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0 | 1 | A tale from Africa folklore titled THE TIGER, THE RAM, AND THE JACKAL | Tiger was returning home from hunting on one occasion, when he lighted on the kraal of Ram. Now, Tiger had never seen Ram before, and accordingly, approaching submissively, he said, “Good day, friend! What may your name be?”
The other in his gruff voice, and striking his breast with his forefoot, said, “I am Ram. Who are you?”
“Tiger,” answered the other, more dead than alive, and then, taking leave of Ram, he ran home as fast as he could.
Jackal lived at the same place as Tiger did, and the latter going to him, said, “Friend Jackal, I am quite out of breath, and am half dead with fright, for I have just seen a terrible looking fellow, with a large and thick head, and on my asking him what his name was, he answered, ‘I am Ram.'”
“What a foolish fellow you are,” cried Jackal, “to let such a nice piece of flesh stand! Why did you do so? But we shall go to-morrow and eat it together.”
Next day the two set off for the kraal of Ram, and as they appeared over a hill, Ram, who had turned out to look about him, and was calculating where he should that day crop a tender salad, saw them, and he immediately went to his wife and said, “I fear this is our last day, for Jackal and Tiger are both coming against us. What shall we do?”
“Don’t be afraid,” said the wife, “but take up the child in your arms, go out with it, and pinch it to make it cry as if it were hungry.” Ram did so as the confederates came on.
No sooner did Tiger cast his eyes on Ram than fear again took possession of him, and he wished to turn back. Jackal had provided against this, and made Tiger fast to himself with a leather thong, and said, “Come on,” when Ram cried in a loud voice, and pinching his child at the same time, “You have done well, Friend Jackal, to have brought us Tiger to eat, for you hear how my child is crying for food.”
On these dreadful words Tiger, notwithstanding the entreaties of Jackal to let him go, to let him loose, set off in the greatest alarm, dragged Jackal after him over hill and valley, through bushes and over rocks, and never stopped to look behind him till he brought back himself and half-dead Jackal to his place again. And so Ram escaped.
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1 | 2 | A tale from Africa folklore titled THE ORIGIN OF DEATH | The Moon, on one occasion, sent the Hare to the earth to inform Men that as she (the Moon) died away and rose again, so mankind should die and rise again. Instead, however, of delivering this message as given, the Hare, either out of forgetfulness or malice, told mankind that as the Moon rose and died away, so Man should die and rise no more. The Hare, having returned to the Moon, was questioned as to the message delivered, and the Moon, having heard the true state of the case, became so enraged with him that she took up a hatchet to split his head; falling short, however, of that, the hatchet fell upon the upper lip of the Hare, and cut it severely. Hence it is that we see the “Hare-lip.” The Hare, being duly incensed at having received such treatment, raised his claws, and scratched the Moon’s face; and the dark spots which we now see on the surface of the Moon are the scars which she received on that occasion.
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2 | 3 | A tale from Africa folklore titled THE DANCE FOR WATER OR RABBIT’S TRIUMPH | There was a frightful drought. The rivers after a while dried up and even the springs gave no water.
The animals wandered around seeking drink, but to no avail. Nowhere was water to be found.
A great gathering of animals was held: Lion, Tiger, Wolf, Jackal, Elephant, all of them came together. What was to be done? That was the question. One had this plan, and another had that; but no plan seemed of value.
Finally one of them suggested: “Come, let all of us go to the dry river bed and dance; in that way we can tread out the water.”
Good! Everyone was satisfied and ready to begin instantly, excepting Rabbit, who said, “I will not go and dance. All of you are mad to attempt to get water from the ground by dancing.”
The other animals danced and danced, and ultimately danced the water to the surface. How glad they were. Everyone drank as much as he could, but Rabbit did not dance with them. So it was decided that Rabbit should have no water.
He laughed at them: “I will nevertheless drink some of your water.”
That evening he proceeded leisurely to the river bed where the dance had been, and drank as much as he wanted. The following morning the animals saw the footprints of Rabbit in the ground, and Rabbit shouted to them: “Aha! I did have some of the water, and it was most refreshing and tasted fine.”
Quickly all the animals were called together. What were they to do? How were they to get Rabbit in their hands? All had some means to propose; the one suggested this, and the other that.
Finally old Tortoise moved slowly forward, foot by foot: “I will catch Rabbit.”
“You? How? What do you think of yourself?” shouted the others in unison.
“Rub my shell with pitch, and I will go to the edge of the water and lie down. I will then resemble a stone, so that when Rabbit steps on me his feet will stick fast.”
“Yes! Yes! That’s good.”
And in a one, two, three, Tortoise’s shell was covered with pitch, and foot by foot he moved away to the river. At the edge, close to the water, he lay down and drew his head into his shell.
Rabbit during the evening came to get a drink. “Ha!” he chuckled sarcastically, “they are, after all, quite decent. Here they have placed a stone, so now I need not unnecessarily wet my feet.”
Rabbit trod with his left foot on the stone, and there it stuck. Tortoise then put his head out. “Ha! old Tortoise! And it’s you, is it, that’s holding me. But here I still have another foot. I’ll give you a good clout.” Rabbit gave Tortoise what he said he would with his right fore foot, hard and straight; and there his foot remained.
“I have yet a hind foot, and with it I’ll kick you.” Rabbit drove his hind foot down. This also rested on Tortoise where it struck.
“But still another foot remains, and now I’ll tread you.” He stamped his foot down, but it stuck like the others.
He used his head to hammer Tortoise, and his tail as a whip, but both met the same fate as his feet, so there he was tight and fast down to the pitch.
Tortoise now slowly turned himself round and foot by foot started for the other animals, with Rabbit on his back.
“Ha! ha! ha! Rabbit! How does it look now? Insolence does not pay after all,” shouted the animals.
Now advice was sought. What should they do with Rabbit? He certainly must die. But how? One said, “Behead him”; another, “Some severe penalty.”
“Rabbit, how are we to kill you?”
“It does not affect me,” Rabbit said. “Only a shameful death please do not pronounce.”
“And what is that?” they all shouted.
“To take me by my tail and dash my head against a stone; that I pray and beseech you don’t do.”
“No, but just so you’ll die. That is decided.”
It was decided Rabbit should die by taking him by his tail and dashing his head to pieces against some stone. But who is to do it?
Lion, because he is the most powerful one.
Good! Lion should do it. He stood up, walked to the front, and poor Rabbit was brought to him. Rabbit pleaded and beseeched that he couldn’t die such a miserable death.
Lion took Rabbit firmly by the tail and swung him around. The white skin slipped off from Rabbit, and there Lion stood with the white bit of skin and hair in his paw. Rabbit was free.
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3 | 4 | A tale from Africa folklore titled the-adventures-of-a-jackal | Fairytalez.com»Fairy Blog»Andrew Lang's Fairy Books»The Adventures of a Jackal
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In a country which is full of wild beasts of all sorts there once lived a jackal and a hedgehog, and, unlike though they were, the two animals made great friends, and were often seen in each other’s company.
One afternoon they were walking along a road together, when the jackal, who was the taller of the two, exclaimed:
‘Oh! there is a barn full of corn; let us go and eat some.’
‘Yes, do let us!’ answered the hedgehog. So they went to the barn, and ate till they could eat no more. Then the jackal put on his shoes, which he had taken off so as to make no noise, and they returned to the high road.
After they had gone some way they met a panther, who stopped, and bowing politely, said:
‘Excuse my speaking to you, but I cannot help admiring those shoes of yours. Do you mind telling me who made them?’
‘Yes, I think they are rather nice,’ answered the jackal; ‘I made them myself, though.’
‘Could you make me a pair like them?’ asked the panther eagerly.
‘I would do my best, of course,’ replied the jackal; ‘but you must kill me a cow, and when we have eaten the flesh I will take the skin and make your shoes out of it.’
So the panther prowled about until he saw a fine cow grazing apart from the rest of the herd. He killed it instantly, and then gave a cry to the jackal and hedgehog to come to the place where he was. They soon skinned the dead beasts, and spread its skin out to dry, after which they had a grand feast before they curled themselves up for the night, and slept soundly.
Next morning the jackal got up early and set to work upon the shoes, while the panther sat by and looked on with delight. At last they were finished, and the jackal arose and stretched himself.
‘Now go and lay them in the sun out there,’ said he; ‘in a couple of hours they will be ready to put on; but do not attempt to wear them before, or you will feel them most uncomfortable. But I see the sun is high in the heavens, and we must be continuing our journey.’
The panther, who always believed what everybody told him, did exactly as he was bid, and in two hours’ time began to fasten on the shoes. They certainly set off his paws wonderfully, and he stretched out his forepaws and looked at them with pride. But when he tried to walk–ah! that was another story! They were so stiff and hard that he nearly shrieked every step he took, and at last he sank down where he was, and actually began to cry.
After some time some little partridges who were hopping about heard the poor panther’s groans, and went up to see what was the matter. He had never tried to make his dinner off them, and they had always been quite friendly.
‘You seem in pain,’ said one of them, fluttering close to him, ‘can we help you?’
‘Oh, it is the jackal! He made me these shoes; they are so hard and tight that they hurt my feet, and I cannot manage to kick them off.’
‘Lie still, and we will soften them,’ answered the kind little partridge. And calling to his brothers, they all flew to the nearest spring, and carried water in their beaks, which they poured over the shoes. This they did till the hard leather grew soft, and the panther was able to slip his feet out of them.
‘Oh, thank you, thank you,’ he cried, skipping round with joy. ‘I feel a different creature. Now I will go after the jackal and pay him my debts.’ And he bounded away into the forest.
But the jackal had been very cunning, and had trotted backwards and forwards and in and out, so that it was very difficult to know which track he had really followed. At length, however, the panther caught sight of his enemy, at the same moment that the jackal had caught sight of him. The panther gave a loud roar, and sprang forward, but the jackal was too quick for him and plunged into a dense thicket, where the panther could not follow.
Disgusted with his failure, but more angry than ever, the panther lay down for a while to consider what he should do next, and as he was thinking, an old man came by.
‘Oh! father, tell me how I can repay the jackal for the way he has served me!’ And without more ado he told his story.
‘If you take my advice,’ answered the old man, ‘you will kill a cow, and invite all the jackals in the forest to the feast. Watch them carefully while they are eating, and you will see that most of them keep their eyes on their food. But if one of them glances at you, you will know that is the traitor.’
The panther, whose manners were always good, thanked the old man, and followed his counsel. The cow was killed, and the partridges flew about with invitations to the jackals, who gathered in large numbers to the feast. The wicked jackal came amongst them; but as the panther had only seen him once he could not distinguish him from the rest. However, they all took their places on wooden seats placed round the dead cow, which was laid across the boughs of a fallen tree, and began their dinner, each jackal fixing his eyes greedily on the piece of meat before him. Only one of them seemed uneasy, and every now and then glanced in the direction of his host. This the panther noticed, and suddenly made a bound at the culprit and seized his tail; but again the jackal was too quick for him, and catching up a knife he cut off his tail and darted into the forest, followed by all the rest of the party. And before the panther had recovered from his surprise he found himself alone.
‘What am I to do now?’ he asked the old man, who soon came back to see how things had turned out.
‘It is very unfortunate, certainly,’ answered he; ‘but I think I know where you can find him. There is a melon garden about two miles from here, and as jackals are very fond of melons they are nearly sure to have gone there to feed. If you see a tailless jackal you will know that he is the one you want.’ So the panther thanked him and went his way.
Now the jackal had guessed what advice the old man would give his enemy, and so, while his friends were greedily eating the ripest melons in the sunniest corner of the garden, he stole behind them and tied their tails together. He had only just finished when his ears caught the sound of breaking branches; and he cried: ‘Quick! quick! here comes the master of the garden!’ And the jackals sprang up and ran away in all directions, leaving their tails behind them. And how was the panther to know which was his enemy?
‘They none of them had any tails,’ he said sadly to the old man, ‘and I am tired of hunting them. I shall leave them alone and go and catch something for supper.’
Of course the hedgehog had not been able to take part in any of these adventures; but as soon as all danger was over, the jackal went to look for his friend, whom he was lucky enough to find at home.
‘Ah, there you are,’ he said gaily. ‘I have lost my tail since I saw you last. And other people have lost theirs too; but that is no matter! I am hungry, so come with me to the shepherd who is sitting over there, and we will ask him to sell us one of his sheep.’
‘Yes, that is a good plan,’ answered the hedgehog. And he walked as fast as his little legs would go to keep up with the jackal. When they reached the shepherd the jackal pulled out his purse from under his foreleg, and made his bargain.
‘Only wait till to-morrow,’ said the shepherd, ‘and I will give you the biggest sheep you ever saw. But he always feeds at some distance from the rest of the flock, and it would take me a long time to catch him.’
‘Well, it is very tiresome, but I suppose I must wait,’ replied the jackal. And he and the hedgehog looked about for a nice dry cave in which to make themselves comfortable for the night. But, after they had gone, the shepherd killed one of his sheep, and stripped off his skin, which he sewed tightly round a greyhound he had with him, and put a cord round its neck. Then he lay down and went to sleep.
Very, very early, before the sun was properly up, the jackal and the hedgehog were pulling at the shepherd’s cloak.
‘Wake up,’ they said, ‘and give us that sheep. We have had nothing to eat all night, and are very hungry.’
The shepherd yawned and rubbed his eyes. ‘He is tied up to that tree; go and take him.’ So they went to the tree and unfastened the cord, and turned to go back to the cave where they had slept, dragging the greyhound after them. When they reached the cave the jackal said to the hedgehog.
‘Before I kill him let me see whether he is fat or thin.’ And he stood a little way back, so that he might the better examine the animal. After looking at him, with his head on one side, for a minute or two, he nodded gravely.
‘He is quite fat enough; he is a good sheep.’
But the hedgehog, who sometimes showed more cunning than anyone would have guessed, answered:
‘My friend, you are talking nonsense. The wool is indeed a sheep’s wool, but the paws of my uncle the greyhound peep out from underneath.’
‘He is a sheep,’ repeated the jackal, who did not like to think anyone cleverer than himself.
‘Hold the cord while I look at him,’ answered the hedgehog.
Very unwillingly the jackal held the rope, while the hedgehog walked slowly round the greyhound till he reached the jackal again. He knew quite well by the paws and tail that it was a greyhound and not a sheep, that the shepherd had sold them; and as he could not tell what turn affairs might take, he resolved to get out of the way.
‘Oh! yes, you are right,’ he said to the jackal; ‘but I never can eat till I have first drunk. I will just go and quench my thirst from that spring at the edge of the wood, and then I shall be ready for breakfast.’
‘Don’t be long, then,’ called the jackal, as the hedgehog hurried off at his best pace. And he lay down under a rock to wait for him.
More than an hour passed by and the hedgehog had had plenty of time to go to the spring and back, and still there was no sign of him. And this was very natural, as he had hidden himself in some long grass under a tree!
At length the jackal guessed that for some reason his friend had run away, and determined to wait for his breakfast no longer. So he went up to the place where the greyhound had been tethered and untied the rope. But just as he was about to spring on his back and give him a deadly bite, the jackal heard a low growl, which never proceeded from the throat of any sheep. Like a flash of lightning the jackal threw down the cord and was flying across the plain; but though his legs were long, the greyhound’s legs were longer still, and he soon came up with his prey. The jackal turned to fight, but he was no match for the greyhound, and in a few minutes he was lying dead on the ground, while the greyhound was trotting peacefully back to the shepherd.
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4 | 5 | A tale from Africa folklore titled the-adventures-of-the-younger-son-of-the-jackal | Fairytalez.com»Fairy Blog»Andrew Lang's Fairy Books»The Adventures of the Younger Son of the Jackal
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Now that the father and elder brother were both dead, all that was left of the jackal family was one son, who was no less cunning than the others had been. He did not like staying in the same place any better than they, and nobody ever knew in what part of the country he might be found next.
One day, when we was wandering about he beheld a nice fat sheep, which was cropping the grass and seemed quite contented with her lot.
‘Good morning,’ said the jackal, ‘I am so glad to see you. I have been looking for you everywhere.’
‘For ME?’ answered the sheep, in an astonished voice; ‘but we have never met before!’
‘No; but I have heard of you. Oh! You don’t know what fine things I have heard! Ah, well, some people have all the luck!’
‘You are very kind, I am sure,’ answered the sheep, not knowing which way to look. ‘Is there any way in which I can help you?’
‘There is something that I had set my heart on, though I hardly like to propose it on so short an acquaintance; but from what people have told me, I thought that you and I might keep house together comfortably, if you would only agree to try. I have several fields belonging to me, and if they are kept well watered they bear wonderful crops.’
‘Perhaps I might come for a short time,’ said the sheep, with a little hesitation; ‘and if we do not get on, we can part company.’
‘Oh, thank you, thank you,’ cried the jackal; ‘do not let us lose a moment.’ And he held out his paw in such an inviting manner that the sheep got up and trotted beside him till they reached home.
‘Now,’ said the jackal, ‘you go to the well and fetch the water, and I will pour it into the trenches that run between the patches of corn.’ And as he did so he sang lustily. The work was very hard, but the sheep did not grumble, and by-and-by was rewarded at seeing the little green heads poking themselves through earth. After that the hot sun ripened them quickly, and soon harvest time was come. Then the grain was cut and ground and ready for sale.
When everything was complete, the jackal said to the sheep:
‘Now let us divide it, so that we can each do what we like with his share.’
‘You do it,’ answered the sheep; ‘here are the scales. You must weigh it carefully.’
So the jackal began to weigh it, and when he had finished, he counted out loud:
‘One, two, three, four, five, six, seven parts for the jackal, and one part for the sheep. If she likes it she can take it, if not, she can leave it.’
The sheep looked at the two heaps in silence- -one so large, the other so small; and then she answered:
‘Wait for a minute, while I fetch some sacks to carry away my share.’
But it was not sacks that the sheep wanted; for as soon as the jackal could no longer see her she set forth at her best pace to the home of the greyhound, where she arrived panting with the haste she had made.
‘Oh, good uncle, help me, I pray you!’ she cried, as soon as she could speak.
‘Why, what is the matter?’ asked the greyhound, looking up with astonishment.
‘I beg you to return with me, and frighten the jackal into paying me what he owes me,’ answered the sheep. ‘For months we have lived together, and I have twice every day drawn the water, while he only poured it into the trenches. Together we have reaped our harvest; and now, when the moment to divide our crop has come, he has taken seven parts for himself, and only left one for me.’
She finished, and giving herself a twist, passed her woolly tail across her eyes; while the greyhound watched her, but held his peace. Then he said:
‘Bring me a sack.’ And the sheep hastened away to fetch one. Very soon she returned, and laid the sack down before him.
‘Open it wide, that I may get in,’ cried he; and when he was comfortably rolled up inside he bade the sheep take him on her back, and hasten to the place where she had left the jackal.
She found him waiting for her, and pretending to be asleep, though she clearly saw him wink one of his eyes. However, she took no notice, but throwing the sack roughly on the ground, she exclaimed:
‘Now measure!’
At this the jackal got up, and going to the heap of grain which lay close by, he divided it as before into eight portions–seven for himself and one for the sheep.
‘What are you doing that for?’ asked she indignantly. ‘You know quite well that it was I who drew the water, and you who only poured it into the trenches.’
‘You are mistaken,’ answered the jackal. ‘It was I who drew the water, and you who poured it into the trenches. Anybody will tell you that! If you like, I will ask those people who are digging there!’
‘Very well,’ replied the sheep. And the jackal called out:
‘Ho! You diggers, tell me: Who was it you heard singing over the work?’
‘Why, it was you, of course, jackal! You sang so loud that the whole world might have heard you!’
‘And who it is that sings–he who draws the water, or he who empties it?’
‘Why, certainly he who draws the water!’
‘You hear?’ said the jackal, turning to the sheep. ‘Now come and carry away your own portion, or else I shall take it for myself.’
‘You have got the better of me,’ answered the sheep; ‘and I suppose I must confess myself beaten! But as I bear no malice, go and eat some of the dates that I have brought in that sack.’ And the jackal, who loved dates, ran instantly back, and tore open the mouth of the sack. But just as he was about to plunge his nose in he saw two brown eyes calmly looking at him. In an instant he had let fall the flap of the sack and bounded back to where the sheep was standing.
‘I was only in fun; and you have brought my uncle the greyhound. Take away the sack, we will make the division over again.’ And he began rearranging the heaps.
‘One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, for my mother the sheep, and one for the jackal,’ counted he; casting timid glances all the while at the sack.
‘Now you can take your share and go,’ said the sheep. And the jackal did not need twice telling! Whenever the sheep looked up, she still saw him flying, flying across the plain; and, for all I know, he may be flying across it still.
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5 | 6 | A tale from Africa folklore titled the-ape-the-snake-and-the-lion | Fairytalez.com»Fairy Blog»Zanzibar Tales»The Ape, the Snake, and the Lion
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Long, long ago there lived, in a village called Keejee′jee, a woman whose husband died, leaving her with a little baby boy. She worked hard all day to get food for herself and child, but they lived very poorly and were most of the time half-starved.
When the boy, whose name was ’Mvoo′ Laa′na, began to get big, he said to his mother, one day: “Mother, we are always hungry. What work did my father do to support us?”
His mother replied: “Your father was a hunter. He set traps, and we ate what he caught in them.”
“Oho!” said ’Mvoo Laana; “that’s not work; that’s fun. I, too, will set traps, and see if we can’t get enough to eat.”
The next day he went into the forest and cut branches from the trees, and returned home in the evening.
The second day he spent making the branches into traps.
The third day he twisted cocoanut fiber into ropes.
The fourth day he set up as many traps as time would permit.
The fifth day he set up the remainder of the traps.
The sixth day he went to examine the traps, and they had caught so much game, beside what they needed for themselves, that he took a great quantity to the big town of Oongoo′ja, where he sold it and bought corn and other things, and the house was full of food; and, as this good fortune continued, he and his mother lived very comfortably.
But after a while, when he went to his traps he found nothing in them day after day.
One morning, however, he found that an ape had been caught in one of the traps, and he was about to kill it, when it said: “Son of Adam, I am Neea′nee, the ape; do not kill me. Take me out of this trap and let me go. Save me from the rain, that I may come and save you from the sun some day.”
So ’Mvoo Laana took him out of the trap and let him go.
When Neeanee had climbed up in a tree, he sat on a branch and said to the youth: “For your kindness I will give you a piece of advice: Believe me, men are all bad. Never do a good turn for a man; if you do, he will do you harm at the first opportunity.”
The second day, ’Mvoo Laana found a snake in the same trap. He started to the village to give the alarm, but the snake shouted: “Come back, son of Adam; don’t call the people from the village to come and kill me. I am Neeo′ka, the snake. Let me out of this trap, I pray you. Save me from the rain to-day, that I may be able to save you from the sun to-morrow, if you should be in need of help.”
So the youth let him go; and as he went he said, “I will return your kindness if I can, but do not trust any man; if you do him a kindness he will do you an injury in return at the first opportunity.”
The third day, ’Mvoo Laana found a lion in the same trap that had caught the ape and the snake, and he was afraid to go near it. But the lion said: “Don’t run away; I am Sim′ba Kong′way, the very old lion. Let me out of this trap, and I will not hurt you. Save me from the rain, that I may save you from the sun if you should need help.”
So ’Mvoo Laana believed him and let him out of the trap, and Simba Kongway, before going his way, said: “Son of Adam, you have been kind to me, and I will repay you with kindness if I can; but never do a kindness to a man, or he will pay you back with unkindness.”
The next day a man was caught in the same trap, and when the youth released him, he repeatedly assured him that he would never forget the service he had done him in restoring his liberty and saving his life.
Well, it seemed that he had caught all the game that could be taken in traps, and ’Mvoo Laana and his mother were hungry every day, with nothing to satisfy them, as they had been before. At last he said to his mother, one day: “Mother, make me seven cakes of the little meal we have left, and I will go hunting with my bow and arrows.” So she baked him the cakes, and he took them and his bow and arrows and went into the forest.
The youth walked and walked, but could see no game, and finally he found that he had lost his way, and had eaten all his cakes but one.
And he went on and on, not knowing whether he was going away from his home or toward it, until he came to the wildest and most desolate looking wood he had ever seen. He was so wretched and tired that he felt he must lie down and die, when suddenly he heard some one calling him, and looking up he saw Neeanee, the ape, who said, “Son of Adam, where are you going?”
“I don’t know,” replied ’Mvoo Laana, sadly; “I’m lost.”
“Well, well,” said the ape; “don’t worry. Just sit down here and rest yourself until I come back, and I will repay with kindness the kindness you once showed me.”
Then Neeanee went away off to some gardens and stole a whole lot of ripe paw-paws and bananas, and brought them to ’Mvoo Laana, and said: “Here’s plenty of food for you. Is there anything else you want? Would you like a drink?” And before the youth could answer he ran off with a calabash and brought it back full of water. So the youth ate heartily, and drank all the water he needed, and then each said to the other, “Good-bye, till we meet again,” and went their separate ways.
When ’Mvoo Laana had walked a great deal farther without finding which way he should go, he met Simba Kongway, who asked, “Where are you going, son of Adam?”
And the youth answered, as dolefully as before, “I don’t know; I’m lost.”
“Come, cheer up,” said the very old lion, “and rest yourself here a little. I want to repay with kindness to-day the kindness you showed me on a former day.”
So ’Mvoo Laana sat down. Simba Kongway went away, but soon returned with some game he had caught, and then he brought some fire, and the young man cooked the game and ate it. When he had finished he felt a great deal better, and they bade each other good-bye for the present, and each went his way.
After he had traveled another very long distance the youth came to a farm, and was met by a very, very old woman, who said to him: “Stranger, my husband has been taken very sick, and I am looking for some one to make him some medicine. Won’t you make it?” But he answered: “My good woman, I am not a doctor, I am a hunter, and never used medicine in my life. I can not help you.”
When he came to the road leading to the principal city he saw a well, with a bucket standing near it, and he said to himself: “That’s just what I want. I’ll take a drink of nice well-water. Let me see if the water can be reached.”
As he peeped over the edge of the well, to see if the water was high enough, what should he behold but a great big snake, which, directly it saw him, said, “Son of Adam, wait a moment.” Then it came out of the well and said: “How? Don’t you know me?”
“I certainly do not,” said the youth, stepping back a little.
“Well, well!” said the snake; “I could never forget you. I am Neeoka, whom you released from the trap. You know I said, ‘Save me from the rain, and I will save you from the sun.’ Now, you are a stranger in the town to which you are going; therefore hand me your little bag, and I will place in it the things that will be of use to you when you arrive there.”
So ’Mvoo Laana gave Neeoka the little bag, and he filled it with chains of gold and silver, and told him to use them freely for his own benefit. Then they parted very cordially.
When the youth reached the city, the first man he met was he whom he had released from the trap, who invited him to go home with him, which he did, and the man’s wife made him supper.
As soon as he could get away unobserved, the man went to the sultan and said: “There is a stranger come to my house with a bag full of chains of silver and gold, which he says he got from a snake that lives in a well. But although he pretends to be a man, I know that he is a snake who has power to look like a man.”
When the sultan heard this he sent some soldiers who brought ’Mvoo Laana and his little bag before him. When they opened the little bag, the man who was released from the trap persuaded the people that some evil would come out of it, and affect the children of the sultan and the children of the vizir.
Then the people became excited, and tied the hands of ’Mvoo Laana behind him.
But the great snake had come out of the well and arrived at the town just about this time, and he went and lay at the feet of the man who had said all those bad things about ’Mvoo Laana, and when the people saw this they said to that man: “How is this? There is the great snake that lives in the well, and he stays by you. Tell him to go away.”
But Neeoka would not stir. So they untied the young man’s hands, and tried in every way to make amends for having suspected him of being a wizard.
Then the sultan asked him, “Why should this man invite you to his home and then speak ill of you?”
And ’Mvoo Laana related all that had happened to him, and how the ape, the snake, and the lion had cautioned him about the results of doing any kindness for a man.
And the sultan said: “Although men are often ungrateful, they are not always so; only the bad ones. As for this fellow, he deserves to be put in a sack and drowned in the sea. He was treated kindly, and returned evil for good.”
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6 | 7 | A tale from Africa folklore titled the-adventures-of-the-jackals-eldest-son | Fairytalez.com»Fairy Blog»Andrew Lang's Fairy Books»The Adventures of the Jackal's Eldest Son
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Now, though the jackal was dead, he had left two sons behind him, every whit as cunning and tricky as their father. The elder of the two was a fine handsome creature, who had a pleasant manner and made many friends. The animal he saw most of was a hyena; and one day, when they were taking a walk together, they picked up a beautiful green cloak, which had evidently been dropped by some one riding across the plain on a camel. Of course each wanted to have it, and they almost quarrelled over the matter; but at length it was settled that the hyena should wear the cloak by day and the jackal by night. After a little while, however, the jackal became discontented with this arrangement, declaring that none of his friends, who were quite different from those of the hyena, could see the splendour of the mantle, and that it was only fair that he should sometimes be allowed to wear it by day. To this the hyena would by no means consent, and they were on the eve of a quarrel when the hyena proposed that they should ask the lion to judge between them. The jackal agreed to this, and the hyena wrapped the cloak about him, and they both trotted off to the lion’s den.
The jackal, who was fond of talking, at once told the story; and when it was finished the lion turned to the hyena and asked if it was true.
‘Quite true, your majesty,’ answered the hyena.
‘Then lay the cloak on the ground at my feet,’ said the lion, ‘and I will give my judgment.’ So the mantle was spread upon the red earth, the hyena and the jackal standing on each side of it.
There was silence for a few moments, and then the lion sat up, looking very great and wise.
‘My judgment is that the garment shall belong wholly to whoever first rings the bell of the nearest mosque at dawn to-morrow. Now go; for much business awaits me!’
All that night the hyena sat up, fearing lest the jackal should reach the bell before him, for the mosque was close at hand. With the first streak of dawn he bounded away to the bell, just as the jackal, who had slept soundly all night, was rising to his feet.
‘Good luck to you,’ cried the jackal. And throwing the cloak over his back he darted away across the plain, and was seen no more by his friend the hyena.
After running several miles the jackal thought he was safe from pursuit, and seeing a lion and another hyena talking together, he strolled up to join them.
‘Good morning,’ he said; ‘may I ask what is the matter? You seem very serious about something.’
‘Pray sit down,’ answered the lion. ‘We were wondering in which direction we should go to find the best dinner. The hyena wishes to go to the forest, and I to the mountains. What do you say?’
‘Well, as I was sauntering over the plain, just now, I noticed a flock of sheep grazing, and some of them had wandered into a little valley quite out of sight of the shepherd. If you keep among the rocks you will never be observed. But perhaps you will allow me to go with you and show you the way?’
‘You are really very kind,’ answered the lion. And they crept steadily along till at length they reached the mouth of the valley where a ram, a sheep and a lamb were feeding on the rich grass, unconscious of their danger.
‘How shall we divide them?’ asked the lion in a whisper to the hyena.
‘Oh, it is easily done,’ replied the hyena. ‘The lamb for me, the sheep for the jackal, and the ram for the lion.’
‘So I am to have that lean creature, which is nothing but horns, am I?’ cried the lion in a rage. ‘I will teach you to divide things in that manner!’ And he gave the hyena two great blows, which stretched him dead in a moment. Then he turned to the jackal and said: ‘How would you divide them?’
‘Quite differently from the hyena,’ replied the jackal. ‘You will breakfast off the lamb, you will dine off the sheep, and you will sup off the ram.’
‘Dear me, how clever you are! Who taught you such wisdom?’ exclaimed the lion, looking at him admiringly.
‘The fate of the hyena,’ answered the jackal, laughing, and running off at his best speed; for he saw two men armed with spears coming close behind the lion!
The jackal continued to run till at last he could run no longer. He flung himself under a tree panting for breath, when he heard a rustle amongst the grass, and his father’s old friend the hedgehog appeared before him.
‘Oh, is it you?’ asked the little creature; ‘how strange that we should meet so far from home!’
‘I have just had a narrow escape of my life,’ gasped the jackal, ‘and I need some sleep. After that we must think of something to do to amuse ourselves.’ And he lay down again and slept soundly for a couple of hours.
‘Now I am ready,’ said he; ‘have you anything to propose?’
‘In a valley beyond those trees,’ answered the hedgehog, ‘there is a small farmhouse where the best butter in the world is made. I know their ways, and in an hour’s time the farmer’s wife will be off to milk the cows, which she keeps at some distance. We could easily get in at the window of the shed where she keeps the butter, and I will watch, lest some one should come unexpectedly, while you have a good meal. Then you shall watch, and I will eat.’
‘That sounds a good plan,’ replied the jackal; and they set off together.
But when they reached the farmhouse the jackal said to the hedgehog: ‘Go in and fetch the pots of butter and I will hide them in a safe place.’
‘Oh no,’ cried the hedgehog, ‘I really couldn’t. They would find out directly! And, besides, it is so different just eating a little now and then.’
‘Do as I bid you at once,’ said the jackal, looking at the hedgehog so sternly that the little fellow dared say no more, and soon rolled the jars to the window where the jackal lifted them out one by one.
When they were all in a row before him he gave a sudden start.
‘Run for your life,’ he whispered to his companion; ‘I see the woman coming over the hill!’ And the hedgehog, his heart beating, set off as fast as he could. The jackal remained where he was, shaking with laughter, for the woman was not in sight at all, and he had only sent the hedgehog away because he did not want him to know where the jars of butter were buried. But every day he stole out to their hiding-place and had a delicious feast.
At length, one morning, the hedgehog suddenly said:
‘You never told me what you did with those jars?’
‘Oh, I hid them safely till the farm people should have forgotten all about them,’ replied the jackal. ‘But as they are still searching for them we must wait a little longer, and then I’ll bring them home, and we will share them between us.’
So the hedgehog waited and waited; but every time he asked if there was no chance of getting jars of butter the jackal put him off with some excuse. After a while the hedgehog became suspicious, and said:
‘I should like to know where you have hidden them. To-night, when it is quite dark, you shall show me the place.’
‘I really can’t tell you,’ answered the jackal. ‘You talk so much that you would be sure to confide the secret to somebody, and then we should have had our trouble for nothing, besides running the risk of our necks being broken by the farmer. I can see that he is getting disheartened, and very soon he will give up the search. Have patience just a little longer.’
The hedgehop said no more, and pretended to be satisfied; but when some days had gone by he woke the jackal, who was sleeping soundly after a hunt which had lasted several hours.
‘I have just had notice,’ remarked the hedgehog, shaking him, ‘that my family wish to have a banquet to-morrow, and they have invited you to it. Will you come?’
‘Certainly,’ answered the jackal, ‘with pleasure. But as I have to go out in the morning you can meet me on the road.’
‘That will do very well,’ replied the hedgehog. And the jackal went to sleep again, for he was obliged to be up early.
Punctual to the moment the hedgehog arrived at the place appointed for their meeting, and as the jackal was not there he sat down and waited for him.
‘Ah, there you are!’ he cried, when the dusky yellow form at last turned the corner. ‘I had nearly given you up! Indeed, I almost wish you had not come, for I hardly know where I shall hide you.’
‘Why should you hide me anywhere?’ asked the jackal. ‘What is the matter with you?’
‘Well, so many of the guests have brought their dogs and mules with them, that I fear it may hardly be safe for you to go amongst them. No; don’t run off that way,’ he added quickly, ‘because there is another troop that are coming over the hill. Lie down here, and I will throw these sacks over you; and keep still for your life, whatever happens.’
And what did happen was, that when the jackal was lying covered up, under a little hill, the hedgehog set a great stone rolling, which crushed him to death.
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7 | 8 | A tale from Africa folklore titled the-clever-cat | Fairytalez.com»Fairy Blog»Andrew Lang's Fairy Books»The Clever Cat
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Once upon a time there was an old man who lived with his son in a small hut on the edge of the plain. He was very old, and had worked very hard, and when at last he was struck down by illness he felt that he should never rise from his bed again.
So, one day, he asked his wife summon their son, when he came back from his journey to the nearest town, where he had been to buy bread.
‘Come close, my son,’ said he; ‘I know myself well to be dying, and I have nothing to leave you but my falcon, my cat and my greyhound; but if you make good use of them you will never lack food. Be good to your mother, as you have been to me. And now farewell!’
Then he turned his face to the wall and died.
There was great mourning in the hut for many days, but at length the son rose up, and calling to his greyhound, his cat and his falcon, he left the house saying that he would bring back something for dinner. Wandering over the plain, he noticed a troop of gazelles, and pointed to his greyhound to give chase. The dog soon brought down a fine fat beast, and slinging it over his shoulders, the young man turned homewards. On the way, however, he passed a pond, and as he approached a cloud of birds flew into the air. Shaking his wrist, the falcon seated on it darted into the air, and swooped down upon the quarry he had marked, which fell dead to the ground. The young man picked it up, and put it in his pouch and then went towards home again.
Near the hut was a small barn in which he kept a little patch of corn, which grew close to the garden. Here a rat ran out almost under his feet, followed by another and another; but quick as thought the cat was upon them and not one escaped her.
When all the rats were killed, the young man left the barn. He took the path leading to the door of the hut, but stopped on feeling a hand laid on his shoulder.
‘Young man,’ said the ogre (for this was the stranger), ‘you have been a good son, and you deserve the piece of luck which has fallen on you this day. Come with me to that shining lake, and fear nothing.’
Wondering a little at what might be going to happen to him, the youth did as the ogre bade him, and when they reached the shore of the lake, the ogre turned and said to him:
‘Step into the water and shut your eyes! You will find yourself sinking slowly to the bottom; but take courage, all will go well. Only bring up as much silver as you can carry, and we will divide it between us.’
So the young man stepped bravely into the lake, and felt himself sinking, sinking, till he reached firm ground at last. In front of him lay four heaps of silver, and in the middle of them a curious white shining stone, marked over with strange characters, such as he had never seen before. He picked it up in order to examine it more closely, and as he held it the stone spoke.
‘As long as you hold me, all your wishes will come true,’ it said. ‘But hide me in your turban, and then call to the ogre that you are ready to come up.’
In a few minutes the young man stood again by the shores of the lake.
‘Well, where is the silver?’ asked the ogre, who was awaiting him.
‘Ah, my father, how can I tell you! So bewildered was I, and so dazzled with the splendours of everything I saw, that I stood like a statue, unable to move. Then hearing steps approaching I got frightened, and called to you, as you know.’
‘You are no better than the rest,’ cried the ogre, and turned away in a rage.
When he was out of sight the young man took the stone from his turban and looked at it. ‘I want the finest camel that can be found, and the most splendid garments,’ said he.
‘Shut your eyes then,’ replied the stone. And he shut them; and when he opened them again the camel that he had wished for was standing before him, while the festival robes of a desert prince hung from his shoulders. Mounting the camel, he whistled the falcon to his wrist, and, followed by his greyhound and his cat, he started homewards.
His mother was sewing at her door when this magnificent stranger rode up, and, filled with surprise, she bowed low before him.
‘Don’t you know me, mother?’ he said with a laugh. And on hearing his voice the good woman nearly fell to the ground with astonishment.
‘How have you got that camel and those clothes?’ asked she. ‘Can a son of mine have committed murder in order to possess them?’
‘Do not be afraid; they are quite honestly come by,’ answered the youth. ‘I will explain all by-and-by; but now you must go to the palace and tell the king I wish to marry his daughter.’
At these words the mother thought her son had certainly gone mad, and stared blankly at him. The young man guessed what was in her heart, and replied with a smile:
‘Fear nothing. Promise all that he asks; it will be fulfilled somehow.’
So she went to the palace, where she found the king sitting in the Hall of Justice listening to the requests of his people. The woman waited until all had been heard and the hall was empty, and then went up and knelt before the throne.
‘My son has sent me to ask for the hand of the princess,’ said she.
The king looked at her and thought that she was mad; but, instead of ordering his guards to turn her out, he answered gravely:
‘Before he can marry the princess he must build me a palace of ice, which can be warmed with fires, and where the rarest singing- birds can live!’
‘It shall be done, your Majesty,’ said she, and got up and left the hall.
Her son was anxiously awaiting her outside the palace gates, dressed in the clothes that he wore every day.
‘Well, what have I got to do?’ he asked impatiently, drawing his mother aside so that no one could overhear them.
‘Oh, something quite impossible; and I hope you will put the princess out of your head,’ she replied.
‘Well, but what is it?’ persisted he.
‘Nothing but build a palace of ice wherein fires can burn that shall keep it so warm that the most delicate singing-birds can live in it!’
‘I thought it would be something much harder than that,’ exclaimed the young man. ‘I will see about it at once.’ And leaving his mother, he went into the country and took the stone from his turban.
‘I want a palace of ice that can be warmed with fires and filled with the rarest singing-birds!’
‘Shut your eyes, then,’ said the stone; and he shut them, and when he opened them again there was the palace, more beautiful than anything he could have imagined, the fires throwing a soft pink glow over the ice.
‘It is fit even for the princess,’ thought he to himself.
As soon as the king awoke next morning he ran to the window, and there across the plain he beheld the palace.
‘That young man must be a great wizard; he may be useful to me.’ And when the mother came again to tell him that his orders had been fulfilled he received her with great honour, and told her to tell her son that the wedding was fixed for the following day.
The princess was delighted with her new home, and with her husband also; and several days slipped happily by, spent in discovering all the beautiful things that the palace contained. But at length the young man grew tired of always staying inside walls, and he told his wife that the next day he must leave her for a few hours, and go out hunting. ‘You will not mind?’ he asked. And she answered as became a good wife:
‘Yes, of course I shall mind; but I will spend the day in planning out some new dresses; and then it will be so delightful when you come back, you know!’
So the husband went off to hunt, with the falcon on his wrist, and the greyhound and the cat behind him–for the palace was so warm that even the cat did not mind living in it.
No sooner had he gone, than the ogre who had been watching his chance for many days, knocked at the door of the palace.
‘I have just returned from a far country,’ he said, ‘and I have some of the largest and most brilliant stones in the world with me. The princess is known to love beautiful things, perhaps she might like to buy some?’
Now the princess had been wondering for many days what trimming she should put on her dresses, so that they should outshine the dresses of the other ladies at the court balls. Nothing that she thought of seemed good enough, so, when the message was brought that the ogre and his wares were below, she at once ordered that he should be brought to her chamber.
Oh! what beautiful stones he laid before her; what lovely rubies, and what rare pearls! No other lady would have jewels like those–of that the princess was quite sure; but she cast down her eyes so that the ogre might not see how much she longed for them.
‘I fear they are too costly for me,’ she said carelessly; ‘and besides, I have hardly need of any more jewels just now.’
‘I have no particular wish to sell them myself,’ answered the ogre, with equal indifference. ‘But I have a necklace of shining stones which was left me by father, and one, the largest engraved with weird characters, is missing. I have heard that it is in your husband’s possession, and if you can get me that stone you shall have any of these jewels that you choose. But you will have to pretend that you want it for yourself; and, above all, do not mention me, for he sets great store by it, and would never part with it to a stranger! Tomorrow I will return with some jewels yet finer than those I have with me today. So, madam, farewell!’
Left alone, the princess began to think of many things, but chiefly as to whether she would persuade her husband to give her the stone or not. At one moment she felt he had already given so much to her that it was a shame to ask for the only object he had kept back. No, it would be mean; she could not do it! But then, those diamonds, and those string of pearls! After all, they had only been married a week, and the pleasure of giving it to her ought to be far greater than the pleasure of keeping it for himself. And she was sure it would be!
Well, that evening, when the young man had eaten his favourite dishes which the princess took care to have specially prepared for him, she sat down close beside him, and began stroking his head. For some time she did not speak, but listened attentively to all the adventures that had befallen him that day.
‘But I was thinking of you all the time,’ said he at the end, ‘and wishing that I could bring you back something you would like. But, alas! what is there that you do not possess already?’
‘How good of you not to forget me when you are in the midst of such dangers and hardships,’ answered she. ‘Yes, it is true I have many beautiful things; but if you want to give me a present–and tomorrow is my birthday–there IS one thing that I wish for very much.’
‘And what is that? Of course you shall have it directly!’ he asked eagerly.
‘It is that bright stone which fell out of the folds of your turban a few days ago,’ she answered, playing with his finger; ‘the little stone with all those funny marks upon it. I never saw any stone like it before.’
The young man did not answer at first; then he said, slowly:
‘I have promised, and therefore I must perform. But will you swear never to part from it, and to keep it safely about you always? More I cannot tell you, but I beg you earnestly to listen to this.’
The princess was a little startled by his manner, and began to be sorry that she had ever listened to the ogre. But she did not like to draw back, and pretended to be immensely delighted at her new toy, and kissed and thanked her husband for it.
‘After all I needn’t give it to the ogre,’ thought she as she dropped off to sleep.
Unluckily the next morning the young man went hunting again, and the ogre, who was watching, knew this, and did not come till much later than before. At the moment that he knocked at the door of the palace the princess had tired of all her employments, and her attendants were at their wits’ end how to amuse her, when a tall page dressed in scarlet came to announce that the ogre was below, and desired to know if the princess would speak to him.
‘Bring him forth at once!’ cried she, springing up from her cushions, and forgetting all her resolves of the previous night. In another moment she was bending with rapture over the glittering gems.
‘Have you got it?’ asked the ogre in a whisper, for the princess’s ladies were standing as near as they dared to catch a glimpse of the beautiful jewels.
‘Yes, here,’ she answered, slipping the stone from her sash and placing it among the rest. Then she raised her voice, and began to talk quickly of the prices of the chains and necklaces, and after some bargaining, to deceive the attendants, she declared that she liked one string of pearls better than all the rest, and that the ogre might take away the other things, which were not half as valuable as he supposed.
‘As you please, madam,’ said he, bowing himself out of the palace.
Soon after he had gone a curious thing happened. The princess carelessly touched the wall of her room, which was often to reflect the warm red light of the fire on the hearth, and found her hand quite wet. She turned round, and–was it her fancy? or did the fire burn more dimly than before? Hurriedly she passed into the picture gallery, where pools of water showed here and there on the floor, and a cold chill ran through her whole body. At that instant her frightened ladies came running down the stairs, crying:
‘Madam! madam! what has happened? The palace is disappearing under our eyes!’
‘My husband will be home very soon,’ answered the princess–who, though nearly as much frightened as her ladies, felt that she must set them a good example. ‘Wait till then, and he will tell us what to do.’
So they waited, seated on the highest chairs they could find, wrapped in their warmest garments, and with piles of cushions under their feet, while the poor birds flew with numbed wings hither and thither, till they were so lucky as to discover an open window in some forgotten corner. Through this they vanished, and were seen no more.
At last, when the princess and her ladies had been forced to leave the upper rooms, where the walls and floors had melted away, and to take refuge in the hall, the young man came home. He had ridden back along a winding road from which he did not see the palace till he was close upon it, and stood horrified at the spectacle before him. He knew in an instant that his wife must have betrayed his trust, but he would not fight her, as she must be suffering enough already. Hurrying on he sprang over all that was left of the palace walls, and the princess gave a cry of relief at the sight of him.
‘Come quickly,’ he said, ‘or you will be frozen to death!’ And a dreary little procession set out for the king’s palace, the greyhound and the cat bringing up the rear.
At the gates he left them, though his wife besought him to allow her to enter.
‘You have betrayed me and ruined me,’ he said sternly; ‘I go to seek my fortune alone.’ And without another word he turned and left her.
With his falcon on his wrist, and his greyhound and cat behind him, the young man walked a long way, inquiring of everyone he met whether they had seen his enemy the ogre. But nobody had. Then he bade his falcon fly up into the sky–up, up, and up–and try if his sharp eyes could discover the old thief. The bird had to go so high that he did not return for some hours; but he told his master that the ogre was lying asleep in a splendid palace in a far country on the shores of the sea. This was delightful news to the young man, who instantly bought some meat for the falcon, bidding him to have a good meal.
‘Tomorrow,’ said he, ‘you will fly to the palace where the ogre lies, and while he is asleep you will search all about him for a stone on which is engraved strange signs; this you will bring to me. In three days I shall expect you back here.’
‘Well, I must take the cat with me,’ answered the bird.
The sun had not yet risen before the falcon soared high into the air, the cat seated on his back, with his paws tightly clasping the bird’s neck.
‘You had better shut your eyes or you may get dizzy,’ said the bird; and the cat, you had never before been off the ground except to climb a tree, did as she was bid.
All that day and all that night they flew, and in the morning they saw the ogre’s palace lying beneath them.
‘Dear me,’ said the cat, opening her eyes for the first time, ‘that looks to me very like a rat city down there, let us go down to it; they may be able to help us.’ So they alighted in some bushes in the heart of the rat city. The falcon remained where he was, but the cat lay down outside the principal gate, causing terrible excitement among the rats.
At length, seeing she did not move, one bolder than the rest put its head out of an upper window of the castle, and said, in a trembling voice:
‘Why have you come here? What do you want? If it is anything in our power, tell us, and we will do it.’
‘If you would have let me speak to you before, I would have told you that I come as a friend,’ replied the cat; ‘and I shall be greatly obliged if you would send four of the strongest and cleverest among you, to do me a service.’
‘Oh, we shall be delighted,’ answered the rat, much relieved. ‘But if you will inform me what it is you wish them to do I shall be better able to judge who is most fitted for the post.’
‘I thank you,’ said the cat. ‘Well, what they have to do is this: Tonight they must burrow under the walls of the castle and go up to the room were an ogre lies asleep. Somewhere about him he has hidden a stone, on which are engraved strange signs. When they have found it they must take it from him without his waking, and bring it to me.’
‘Your orders shall be obeyed,’ replied the rat. And he went out to give his instructions.
About midnight the cat, who was still sleeping before the gate, was awakened by some water flung at her by the head rat, who could not make up his mind to open the doors.
‘Here is the stone you wanted,’ said he, when the cat started up with a loud mew; ‘if you will hold up your paws I will drop it down.’ And so he did. ‘And now farewell,’ continued the rat; ‘you have a long way to go, and will do well to start before daybreak.’
‘Your counsel is good,’ replied the cat, smiling to itself; and putting the stone in her mouth she went off to seek the falcon.
Now all this time neither the cat nor the falcon had had any food, and the falcon soon got tired carrying such a heavy burden. When night arrived he declared he could go no further, but would spend it on the banks of a river.
‘And it is my turn to take care of the stone,’ said he, ‘or it will seem as if you had done everything and I nothing.’
‘No, I got it, and I will keep it,’ answered the cat, who was tired and cross; and they began a fine quarrel. But, unluckily, in the midst of it, the cat raised her voice, and the stone fell into the ear of a big fish which happened to be swimming by, and though both the cat and the falcon sprang into the water after it, they were too late.
Half drowned, and more than half choked, the two faithful servants scrambled back to land again. The falcon flew to a tree and spread his wings in the sun to dry, but the cat, after giving herself a good shake, began to scratch up the sandy banks and to throw the bits into the stream.
‘What are you doing that for?’ asked a little fish. ‘Do you know that you are making the water quite muddy?’
‘That doesn’t matter at all to me,’ answered the cat. ‘I am going to fill up all the river, so that the fishes may die.’
‘That is very unkind, as we have never done you any harm,’ replied the fish. ‘Why are you so angry with us?’
‘Because one of you has got a stone of mine– a stone with strange signs upon it–which dropped into the water. If you will promise to get it back for me, why, perhaps I will leave your river alone.’
‘I will certainly try,’ answered the fish in a great hurry; ‘but you must have a little patience, as it may not be an easy task.’ And in an instant his scales might be seen flashing quickly along.
The fish swam as fast as he could to the sea, which was not far distant, and calling together all his relations who lived in the neighbourhood, he told them of the terrible danger which threatened the dwellers in the river.
‘None of us has got it,’ said the fishes, shaking their heads; ‘but in the bay yonder there is a tuna who, although he is so old, always goes everywhere. He will be able to tell you about it, if anyone can.’ So the little fish swam off to the tuna, and again related his story.
‘Why I was up that river only a few hours ago!’ cried the tuna; ‘and as I was coming back something fell into my ear, and there it is still, for I went to sleep, when I got home and forgot all about it. Perhaps it may be what you want.’ And stretching up his tail he whisked out the stone.
‘Yes, I think that must be it,’ said the fish with joy. And taking the stone in his mouth he carried it to the place where the cat was waiting for him.
‘I am much obliged to you,’ said the cat, as the fish laid the stone on the sand, ‘and to reward you, I will let your river alone.’ And she mounted the falcon’s back, and they flew to their master.
Ah, how glad he was to see them again with the magic stone in their possession. In a moment he had wished for a palace, but this time it was of green marble; and then he wished for the princess and her ladies to occupy it. And there they lived for many years, and when the old king died the princess’s husband reigned in his stead.
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8 | 9 | A tale from Africa folklore titled daughter-buk-ettemsuch | Fairytalez.com»Fairy Blog»Andrew Lang's Fairy Books»Daughter of Buk Ettemsuch
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Once upon a time there lived a man who had seven daughters. For a long time they dwelt quite happily at home together, then one morning the father called them all before him and said:
‘Your mother and I are going on a journey, and as we do not know how long we may be away, you will find enough provisions in the house to last you three years. But see you do not open the door to anyone till we come home again.’
‘Very well, dear father,’ replied the girls.
For two years they never left the house or unlocked the door; but one day, when they had washed their clothes, and were spreading them out on the roof to dry, the girls looked down into the street where people were walking to and fro, and across to the market, with its stalls of fresh meat, vegetables, and other nice things.
‘Come here,’ cried one. ‘It makes me quite hungry! Why should not we have our share? Let one of us go to the market, and buy meat and vegetables.’
‘Oh, we mustn’t do that!’ said the youngest. ‘You know our father forbade us to open the door till he came home again.’
Then the eldest sister sprang at her and struck her, the second spit at her, the third abused her, the fourth pushed her, the fifth flung her to the ground, and the sixth tore her clothes. Then they left her lying on the floor, and went out with a basket.
In about an hour they came back with the basket full of meat and vegetables, which they put in a pot, and set on the fire, quite forgetting that the house door stood wide open. The youngest sister, however, took no part in all this, and when dinner was ready and the table laid, she stole softly out to the entrance hall, and hid herself behind a great cask which stood in one corner.
Now, while the other sisters were enjoying their feast, a witch passed by, and catching sight of the open door, she walked in. She went up to the eldest girl, and said: ‘Where shall I begin on you, you fat bolster?’
‘You must begin,’ answered she, ‘with the hand which struck my little sister.’
So the witch gobbled her up, and when the last scrap had disappeared, she came to the second and asked: ‘Where shall I begin on you, my fat bolster?’
And the second answered, ‘You must begin on my mouth, which spat on my sister.’
And so on to the rest; and very soon the whole six had disappeared. And as the witch was eating the last mouthful of the last sister, the youngest, who had been crouching, frozen with horror, behind the barrel, ran out through the open door into the street. Without looking behind her, she hastened on and on, as fast as her feet would carry her, till she saw an ogre’s castle standing in front of her. In a corner near the door she spied a large pot, and she crept softly up to it and pulled the cover over it, and went to sleep.
By-and-by the ogre came home. ‘Fee, Fo, Fum,’ cried he, ‘I smell the smell of a man. What ill fate has brought him here?’ And he looked through all the rooms, and found nobody. ‘Where are you?’ he called. ‘Do not be afraid, I will do you no harm.’
But the girl was still silent.
‘Come out, I tell you,’ repeated the ogre. ‘Your life is quite safe. If you are an old man, you shall be my father. If you are a boy, you shall be my son. If your years are as many as mine, you shall be my brother. If you are an old woman, you shall be my mother. If you are a young one, you shall be my daughter. If you are middle-aged, you shall be my wife. So come out, and fear nothing.’
Then the maiden came out of her hiding-place, and stood before him.
‘Fear nothing,’ said the ogre again; and when he went away to hunt he left her to look after the house. In the evening he returned, bringing with him hares, partridges, and gazelles, for the girl’s supper; for himself he only cared for the flesh of men, which she cooked for him. He also gave into her charge the keys of six rooms, but the key of the seventh he kept himself.
And time passed on, and the girl and the ogre still lived together.
She called him ‘Father,’ and he called her ‘Daughter,’ and never once did he speak roughly to her.
One day the maiden said to him, ‘Father, give me the key of the upper chamber.’
‘No, my daughter,’ replied the ogre. ‘There is nothing there that is any use to you.’
‘But I want the key,’ she repeated again.
However the ogre took no notice, and pretended not to hear. The girl began to cry, and said to herself: ‘To-night, when he thinks I am asleep, I will watch and see where he hides it;’ and after she and the ogre had supped, she bade him good-night, and left the room. In a few minutes she stole quietly back, and watched from behind a curtain. In a little while she saw the ogre take the key from his pocket, and hide it in a hole in the ground before he went to bed. And when all was still she took out the key, and went back to the house.
The next morning the ogre awoke with the first ray of light, and the first thing he did was to look for the key. It was gone, and he guessed at once what had become of it.
But instead of getting into a great rage, as most ogres would have done, he said to himself, ‘If I wake the maiden up I shall only frighten her. For to-day she shall keep the key, and when I return to-night it will be time enough to take it from her.’ So he went off to hunt.
The moment he was safe out of the way, the girl ran upstairs and opened the door of the room, which was quite bare. The one window was closed, and she threw back the lattice and looked out. Beneath lay a garden which belonged to the prince, and in the garden was an ox, who was drawing up water from the well all by himself—for there was nobody to be seen anywhere. The ox raised his head at the noise the girl made in opening the lattice, and said to her, ‘Good morning, O daughter of Buk Ettemsuch! Your father is feeding you up till you are nice and fat, and then he will put you on a spit and cook you.’
These words so frightened the maiden that she burst into tears and ran out of the room. All day she wept, and when the ogre came home at night, no supper was ready for him.
‘What are you crying for?’ said he. ‘Where is my supper, and is it you who have opened the upper chamber?’
‘Yes, I opened it,’ answered she.
‘And what did the ox say to you?’
‘He said, “Good morning, O daughter of Buk Ettemsuch. Your father is feeding you up till you are nice and fat, and then he will put you on a spit and cook you.”’
‘Well, to-morrow you can go to the window and say, “My father is feeding me up till I am nice and fat, but he does not mean to eat me. If I had one of your eyes I would use it for a mirror, and look at myself before and behind; and your girths should be loosened, and you should be blind—seven days and seven nights.”’
‘All right,’ replied the girl, and the next morning, when the ox spoke to her, she answered him as she had been told, and he fell down straight upon the ground, and lay there seven days and seven nights. But the flowers in the garden withered, for there was no one to water them.
When the prince came into his garden he found nothing but yellow stalks; in the midst of them the ox was lying. With a blow from his sword he killed the animal, and, turning to his attendants, he said, ‘Go and fetch another ox!’ And they brought in a great beast, and he drew the water out of the well, and the flowers revived, and the grass grew green again. Then the prince called his attendants and went away.
The next morning the girl heard the noise of the waterwheel, and she opened the lattice and looked out of the window.
‘Good morning, O daughter of Buk Ettemsuch!’ said the new ox. ‘Your father is feeding you up till you are nice and fat, and then he will put you on a spit and cook you.’
And the maiden answered: ‘My father is feeding me up till I am nice and fat, but he does not mean to eat me. If I had one of your eyes I would use it for a mirror, and look at myself before and behind; and your girths should be loosened, and you should be blind—seven days and seven nights.’
Directly she uttered these words the ox fell to the ground and lay there, seven days and seven nights. Then he arose and began to draw the water from the well. He had only turned the wheel once or twice, when the prince took it into his head to visit his garden and see how the new ox was getting on. When he entered the ox was working busily; but in spite of that the flowers and grass were dried up. And the prince drew his sword, and rushed at the ox to slay him, as he had done the other. But the ox fell on his knees and said:
‘My lord, only spare my life, and let me tell you how it happened.’
‘How what happened?’ asked the prince.
‘My lord, a girl looked out of that window and spoke a few words to me, and I fell to the ground. For seven days and seven nights I lay there, unable to move. But, O my lord, it is not given to us twice to behold beauty such as hers.’
‘It is a lie,’ said the prince. ‘An ogre dwells there. Is it likely that he keeps a maiden in his upper chamber?’
‘Why not?’ replied the ox. ‘But if you come here at dawn to-morrow, and hide behind that tree, you will see for yourself.’
‘So I will,’ said the prince; ‘and if I find that you have not spoken truth, I will kill you.’
The prince left the garden, and the ox went on with his work. Next morning the prince came early to the garden, and found the ox busy with the waterwheel.
‘Has the girl appeared yet?’ he asked.
‘Not yet; but she will not be long. Hide yourself in the branches of that tree, and you will soon see her.’
The prince did as he was told, and scarcely was he seated when the maiden threw open the lattice.
‘Good morning, O daughter of Buk Ettemsuch!’ said the ox. ‘Your father is feeding you up till you are nice and fat, and then he will put you on a spit and cook you.’
‘My father is feeding me up till I am nice and fat, but he does not mean to eat me. If I had one of your eyes I would use it for a mirror, and look at myself before and behind; and your girths should be loosened, and you should be blind—seven days and seven nights.’ And hardly had she spoken when the ox fell on the ground, and the maiden shut the lattice and went away. But the prince knew that what the ox had said was true, and that she had not her equal in the whole world. And he came down from the tree, his heart burning with love.
‘Why has the ogre not eaten her?’ thought he. ‘This night I will invite him to supper in my palace and question him about the maiden, and find out if she is his wife.’
So the prince ordered a great ox to be slain and roasted whole, and two huge tanks to be made, one filled with water and the other with wine. And towards evening he called his attendants and went to the ogre’s house to wait in the courtyard till he came back from hunting. The ogre was surprised to see so many people assembled in front of his house; but he bowed politely and said, ‘Good morning, dear neighbours! To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit? I have not offended you, I hope?’
‘Oh, certainly not!’ answered the prince.
‘Then,’ continued the ogre, ‘What has brought you to my house to-day for the first time?’
‘We should like to have supper with you,’ said the prince.
‘Well, supper is ready, and you are welcome,’ replied the ogre, leading the way into the house, for he had had a good day, and there was plenty of game in the bag over his shoulder.
A table was quickly prepared, and the prince had already taken his place, when he suddenly exclaimed, ‘After all, Buk Ettemsuch, suppose you come to supper with me?’
‘Where?’ asked the ogre.
‘In my house. I know it is all ready.’
‘But it is so far off—why not stay here?’
‘Oh, I will come another day; but this evening I must be your host.’
So the ogre accompanied the prince and his attendants back to the palace. After a while the prince turned to the ogre and said:
‘It is as a wooer that I appear before you. I seek a wife from an honourable family.’
‘But I have no daughter,’ replied the ogre.
‘Oh, yes you have, I saw her at the window.’
‘Well, you can marry her if you wish,’ said he.
So the prince’s heart was glad as he and his attendants rode back with the ogre to his house. And as they parted, the prince said to his guest, ‘You will not forget the bargain we have made?’
‘I am not a young man, and never break my promises,’ said the ogre, and went in and shut the door.
Upstairs he found the maiden, waiting till he returned to have her supper, for she did not like eating by herself.
‘I have had my supper,’ said the ogre, ‘for I have been spending the evening with the prince.’
‘Where did you meet him?’ asked the girl.
‘Oh, we are neighbours, and grew up together, and to-night I promised that you should be his wife.’
‘I don’t want to be any man’s wife,’ answered she; but this was only pretence, for her heart too was glad.
Next morning early came the prince, bringing with him bridal gifts, and splendid wedding garments, to carry the maiden back to his palace.
But before he let her go the ogre called her to him, and said, ‘Be careful, girl, never to speak to the prince; and when he speaks to you, you must be dumb, unless he swears “by the head of Buk Ettemsuch.” Then you may speak.’
‘Very well,’ answered the girl.
They set out; and when they reached the palace, the prince led his bride to the room he had prepared for her, and said ‘Speak to me, my wife,’ but she was silent; and by-and-by he left her, thinking that perhaps she was shy. The next day the same thing happened, and the next.
At last he said, ‘Well, if you won’t speak, I shall go and get another wife who will.’ And he did.
Now when the new wife was brought to the palace the daughter of Buk Ettemsuch rose, and spoke to the ladies who had come to attend on the second bride. ‘Go and sit down. I will make ready the feast.’ And the ladies sat down as they were told, and waited.
The maiden sat down too, and called out, ‘Come here, firewood,’ and the firewood came. ‘Come here, fire,’ and the fire came and kindled the wood. ‘Come here, pot.’ ‘Come here, oil;’ and the pot and the oil came. ‘Get into the pot, oil!’ said she, and the oil did it. When the oil was boiling, the maiden dipped all her fingers in it, and they became ten fried fishes. ‘Come here, oven,’ she cried next, and the oven came. ‘Fire, heat the oven.’ And the fire heated it. When it was hot enough, the maiden jumped in, just as she was, with her beautiful silver and gold dress, and all her jewels. In a minute or two she had turned into a snow-white loaf, that made your mouth water.
Said the loaf to the ladies, ‘You can eat now; do not stand so far off;’ but they only stared at each other, speechless with surprise.
‘What are you staring at?’ asked the new bride.
‘At all these wonders,’ replied the ladies.
‘Do you call these wonders?’ said she scornfully; ‘I can do that too,’ and she jumped straight into the oven, and was burnt up in a moment.
Then they ran to the prince and said: ‘Come quickly, your wife is dead!’
‘Bury her, then!’ returned he. ‘But why did she do it? I am sure I said nothing to make her throw herself into the oven.’
Accordingly the burnt woman was buried, but the prince would not go to the funeral as all his thoughts were still with the wife who would not speak to him. The next night he said to her, ‘Dear wife, are you afraid that something dreadful will happen if you speak to me? If you still persist in being dumb, I shall be forced to get another wife.’ The poor girl longed to speak, but dread of the ogre kept her silent, and the prince did as he had said, and brought a fresh bride into the palace. And when she and her ladies were seated in state, the maiden planted a sharp stake in the ground, and sat herself down comfortably on it, and began to spin.
‘What are you staring at so?’ said the new bride to her ladies. ‘Do you think that is anything wonderful? Why, I can do as much myself!’
‘I am sure you can’t,’ said they, much too surprised to be polite.
Then the maid sprang off the stake and left the room, and instantly the new wife took her place. But the sharp stake ran through, and she was dead in a moment. So they sent to the prince and said, ‘Come quickly, and bury your wife.’
‘Bury her yourselves,’ he answered. ‘What did she do it for? It was not by my orders that she impaled herself on the stake.’
So they buried her; and in the evening the prince came to the daughter of Buk Ettemsuch, and said to her, ‘Speak to me, or I shall have to take another wife.’ But she was afraid to speak to him.
The following day the prince hid himself in the room and watched. And soon the maiden woke, and said to the pitcher and to the water-jug, ‘Quick! go down to the spring and bring me some water; I am thirsty.’
And they went. But as they were filling themselves at the spring, the water-jug knocked against the pitcher and broke off its spout. And the pitcher burst into tears, and ran to the maiden, and said: ‘Mistress, beat the water-jug, for he has broken my spout!’
‘By the head of Buk Ettemsuch, I implore you not to beat me!’
‘Ah,’ she replied, ‘if only my husband had sworn by that oath, I could have spoken to him from the beginning, and he need never have taken another wife. But now he will never say it, and he will have to go on marrying fresh ones.’
And the prince, from his hiding-place, heard her words, and he jumped up and ran to her and said, ‘By the head of Buk Ettemsuch, speak to me.’
So she spoke to him, and they lived happily to the end of their days, because the girl kept the promise she had made to the ogre.
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9 | 10 | A tale from Africa folklore titled death-abu-nowas-wife | Fairytalez.com»Fairy Blog»Andrew Lang's Fairy Books»The Death Of Abu Nowas And Of His Wife
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Once upon a time there lived a man whose name was Abu Nowas, and he was a great favourite with the Sultan of the country, who had a palace in the same town where Abu Nowas dwelt.
One day Abu Nowas came weeping into the hall of the palace where the Sultan was sitting, and said to him: ‘Oh, mighty Sultan, my wife is dead.’
‘That is bad news,’ replied the Sultan; ‘I must get you another wife.’ And he bade his Grand Vizir send for the Sultana.
‘This poor Abu Nowas has lost his wife,’ said he, when she entered the hall.
‘Oh, then we must get him another,’ answered the Sultana; ‘I have a girl that will suit him exactly,’ and clapped her hands loudly. At this signal a maiden appeared and stood before her.
‘I have got a husband for you,’ said the Sultana.
‘Who is he?’ asked the girl.
‘Abu Nowas, the jester,’ replied the Sultana.
‘I will take him,’ answered the maiden; and as Abu Nowas made no objection, it was all arranged. The Sultana had the most beautiful clothes made for the bride, and the Sultan gave the bridegroom his wedding suit, and a thousand gold pieces into the bargain, and soft carpets for the house.
So Abu Nowas took his wife home, and for some time they were very happy, and spent the money freely which the Sultan had given them, never thinking what they should do for more when that was gone. But come to an end it did, and they had to sell their fine things one by one, till at length nothing was left but a cloak apiece, and one blanket to cover them. ‘We have run through our fortune,’ said Abu Nowas, ‘what are we to do now? I am afraid to go back to the Sultan, for he will command his servants to turn me from the door. But you shall return to your mistress, and throw yourself at her feet and weep, and perhaps she will help us.’
‘Oh, you had much better go,’ said the wife. ‘I shall not know what to say.’
‘Well, then, stay at home, if you like,’ answered Abu Nowas, ‘and I will ask to be admitted to the Sultan’s presence, and will tell him, with sobs, that my wife is dead, and that I have no money for her burial. When he hears that perhaps he will give us something.’
‘Yes, that is a good plan,’ said the wife; and Abu Nowas set out.
The Sultan was sitting in the hall of justice when Abu Nowas entered, his eyes streaming with tears, for he had rubbed some pepper into them. They smarted dreadfully, and he could hardly see to walk straight, and everyone wondered what was the matter with him.
‘Abu Nowas! What has happened?’ cried the Sultan.
‘Oh, noble Sultan, my wife is dead,’ wept he.
‘We must all die,’ answered the Sultan; but this was not the reply for which Abu Nowas had hoped.
‘True, O Sultan, but I have neither shroud to wrap her in, nor money to bury her with,’ went on Abu Nowas, in no wise abashed by the way the Sultan had received his news.
‘Well, give him a hundred pieces of gold,’ said the Sultan, turning to the Grand Vizir. And when the money was counted out Abu Nowas bowed low, and left the hall, his tears still flowing, but with joy in his heart.
‘Have you got anything?’ cried his wife, who was waiting for him anxiously.
‘Yes, a hundred gold pieces,’ said he, throwing down the bag, ‘but that will not last us any time. Now you must go to the Sultana, clothed in sackcloth and robes of mourning, and tell her that your husband, Abu Nowas, is dead, and you have no money for his burial. When she hears that, she will be sure to ask you what has become of the money and the fine clothes she gave us on our marriage, and you will answer, “before he died he sold everything.”’
The wife did as she was told, and wrapping herself in sackcloth went up to the Sultana’s own palace, and as she was known to have been one of Subida’s favourite attendants, she was taken without difficulty into the private apartments.
‘What is the matter?’ inquired the Sultana, at the sight of the dismal figure.
‘My husband lies dead at home, and he has spent all our money, and sold everything, and I have nothing left to bury him with,’ sobbed the wife.
Then Subida took up a purse containing two hundred gold pieces, and said: ‘Your husband served us long and faithfully. You must see that he has a fine funeral.’
The wife took the money, and, kissing the feet of the Sultana, she joyfully hastened home. They spent some happy hours planning how they should spend it, and thinking how clever they had been. ‘When the Sultan goes this evening to Subida’s palace,’ said Abu Nowas, ‘she will be sure to tell him that Abu Nowas is dead. “Not Abu Nowas, it is his wife,” he will reply, and they will quarrel over it, and all the time we shall be sitting here enjoying ourselves. Oh, if they only knew, how angry they would be!’
As Abu Nowas had foreseen, the Sultan went, in the evening after his business was over, to pay his usual visit to the Sultana.
‘Poor Abu Nowas is dead!’ said Subida when he entered the room.
‘It is not Abu Nowas, but his wife who is dead,’ answered the Sultan.
‘No; really you are quite wrong. She came to tell me herself only a couple of hours ago,’ replied Subida, ‘and as he had spent all their money, I gave her something to bury him with.’
‘You must be dreaming,’ exclaimed the Sultan. ‘Soon after midday Abu Nowas came into the hall, his eyes streaming with tears, and when I asked him the reason he answered that his wife was dead, and they had sold everything they had, and he had nothing left, not so much as would buy her a shroud, far less for her burial.’
For a long time they talked, and neither would listen to the other, till the Sultan sent for the door-keeper and bade him go instantly to the house of Abu Nowas and see if it was the man or his wife who was dead. But Abu Nowas happened to be sitting with his wife behind the latticed window, which looked on the street, and he saw the man coming, and sprang up at once. ‘There is the Sultan’s door-keeper! They have sent him here to find out the truth. Quick! throw yourself on the bed and pretend that you are dead.’ And in a moment the wife was stretched out stiffly, with a linen sheet spread across her, like a corpse.
She was only just in time, for the sheet was hardly drawn across her when the door opened and the porter came in. ‘Has anything happened?’ asked he.
‘My poor wife is dead,’ replied Abu Nowas. ‘Look! she is laid out here.’ And the porter approached the bed, which was in a corner of the room, and saw the stiff form lying underneath.
‘We must all die,’ said he, and went back to the Sultan.
‘Well, have you found out which of them is dead?’ asked the Sultan.
‘Yes, noble Sultan; it is the wife,’ replied the porter.
‘He only says that to please you,’ cried Subida in a rage; and calling to her chamberlain, she ordered him to go at once to the dwelling of Abu Nowas and see which of the two was dead. ‘And be sure you tell the truth about it,’ added she, ‘or it will be the worse for you.’
As her chamberlain drew near the house, Abu Nowas caught sight of him. ‘There is the Sultana’s chamberlain,’ he exclaimed in a fright. ‘Now it is my turn to die. Be quick and spread the sheet over me.’ And he laid himself on the bed, and held his breath when the chamberlain came in. ‘What are you weeping for?’ asked the man, finding the wife in tears.
‘My husband is dead,’ answered she, pointing to the bed; and the chamberlain drew back the sheet and beheld Abu Nowas lying stiff and motionless. Then he gently replaced the sheet and returned to the palace.
‘Well, have you found out this time?’ asked the Sultan.
‘My lord, it is the husband who is dead.’
‘But I tell you he was with me only a few hours ago,’ cried the Sultan angrily. ‘I must get to the bottom of this before I sleep! Let my golden coach be brought round at once.’
The coach was before the door in another five minutes, and the Sultan and Sultana both got in. Abu Nowas had ceased being a dead man, and was looking into the street when he saw the coach coming. ‘Quick! quick!’ he called to his wife. ‘The Sultan will be here directly, and we must both be dead to receive him.’ So they laid themselves down, and spread the sheet over them, and held their breath. At that instant the Sultan entered, followed by the Sultana and the chamberlain, and he went up to the bed and found the corpses stiff and motionless. ‘I would give a thousand gold pieces to anyone who would tell me the truth about this,’ cried he, and at the words Abu Nowas sat up. ‘Give them to me, then,’ said he, holding out his hand. ‘You cannot give them to anyone who needs them more.’
‘Oh, Abu Nowas, you impudent dog!’ exclaimed the Sultan, bursting into a laugh, in which the Sultana joined. ‘I might have known it was one of your tricks!’ But he sent Abu Nowas the gold he had promised, and let us hope that it did not fly so fast as the last had done.
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10 | 11 | A tale from Africa folklore titled father-grumbler | Fairytalez.com»Fairy Blog»Andrew Lang's Fairy Books»Father Grumbler
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Once upon a time there lived a man who had nearly as many children as there were sparrows in the garden. He had to work very hard all day to get them enough to eat, and was often tired and cross, and abused everything and everybody, so that people called him ‘Father Grumbler.’
By-and-by he grew weary of always working, and on Sundays he lay a long while in bed, instead of going to church. Then after a time he found it dull to sit so many hours by himself, thinking of nothing but how to pay the rent that was owing, and as the tavern across the road looked bright and cheerful, he walked in one day and sat down with his friends. ‘It was just to chase away Care,’ he said; but when he came out, hours and hours after, Care came out with him.
Father Grumbler entered his house feeling more dismal than when he left it, for he knew that he had wasted both his time and his money.
‘I will go and see the Holy Man in the cave near the well,’ he said to himself, ‘and perhaps he can tell me why all the luck is for other people, and only misfortunes happen to me.’ And he set out at once for the cave.
It was a long way off, and the road led over mountains and through valleys; but at last he reached the cave where the Holy Man dwelt, and knocked at the door.
‘Who is there?’ asked a voice from within.
‘It is I, Holy Man, Father Grumbler, you know, who has as many children as sparrows in the garden.’
‘Well, and what is it that you want?’
‘I want to know why other people have all the luck, and only misfortunes happen to me!’
The Holy Man did not answer, but went into an inner cave, from which he came out bearing something in his hand. ‘Do you see this basket?’ said he. ‘It is a magical basket, and if you are hungry you have only got to say: “Little basket, little basket, do your duty,” and you will eat the best dinner you ever had in your life. But when you have had enough, be sure you don’t forget to cry out: “That will do for to-day.” Oh!–and one thing more–you need not show it to everybody and declare that I have give it to you. Do you understand?’
Father Grumbler was always accustomed to think of himself as so unlucky that he did not know whether the Holy Man was not playing a trick upon him; but he took the basket without being polite enough to say either ‘Thank you,’ or ‘Good-morning,’ and went away. However, he only waited till he was out of sight of the cave before he stooped down and whispered: ‘Little basket, little basket, do your duty.’
Now the basket had a lid, so that he could not see what was inside, but he heard quite clearly strange noises, as if a sort of scuffling was going on. Then the lid burst open, and a quantity of delicious little white rolls came tumbling out one after the other, followed by a stream of small fishes all ready cooked. What a quantity there were to be sure! The whole road was covered with them, and the banks on each side were beginning to disappear. Father Grumbler felt quite frightened at the torrent, but at last he remembered what the Holy Man had told him, and cried at the top of his voice: ‘Enough! enough! That will do for to-day!’ And the lid of the basket closed with a snap.
Father Grumbler sighed with relief and happiness as he looked around him, and sitting down on a heap of stones, he ate till he could eat no more. Trout, salmon, turbot, soles, and a hundred other fishes whose names he did not know, lay boiled, fried, and grilled within reach of his hands. As the Holy Man had said, he had never eaten such a dinner; still, when he had done, he shook his head, and grumbled; ‘Yes, there is plenty to eat, of course, but it only makes me thirsty, and there is not a drop to drink anywhere.’
Yet, somehow, he could never tell why, he looked up and saw the tavern in front of him, which he thought was miles, and miles, and miles away.
‘Bring the best wine you have got, and two glasses, good mother,’ he said as he entered, ‘and if you are fond of fish there is enough here to feed the house. Only there is no need to chatter about it all over the place. You understand? Eh?’ And without waiting for an answer he whispered to the basket: ‘Little basket, little basket, do your duty.’ The innkeeper and his wife thought that their customer had gone suddenly mad, and watched him closely, ready to spring on him if he became violent; but both instinctively jumped backwards, nearly into the fire, as rolls and fishes of every kind came tumbling out of the basket, covering the tables and chairs and the floor, and even overflowing into the street.
‘Be quick, be quick, and pick them up,’ cried the man. ‘And if these are not enough, there are plenty more to be had for the asking.’
The innkeeper and his wife did not need telling twice. Down they went on their knees and gathered up everything they could lay hands on. But busy though they seemed, they found time to whisper to each other:
‘If we can only get hold of that basket it will make our fortune!’
So they began by inviting Father Grumbler to sit down to the table, and brought out the best wine in the cellar, hoping it might loosen his tongue. But Father Grumbler was wiser than they gave him credit for, and though they tried in all manner of ways to find out who had given him the basket, he put them off, and kept his secret to himself. Unluckily, though he did not SPEAK, he did drink, and it was not long before he fell fast asleep. Then the woman fetched from her kitchen a basket, so like the magic one that no one, without looking very closely, could tell the difference, and placed it in Father Grumbler’s hand, while she hid the other carefully away.
It was dinner time when the man awoke, and, jumping up hastily, he set out for home, where he found all the children gathered round a basin of thin soup, and pushing their wooden bowls forward, hoping to have the first spoonful. Their father burst into the midst of them, bearing his basket, and crying:
‘Don’t spoil your appetites, children, with that stuff. Do you see this basket? Well, I have only got to say, “Little basket, little basket, do your duty,” and you will see what will happen. Now you shall say it instead of me, for a treat.’
The children, wondering and delighted, repeated the words, but nothing happened. Again and again they tried, but the basket was only a basket, with a few scales of fish sticking to the bottom, for the innkeeper’s wife had taken it to market the day before.
‘What is the matter with the thing?’ cried the father at last, snatching the basket from them, and turning it all over, grumbling and swearing while he did so, under the eyes of his astonished wife and children, who did not know whether to cry or to laugh.
‘It certainly smells of fish,’ he said, and then he stopped, for a sudden thought had come to him.
‘Suppose it is not mine at all; supposing– Ah, the scoundrels!’
And without listening to his wife and children, who were frightened at his strange conduct and begged him to stay at home, he ran across to the tavern and burst open the door.
‘Can I do anything for you, Father Grumbler?’ asked the innkeeper’s wife in her softest voice.
‘I have taken the wrong basket–by mistake, of course,’ said he. ‘Here is yours, will you give me back my own?’
‘Why, what are you talking about?’ answered she. ‘You can see for yourself that there is no basket here.’
And though Father Grumbler DID look, it was quite true that none was to be seen.
‘Come, take a glass to warm you this cold day,’ said the woman, who was anxious to keep him in a good temper, and as this was an invitation Father Grumbler never refused, he tossed it off and left the house.
He took the road that led to the Holy Man’s cave, and made such haste that it was not long before he reached it.
‘Who is there?’ said a voice in answer to his knock.
‘It is me, it is me, Holy man. You know quite well. Father Grumbler, who has as many children as sparrows in the garden.’
‘But, my good man, it was only yesterday that I gave you a handsome present.’
‘Yes, Holy Man, and here it is. But something has happened, I don’t know what, and it won’t work any more.’
‘Well, put it down. I will go and see if I can find anything for you.’
In a few minutes the Holy Man returned with a cock under his arm.
‘Listen to me,’ he said, ‘whenever you want money, you only have to say: “Show me what you can do, cock,” and you will see some wonderful things. But, remember, it is not necessary to let all the world into the secret.’
‘Oh no, Holy Man, I am not so foolish as that.’
‘Nor to tell everybody that I gave it to you,’ went on the Holy Man. ‘I have not got these treasures by the dozen.’
And without waiting for an answer he shut the door.
As before, the distance seemed to have wonderfully shortened, and in a moment the tavern rose up in front of Father Grumbler. Without stopping to think, he went straight in, and found the innkeeper’s wife in the kitchen making a cake.
‘Where have you come from, with that fine red cock in your basket,’ asked she, for the bird was so big that the lid would not shut down properly.
‘Oh, I come from a place where they don’t keep these things by the dozen,’ he replied, sitting down in front of the table.
The woman said no more, but set before him a bottle of his favourite wine, and soon he began to wish to display his prize.
‘Show me what you can do, cock,’ cried he. And the cock stood up and flapped his wings three times, crowing ‘coquerico’ with a voice like a trumpet, and at each crow there fell from his beak golden drops, and diamonds as large as peas.
This time Father Grumbler did not invite the innkeeper’s wife to pick up his treasures, but put his own hat under the cock’s beak, so as to catch everything he let fall; and he did not see the husband and wife exchanging glances with each other which said, ‘That would be a splendid cock to put with our basket.’
‘Have another glass of wine?’ suggested the innkeeper, when they had finished admiring the beauty of the cock, for they pretended not to have seen the gold or the diamonds. And Father Grumbler, nothing loth, drank one glass after another, till his head fell forward on the table, and once more he was sound asleep. Then the woman gently coaxed the cock from the basket and carried it off to her own poultry yard, from which she brought one exactly like it, and popped it in its place.
Night was falling when the man awoke, and throwing proudly some grains of gold on the table to pay for the wine he had drunk, he tucked the cock comfortably into his basket and set out for home.
His wife and all the children were waiting for him at the door, and as soon as she caught sight of him she broke out:
‘You are a nice man to go wasting your time and your money drinking in that tavern, and leaving us to starve! Aren’t you ashamed of yourself?’
‘You don’t know what you are talking of,’ he answered. ‘Money? Why, I have gold and diamonds now, as much as I want. Do you see that cock? Well, you have only to say to him, “Show me what you can do, cock,” and something splendid will happen.’
Neither wife nor children were inclined to put much faith in him after their last experience; however, they thought it was worth trying, and did as he told them. The cock flew round the room like a mad thing, and crowed till their heads nearly split with the noise; but no gold or diamonds dropped on the brick floor– not the tiniest grain of either.
Father Grumbler stared in silence for an instant, and then he began to swear so loudly that even his family, accustomed as they were to his language, wondered at him.
At last he grew a little quieter, but remained as puzzled as ever.
‘Can I have forgotten the words? But I KNOW that was what he said! And I saw the diamonds with my own eyes!’ Then suddenly he seized the cock, shut it into the basket, and rushed out of the house.
His heavy wooden shoes clattered as he ran along the road, and he made such haste that the stars were only just beginning to come out when he reached the cave of the Holy Man.
‘Who is that knocking?’ asked a voice from within.
‘It is me! It is me! Holy Man! you know! Father–‘
‘But, my good fellow, you really should give some one else a chance. This is the third time you have been–and at such an hour, too!’
‘Oh, yes, Holy Man, I know it is very late, but you will forgive me! It is your cock–there is something the matter. It is like the basket. Look!’
‘THAT my cock? THAT my basket? Somebody has played you a trick, my good man!’
‘A trick?’ repeated Father Grumbler, who began to understand what had happened. ‘Then it must have been those two–‘
‘I warned you not to show them to anybody,’ said the Holy Man. ‘You deserve–but I will give you one more chance.’ And, turning, he unhooked something from the wall.
‘When you wish to dust your own jacket or those of your friends,’ he said, ‘you have only got to say, “Flack, flick, switch, be quick,” and you will see what happens. That is all I have to tell you.’ And, smiling to himself, the Holy Man pushed Father Grumbler out of the cave.
‘Ah, I understand now,’ muttered the good man, as he took the road home; ‘but I think I have got you two rascals!’ and he hurried on to the tavern with his basket under his arm, and the cock and the switch both inside.
‘Good evening, friends!’ he said, as he entered the inn. ‘I am very hungry, and should be glad if you would roast this cock for me as soon as possible. THIS cock and no other–mind what I say,’ he went on. ‘Oh, and another thing! You can light the fire with this basket. When you have done that I will show you something I have in my bag,’ and, as he spoke, he tried to imitate the smile that the Holy Man had given HIM.
These directions made the innkeeper’s wife very uneasy. However, she said nothing, and began to roast the cock, while her husband did his best to make the man sleepy with wine, but all in vain.
After dinner, which he did not eat without grumbling, for the cock was very tough, the man struck his hand on the table, and said: ‘Now listen to me. Go and fetch my cock and my basket, at once. Do you hear?’
‘Your cock, and your basket, Father Grumbler? But you have just- -‘
‘MY cock and MY basket!’ interrupted he. ‘And, if you are too deaf and too stupid to understand what that means, I have got something which may help to teach you.’ And opening the bag, he cried: ‘Flack, flick, switch, be quick.’
And flack! flick! like lightening a white switch sprang out of the bag, and gave such hearty blows to the innkeeper and his wife, and to Father Grumbler into the bargain, that they all jumped as high as feathers when a mattress is shaken.
‘Stop! stop! make it stop, and you shall have back your cock and basket,’ cried the man and his wife. And Father Grumbler, who had no wish to go on, called out between his hops: ‘Stop then, can’t you? That is enough for to-day!’
But the switch paid no attention, and dealt out its blows as before, and MIGHT have been dealing them to this day, if the Holy Man had not heard their cries and come to the rescue. ‘Into the bag, quick!’ said he, and the switch obeyed.
‘Now go and fetch me the cock and the basket,’ and the woman went without a word, and placed them on the table.
‘You have all got what you deserved,’ continued the Holy Man, ‘and I have no pity for any of you. I shall take my treasures home, and perhaps some day I may find a man who knows how to make the best of the chances that are given to him. But that will never be YOU,’ he added, turning to Father Grumbler.
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11 | 12 | A tale from Africa folklore titled goso-the-teacher | Fairytalez.com»Fairy Blog»Zanzibar Tales»Goso, the Teacher
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Once there was a man named Go′so, who taught children to read, not in a schoolhouse, but under a calabash tree. One evening, while Goso was sitting under the tree deep in the study of the next day’s lessons, Paa, the gazelle, climbed up the tree very quietly to steal some fruit, and in so doing shook off a calabash, which, in falling, struck the teacher on the head and killed him.
When his scholars came in the morning and found their teacher lying dead, they were filled with grief; so, after giving him a decent burial, they agreed among themselves to find the one who had killed Goso, and put him to death.
After talking the matter over they came to the conclusion that the south wind was the offender.
So they caught the south wind and beat it.
But the south wind cried: “Here! I am Koo′see, the south wind. Why are you beating me? What have I done?”
And they said: “Yes, we know you are Koosee; it was you who threw down the calabash that struck our teacher Goso. You should not have done it.”
But Koosee said, “If I were so powerful would I be stopped by a mud wall?”
So they went to the mud wall and beat it.
But the mud wall cried: “Here! I am Keeyambaa′za, the mud wall. Why are you beating me? What have I done?”
And they said: “Yes, we know you are Keeyambaaza; it was you who stopped Koosee, the south wind; and Koosee, the south wind, threw down the calabash that struck our teacher Goso. You should not have done it.”
But Keeyambaaza said, “If I were so powerful would I be bored through by the rat?”
So they went and caught the rat and beat it.
But the rat cried: “Here! I am Paan′ya, the rat. Why are you beating me? What have I done?”
And they said: “Yes, we know you are Paanya; it was you who bored through Keeyambaaza, the mud wall; which stopped Koosee, the south wind; and Koosee, the south wind, threw down the calabash that struck our teacher Goso. You should not have done it.”
But Paanya said, “If I were so powerful would I be eaten by a cat?”
So they hunted for the cat, caught it, and beat it.
But the cat cried: “Here! I am Paa′ka, the cat. Why do you beat me? What have I done?”
And they said: “Yes, we know you are Paaka; it is you that eats Paanya, the rat; who bores through Keeyambaaza, the mud wall; which stopped Koosee, the south wind; and Koosee, the south wind, threw down the calabash that struck our teacher Goso. You should not have done it.”
But Paaka said, “If I were so powerful would I be tied by a rope?”
So they took the rope and beat it.
But the rope cried: “Here! I am Kaam′ba, the rope. Why do you beat me? What have I done?”
And they said: “Yes, we know you are Kaamba; it is you that ties Paaka, the cat; who eats Paanya, the rat; who bores through Keeyambaaza, the mud wall; which stopped Koosee, the south wind; and Koosee, the south wind, threw down the calabash that struck our teacher Goso. You should not have done it.”
But Kaamba said, “If I were so powerful would I be cut by a knife?”
So they took the knife and beat it.
But the knife cried: “Here! I am Kee′soo, the knife. Why do you beat me? What have I done?”
And they said: “Yes, we know you are Keesoo; you cut Kaamba, the rope; that ties Paaka, the cat; who eats Paanya, the rat; who bores through Keeyambaaza, the mud wall; which stopped Koosee, the south wind; and Koosee, the south wind, threw down the calabash that struck our teacher Goso. You should not have done it.”
But Keesoo said, “If I were so powerful would I be burned by the fire?”
And they went and beat the fire.
But the fire cried: “Here! I am Mo′to, the fire. Why do you beat me? What have I done?”
And they said: “Yes, we know you are Moto; you burn Keesoo, the knife; that cuts Kaamba, the rope; that ties Paaka, the cat; who eats Paanya, the rat; who bores through Keeyambaaza, the mud wall; which stopped Koosee, the south wind; and Koosee, the south wind, threw down the calabash that struck our teacher Goso. You should not have done it.”
But Moto said, “If I were so powerful would I be put out by water?”
And they went to the water and beat it.
But the water cried: “Here! I am Maa′jee, the water. Why do you beat me? What have I done?”
And they said: “Yes, we know you are Maajee; you put out Moto, the fire; that burns Keesoo, the knife; that cuts Kaamba, the rope; that ties Paaka, the cat; who eats Paanya, the rat; who bores through Keeyambaaza, the mud wall; which stopped Koosee, the south wind; and Koosee, the south wind, threw down the calabash that struck our teacher Goso. You should not have done it.”
But Maajee said, “If I were so powerful would I be drunk by the ox?”
And they went to the ox and beat it.
But the ox cried: “Here! I am Ng’om′bay, the ox. Why do you beat me? What have I done?”
And they said: “Yes, we know you are Ng’ombay; you drink Maajee, the water; that puts out Moto, the fire; that burns Keesoo, the knife; that cuts Kaamba, the rope; that ties Paaka, the cat; who eats Paanya, the rat; who bores through Keeyambaaza, the mud wall; which stopped Koosee, the south wind; and Koosee, the south wind, threw down the calabash that struck our teacher Goso. You should not have done it.”
But Ng’ombay said, “If I were so powerful would I be tormented by the fly?”
And they caught a fly and beat it.
But the fly cried: “Here! I am Een′zee, the fly. Why do you beat me? What have I done?”
And they said: “Yes, we know you are Eenzee; you torment Ng’ombay, the ox; who drinks Maajee, the water; that puts out Moto, the fire; that burns Keesoo, the knife; that cuts Kaamba, the rope; that ties Paaka, the cat; who eats Paanya, the rat; who bores through Keeyambaaza, the mud wall; which stopped Koosee, the south wind; and Koosee, the south wind, threw down the calabash that struck our teacher Goso. You should not have done it.”
But Eenzee said, “If I were so powerful would I be eaten by the gazelle?”
And they searched for the gazelle, and when they found it they beat it.
But the gazelle said: “Here! I am Paa, the gazelle. Why do you beat me? What have I done?”
And they said: “Yes, we know you are Paa; you eat Eenzee, the fly; that torments Ng’ombay, the ox; who drinks Maajee, the water; that puts out Moto, the fire; that burns Keesoo, the knife; that cuts Kaamba, the rope; that ties Paaka, the cat; who eats Paanya, the rat; who bores through Keeyambaaza, the mud wall; which stopped Koosee, the south wind; and Koosee, the south wind, threw down the calabash that struck our teacher Goso. You should not have done it.”
The gazelle, through surprise at being found out and fear of the consequences of his accidental killing of the teacher, while engaged in stealing, was struck dumb.
Then the scholars said: “Ah! he hasn’t a word to say for himself. This is the fellow who threw down the calabash that struck our teacher Goso. We will kill him.”
So they killed Paa, the gazelle, and avenged the death of their teacher.
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12 | 13 | A tale from Africa folklore titled how-isuro-the-rabbit-tricked-gudu | Fairytalez.com»Fairy Blog»Andrew Lang's Fairy Books»How Isuro the Rabbit Tricked Gudu
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Far away in a hot country, where the forests are very thick and dark, and the rivers very swift and strong, there once lived a strange pair of friends. Now one of the friends was a big white rabbit named Isuro, and the other was a tall baboon called Gudu, and so fond were they of each other that they were seldom seen apart.
One day, when the sun was hotter even than usual, the rabbit awoke from his midday sleep, and saw Gudu the baboon standing beside him.
‘Get up,’ said Gudu; ‘I am going courting, and you must come with me. So put some food in a bag, and sling it round your neck, for we may not be able to find anything to eat for a long while.’
Then the rabbit rubbed his eyes, and gathered a store of fresh green things from under the bushes, and told Gudu that he was ready for the journey.
They went on quite happily for some distance, and at last they came to a river with rocks scattered here and there across the stream.
‘We can never jump those wide spaces if we are burdened with food,’ said Gudu, ‘we must throw it into the river, unless we wish to fall in ourselves.’ And stooping down, unseen by Isuro, who was in front of him, Gudu picked up a big stone, and threw it into the water with a loud splash.
‘It is your turn now,’ he cried to Isuro. And with a heavy sigh, the rabbit unfastened his bag of food, which fell into the river.
The road on the other side led down an avenue of trees, and before they had gone very far Gudu opened the bag that lay hidden in the thick hair about his neck, and began to eat some delicious-looking fruit.
‘Where did you get that from?’ asked Isuro enviously.
‘Oh, I found after all that I could get across the rocks quite easily, so it seemed a pity not to keep my bag,’ answered Gudu.
‘Well, as you tricked me into throwing away mine, you ought to let me share with you,’ said Isuro. But Gudu pretended not to hear him, and strode along the path.
By-and-bye they entered a wood, and right in front of them was a tree so laden with fruit that its branches swept the ground. And some of the fruit was still green, and some yellow. The rabbit hopped forward with joy, for he was very hungry; but Gudu said to him: ‘Pluck the green fruit, you will find it much the best. I will leave it all for you, as you have had no dinner, and take the yellow for myself.’ So the rabbit took one of the green oranges and began to bite it, but its skin was so hard that he could hardly get his teeth through the rind.
‘It does not taste at all nice,’ he cried, screwing up his face; ‘I would rather have one of the yellow ones.’
‘No! no! I really could not allow that,’ answered Gudu. ‘They would only make you ill. Be content with the green fruit.’ And as they were all he could get, Isuro was forced to put up with them.
After this had happened two or three times, Isuro at last had his eyes opened, and made up his mind that, whatever Gudu told him, he would do exactly the opposite. However, by this time they had reached the village where dwelt Gudu’s future wife, and as they entered Gudu pointed to a clump of bushes, and said to Isuro: ‘Whenever I am eating, and you hear me call out that my food has burnt me, run as fast as you can and gather some of those leaves that they may heal my mouth.’
The rabbit would have liked to ask him why he ate food that he knew would burn him, only he was afraid, and just nodded in reply; but when they had gone on a little further, he said to Gudu:
‘I have dropped my needle; wait here a moment while I go and fetch it.’
‘Be quick then,’ answered Gudu, climbing into a tree. And the rabbit hastened back to the bushes, and gathered a quantity of the leaves, which he hid among his fur, ‘For,’ thought he, ‘if I get them now I shall save myself the trouble of a walk by-and-by.’
When he had plucked as many as he wanted he returned to Gudu, and they went on together.
The sun was almost setting by the time they reached their journey’s end and being very tired they gladly sat down by a well. Then Gudu’s betrothed, who had been watching for him, brought out a pitcher of water–which she poured over them to wash off the dust of the road–and two portions of food. But once again the rabbit’s hopes were dashed to the ground, for Gudu said hastily:
‘The custom of the village forbids you to eat till I have finished.’ And Isuro did not know that Gudu was lying, and that he only wanted more food. So he saw hungrily looking on, waiting till his friend had had enough.
In a little while Gudu screamed loudly: ‘I am burnt! I am burnt!’ though he was not burnt at all. Now, though Isuro had the leaves about him, he did not dare to produce them at the last moment lest the baboon should guess why he had stayed behind. So he just went round a corner for a short time, and then came hopping back in a great hurry. But, quick though he was, Gudu had been quicker still, and nothing remained but some drops of water.
‘How unlucky you are,’ said Gudu, snatching the leaves; ‘no sooner had you gone than ever so many people arrived, and washed their hands, as you see, and ate your portion.’ But, though Isuro knew better than to believe him, he said nothing, and went to bed hungrier than he had ever been in his life.
Early next morning they started for another village, and passed on the way a large garden where people were very busy gathering monkey- nuts.
‘You can have a good breakfast at last,’ said Gudu, pointing to a heap of empty shells; never doubting but that Isuro would meekly take the portion shown him, and leave the real nuts for himself. But what was his surprise when Isuro answered:
‘Thank you; I think I should prefer these.’ And, turning to the kernels, never stopped as long as there was one left. And the worst of it was that, with so many people about, Gudu could not take the nuts from him.
It was night when they reached the village where dwelt the mother of Gudu’s betrothed, who laid meat and millet porridge before them.
‘I think you told me you were fond of porridge,’ said Gudu; but Isuro answered: ‘You are mistaking me for somebody else, as I always eat meat when I can get it.’ And again Gudu was forced to be content with the porridge, which he hated.
While he was eating it, however a sudden thought darted into his mind, and he managed to knock over a great pot of water which was hanging in front of the fire, and put it quite out.
‘Now,’ said the cunning creature to himself, ‘I shall be able in the dark to steal his meat!’ But the rabbit had grown as cunning as he, and standing in a corner hid the meat behind him, so that the baboon could not find it.
‘O Gudu!’ he cried, laughing aloud, ‘it is you who have taught me to be clever.’ And calling to the people of the house, he bade them kindle the fire, for Gudu would sleep by it, but that he would pass the night with some friends in another hut.
It was still quite dark when Isuro heard his name called very softly, and, on opening his eyes, beheld Gudu standing by him. Laying his finger on his nose, in token of silence, he signed to Isuro to get up and follow him, and it was not until they were some distance from the hut that Gudu spoke.
‘I am hungry and want something to eat better than that nasty porridge that I had for supper. So I am going to kill one of those goats, and as you are a good cook you must boil the flesh for me.’ The rabbit nodded, and Gudu disappeared behind a rock, but soon returned dragging the dead goat with him. The two then set about skinning it, after which they stuffed the skin with dried leaves, so that no one would have guessed it was not alive, and set it up in the middle of a lump of bushes, which kept it firm on its feet. While he was doing this, Isuro collected sticks for a fire, and when it was kindled, Gudu hastened to another hut to steal a pot which he filled with water from the river, and, planting two branches in the ground, they hung the pot with the meat in it over the fire.
‘It will not be fit to eat for two hours at least,’ said Gudu, ‘so we can both have a nap.’ And he stretched himself out on the ground, and pretended to fall fast asleep, but, in reality, he was only waiting till it was safe to take all the meat for himself. ‘Surely I hear him snore,’ he thought; and he stole to the place where Isuro was lying on a pile of wood, but the rabbit’s eyes were wide open.
‘How tiresome,’ muttered Gudu, as he went back to his place; and after waiting a little longer he got up, and peeped again, but still the rabbit’s pink eyes stared widely. If Gudu had only known, Isuro was asleep all the time; but this he never guessed, and by-and- bye he grew so tired with watching that he went to sleep himself. Soon after, Isuro woke up, and he too felt hungry, so he crept softly to the pot and ate all the meat, while he tied the bones together and hung them in Gudu’s fur. After that he went back to the wood-pile and slept again.
In the morning the mother of Gudu’s betrothed came out to milk her goats, and on going to the bushes where the largest one seemed entangled, she found out the trick. She made such lament that the people of the village came running, and Gudu and Isuro jumped up also, and pretended to be as surprised and interested as the rest. But they must have looked guilty after all, for suddenly an old man pointed to them, and cried:
‘Those are thieves.’ And at the sound of his voice the big Gudu trembled all over.
‘How dare you say such things? I defy you to prove it,’ answered Isuro boldly. And he danced forward, and turned head over heels, and shook himself before them all.
‘I spoke hastily; you are innocent,’ said the old man; ‘but now let the baboon do likewise.’ And when Gudu began to jump the goat’s bones rattled and the people cried: ‘It is Gudu who is the goat-slayer!’ But Gudu answered:
‘Nay, I did not kill your goat; it was Isuro, and he ate the meat, and hung the bones round my neck. So it is he who should die!’ And the people looked at each other, for they knew not what to believe. At length one man said:
‘Let them both die, but they may choose their own deaths.’
Then Isuro answered:
‘If we must die, put us in the place where the wood is cut, and heap it up all round us, so that we cannot escape, and set fire to the wood; and if one is burned and the other is not, then he that is burned is the goat- slayer.’
And the people did as Isuro had said. But Isuro knew of a hole under the wood-pile, and when the fire was kindled he ran into the hole, but Gudu died there.
When the fire had burned itself out and only ashes were left where the wood had been, Isuro came out of his hole, and said to the people:
‘Lo! did I not speak well? He who killed your goat is among those ashes.’
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13 | 14 | A tale from Africa folklore titled the-heart-of-a-monkey-2 | Fairytalez.com»Fairy Blog»Andrew Lang's Fairy Books»The Heart of a Monkey
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A long time ago a little town made up of a collection of low huts stood in a tiny green valley at the foot of a cliff. Of course the people had taken great care to build their houses out of reach of the highest tide which might be driven on shore by a west wind, but on the very edge of the town there had sprung up a tree so large that half its boughs hung over the huts and the other half over the deep sea right under the cliff, where sharks loved to come and splash in the clear water. The branches of the tree itself were laden with fruit, and every day at sunrise a big grey monkey might have been seen sitting in the topmost branches having his breakfast, and chattering to himself with delight.
After he had eaten all the fruit on the town side of the tree the monkey swung himself along the branches to the part which hung over the water. While he was looking out for a nice shady place where he might perch comfortably he noticed a shark watching him from below with greedy eyes.
‘Can I do anything for you, my friend?’ asked the monkey politely.
‘Oh! if you only would thrown me down some of those delicious things, I should be so grateful,’ answered the shark. ‘After you have lived on fish for fifty years you begin to feel you would like a change. And I am so very, very tired of the taste of salt.’
‘Well, I don’t like salt myself,’ said the monkey; ‘so if you will open your mouth I will throw this beautiful juicy kuyu into it,’ and, as he spoke, he pulled one off the branch just over his head. But it was not so easy to hit the shark’s mouth as he supposed, even when the creature had turned on his back, and the first kuyu only struck one of his teeth and rolled into the water. However, the second time the monkey had better luck, and the fruit fell right in.
‘Ah, how good!’ cried the shark. ‘Send me another, please.’ And the monkey grew tired of picking the kuyu long before the shark was tired of eating them.
‘It is getting late, and I must be going home to my children,’ he said, at length, ‘but if you are here at the same time to-morrow I will give you another treat.’
‘Thank you, thank you,’ said the shark, showing all his great ugly teeth as he grinned with delight; ‘you can’t guess how happy you have made me,’ and he swam away into the shadow, hoping to sleep away the time till the monkey came again.
For weeks the monkey and the shark breakfasted together, and it was a wonder that the tree had any fruit left for them. They became fast friends, and told each other about their homes and their children, and how to teach them all they ought to know. By and bye the monkey became rather discontented with his green house in a grove of palms beyond the town, and longed to see the strange things under the sea which he had heard of from the shark. The shark perceived this very clearly, and described greater marvels, and the monkey as he listened grew more and more gloomy.
Matters were in this state when one day the shark said: ‘I really hardly know how to thank you for all your kindness to me during these weeks. Here I have nothing of my own to offer you, but if you would only consent to come home with me, how gladly would I give you anything that might happen to take your fancy.’
‘I should like nothing better,’ cried the monkey, his teeth chattering, as they always did when he was pleased. ‘But how could I get there? Not by water. Ugh! It makes me ill to think of it!’
‘Oh! don’t let that trouble you,’ replied the shark, ‘you have only to sit on my back and I will undertake that not a drop of water shall touch you.’
So it was arranged, and directly after breakfast next morning the shark swam close up under the tree and the monkey dropped neatly on his back, without even a splash. After a few minutes–for at first he felt a little frightened at his strange position–the monkey began to enjoy himself vastly, and asked the shark a thousand questions about the fish and the sea-weeds and the oddly-shaped things that floated past them, and as the shark always gave him some sort of answer, the monkey never guessed that many of the objects they saw were as new to his guide as to himself.
The sun had risen and set six times when the shark suddenly said, ‘My friend, we have now performed half our journey, and it is time that I should tell you something.’
‘What is it?’ asked the monkey. ‘Nothing unpleasant, I hope, for you sound rather grave?’
‘Oh, no! Nothing at all. It is only that shortly before we left I heard that the sultan of my country is very ill, and that the only thing to cure him is a monkey’s heart.’
‘Poor man, I am very sorry for him,’ replied the monkey; ‘but you were unwise not to tell me till we had started.’
‘What do you mean?’ asked the shark; but the monkey, who now understood the whole plot, did not answer at once, for he was considering what he should say.
‘Why are you so silent?’ inquired the shark again.
‘I was thinking what a pity it was you did not tell me while I was still on land, and then I would have brought my heart with me.’
‘Your heart! Why isn’t your heart here?’ said the shark, with a puzzled expression.
‘Oh, no! Of course not. Is it possible you don’t know that when we leave home we always hang up our hearts on trees, to prevent their being troublesome? However, perhaps you won’t believe that, and will just think I have invented it because I am afraid, so let us go on to your country as fast as we can, and when we arrive you can look for my heart, and if you find it you can kill me.’
The monkey spoke in such a calm, indifferent way that the shark was quite deceived, and began to wish he had not been in such a hurry.
‘But there is no use going on if your heart is not with you,’ he said at last. ‘We had better turn back to the town, and then you can fetch it.’
Of course, this was just what the monkey wanted, but he was careful not to seem too pleased.
‘Well, I don’t know,’ he remarked carelessly, ‘it is such a long way; but you may be right.’
‘I am sure I am,’ answered the shark, ‘and I will swim as quickly as I can,’ and so he did, and in three days they caught sight of the kuyu tree hanging over the water.
With a sigh of relief the monkey caught hold of the nearest branch and swung himself up.
‘Wait for me here,’ he called out to the shark. ‘I am so hungry I must have a little breakfast, and then I will go and look for my heart,’ and he went further and further into the branches so that the shark could not see him. Then he curled himself up and went to sleep.
‘Are you there?’ cried the shark, who was soon tired of swimming about under the cliff, and was in haste to be gone.
The monkey awoke with a start, but did not answer.
‘Are you there?’ called the shark again, louder than before, and in a very cross voice.
‘Oh, yes. I am here,’ replied the monkey; ‘but I wish you had not wakened me up. I was having such a nice nap.’
‘Have you got it?’ asked the shark. ‘It is time we were going.’
‘Going where?’ inquired the monkey.
‘Why, to my country, of course, with your heart. You CAN’T have forgotten!’
‘My dear friend,’ answered the monkey, with a chuckle, ‘I think you must be going a little mad. Do you take me for a washerman’s donkey?’
‘Don’t talk nonsense,’ exclaimed the shark, who did not like being laughed at. ‘What do you mean about a washerman’s donkey? And I wish you would be quick, or we may be too late to save the sultan.’
‘Did you really never hear of the washerman’s donkey?’ asked the monkey, who was enjoying himself immensely. ‘Why, he is the beast who has no heart. And as I am not feeling very well, and am afraid to start while the sun is so high lest I should get a sunstroke, if you like, I will come a little nearer and tell you his story.’
‘Very well,’ said the shark sulkily, ‘if you won’t come, I suppose I may as well listen to that as do nothing.’
So the monkey began.
‘A washerman once lived in the great forest on the other side of the town, and he had a donkey to keep him company and to carry him wherever he wanted to go. For a time they got on very well, but by and bye the donkey grew lazy and ungrateful for her master’s kindness, and ran away several miles into the heart of the forest, where she did nothing but eat and eat and eat, till she grew so fat she could hardly move.
‘One day as she was tasting quite a new kind of grass and wondering if it was as good as what she had had for dinner the day before, a hare happened to pass by.
‘”Well, that is a fat creature,” thought she, and turned out of her path to tell the news to a lion who was a friend of hers. Now the lion had been very ill, and was not strong enough to go hunting for himself, and when the hare came and told him that a very fat donkey was to be found only a few hundred yards off, tears of disappointment and weakness filled his eyes.
‘”What is the good of telling me that?” he asked, in a weepy voice; “you know I cannot even walk as far as that palm.”
‘”Never mind,” answered the hare briskly. “If you can’t go to your dinner your dinner shall come to you,” and nodding a farewell to the lion she went back to the donkey.
‘”Good morning,” said she, bowing politely to the donkey, who lifted her head in surprise. “Excuse my interrupting you, but I have come on very important business.”
‘”Indeed,” answered the donkey, “it is most kind of you to take the trouble. May I inquire what the business is?”
‘”Certainly,” replied the hare. “It is my friend the lion who has heard so much of your charms and good qualities that he has sent me to beg that you will give him your paw in marriage. He regrets deeply that he is unable to make the request in person, but he has been ill and is too weak to move.”
‘”Poor fellow! How sad!” said the donkey. “But you must tell him that I feel honoured by his proposal, and will gladly consent to be Queen of the Beasts.”
‘”Will you not come and tell him so yourself?” asked the hare.
‘Side by side they went down the road which led to the lion’s house. It took a long while, for the donkey was so fat with eating she could only walk very slowly, and the hare, who could have run the distance in about five minutes, was obliged to creep along till she almost dropped with fatigue at not being able to go at her own pace. When at last they arrived the lion was sitting up at the entrance, looking very pale and thin. The donkey suddenly grew shy and hung her head, but the lion put on his best manners and invited both his visitors to come in and make themselves comfortable.
‘Very soon the hare got up and said, “Well, as I have another engagement I will leave you to make acquaintance with your future husband,” and winking at the lion she bounded away.
‘The donkey expected that as soon as they were left alone the lion would begin to speak of their marriage, and where they should live, but as he said nothing she looked up. To her surprise and terror she saw him crouching in the corner, his eyes glaring with a red light, and with a loud roar he sprang towards her. But in that moment the donkey had had time to prepare herself, and jumping on one side dealt the lion such a hard kick that he shrieked with the pain. Again and again he struck at her with his claws, but the donkey could bite too, as well as the lion, who was very weak after his illness, and at last a well- planted kick knocked him right over, and he rolled on the floor, groaning with pain. The donkey did not wait for him to get up, but ran away as fast as she could and was lost in the forest.
‘Now the hare, who knew quite well what would happen, had not gone to do her business, but hid herself in some bushes behind the cave, where she could hear quite clearly the sounds of the battle. When all was quiet again she crept gently out, and stole round the corner.
‘”Well, lion, have you killed her?” asked she, running swiftly up the path.
‘”Killed her, indeed!” answered the lion sulkily, “it is she who has nearly killed me. I never knew a donkey could kick like that, though I took care she should carry away the marks of my claws.”
‘”Dear me! Fancy such a great fat creature being able to fight!” cried the hare. “But don’t vex yourself. Just lie still, and your wounds will soon heal,” and she bade her friend, good bye, and returned to her family.
‘Two or three weeks passed, and only bare places on the donkey’s back showed where the lion’s claws had been, while, on his side, the lion had recovered from his illness and was now as strong as ever. He was beginning to think that it was almost time for him to begin hunting again, when one morning a rustle was heard in the creepers outside, and the hare’s head peeped through.
‘”Ah! there is no need to ask how you are,” she said. “Still you mustn’t overtire yourself, you know. Shall I go and bring you your dinner?”
‘”If you will bring me that donkey I will tear it in two,” cried the lion savagely, and the hare laughed and nodded and went on her errand.
‘This time the donkey was much further than before, and it took longer to find her. At last the hare caught sight of four hoofs in the air, and ran towards them. The donkey was lying on a soft cool bed of moss near a stream, rolling herself backwards and forwards from pleasure.
‘”Good morning,” said the hare politely, and the donkey got slowly on to her legs, and looked to see who her visitor could be.
‘”Oh, it is you, is it?” she exclaimed. “Come and have a chat. What news have you got?”
‘”I mustn’t stay,” answered the hare; “but I promised the lion to beg you to pay him a visit, as he is not well enough to call on you.”
‘”Well, I don’t know,” replied the donkey gloomily, “the last time we went he scratched me very badly, and really I was quite afraid.”
‘”He was only trying to kiss you,” said the hare, “and you bit him, and of course that made him cross.”
‘”If I were sure of that,” hesitated the donkey.
‘”Oh, you may be quite sure,” laughed the hare. “I have a large acquaintance among lions. But let us be quick,” and rather unwillingly the donkey set out.
‘The lion saw them coming and hid himself behind a large tree. As the donkey went past, followed by the hare, he sprang out, and with one blow of his paw stretched the poor foolish creature dead before him.
‘”Take this meat and skin it and roast it,” he said to the hare; “but my appetite is not so good as it was, and the only part I want for myself is the heart. The rest you can either eat yourself or give away to your friends.”
‘”Thank you,” replied the hare, balancing the donkey on her back as well as she was able, and though the legs trailed along the ground she managed to drag it to an open space some distance off, where she made a fire and roasted it. As soon as it was cooked the hare took out the heart and had just finished eating it when the lion, who was tired of waiting, came up.
‘”I am hungry,” said he. “Bring me the creature’s heart; it is just what I want for supper.”
‘”But there is no heart,” answered the hare, looking up at the lion with a puzzled face.
‘”What nonsense!” said the lion. “As if every beast had not got a heart. What do you mean?”
‘”This is a washerman’s donkey,” replied the hare gravely.
‘”Well, and suppose it is?”
‘”Oh, fie!” exclaimed the hare. “You, a lion and a grown-up person, and ask questions like that. If the donkey had had a heart would she be here now? The first time she came she knew you were trying to kill her, and ran away. Yet she came back a second time. Well, if she had had a heart would she have come back a second time? Now would she?”
‘And the lion answered slowly, “No, she would not.”
‘So you think I am a washerman’s donkey?’ said the monkey to the shark, when the story was ended. ‘You are wrong; I am not. And as the sun is getting low in the sky, it is time for you to begin your homeward journey. You will have a nice cool voyage, and I hope you will find the sultan better. Farewell!’ And the monkey disappeared among the green branches, and was gone.
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14 | 15 | A tale from Africa folklore titled haamdaanee | Fairytalez.com»Fairy Blog»Zanzibar Tales»Haamdaanee
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Once there was a very poor man, named Haamdaa′nee, who begged from door to door for his living, sometimes taking things before they were offered him. After a while people became suspicious of him, and stopped giving him anything, in order to keep him away from their houses. So at last he was reduced to the necessity of going every morning to the village dust heap, and picking up and eating the few grains of the tiny little millet seed that he might find there.
One day, as he was scratching and turning over the heap, he found a dime, which he tied up in a corner of his ragged dress, and continued to hunt for millet grains, but could not find one.
“Oh, well,” said he, “I’ve got a dime now; I’m pretty well fixed. I’ll go home and take a nap instead of a meal.”
So he went to his hut, took a drink of water, put some tobacco in his mouth, and went to sleep.
The next morning, as he scratched in the dust heap, he saw a countryman going along, carrying a basket made of twigs, and he called to him: “Hi, there, countryman! What have you in that cage?”
The countryman, whose name was Moohaad′eem, replied, “Gazelles.”
And Haamdaanee called: “Bring them here. Let me see them.”
Now there were three well-to-do men standing near; and when they saw the countryman coming to Haamdaanee they smiled, and said, “You’re taking lots of trouble for nothing, Moohaadeem.”
“How’s that, gentlemen?” he inquired.
“Why,” said they, “that poor fellow has nothing at all. Not a cent.”
“Oh, I don’t know that,” said the countryman; “he may have plenty, for all I know.”
“Not he,” said they.
“Don’t you see for yourself,” continued one of them, “that he is on the dust heap? Every day he scratches there like a hen, trying to get enough grains of millet to keep himself alive. If he had any money, wouldn’t he buy a square meal, for once in his life? Do you think he would want to buy a gazelle? What would he do with it? He can’t find enough food for himself, without looking for any for a gazelle.”
But Moohaadeem said: “Gentlemen, I have brought some goods here to sell. I answer all who call me, and if any one says ‘Come,’ I go to him. I don’t favor one and slight another; therefore, as this man called me, I’m going to him.”
“All right,” said the first man; “you don’t believe us. Well, we know where he lives, and all about him, and we know that he can’t buy anything.”
“That’s so,” said the second man. “Perhaps, however, you will see that we were right, after you have a talk with him.”
To which the third man added, “Clouds are a sign of rain, but we have seen no signs of his being about to spend any money.”
“All right, gentlemen,” said Moohaadeem; “many better-looking people than he call me, and when I show them my gazelles they say, ‘Oh, yes, they’re very beautiful, but awfully dear; take them away.’ So I shall not be disappointed if this man says the same thing. I shall go to him, anyhow.”
Then one of the three men said, “Let us go with this man, and see what the beggar will buy.”
“Pshaw!” said another; “buy! You talk foolishly. He has not had a good meal in three years, to my knowledge; and a man in his condition doesn’t have money to buy gazelles. However, let’s go; and if he makes this poor countryman carry his load over there just for the fun of looking at the gazelles, let each of us give him a good hard whack with our walking-sticks, to teach him how to behave toward honest merchants.”
So, when they came near him, one of those three men said: “Well, here are the gazelles; now buy one. Here they are, you old hypocrite; you’ll feast your eyes on them, but you can’t buy them.”
But Haamdaanee, paying no attention to the men, said to Moohaadeem, “How much for one of your gazelles?”
Then another of those men broke in: “You’re very innocent, aren’t you? You know, as well as I do, that gazelles are sold every day at two for a quarter.”
Still taking no notice of these outsiders, Haamdaanee continued, “I’d like to buy one for a dime.”
“One for a dime!” laughed the men; “of course you’d like to buy one for a dime. Perhaps you’d also like to have the dime to buy with.”
Then one of them gave him a push on the cheek.
At this Haamdaanee turned and said: “Why do you push me on the cheek, when I’ve done nothing to you? I do not know you. I call this man, to transact some business with him, and you, who are strangers, step in to spoil our trade.”
He then untied the knot in the corner of his ragged coat, produced the dime, and, handing it to Moohaadeem, said, “Please, good man, let me have a gazelle for that.”
At this, the countryman took a small gazelle out of the cage and handed it to him, saying, “Here, master, take this one. I call it Keejee′paa.” Then turning to those three men, he laughed, and said: “Ehe! How’s this? You, with your white robes, and turbans, and swords, and daggers, and sandals on your feet—you gentlemen of property, and no mistake—you told me this man was too poor to buy anything; yet he has bought a gazelle for a dime, while you fine fellows, I think, haven’t enough money among you to buy half a gazelle, if they were five cents each.”
Then Moohaadeem and the three men went their several ways.
As for Haamdaanee, he stayed at the dust heap until he found a few grains of millet for himself and a few for Keejeepaa, the gazelle, and then went to his hut, spread his sleeping mat, and he and the gazelle slept together.
This going to the dust heap for a few grains of millet and then going home to bed continued for about a week.
Then one night Haamdaanee was awakened by some one calling, “Master!” Sitting up, he answered: “Here I am. Who calls?” The gazelle answered, “I do!”
Upon this, the beggar man became so scared that he did not know whether he should faint or get up and run away.
Seeing him so overcome, Keejeepaa asked, “Why, master, what’s the matter?”
“Oh, gracious!” he gasped; “what a wonder I see!”
“A wonder?” said the gazelle, looking all around; “why, what is this wonder, that makes you act as if you were all broken up?”
“Why, it’s so wonderful, I can hardly believe I’m awake!” said his master. “Who in the world ever before knew of a gazelle that could speak?”
“Oho!” laughed Keejeepaa; “is that all? There are many more wonderful things than that. But now, listen, while I tell you why I called you.”
“Certainly; I’ll listen to every word,” said the man. “I can’t help listening!”
“Well, you see, it’s just this way,” said Keejeepaa; “I’ve allowed you to become my master, and I can not run away from you; so I want you to make an agreement with me, and I will make you a promise, and keep it.”
“Say on,” said his master.
“Now,” continued the gazelle, “one doesn’t have to be acquainted with you long, in order to discover that you are very poor. This scratching a few grains of millet from the dust heap every day, and managing to subsist upon them, is all very well for you—you’re used to it, because it’s a matter of necessity with you; but if I keep it up much longer, you won’t have any gazelle—Keejeepaa will die of starvation. Therefore, I want to go away every day and feed on my own kind of food; and I promise you I will return every evening.”
“Well, I guess I’ll have to give my consent,” said the man, in no very cheerful tone.
As it was now dawn, Keejeepaa jumped up and ran out of the door, Haamdaanee following him. The gazelle ran very fast, and his master stood watching him until he disappeared. Then tears started in the man’s eyes, and, raising his hands, he cried, “Oh, my mother!” Then he cried, “Oh, my father!” Then he cried, “Oh, my gazelle! It has run away!”
Some of his neighbors, who heard him carrying on in this manner, took the opportunity to inform him that he was a fool, an idiot, and a dissipated fellow.
Said one of them: “You hung around that dust heap, goodness knows how long, scratching like a hen, till fortune gave you a dime. You hadn’t sense enough to go and buy some decent food; you had to buy a gazelle. Now you’ve let the creature run away. What are you crying about? You brought all your trouble on yourself.”
All this, of course, was very comforting to Haamdaanee, who slunk off to the dust heap, got a few grains of millet, and came back to his hut, which now seemed meaner and more desolate than ever.
At sunset, however, Keejeepaa came trotting in; and the beggar was happy again, and said, “Ah, my friend, you have returned to me.”
“Of course,” said the gazelle; “didn’t I promise you? You see, I feel that when you bought me you gave all the money you had in the world, even though it was only a dime. Why, then, should I grieve you? I couldn’t do it. If I go and get myself some food, I’ll always come back evenings.”
When the neighbors saw the gazelle come home every evening and run off every morning, they were greatly surprised, and began to suspect that Haamdaanee was a wizard.
Well, this coming and going continued for five days, the gazelle telling its master each night what fine places it had been to, and what lots of food it had eaten.
On the sixth day it was feeding among some thorn bushes in a thick wood, when, scratching away some bitter grass at the foot of a big tree, it saw an immense diamond of intense brightness.
“Oho!” said Keejeepaa, in great astonishment; “here’s property, and no mistake! This is worth a kingdom! If I take it to my master he will be killed; for, being a poor man, if they say to him, ‘Where did you get it?’ and he answers, ‘I picked it up,’ they will not believe him; if he says, ‘It was given to me,’ they will not believe him either. It will not do for me to get my master into difficulties. I know what I’ll do. I’ll seek some powerful person; he will use it properly.”
So Keejeepaa started off through the forest, holding the diamond in his mouth, and ran, and ran, but saw no town that day; so he slept in the forest, and arose at dawn and pursued his way. And the second day passed like the first.
On the third day the gazelle had traveled from dawn until between eight and nine o’clock, when he began to see scattered houses, getting larger in size, and knew he was approaching a town. In due time he found himself in the main street of a large city, leading direct to the sultan’s palace, and began to run as fast as he could. People passing along stopped to look at the strange sight of a gazelle running swiftly along the main street with something wrapped in green leaves between its teeth.
The sultan was sitting at the door of his palace, when Keejeepaa, stopping a little way off, dropped the diamond from its mouth, and, lying down beside it, panting, called out: “Ho, there! Ho, there!” which is a cry every one makes in that part of the world when wishing to enter a house, remaining outside until the cry is answered.
After the cry had been repeated several times, the sultan said to his attendants, “Who is doing all that calling?”
And one answered, “Master, it’s a gazelle that’s calling, ‘Ho, there!’”
“Ho-ho!” said the sultan; “Ho-ho! Invite the gazelle to come near.”
Then three attendants ran to Keejeepaa and said: “Come, get up. The sultan commands you to come near.”
So the gazelle arose, picked up the diamond, and, approaching the sultan, laid the jewel at his feet, saying, “Master, good afternoon!” To which the sultan replied: “May God make it good! Come near.”
The sultan ordered his attendants to bring a carpet and a large cushion, and desired the gazelle to rest upon them. When it protested that it was comfortable as it was, he insisted, and Keejeepaa had to allow himself to be made a very honored guest. Then they brought milk and rice, and the sultan would hear nothing until the gazelle had fed and rested.
At last, when everything had been disposed of, the sultan said, “Well, now, my friend, tell me what news you bring.”
And Keejeepaa said: “Master, I don’t exactly know how you will like the news I bring. The fact is, I’m sent here to insult you! I’ve come to try and pick a quarrel with you! In fact, I’m here to propose a family alliance with you!”
At this the sultan exclaimed: “Oh, come! for a gazelle, you certainly know how to talk! Now, the fact of it is, I’m looking for some one to insult me. I’m just aching to have some one pick a quarrel with me. I’m impatient for a family alliance. Go on with your message.”
Then Keejeepaa said, “You don’t bear any ill will against me, who am only a messenger?”
And the sultan said, “None at all.”
“Well,” said Keejeepaa, “look at this pledge I bring;” dropping the diamond wrapped in leaves into the sultan’s lap.
When the sultan opened the leaves and saw the great, sparkling jewel, he was overcome with astonishment. At last he said, “Well?”
“I have brought this pledge,” said the gazelle, “from my master, Sultan Daaraa′ee. He has heard that you have a daughter, so he sent you this jewel, hoping you will forgive him for not sending something more worthy of your acceptance than this trifle.”
“Goodness!” said the sultan to himself; “he calls this a trifle!” Then to the gazelle: “Oh, that’s all right; that’s all right. I’m satisfied. The Sultan Daaraaee has my consent to marry my daughter, and I don’t want a single thing from him. Let him come empty-handed. If he has more of these trifles, let him leave them at home. This is my message, and I hope you will make it perfectly clear to your master.”
The gazelle assured him that he would explain everything satisfactorily, adding: “And now, master, I take my leave. I go straight to our own town, and hope that in about eleven days we shall return to be your guests.” So, with mutual compliments, they parted.
In the meantime, Haamdaanee was having an exceedingly tough time. Keejeepaa having disappeared, he wandered about the town moaning, “Oh, my poor gazelle! my poor gazelle!” while the neighbors laughed and jeered at him, until, between them and his loss, he was nearly out of his mind.
But one evening, when he had gone to bed, Keejeepaa walked in. Up he jumped, and began to embrace the gazelle, and weep over it, and carry on at a great rate.
When he thought there had been about enough of this kind of thing, the gazelle said: “Come, come; keep quiet, my master. I’ve brought you good news.” But the beggar man continued to cry and fondle, and declare that he had thought his gazelle was dead.
At last Keejeepaa said: “Oh, well, master, you see I’m all right. You must brace up, and prepare to hear my news, and do as I advise you.”
“Go on; go on,” replied his master; “explain what you will, I’ll do whatever you require me to do. If you were to say, ‘Lie down on your back, that I may roll you over the side of the hill,’ I would lie down.”
“Well,” said the gazelle, “there is not much to explain just now, but I’ll tell you this: I’ve seen many kinds of food, food that is desirable and food that is objectionable, but this food I’m about to offer you is very sweet indeed.”
“What?” said Haamdaanee. “Is it possible that in this world there is anything that is positively good? There must be good and bad in everything. Food that is both sweet and bitter is good food, but if food were nothing but sweetness would it not be injurious?”
“H’m!” yawned the gazelle; “I’m too tired to talk philosophy. Let’s go to sleep now, and when I call you in the morning, all you have to do is to get up and follow me.”
So at dawn they set forth, the gazelle leading the way, and for five days they journeyed through the forest.
On the fifth day they came to a stream, and Keejeepaa said to his master, “Lie down here.” When he had done so, the gazelle set to and beat him so soundly that he cried out: “Oh, let up, I beg of you!”
“Now,” said the gazelle, “I’m going away, and when I return I expect to find you right here; so don’t you leave this spot on any account.” Then he ran away, and about ten o’clock that morning he arrived at the house of the sultan.
Now, ever since the day Keejeepaa left the town, soldiers had been placed along the road to watch for and announce the approach of Sultan Daaraaee; so one of them, when he saw the gazelle in the distance, rushed up and cried to the sultan, “Sultan Daaraaee is coming! I’ve seen the gazelle running as fast as it can in this direction.”
The sultan and his attendants immediately set out to meet his guests; but when they had gone a little way beyond the town they met the gazelle coming along alone, who, on reaching the sultan, said, “Good day, my master.” The sultan replied in kind, and asked the news, but Keejeepaa said: “Ah, do not ask me. I can scarcely walk, and my news is bad!”
“Why, how is that?” asked the sultan.
“Oh, dear!” sighed the gazelle; “such misfortune and misery! You see, Sultan Daaraaee and I started alone to come here, and we got along all right until we came to the thick part of the forest yonder, when we were met by robbers, who seized my master, bound him, beat him, and took everything he had, even stripping off every stitch of his clothing. Oh, dear! oh, dear!”
“Dear me!” said the sultan; “we must attend to this at once.” So, hurrying back with his attendants to his house, he called a groom, to whom he said, “Saddle the best horse in my stable, and put on him my finest harness.” Then he directed a woman servant to open the big inlaid chest and bring him a bag of clothes. When she brought it he picked out a loin-cloth, and a long white robe, and a black overjacket, and a shawl for the waist, and a turban cloth, all of the very finest. Then he sent for a curved sword with a gold hilt, and a curved dagger with gold filigree, and a pair of elegant sandals, and a fine walking-cane.
Then the sultan said to Keejeepaa, “Take some of my soldiers, and let them convey these things to Sultan Daaraaee, that he may dress himself and come to me.”
But the gazelle answered: “Ah, my master, can I take these soldiers with me and put Sultan Daaraaee to shame? There he lies, beaten and robbed, and I would not have any one see him. I can take everything by myself.”
“Why,” exclaimed the sultan, “here is a horse, and there are clothes and arms. I don’t see how a little gazelle can manage all those things.”
But the gazelle had them fasten everything on the horse’s back, and tie the end of the bridle around his own neck, and then he set off alone, amidst the wonder and admiration of the people of that city, high and low.
When he arrived at the place where he had left the beggar-man, he found him lying waiting for him, and overjoyed at his return.
“Now,” said he, “I have brought you the sweet food I promised. Come, get up and bathe yourself.”
With the hesitation of a person long unaccustomed to such a thing, the man stepped into the stream and began to wet himself a little.
“Oh,” said the gazelle, impatiently, “a little water like that won’t do you much good; get out into the deep pool.”
“Dear me!” said the man, timidly; “there is so much water there; and where there is much water there are sure to be horrible animals.”
“Animals! What kind of animals?”
“Well, crocodiles, water lizards, snakes, and, at any rate, frogs; and they bite people, and I’m terribly afraid of all of them.”
“Oh, well,” said Keejeepaa, “do the best you can in the stream; but rub yourself well with earth, and, for goodness’ sake, scrub your teeth well with sand; they are awfully dirty.”
So the man obeyed, and soon made quite a change in his appearance.
Then the gazelle said: “Here, hurry up and put on these things. The sun has gone down, and we ought to have started before this.”
So the man dressed himself in the fine clothes the sultan had sent, and then he mounted the horse, and they started; the gazelle trotting on ahead.
When they had gone some distance, the gazelle stopped, and said, “See here: nobody who sees you now would suspect that you are the man who scratched in the dust heap yesterday. Even if we were to go back to our town the neighbors would not recognize you, if it were only for the fact that your face is clean and your teeth are white. Your appearance is all right, but I have a caution to give you. Over there, where we are going, I have procured for you the sultan’s daughter for a wife, with all the usual wedding gifts. Now, you must keep quiet. Say nothing except, ‘How d’ye do?’ and ‘What’s the news?’ Let me do the talking.”
“All right,” said the man; “that suits me exactly.”
“Do you know what your name is?”
“Of course I do.”
“Indeed? Well, what is it?”
“Why, my name is Haamdaanee.”
“Not much,” laughed Keejeepaa; “your name is Sultan Daaraaee.”
“Oh, is it?” said his master. “That’s good.”
So they started forward again, and in a little while they saw soldiers running in every direction, and fourteen of these joined them to escort them. Then they saw ahead of them the sultan, and the vizirs, and the emirs, and the judges, and the great men of the city, coming to meet them.
“Now, then,” said Keejeepaa, “get off your horse and salute your father-in-law. That’s him in the middle, wearing the sky-blue jacket.”
“All right,” said the man, jumping off his horse, which was then led by a soldier.
So the two met, and the sultans shook hands, and kissed each other, and walked up to the palace together.
Then they had a great feast, and made merry and talked until night, at which time Sultan Daaraaee and the gazelle were put into an inner room, with three soldiers at the door to guard and attend upon them.
When the morning came, Keejeepaa went to the sultan and said: “Master, we wish to attend to the business which brought us here. We want to marry your daughter, and the sooner the ceremony takes place, the better it will please the Sultan Daaraaee.”
“Why, that’s all right,” said the sultan; “the bride is ready. Let some one call the teacher, Mwaalee′moo, and tell him to come at once.”
When Mwaaleemoo arrived, the sultan said, “See here, we want you to marry this gentleman to my daughter right away.”
“All right; I’m ready,” said the teacher. So they were married.
Early the next morning the gazelle said to his master: “Now I’m off on a journey. I shall be gone about a week; but however long I am gone, don’t you leave the house till I return. Good-bye.”
Then he went to the real sultan and said: “Good master, Sultan Daaraaee has ordered me to return to our town and put his house in order; he commands me to be here again in a week; if I do not return by that time, he will stay here until I come.”
The sultan asked him if he would not like to have some soldiers go with him; but the gazelle replied that he was quite competent to take care of himself, as his previous journeys had proved, and he preferred to go alone; so with mutual good wishes they parted.
But Keejeepaa did not go in the direction of the old village. He struck off by another road through the forest, and after a time came to a very fine town, of large, handsome houses. As he went through the principal street, right to the far end, he was greatly astonished to observe that the town seemed to have no inhabitants, for he saw neither man, woman, nor child in all the place.
At the end of the main street he came upon the largest and most beautiful house he had ever seen, built of sapphire, and turquoise, and costly marbles.
“Oh, my!” said the gazelle; “this house would just suit my master. I’ll have to pluck up my courage and see whether this is deserted like the other houses in this mysterious town.”
So Keejeepaa knocked at the door, and called, “Hullo, there!” several times; but no one answered. And he said to himself: “This is strange! If there were no one inside, the door would be fastened on the outside. Perhaps they are in another part of the house, or asleep. I’ll call again, louder.”
So he called again, very loud and long, “Hul-lo, th-e-re! Hul-lo!” And directly an old woman inside answered, “Who is that calling so loudly?”
“It is I, your grandchild, good mistress,” said Keejeepaa.
“If you are my grandchild,” replied the old woman, “go back to your home at once; don’t come and die here, and bring me to my death also.”
“Oh, come,” said he, “open the door, mistress; I have just a few words I wish to say to you.”
“My dear grandson,” she replied, “the only reason why I do not open the door is because I fear to endanger both your life and my own.”
“Oh, don’t worry about that; I guess your life and mine are safe enough for a while. Open the door, anyhow, and hear the little I have to say.”
So the old woman opened the door.
Then they exchanged salutations and compliments, after which she asked the gazelle, “What’s the news from your place, grandson?”
“Oh, everything is going along pretty well,” said he; “what’s the news around here?”
“Ah!” sighed the old creature; “the news here is very bad. If you’re looking for a place to die in, you’ve struck it here. I’ve not the slightest doubt you’ll see all you want of death this very day.”
“Huh!” replied Keejeepaa, lightly; “for a fly to die in honey is not bad for the fly, and doesn’t injure the honey.”
“It may be all very well for you to be easy about it,” persisted the old person; “but if people with swords and shields did not escape, how can a little thing like you avoid danger? I must again beg of you to go back to the place you came from. Your safety seems of more interest to me than it is to you.”
“Well, you see, I can’t go back just now; and besides, I want to find out more about this place. Who owns it?”
“Ah, grandson, in this house are enormous wealth, numbers of people, hundreds of horses, and the owner is Neeo′ka Mkoo′, the wonderfully big snake. He owns this whole town, also.”
“Oho! Is that so?” said Keejeepaa. “Look here, old lady; can’t you put me on to some plan of getting near this big snake, that I may kill him?”
“Mercy!” cried the old woman, in affright; “don’t talk like that. You’ve put my life in danger already, for I’m sure Neeoka Mkoo can hear what is said in this house, wherever he is. You see I’m a poor old woman, and I have been placed here, with those pots and pans, to cook for him. Well, when the big snake is coming, the wind begins to blow and the dust flies as it would do in a great storm. Then, when he arrives in the courtyard, he eats until he is full, and after that, goes inside there to drink water. When he has finished, he goes away again. This occurs every other day, just when the sun is overhead. I may add that Neeoka Mkoo has seven heads. Now, then, do you think yourself a match for him?”
“Look here, mother,” said the gazelle, “don’t you worry about me. Has this big snake a sword?”
“He has. This is it,” said she, taking from its peg a very keen and beautiful blade, and handing it to him; “but what’s the use in bothering about it? We are dead already.”
“We shall see about that,” said Keejeepaa.
Just at that moment the wind began to blow, and the dust to fly, as if a great storm were approaching.
“Do you hear the great one coming?” cried the old woman.
“Pshaw!” said the gazelle; “I’m a great one also—and I have the advantage of being on the inside. Two bulls can’t live in one cattle-pen. Either he will live in this house, or I will.”
Notwithstanding the terror the old lady was in, she had to smile at the assurance of this little undersized gazelle, and repeated over again her account of the people with swords and shields who had been killed by the big snake.
“Ah, stop your gabbling!” said the gazelle; “you can’t always judge a banana by its color or size. Wait and see, grandma.”
In a very little while the big snake, Neeoka Mkoo, came into the courtyard, and went around to all the pots and ate their contents. Then he came to the door.
“Hullo, old lady,” said he; “how is it I smell a new kind of odor inside there?”
“Oh, that’s nothing, good master,” replied the old woman; “I’ve been so busy around here lately I haven’t had time to look after myself; but this morning I used some perfume, and that’s what you smell.”
Now, Keejeepaa had drawn the sword, and was standing just inside the doorway; so, when the big snake put his head in, it was cut off so quickly that its owner did not know it was gone. When he put in his second head it was cut off with the same quickness; and, feeling a little irritation, he exclaimed, “Who’s inside there, scratching me?” He then thrust in his third head, and that was cut off also.
This continued until six heads had been disposed of, when Neeoka Mkoo unfolded his rings and lashed around so that the gazelle and the old woman could not see one another through the dust.
Then the snake thrust in his seventh head, and the gazelle, crying: “Now your time has come; you’ve climbed many trees, but this you can not climb,” severed it, and immediately fell down in a fainting fit.
Well, that old woman, although she was seventy-five years of age, jumped, and shouted, and laughed, like a girl of nine. Then she ran and got water, and sprinkled the gazelle, and turned him this way and that way, until at last he sneezed; which greatly pleased the old person, who fanned him and tended him until he was quite recovered.
“Oh, my!” said she; “who would have thought you could be a match for him, my grandson?”
“Well, well,” said Keejeepaa; “that’s all over. Now show me everything around this place.”
So she showed him everything, from top to bottom: store-rooms full of goods, chambers full of expensive foods, rooms containing handsome people who had been kept prisoners for a long time, slaves, and everything.
Next he asked her if there was any person who was likely to lay claim to the place or make any trouble; and she answered: “No one; everything here belongs to you.”
“Very well, then,” said he, “you stay here and take care of these things until I bring my master. This place belongs to him now.”
Keejeepaa stayed three days examining the house, and said to himself: “Well, when my master comes here he will be much pleased with what I have done for him, and he’ll appreciate it after the life he’s been accustomed to. As to his father-in-law, there is not a house in his town that can compare with this.”
On the fourth day he departed, and in due time arrived at the town where the sultan and his master lived. Then there were great rejoicings; the sultan being particularly pleased at his return, while his master felt as if he had received a new lease of life.
After everything had settled down a little, Keejeepaa told his master he must be ready to go, with his wife, to his new home after four days. Then he went and told the sultan that Sultan Daaraaee desired to take his wife to his own town in four days; to which the sultan strongly objected; but the gazelle said it was his master’s wish, and at last everything was arranged.
On the day of the departure a great company assembled to escort Sultan Daaraaee and his bride. There were the bride’s ladies-in-waiting, and slaves, and horsemen, and Keejeepaa leading them all.
So they traveled three days, resting when the sun was overhead, and stopping each evening about five o’clock to eat and sleep; arising next morning at day-break, eating, and going forward again. And all this time the gazelle took very little rest, going all through the company, from the ladies to the slaves, and seeing that every one was well supplied with food and quite comfortable; therefore the entire company loved him and valued him like the apples of their eyes.
On the fourth day, during the afternoon, many houses came into view, and some of the folks called Keejeepaa’s attention to them. “Certainly,” said he; “that is our town, and that house you see yonder is the palace of Sultan Daaraaee.”
So they went on, and all the company filed into the courtyard, while the gazelle and his master went into the house.
When the old woman saw Keejeepaa, she began to dance, and shout, and carry on, just as she did when he killed Neeoka Mkoo, and taking up his foot she kissed it; but Keejeepaa said: “Old lady, let me alone; the one to be made much of is this my master, Sultan Daaraaee. Kiss his feet; he has the first honors whenever he is present.”
The old woman excused herself for not knowing the master, and then Sultan Daaraaee and the gazelle went around on a tour of inspection. The sultan ordered all the prisoners to be released, the horses to be sent out to pasture, all the rooms to be swept, the furniture to be dusted, and, in the meantime, servants were busy preparing food. Then every one had apartments assigned to him, and all were satisfied.
After they had remained there some time, the ladies who had accompanied the bride expressed a desire to return to their own homes. Keejeepaa begged them not to hurry away, but after a while they departed, each loaded with gifts by the gazelle, for whom they had a thousand times more affection than for his master. Then things settled down to their regular routine.
One day the gazelle said to the old woman: “I think the conduct of my master is very singular. I have done nothing but good for him all the time I have been with him. I came to this town and braved many dangers for him, and when all was over I gave everything to him. Yet he has never asked: ‘How did you get this house? How did you get this town? Who is the owner of this house? Have you rented all these things, or have they been given you? What has become of the inhabitants of the place?’ I don’t understand him. And further: although I have done nothing but good for him, he has never done one good thing for me. Nothing here is really his. He never saw such a house or town as this since the day he was born, and he doesn’t own anything of it. I believe the old folks were right when they said, ‘If you want to do any person good, don’t do too much; do him a little harm occasionally, and he’ll think more of you.’ However, I’ve done all I can now, and I’d like to see him make some little return.”
Next morning the old woman was awakened early by the gazelle calling, “Mother! Mother!” When she went to him she found he was sick in his stomach, feverish, and all his legs ached.
“Go,” said he, “and tell my master I am very ill.”
So she went upstairs and found the master and mistress sitting on a marble couch, covered with a striped silk scarf from India.
“Well,” said the master, “what do you want, old woman?”
“Oh, my master,” cried she, “Keejeepaa is sick!”
The mistress started and said: “Dear me! What is the matter with him?”
“All his body pains him. He is sick all over.”
“Oh, well,” said the master, “what can I do? Go and get some of that red millet, that is too common for our use, and make him some gruel.”
“Gracious!” exclaimed his wife, staring at him in amazement; “do you wish her to feed our friend with stuff that a horse would not eat if he were ever so hungry? This is not right of you.”
“Ah, get out!” said he, “you’re crazy. We eat rice; isn’t red millet good enough for a gazelle that cost only a dime?”
“Oh, but he is no ordinary gazelle. He should be as dear to you as the apple of your eye. If sand got in your eye it would trouble you.”
“You talk too much,” returned her husband; then, turning to the old woman, he said, “Go and do as I told you.”
So the old woman went downstairs, and when she saw the gazelle, she began to cry, and say, “Oh, dear! oh, dear!”
It was a long while before the gazelle could persuade her to tell him what had passed upstairs, but at last she told him all. When he had heard it, he said: “Did he really tell you to make me red millet gruel?”
“Ah,” cried she, “do you think I would say such a thing if it were not so?”
“Well,” said Keejeepaa, “I believe what the old folks said was right. However, we’ll give him another chance. Go up to him again, and tell him I am very sick, and that I can’t eat that gruel.”
So she went upstairs, and found the master and mistress sitting by the window, drinking coffee.
The master, looking around and seeing her, said: “What’s the matter now, old woman?”
And she said: “Master, I am sent by Keejeepaa. He is very sick indeed, and has not taken the gruel you told me to make for him.”
“Oh, bother!” he exclaimed. “Hold your tongue, and keep your feet still, and shut your eyes, and stop your ears with wax; then, if that gazelle tells you to come up here, say that your legs are stiff; and if he tells you to listen, say your ears are deaf; and if he tells you to look, say your sight has failed you; and if he wants you to talk, tell him your tongue is paralyzed.”
When the old woman heard these words, she stood and stared, and was unable to move. As for his wife, her face became sad, and the tears began to start from her eyes; observing which, her husband said, sharply, “What’s the matter with you, sultan’s daughter?”
The lady replied, “A man’s madness is his undoing.”
“Why do you say that, mistress?” he inquired.
“Ah,” said she, “I am grieved, my husband, at your treatment of Keejeepaa. Whenever I say a good word for the gazelle you dislike to hear it. I pity you that your understanding is gone.”
“What do you mean by talking in that manner to me?” he blustered.
“Why, advice is a blessing, if properly taken. A husband should advise with his wife, and a wife with her husband; then they are both blessed.”
“Oh, stop,” said her husband, impatiently; “it’s evident you’ve lost your senses. You should be chained up.” Then he said to the old woman: “Never mind her talk; and as to this gazelle, tell him to stop bothering me and putting on style, as if he were the sultan. I can’t eat, I can’t drink, I can’t sleep, because of that gazelle worrying me with his messages. First, the gazelle is sick; then, the gazelle doesn’t like what he gets to eat. Confound it! If he likes to eat, let him eat; if he doesn’t like to eat, let him die and be out of the way. My mother is dead, and my father is dead, and I still live and eat; shall I be put out of my way by a gazelle, that I bought for a dime, telling me he wants this thing or that thing? Go and tell him to learn how to behave himself toward his superiors.”
When the old woman went downstairs, she found the gazelle was bleeding at the mouth, and in a very bad way. All she could say was, “My son, the good you did is all lost; but be patient.”
And the gazelle wept with the old woman when she told him all that had passed, and he said, “Mother, I am dying, not only from sickness, but from shame and anger at this man’s ingratitude.”
After a while Keejeepaa told the old woman to go and tell the master that he believed he was dying. When she went upstairs she found Daaraaee chewing sugar-cane, and she said to him, “Master, the gazelle is worse; we think him nearer to dying than getting well.”
To which he answered: “Haven’t I told you often enough not to bother me?”
Then his wife said: “Oh, husband, won’t you go down and see the poor gazelle? If you don’t like to go, let me go and see him. He never gets a single good thing from you.”
But he turned to the old woman and said, “Go and tell that nuisance of a gazelle to die eleven times if he chooses to.”
“Now, husband,” persisted the lady, “what has Keejeepaa done to you? Has he done you any wrong? Such words as yours people use to their enemies only. Surely the gazelle is not your enemy. All the people who know him, great and lowly, love him dearly, and they will think it very wrong of you if you neglect him. Now, do be kind to him, Sultan Daaraaee.”
But he only repeated his assertion that she had lost her wits, and would have nothing further of argument.
So the old woman went down and found the gazelle worse than ever.
In the meantime Sultan Daaraaee’s wife managed to give some rice to a servant to cook for the gazelle, and also sent him a soft shawl to cover him and a pillow to lie upon. She also sent him a message that if he wished, she would have her father’s best physicians attend him.
All this was too late, however, for just as these good things arrived, Keejeepaa died.
When the people heard he was dead, they went running around crying and having an awful time; and when Sultan Daaraaee found out what all the commotion was about he was very indignant, remarking, “Why, you are making as much fuss as if I were dead, and all over a gazelle that I bought for a dime!”
But his wife said: “Husband, it was this gazelle that came to ask me of my father, it was he who brought me from my father’s, and it was to him I was given by my father. He gave you everything good, and you do not possess a thing that he did not procure for you. He did everything he could to help you, and you not only returned him unkindness, but now he is dead you have ordered people to throw him into the well. Let us alone, that we may weep.”
But the gazelle was taken and thrown into the well.
Then the lady wrote a letter telling her father to come to her directly, and despatched it by trusty messengers; upon the receipt of which the sultan and his attendants started hurriedly to visit his daughter.
When they arrived, and heard that the gazelle was dead and had been thrown into the well, they wept very much; and the sultan, and the vizir, and the judges, and the rich chief men, all went down into the well and brought up the body of Keejeepaa, and took it away with them and buried it.
Now, that night the lady dreamt that she was at home at her father’s house; and when dawn came she awoke and found she was in her own bed in her own town again.
And her husband dreamed that he was on the dust heap, scratching; and when he awoke there he was, with both hands full of dust, looking for grains of millet. Staring wildly he looked around to the right and left, saying: “Oh, who has played this trick on me? How did I get back here, I wonder?”
Just then the children going along, and seeing him, laughed and hooted at him, calling out: “Hullo, Haamdaanee, where have you been? Where do you come from? We thought you were dead long ago.”
So the sultan’s daughter lived in happiness with her people until the end, and that beggar-man continued to scratch for grains of millet in the dust heap until he died.
If this story is good, the goodness belongs to all; if it is bad, the badness belongs only to him who told it.
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