The first inhabitants of the Earth World.--Such being the
state of affairs, Kabigát went to hunt once again; and, while
following the dogs, that were chasing a quarry, he made a thrust
with his spear into a spring (or fountain) at the foot of a large
tree. Immediately Kabigát returned to Húdog, bringing with him the
captured quarry. When he had dressed and eaten the savory game,
Kabigát said to his father Wígan that he had seen on the Earth
World a spring and very good and beautiful trees for timber with
which to make houses, and that accordingly he was desirous of going
down to live at such a delightful place. His father answered him
that if he so desired he might do so.
Some time after Kabigát had departed, and after he had cut
excellent timber wherewith to build a house, Wígan said to his
daughter Búgan: "Look, daughter! Thy brother Kabigát is down in
Kai-áng building a house. I think that it would behoove thee to
look after his meals." Búgan volunteered to descend with such
a design. This intention having been carried out, she lodged
herself in the upper part of the house, and her brother dwelt in
the lower part.
In the meantime, Kabigát, reflecting on his solitude and want
of company, and, seeing that the domestic chickens, even though
related among themselves, produced other roosters and hens,
resolved to know carnally his sister Búgan, during her sleep. Some
time having expired, the sister noted that she had fruit in her
womb. * * * Such was the sadness and melancholy that came upon her,
that she did nothing else but to weep and bewail herself, and to
seek by some means alleviation for her sorrow through a violent
death. She pretended to her brother that she was going to look for
ísda, [40] but what she did was to follow the course of the river
until she arrived at its mouth in Lágud (the Eastern World). Upon
arriving at the shore of the sea, she remained there weeping and
waiting for someone to take away her life in a violent way. Soon
her brother Kabigát (who had followed her) appeared there, and
Búgan, upon discerning him, cast herself into the depths; but,
instead of going to the bottom, she stopped at the rice granary
of Ngílîn Mangóngol. The brother, who witnessed the tragedy,
did not stop at trifles but at once cast himself after her into
the depths of the ocean, stopping, by a strange coincidence, at
the very same rice granary as his fugitive sister and spouse. She
continued there, bemoaning her misfortune, when, behold! Ngílîn,
hearing her plaint, approached and inquired the cause of her
affliction. She related to him her trouble, how she had conceived
by her carnal brother when she was asleep. Ngílîn soothed her as
follows: "Do not be afflicted, daughter, by that. Are not the
fowls of Kai-áng related among themselves, and yet they beget
just like those that are not so?" The maiden became somewhat calm,
but still, out of shame for what had happened, she refused to eat
what Ngílîn offered her. Then he said to her: "In order that thou
mayst further assure thyself of what I tell thee, and in order
that thou mayst quiet thyself, let us go and consult my elder
brother Ambúmabbákal." And so they did. Ambúmabbákal, having been
informed of the circumstances, burst out laughing and said to them:
"Peradventure have ye not done well and righteously, there not
being in existence any others but yourselves to procreate? However,
for greater assurance, let us all go together to set forth the case
before Muntálog my father." Muntálog, having heard their story,
applauded the conduct of the solitary brother and sister. He told
them, accordingly, to calm themselves and to rest there for a
few days,--and so they did.