking population, as
related in the Lingua Geral.—CHARLES F. HARTT.
A myth of the slow Tortoise (Sun) and the swift Deer (Moon), a
race which the Sun always wins.
WHICH WAS THE STRONGER, THE TORTOISE, THE TAPIR, OR THE WHALE?
By C. F. Hartt
One day a Tortoise went down to the sea to drink. A Whale saw him and
called out: “Here, what are you doing, Tortoise?”
“Why, I’m drinking, ’cause I’m thirsty.”
Then the Whale began to make fun of the Tortoise’s short legs, but the
Tortoise indignantly replied: “Even if my legs are short, I am stronger
than you, and I can pull you on shore.”
The Whale laughed, “Come on, let me see you do it!”
“Well!” said the Tortoise, “just wait until I go into the forest and get
a sipó!”[5]
Away went the Tortoise into the forest, and there he met a Tapir, who
asked him what he was looking for.
“I am looking for a sipó.”
“And what are you going to do with a sipó?” asked the Tapir.
“I want it to pull you down to the sea.”
“You!” exclaimed the Tapir, surprised. “I’ll pull you into the forest,
and, what’s more—but never mind, let’s try who may be the stronger! Go
get your sipó!” The Tortoise went off, and presently came back with a
very long sipó, one end of which he tied around the body of the Tapir.
“Now,” said the Tortoise, “wait here until I go down to the sea. When
I shake this sipó, run with all your might into the forest.” Having
attached one end to the Tapir, he dragged the other down to the sea and
fastened it to the tail of the Whale. This accomplished, he said, “I will
go up into the forest, and when I shake the sipó, pull as hard as you
can, for I am going to draw you on shore.”
The Tortoise then went into the wood, midway between the Whale and the
Tapir, shook the sipó, and awaited the result. First the Whale, swimming
vigorously, dragged the Tapir backward to the sea, but the latter,
resisting with all his might, finally gained a firm foothold and began to
get the better of the Whale, drawing him in toward the shore. Then the
Whale made another effort, and in this manner they kept tugging against
one another, each thinking the Tortoise at the other end of the sipó,
until at last, both gave up the struggle from sheer exhaustion.
The Tortoise then walked down to the shore, and the Whale called out to
him: “Well, you certainly are strong, Tortoise; I am very tired.”
The Tortoise untied the sipó from the Whale, and, having dipped himself
in the water, went over to where the Tapir was puffing after his labors.
“Well, Tapir,” he said, as he untied the sipó, “you see that I am the
stronger.”
“It is true, Tortoise, you are very, very strong.”
The Tortoise (Sun) has a trial of strength with the Tapir
(Moon) or perhaps this is the Tortoise (Sun) provoking the
everlasting tidal contest between sea and land.—C. F. HARTT.
[5] A sipó is a long root growing in the air, often used as a
rope.
HOW THE TURTLE GOT HIS SHELL
By Annie Ker
Long ago, our fathers have told us, the Turtle and the Wallaby were
friends. Now on a certain day the Turtle was hungry, and asked his friend
to go with him to the beach and from thence to the Hornbill’s garden,
where was much sugarcane and where bananas also were plentiful. This they
did, and fed plentifully on all that was there. The Wallaby trod upon the
stalks of the bananas and bowed them to the ground that his friend might
eat. Thus did he also to the tall sugarcanes and the flowering rush. And
they both did eat and their hunger was stayed.
Now while they were eating the Birds were at work in their gardens,
tilling the ground. When the work was finished they dug up much taro and
returned to the village to cook their food. They peeled the roots and cut
them up and placed them in the pots for cooking. Then said Binama the
Hornbill, “Let one of you go down to the beach and bring sea water that
our food may be salted.”
But nothing came of it, for one by one the Birds made excuse, fearing
lest an enemy lay in wait. At last the Wagtail arose, and ran into the
house to make ready to go to the beach. He hung his shell breastplate
round his neck, tied waving feathers round his head, and took his spear
and went forth. As he went he leaped from side to side the better to
avoid the foe, if foe there were. In a little while he came to Binama’s
garden and saw the Turtle and Wallaby feeding. Their hearts trembled;
nevertheless the Turtle made bold and said to the Wagtail, “Thy master
has bidden us eat of his bananas that our hunger may be stayed.”
Now the Wagtail knew in his heart that they lied, but he answered never a
word, but filled his bottles with sea water and ran back to the village
by another way. When he reached the village he cried aloud, “Friends,
the Turtle and the Wallaby are eating in our master’s garden!” At this
word all arose and ran for their spears, and surrounded the garden. The
Wallaby lifted up his head, and seeing naught but enemies round about
him, tarried not but leaped mightily, and escaped. The Turtle could not
jump, as he well knew, so he crawled with haste into a yam patch and hid
himself under the leaves.
The Birds knew he was still there, and they hunted for him diligently
until they found him and dragged him forth. The Turtle feared greatly,
and cried, “Take not vengeance on me, for truly the Wallaby bade me come
hither and with his feet he broke the stalks, while I only ate of the
fruit.” The Birds cared little for his words, and tied him to a pole and
thus carried him to Binama’s house, where they laid him upon a shelf till
the morrow.
The next day Binama called his servants together and all went to dig
food to make a feast, when they should slay the Turtle. None were in the
house but the children whom Binama had set to guard the captive. Then the
Turtle made his voice soft, and called to the children, “Loosen my bonds,
O children,” quoth he, “that we may play together.” Now the children
knew not what was in the Turtle’s mind, and they did as he bade them. He
crawled down from the shelf, and stretched himself, for he was stiff and
sore. Then he said to the children, “Where are your ornaments? Leave the
poor ones in the basket, and bring forth only the good ones, that I may
see them.”
The children ran to the place where Binama kept his ornaments, and
brought forth a long necklace of shell money, also two shell armlets
and a wooden bowl, and laid them before the Turtle. He forthwith wound
the necklace many times round his neck, and put on both the shell
armlets. Moreover the bowl he fastened upon his back. Then he said to the
children, “Ye behold me now richly attired. Watch while I run a little
and back again, and tell me if the sight is a good one or no.”
The children watched him crawl a few paces and called him to return. This
the Turtle did and all sat together in the shade of a tree. Then the
Turtle crawled once more, and the children laughed to watch his ungainly
form decorated with their father’s ornaments. Again the Turtle returned
to the children, but this time he did not sit with them. For on a sudden
he heard voices and knew the men were drawing near. Then he saw them as
they came forth, and ran swiftly to the sea. The children cried aloud to
their father, “Come, for the Turtle is running away!”
When Binama heard this cry, he and the Birds with him threw the sheaves
of taro aside and gave chase to the runaway. But the Turtle had already
reached the sea, and he hastened to dive. The Birds called, “Show thyself
now. Lift up thy head.” So the Turtle did so, and the angry Birds cast
great stones into the sea, and the left armlet which the turtle wore was
shattered. So he dived, but they called again, “Show thyself. Lift up thy
head,” and a stone fell upon the right armlet and broke it into small
pieces. Again they called, and again the Turtle raised himself in the
water, and this time the stones cut the string on which the necklace of
shell money was threaded.
And now for the last time came the call, “Show thyself. Lift up thy
head.” The Turtle once more raised himself and the Birds flung after him
all the great stones they could find. They fell in scores upon the wooden
bowl which had been carried away from Binama’s home, but it was not
destroyed, nay, nor was it harmed at all. And the Turtle fled far over
the sea, nor was he seen again of Binama or his followers.
But since that day even until now, so our fathers have told us, all
turtles carry upon their backs the bowl which in the old days was in the
house of Binama.
THE LEGEND OF RATA
By Sir George Grey
Wahieroa had been treacherously slain by a chief named Matuku, so it
became the duty of his young son Rata to revenge his father’s death. By
the time he had grown up he had devised a plan for doing this, and gave
the necessary orders to his followers. He then started on a journey.
Arrived at the entrance to Matuku’s place he found a Man sitting in the
courtyard who had been left in charge.
“Where is the man who killed my father?” he asked.
“He lives down in the earth and I call to warn him when the new moon
appears. That is when he comes upon earth to do battle.”
“How can he know when the proper time comes?”
“I call to him in a loud voice.”
“When will there be a new moon?”
“In two nights. Return to your village, but come here again on the
morning of the second day.”
On the morning appointed, Rata returned and found the Man sitting in the
same place.
“Do you know any spot where I can conceal myself from the enemy with
whom I am about to fight?” he inquired.
The Man replied, “Come with me and I will show you the two fountains of
clear water.”
“This spot that we stand on,” said the Man, when they arrived at the
place, “is the place where Matuku rises up from the earth, and yonder
fountain is the one on which he combs and washes his dishevelled hair;
but this fountain is the one he uses to reflect his face in while he
dresses it. You can not kill him while he is at the fountain he uses to
reflect his face in, because your shadow would also be reflected in it
and he would see it; but at the fountain in which he washes his hair you
may smite and slay him.”
“Will he make his appearance this evening?”
“Yes.”
They had not waited long when the moon became visible and the Man told
Rata to hide himself near the brink of the fountain in which Matuku would
wash his hair. Then he shouted aloud, “Ho, ho, the new moon is visible—a
moon two days old.”
Matuku heard him and, seizing his two-handed wooden sword, rose from the
earth. He laid his sword on the ground at the edge of the fountain where
he dressed his hair, and kneeling down on both sides of it he loosened
the strings which bound up his long locks, shook them out, and plunged
his head into the clear cool water. Rata crept out from where he lay hid,
and rapidly moved up and stood behind him. As Matuku raised his head
above the water Rata with one hand seized him by the hair, while with
the other he smote and slew him.
“Where shall I find the bones of my father?” he next asked the Keeper.
“They are not here; a strange people who live at a distance came and
carried them off.”
Upon hearing this reply Rata returned to his village to think matters
over. He went to the forest and, having found a very tall tree that grew
straight throughout its entire length, he felled it and cut its noble
branching tops, intending to fashion the trunk into a canoe.
The Insects which inhabit trees and the Spirits of the Forest were very
angry at this, and as soon as Rata had returned to the village, when
his day’s work was done, they took the tree and raised it up again. The
multitude of Insects, Birds and Spirits worked away at replacing each
little chip and shaving in its proper place, and sang as they worked:
“Fly together, chips and shavings,
Stick ye fast together,
Hold ye fast together;
Stand upright again, O tree.”
Early the next morning Rata came back. When he got to the place where he
had left the trunk lying on the ground, he could not at first find it.
That fine tall straight tree, which he saw standing whole and sound, was
the same he thought he had cut down, and there it was now, erect again;
however, he stepped up to it and, hewing away, he felled it to the ground
once more. Off he cut its fine branching top, and he began to hollow out
the hold of the canoe, and round off the prow and the stern into their
proper, gracefully curved forms. In the evening when it became too dark
to work, he returned to his village.
As soon as he was gone the multitudes of Insects, Birds and Spirits
raised up the tree upon its stump once more. They sang as they worked,
and when they had ended the tree again stood as sound as ever in its
former place in the forest.
Morning dawned, and Rata returned once more to work at his canoe. When he
reached the place was not he amazed to see the tree standing, untouched,
just as he had first found it? Nothing daunted, however, he hews away at
it again and down it topples, crashing to the earth. As soon as he saw
the tree on the ground Rata went off, as if going home, but turned back
and hid himself in the underwood, in a spot whence he could peep out
and see what took place. He had not been hidden long when he heard the
innumerable multitude of the children of Tane approaching singing their
incantations, and at last they arrived at the place where the tree was
lying on the ground.
Rata rushed upon them. He seized some of them, shouting: “Ha, ha, it is
you, is it, who have been exercising your magical arts upon my tree?”
Then the children of Tane all cried aloud in reply, “Who gave you
authority to fell the forest god to the ground? You had no right to do
so.”
When Rata heard this he was overcome with shame at what he had done. The
children of Tane called out to him: “Return, O Rata, to thy village, we
will make a canoe for you,” and Rata obeyed their orders without delay.
They were so numerous and each understood so well what to do that they
had no sooner begun to adze out a canoe, than it was finished. When the
canoe was afloat upon the sea, one hundred and forty warriors embarked on
board it and they paddled off to seek their foe.
One night, just at nightfall, they reached the fortress of their enemy.
Rata landed alone, leaving all his warriors on board. As he stole along
the shore he saw that a fire was burning on the sacred place where the
enemy sacrificed to their gods. Without stopping he crept directly
towards the fire and hid behind some thick bushes. There were several
priests, and to assist them in their magical arts they were using the
bones of Wahieroa, knocking them together to beat time while repeating a
powerful incantation known only to themselves.
Rata listened attentively to this incantation until he had learned it by
heart, and when he was quite sure he knew it he rushed suddenly upon the
priests. Being ignorant of the numbers of the enemy or whence they came,
they made little resistance and were in a moment overcome. The bones of
his father Wahieroa were then eagerly snatched up. He hastened with them
back to the canoe, embarked on board it, and his warriors at once paddled
away. Rata’s task of avenging his father’s death being thus ended, his
tribe hauled up his large canoe on the shore and roofed it over with
thatch to protect it from the sun and weather.
WHY THE HIPPOPOTAMUS LIVES IN THE WATER
By Elphinstone Dayrell, F.R.G.S., F.R.A.I.
Many years ago the Hippopotamus, whose name was Isantim, was one of the
biggest kings on the land; he was second only to the Elephant. The Hippo
had seven large fat Wives, of whom he was very fond. Now and then he used
to give a big feast to the people, but a curious thing was that, although
every one knew the Hippo, no one, except his seven Wives, knew his name.
At one of the feasts, just as the people were about to sit down, the
Hippo said, “You have come to feed at my table, but none of you know my
name. If you cannot tell my name you shall all of you go away without
your dinner.”
As they could not guess his name, they had to go away and leave all the
good food behind them. Before they left, however, the Tortoise stood
up and asked the Hippopotamus what he would do if he told him his name
at the next feast? So the Hippo replied that he would be so ashamed of
himself that he and his whole family would leave the land, and for the
future would dwell in the water.
Now, it was the custom for the Hippo and his seven Wives to go down every
morning and evening to the river to wash and have a drink. Of this custom
the Tortoise was aware. The Hippo used to walk first, and the seven Wives
followed. One day when they had gone down to the river to bathe, the
Tortoise made a small hole in the middle of the path, and then waited.
When the Hippo and his Wives returned two of the Wives were some distance
behind, so the Tortoise came out from where he had been hiding and half
buried himself in the hole he had dug, leaving the greater part of his
shell exposed. When the two Hippo Wives came along, the first one knocked
her foot against the Tortoise’s shell, and immediately called out to her
husband, “Oh, Isantim, my husband, I have hurt my foot.” At this the
Tortoise was very glad, and went joyfully home.
When the next feast was given by the Hippo, he made the same condition
about his name; so the Tortoise got up and said, “You promise you will
not kill me if I tell you your name?” and the Hippo promised. The
Tortoise then shouted as loud as he was able, “Your name is Isantim,”
at which a cheer went up from all the people, and then they sat down to
dinner.
When the feast was over, the Hippo with his seven Wives, in accordance
with his promise, went down to the river, and they have always lived in
the water from that day till now. Although they come on shore to feed at
night, you never find a Hippo on the land in the daytime.
WHY THE ELEPHANT HAS SMALL EYES
By Elphinstone Dayrell, F.R.G.S., F.R.A.I.
When Ambo was King of Calabar, the Elephant was not only a very big
animal, but he had eyes in proportion to his bulk. In those days men and
animals were friends, and all mixed together quite freely. At regular
intervals King Ambo used to give a feast, and the Elephant used to eat
more than any one, though the Hippopotamus used to do his best; however,
not being as big as the Elephant, although he was very fat, he was left a
long way behind.
As the Elephant ate so much at these feasts, the Tortoise, who was small
and very cunning, made up his mind to put a stop to the Elephant eating
more than a fair share of the food provided. He, therefore, placed some
dry kernels and shrimps, of which the Elephant was very fond, in his bag,
and went to the Elephant’s house to make an afternoon call.
When the Tortoise arrived the Elephant told him to sit down, so he made
himself comfortable, and, having shut one eye, took one palm kernel and a
shrimp out of his bag and commenced to eat them with relish.
When the Elephant saw the Tortoise eating, he said, as he was always
hungry himself, “You seem to have some good food there; what are you
eating?”
The Tortoise replied that the food was sweet but was rather painful, as
he was eating one of his eyes; and he lifted up his head, showing one eye
closed.
The Elephant said, “If the food is so good, take out one of my eyes and
give me the same food.”
The Tortoise, who was waiting for this, knowing how greedy the Elephant
was, said, “I cannot reach your eye, you are so big.” So the Elephant
took the Tortoise in his trunk and lifted him up, and with one quick
scoop he had the Elephant’s eye out. The Elephant trumpeted with pain,
but the Tortoise gave him some of the dried kernels and shrimps, and they
so pleased the Elephant that he soon forgot the pain.
Soon the Elephant said, “That food is so sweet I must have some more;”
but the Tortoise told him that before he could have any the other eye
must come out. To this the Elephant agreed, and soon the Elephant was
quite blind. The Elephant then began to make a great noise, and started
pulling trees down and doing much damage, calling out for the Tortoise.
The Tortoise had slid down the Elephant’s trunk to the ground, and hid
himself.
The next morning when the Elephant heard the people passing, he asked
them what the time was, and the Bush Buck, who was nearest, shouted out,
“The sun is now up, and I am going to market to get some yams and fresh
leaves for my food.”
Then the Elephant perceived that the Tortoise had deceived him, and began
to ask all the passers-by to lend him a pair of eyes, as he could not
see, but every one refused, as they wanted their eyes themselves. At last
the Worm grovelled past, and seeing the big Elephant, greeted him in his
humble way. He was much surprised when the King of the Forest returned
his salutation, and very much flattered also.
The Elephant said, “Look here, Worm, I have mislaid my eyes. Will you
lend me yours for a few days? I will return them next market-day.”
The Worm was so flattered at being noticed by the Elephant that he gladly
consented, and took his eyes out—which, as every one knows, were very
small—and gave them to the Elephant. When the Elephant had put the Worm’s
eyes into his own large eye-sockets, the flesh immediately closed round
them so tightly that when the market-day arrived it was impossible for
the Elephant to get them out again to return to the Worm; and although
the Worm repeatedly made applications to the Elephant to return his eyes,
the Elephant always pretended not to hear, and sometimes used to say in a
very loud voice, “If there are any Worms about, they had better get out
of my way, as they are so small I cannot see them, and if I tread on them
they will be squashed.”
Ever since then the Worms have been blind, and for the same reason
Elephants have such small eyes, quite out of proportion to the size of
their huge bodies!
THE BOY WHO SET A SNARE FOR THE SUN
By H. R. Schoolcraft