"I don"t think you will win the battle," said the shrimp. "The waves are very strong, while your legs are so weak that your bodies bend almost to the ground when you walk," and he laughed. The crabs were so angry at his scorn that they ran at the shrimp and pinched him until he promised to help them in the battle.
When they reached the sh.o.r.e, the crabs looked at the shrimp and said: "Your face is turned the wrong way, friend shrimp," and they laughed at him, for crabs are much like other people, and think they are the only ones who are right. "Are you ready to fight with the waves? What weapon have you?"
"My weapon," replied the shrimp, "is a spear on my head." Just then he saw a large wave coming, and ran away; but the crabs, who were all looking towards the sh.o.r.e, did not see it, and were killed.
The wives of the dead crabs wondered why their husbands did not come home. They thought the battle must be a long one, and decided to go down and help their husbands. As they reached the sh.o.r.e and entered the water to look for their husbands, the waves killed them.
A short time afterwards, thousands of little crabs, such as are now called fiddlers, were found near the sh.o.r.e. When these children were old enough to walk, the shrimp often visited them and related to them the sad fate of their parents. And so, if you will watch carefully the fiddlers, you will notice that they always seem ready to run back to the land, where their forefathers lived, and then, as they regain their courage, they rush down, as if about to fight the waves. But they always lack the courage to do so, and continually run back and forth. They live neither on dry land, as their ancestors did, nor in the sea, like the other crabs, but up on the beach, where the waves wash over them at high tide and try to dash them to pieces.
CHAPTER 17
The Meeting of the Plants.
Once upon a time plants were able to talk as well as people, and to walk from place to place. One day King Molave, the strongest tree, who lived on a high mountain, called his subjects together for a general meeting.
Then every tree put itself in motion towards the designated spot, each doing its best to reach it first. But the buri palm was several days late, which made the king angry, and he cursed it in these terms:--
"You must be punished for your negligence, and as king I pa.s.s upon you this sentence: You shall never see your descendants, for you shall die just as your seeds are ready to grow."
And from that day the buri palms have always died without seeing their descendants.
CHAPTER 18
Who Brings the Cholera?
The Filipinos, being for the most part ignorant of the laws of hygiene, attribute the cholera to any cause rather than the right one. In general, they believe it to be caused by some evil-minded men, who poison the wells, or, sometimes, by evil spirits, as the following story will show.
Tanag was a poor man who lived in a town in the interior of one of the Philippine Islands. He had nothing to eat, nor could he find any work by which he might earn his food, and so he determined to emigrate. At that time the cholera was at its height.
As Tanag was rather old, he walked so slowly that in a day he had gone but three miles. At sunset he was crossing a sheltered bridge over a smooth brook near the sea, and determined to rest and spend the night there.
During the early part of the night he was all right, but later it occurred to him that he might be seen and killed by the ladrones, who often pa.s.sed that way.
Below the bridge was a raft of bamboo poles, and he thought it would be wise to get down there, where he could not so easily be seen. But there were many mosquitoes over the water, so that he was unable to sleep. He determined, however, to stay there until day dawned.
At about four o"clock he heard a heavy step upon the floor of the bridge, and by the moonlight he could see that the new-comer was a huge giant with a long club.
A little later another giant came, and Tanag, full of fear, heard the following dialogue:--
"Did you kill many people?"
"Yes, I put my poison on the food, and in a short time those who ate of it were attacked by the cholera and died. And how are you getting along yourself?"
"At first I killed many people with my poison, but now I am disappointed, because they have found out the antidote for it."
"What is that?"
"The root of the balingay tree boiled in water. It is a powerful antidote against the poison I use. And what is the antidote against yours?"
"Simply the root of the alibutbut tree boiled in water. Luckily, no one has discovered this antidote, and so many people will die."
In the morning Tanag saw the giants going to the sh.o.r.e, where many people were fishing with their nets. The giants flung their poison on the fish, and then disappeared from Tanag"s sight.
Tanag believed that the cholera was caused by the two giants, who poisoned the food and water by sprinkling poison on them, and he did not doubt that the roots of the balingay and alibutbut trees would prove to be the antidotes to the poison. So he gathered the roots and cooked them and advertised himself as a doctor.
In fact he cured many people and earned so much money that he soon became rich.
CHAPTER 19
Masoy and the Ape. [6]
Masoy was a poor man who lived on a farm some miles from the town. His clothing was very poor, and his little garden furnished him scarcely enough to live on. Every week day he went to town to sell his fruits and vegetables and to buy rice. Upon his return he noticed each day that some one had entered the garden in his absence and stolen some of the fruit. He tried to protect the garden by making the fence very strong and locking the gate; but, in spite of all he could do, he continued to miss his fruit.
At length Masoy conceived the happy idea of taking some pitch and moulding it into the shape of a man. He put a bamboo hat on it and stood it up in one comer of the garden. Then he went away.
As soon as he was gone, the robber, who was none other than a huge ape, climbed the fence and got in.
"Oh!" he said to himself, "I made a mistake! There is Masoy watching. He did not go away as I thought. He is here with a big bamboo hat, but he could not catch me if he tried. I am going to greet him, for fear he may consider me impolite."
"Good morning, Masoy," he said. "Why do you not answer me? What is the matter with you? Oh! you are joking, are you, by keeping so silent? But you will not do it again." On saying this, the ape slapped the man of pitch with his right hand, and of course it stuck, and he could not get it loose.
"For heaven"s sake," cried the ape, "let me go. If you do not, I will slap you with my other hand." Then he struck him with the other hand, which, of course, stuck fast also.
"Well, Masoy," cried the ape, "you have entirely exhausted my patience! If you don"t let go of me at once, I shall kick you." No sooner said than done, with a result which may easily be imagined.
"Masoy," cried the now enraged ape, "if you have any regard for your own welfare, let me go, for if you don"t, I still have one leg left to kill you with." So saying, he kicked him with the remaining foot, getting so tangled up that he and the tar man fell to the ground, rolling over and over.
Then Masoy came, and, when he saw the ape, he said: "So you are the robber who has stolen my fruit! Now you will pay for it with your life."
But the ape cried, "Oh, spare my life, and I will be your slave forever!"
"Do you promise not to steal my fruit again?"
"I do, and I will serve you faithfully all my life."
Masoy agreed to spare him.
From that time on the ape worked very hard for his master. He sold the fruit and bought the rice and was honest and industrious. One day, on his way to market, he happened to find a small piece of gold and another of silver. At that time this country was not ruled by any foreign power, but each tribe was governed by its own datto or chief. The chief was naturally the bravest and richest of the tribe.
The chief of Masoy"s tribe had a very beautiful daughter. The ape schemed to have her marry his master. Now he hit upon a plan. He went to the chief"s house and asked for a ganta, which is a measure holding about three quarts and used for measuring rice.
"My master," he said, "begs you to lend him a ganta to measure his gold with."
The chief was astonished at such an extraordinary request, and asked: "Who is your master?"