"Even so let it be," replied Shanggasba; "only let there be given me a bow and arrow, and provisions for many days."

All this the Queen commanded should be given to him; and he went out to seek for the great fox measuring nine spans in length, and the fur of his back striped with stripes.

Many days he wandered over the mountains till his provisions were all used and his clothes torn, and, what was a worse evil, he had lost his bow by the way.

"Without a bow I can do nothing," reasoned Shanggasba to himself, "even though I fall in with the fox. It is of no use that I wait for death here. I had better return to the palace and see what fortune does for me."

But as he had wandered about up and down without knowing his way, it so happened that as he now directed his steps back to the road, he came upon the spot where he had laid down to sleep the night before, and there it was he had left the bow lying. But in the meantime the great fox nine spans long, with the fur of his back striped with stripes, had come by that way, and finding the bow lying had striven to gnaw it through. In so doing he had pa.s.sed his neck through the string, and the string had strangled him. So in this way Shanggasba obtained possession of his skin, which he forthwith carried in triumph to the King and Queen. The King when he saw it exclaimed, "Of a truth now is Shanggasba a mighty hunter, for he has killed the great fox nine spans long, and with the fur of his back striped with stripes. Therefore shall the hand of the Princess be given to him in marriage."

But the Queen would not yet give up the cause of her daughter, and she said, "Not only in fighting and hunting must he give proof of might, but also over the spirits he must show his power." Then Shanggasba made answer, "Wherein shall I show my power over the spirits?"

And the Queen said, "In the regions of the North, among the Mongols, are seven daemons who ride on horses: these shalt thou slay and bring hither, if thou wouldst ask for the hand of the Princess and become the King's son-in-law."

"Even so let it be," replied Shanggasba; "only point me out the way, and give me provisions for the journey."

So the Queen commanded that the way should be shown him, and appointed him provisions for the journey, which she prepared with her own hand, namely, seven pieces of black rye-bread that he was to eat on his way out, and seven pieces of white wheaten-bread that he was to eat on his way home. Thus provided, he went forth towards the region of the North, among the Mongols, to seek for the seven daemons who rode on horses.

Before night he reached the land of the Mongols, and finding a hillock, he halted and sat down on it, and took out his provisions: and it well-nigh befell that he had eaten the white wheaten-bread first; but he said, "Nay, I had best get through the black bread first." So he left the white wheaten-bread lying beside him, and began to eat a piece of the black rye-bread. But as he was hungry and ate fast, the hiccups took him; and then, before he had time to put the bread up again into his wallet, suddenly the seven daemons of the country of the Mongols came upon him, riding on their horses. So he rose and ran away in great fear, leaving the bread upon the ground. But they, after they had chased him a good s.p.a.ce, stopped and took counsel of each other what they should do with him, and though for a while they could not agree, finally they all exclaimed together, "Let us be satisfied with taking away his victuals." So they turned back and took his victuals; and the black rye-bread they threw away, but the white wheaten-bread they ate, every one of them a piece.

The Queen, however, had put poison in the white wheaten-bread, which was to serve Shanggasba on his homeward journey; and now that the seven daemons ate thereof, they were all killed with the poison that was prepared for him, and they all laid them down on the hillock and died, while their horses grazed beside them (4).

But in the morning, Shanggasba hearing nothing more of the trampling of the daemons chasing him, left off running, and plucked up courage to turn round and look after them; and when he saw them not, he turned stealthily back, looking warily on this side and on that, lest they should be lying in wait for him. And when he had satisfied himself the way was clear of them, he bethought him to go back and look after his provisions. When he got back to the hillock, however, he found the seven daemons lying dead, and their horses grazing beside them. The sight gave him great joy; and having packed each one on the back of his horse, he led them all up to the King and Queen.

The King was so pleased that the seven daemons were slain, that he would not let him be put on his trial any more. So he delivered the Princess to him, and he became the King's son-in-law. Moreover, he gave him a portion like to the portion of a King's son, and erected a throne for him as high as his own throne, and appointed to him half his kingdom, and made all his subjects pay him homage as to himself.

"This man thought that his father's words had failed, and owned not that it was because he buried his bones in a prosperous place that good fortune happened unto him," exclaimed the Prince.

And as he let these words escape him, the Siddhi-kur replied, "Forgetting his health, the Well-and-wise-walking Khan hath opened his lips." And with the cry, "To escape out of this world is good!" he sped him through the air, fleet out of sight.

TALE XIX.

Wherefore the Well-and-wise-walking Khan once more took the way of the cool grove, and having brought thence the Siddhi-kur bound in his bag, and having eaten of his cake that never diminished to strengthen him for the journey, as they went along the Siddhi-kur told him this tale, saying,--

THE PERFIDIOUS FRIEND.

Long ages ago there lived in a northern country of India a lioness who had her den in the side of a snow-capped mountain. One day she had been so long without food that she was near to have devoured her cub; determining, however, to make one effort first to spare it, she went out on a long journey till she came to a fair plain where there were a number of cows grazing. When she saw the herd of cows she could not refrain a terrible roar; but the cows, hearing the roar of the lioness, said one to another, "Let us make haste to escape from the lioness," and they all went their way. But there was one of the cows which had a calf, and because she could neither make the calf go fast enough to escape the lioness, nor could bring herself to forsake it, she remained behind and fell a prey to the wild beast. The lioness accordingly made a great feast, chiefly on the blood of the cow, and carried the flesh and the bones to her den.

The calf followed the traces of its mother's flesh, and when the lioness lay down to sleep the calf came along with her own cub to suck, and the lioness being overcome, and as it were drunken with the blood she had taken, failed to perceive what the calf did. In the morning, as the calf had drunk her milk, she forbore to slay it, and the calf and the cub were suckled together. After two or three days, when there was nothing left for the lioness to eat but a few bones of the cow, she devoured them so greedily in her hunger that one big knuckle-bone stuck in her throat, and as she could by no means get it out again, she was throttled by it till she died. Before dying she spoke thus to the calf and the cub, "You two, who have been suckled with the same milk, must live at peace with each other. If some day an enemy comes to you and tries to set you one against the other, pay no heed to his words, but remain at one as before." Thus she charged them.

When the lioness was dead the cub betook himself into the forest, and the calf found its way to the sunny slope of a mountain side; but at the hour of evening they went down to the stream together to drink, and after that they disported themselves together.

There was a fox, however, who had been used to feed on the remnants of the lion's meals, and continued now to profit by those of the cub; he saw with a jealous eye this growing intimacy with the calf, and determined to set them at variance (2).

One day, therefore, when the cub had just killed a beast and lay sucking its blood, the fox came to him with his tail no longer c.o.c.kily curled up on his back, but low, sweeping the ground, and his ears drooping. When the cub saw him in this plight, he exclaimed, "Fox! what hath befallen thee? Tell me thy grief, and console thyself the while with a bite of this hind." But the fox, putting on a doleful tone, answered him, "How should I, thine uncle, take pleasure in eating flesh when thou hast an enemy? hence is all pleasure gone from me." But the cub answered carelessly, "It is not likely any one should be my enemy, fox; therefore set to and eat this hind's flesh." "If thou refusest in this lighthearted way to listen to the words of thine uncle," answered the fox, "so shall the day come when thou wilt berue it." "Who then, pray, is this mine enemy?" at last inquired the cub. "Who should it be but this calf? Saith he not always, 'The lioness killed my mother; therefore when I am strong enough I will kill the cub.'" "Nay, but we two are brothers," replied the cub; "the calf has no bad thoughts towards me." "Knowest thou then really not that thy mother killed his mother?" exclaimed the fox. And the cub thought within himself, "What the fox says is nevertheless true; and, further, is he not mine uncle, and what gain should he have to deceive me?" Then said he aloud, "By what manner of means does the calf purpose to kill me? tell me, I pray." And the fox made answer, "When he wakes to-morrow morning, observe thou him, and if he stretches himself and then digs his horns into the earth, and shakes his tail and bellows, know that it is a sure token he is minded to kill thee." The cub, his suspicions beginning to be excited, promised to be upon his guard and to observe the calf.

Having succeeded thus far the fox went his way, directing his steps to the sunny side of the mountain slope where the calf was grazing. With his tail trailing on the ground, and his ears drooping, he stood before the calf. "Fox! what aileth thee?" inquired the calf cheerily; "come and tell me thy grief." But the fox answered, "Not for myself do I grieve. It is because thou, O calf! hast an enemy; therefore do I grieve." But the calf answered, "Be comforted, fox, for it is not likely any should be an enemy to me." Then replied the fox, "Beware thou disregard not my words, for if thou do, of a certainty a day shall come when thou shalt berue it." But the calf inquired, saying, "Who then could this enemy possibly be?" And the fox told him, saying, "Who should it be other than the lion-cub in the forest on the other side the mountain? Behold! doth he not use to say, 'Even as my mother killed and devoured his mother, so also will I kill and devour him.'" "Let not this disturb thee, fox," interposed the calf, "for we two are brothers; he hath no bad thoughts against me." But the fox warned him again, saying, "Of a surety, if thou disregard my words thou shalt berue it. Behold! I have warned thee." Then the calf began to think within himself, "Is it not true what he says that the cub's mother killed my mother; and, further, what gain should he, mine uncle, have in deceiving me?" Then said he aloud, "If thy warning be so true, tell me further, I pray thee, by what manner of means doth he design to put me to death?" And the fox told him, saying, "When he wakes to-morrow morning observe thou him, and if he stretch himself and shake his mane, if he draws his claws out and in, and scratches up the earth with them, then know that it is a sure token he is minded to slay thee." The calf, his suspicions beginning to be awakened, promised to be upon his guard and to observe the cub.

The next morning, when they woke, each observed the other as he had promised the fox, and each by natural habit, which the fox had observed of old, but they not, gave the signs he had set before them for a token. At this each was filled with wrath and suspicion against the other, and when at sunrise they both went down to the stream to drink, the cub growled at the calf, and the calf bellowed at the cub. Hence further convinced of each other's bad intentions, they each determined at the same instant to be beforehand with the other. The calf dug his horns into the breast of the cub and gored it open, and the cub sprang upon the calf's throat and made a formidable wound, from whence the blood poured out. Thus they contended together till all the blood of both was poured out, and they died there before the face of the fox.

Then came a voice out of svarga (3), saying, "Put never thy trust in a false friend, for so doing he shall put thee at enmity with him who is thy friend in truth."

"Nevertheless, as the cub was killed as well as the calf, the perfidy of the fox profited him nothing as soon as he had made an end of eating their flesh!" exclaimed the Khan.

And as he let these words escape him, the Siddhi-kur replied, "Forgetting his health, the Well-and-wise-walking Khan hath opened his lips." And with the cry, "To escape out of this world is good!" he sped him through the air, swift out of sight.

TALE XX.

Wherefore the Well-and-wise-walking Khan once more took the way of the cool grove; and having brought thence the Siddhi-kur bound in his bag, and having eaten of his cake that never diminished, to strengthen him for the journey, as they went along the Siddhi-kur told him this tale, saying,--

BHIXU LIFE.

Long ages ago there lived in a country in the north of India, namely Nepaul, on the banks of a river named the Hiranjavati (1), an old man and his old wife, who had no sons, but only one daughter. But this one daughter was all in all to them; and they had only one care in life, and that care was, how to establish her safely and well, that she might not be left alone in the world when they were on it no more. Nevertheless, though the maiden was fair to see, and wise and prudent in her ways, and though her parents had laid by a rich dowry for her portion, it so chanced that no one offered to marry her. Yet the years went by, and the man and his wife were both growing old, and they said, "If we marry her not now, soon will she be left all alone in the world."

In a hut at some distance lived another aged couple, who were very poor; but they had one only son. Then said the father of the maiden to her mother, "We must give our daughter to the son of this poor couple for a wife, otherwise she will be left alone in the world."

So they married the maiden to the son of this poor old couple, and they took him into their house, and he lived together with them.

After a time, the husband felt a desire to return and see his parents; so he took his wife with him, and they went to seek his parents. At home, however, they were not, for they led a Bhixu life, and were gone on a begging expedition through all the tribes; therefore they went on, seeking them. About this time, a mighty Khan had given orders for a great distribution of alms (2). All that any one asked for, it was given him, whatsoever it might be. Only concerning the measure of rice-brandy distributed to any one person was there any restriction; but of all the rest there was no stint.

The man and his wife therefore came with the rest of the people, and obtained their portion, according to their desire. When all had been well served, and had returned every one to his home, the man said to his wife, "If we would really be rich, and enjoy life, the way to do it is to go round through all the tribes, living on alms. So living, we have all we need desire. Moreover we need stand in no fear of thieves and robbers; our strength will not be brought down by labour by day, nor our sleep disturbed with anxiety by night; in drought and murrain we shall have no loss to suffer, for the herds of which we shall live will not be our own. To travel about ever among new people is itself no small pleasure. Moreover we shall never be vexed with paying tribute of that we have earned with the toil of our arms. If even we go back and take to us the inheritance thy parents promised to us, in how many days would it be all spent, and we become again even as now! But by going from tribe to tribe, living on alms, our store is never diminished, and there is nothing we shall lack (3)."

Thus they lived many months, begging alms and lacking nothing, even as the man had said. Nevertheless, in the midst of their wanderings, a son was born to them. Then said the woman, "These wild tribes among whom we now are, give us nothing but rice-brandy, which is no food for me; neither have I strength to carry the child as he gets older." And as she knew her husband loved a vagabond life, and could not hear of going to live at home with her parents, she added, "Let us now go see my parents, and beg of them that they give us of their herds an a.s.s, on which the infant may ride withal when we go round among the tribes seeking alms." To this proposition the man did not say "Nay," and they journeyed towards the house of the woman's parents, along the bank of the river Hiranjavati.

When they arrived at home, they found that the woman's parents were dead, nor was there the least remnant left of all their possessions: the herds were dispersed, and the flocks had fallen a prey to the wolves and the jackals; nothing remained but a few tufts of wool, which had got caught on the ant-heaps (4). The wife picked up the tufts, saying, "We will collect all these, and weave a piece of stuff out of them." But her husband pointed out that, at no great distance, was a plain with many tents, where, by asking alms, they could have plenty of barley and rice, without the trouble of weaving. They continued their way therefore towards the tents; but the woman continued saying, "When we have woven our piece of stuff, we will sell it, and buy a bigger piece, and then we will sell that and buy a bigger; and so on, till we have enough to buy an a.s.s, then we will set our little one on it instead of carrying him. Then perhaps our a.s.s will have a foal, and then we shall have two a.s.ses." "Certainly," answered her husband, "if our a.s.s has a foal we shall have two a.s.ses." But the child said, "If our a.s.s has a foal, I will take the foal, and will ride him, going about among the tribes, I also, asking alms even as you (5)." When his mother heard him speak thus, she was angry, and bid him hold his peace; she also went to correct him by hitting him with a stick, but the boy tried to escape from her, and the blow fell upon his head and killed him. Thus their child died.

At the time that the woman's parents died, and the herds were dispersed, and the flocks devoured by wolves and jackals, one only lamb had escaped from the destruction, and had taken refuge in a hole in the ground, where it remained hid all day, and only came out at night to graze (6). One day a hare came by, and as the lamb was not afraid of the hare, she did not hide herself from him; therefore the hare said to her, "O lamb, who art thou?" And the lamb answered, "I belong to a flock whose master died of grief because his children went away and forsook him; and when he died, the wolves and the jackals came and devoured all his flock, and I, even I only, escaped of them all, and I have hid myself in this hole. Thou, O hare, then, be my protector." Thus spoke the lamb.

But the hare answered, "Must not a lamb live in a flock? How shall a lamb live in a hole all alone? Behold, I will even bring thee to a place where are flocks of sheep, with whom thou mayest live as becometh a lamb."