Papuan Fairy Tales/The Crane

by Annie Ker

THE CRANE.

There were once a man and his wife who had two daughters and one son, the youngest born, and he was but a baby. It fell on a day that the father and mother set out for the gardens and bade the girls bathe their little brother, and moreover to cook some food that he might eat.

Now, when the children were left alone, the elder girl said to her sister, "Our mother bade us slay our brother and cook his flesh, therefore let us obey her."

"Nay, sister," quoth the younger, "our mother said not so."

But the elder girl would not hearken, and forth-with she slew the little child, and made ready his flesh, and cooked it in a pot over the fire.

Presently came the man and his wife, and saw what had been done, and were very wroth with the children, and drove them forth into a desolate land, where was no house nor any food growing. Then were the hearts of the girls sad within them, and they wept sore. And afterwards they were an hungered, and sought for food, but found none. But after much searching they caught some grasshoppers and lizards, and also of snakes a few, and laid what they had caught in a basket, and went on, looking for a house where they might ask for fire, so that

THE CRANE.

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they might roast their food. But the way was long, and their feet were weary, when at last they came upon a house in front of which sat an old man whose skin was covered with sores.

The children watched him from afar, and feared greatly to draw nigh to him. Then said the elder, "Go thou, sister, for thou art the younger, and must do my bidding."

But the younger said, "Nay, sister; thou art older than I. Thou must go. Perchance he will seek to slay us. I cannot go, for I am much afraid."

Then the elder, being very hungry, was bold and walked to the house, and crept in past the old man, who spake not to her. She picked up a burning stick, and would have left the house, when the burning wood brushed against the old man, and as she hasted to escape, she trod upon his sore foot.

"Ah, little one, slay me not," said the old man. His words were gentle, and the girl knew not that he was deceiving her. Therefore she spake, saying, "Fear not; I will not harm thee."

Then said he, "Art thou alone, or who are with thee?"

"Truly, I am alone," said she," save for my little sister, who waits for me on the beach."

'Go now," quoth he, and his voice was soft and gentle, "and bid her come hither," and the girl did as he had said, and went down and brought her sister, and also the snakes and lizards which they had killed.

Now, when they had come, the old man cared no longer to deceive them, and his voice was loud and harsh as he said, "Give me the basket." Then he chose out what he wanted for himself, and threw the rest away, nor did the children so much as eat a single grasshopper. And he bade them work for him, and took them to his taro patch on the hill, and caused their toil to be heavy.

Thus did they day by day, and it came to pass that on the seventh day the elder girl made a plan to escape, and told her little sister what she was about to do. Then in the softness of the day, when the sun was no longer high in the heaven, she went near to the old man as he worked in the garden, and said, "Thou art tired and hungry, O master. Bid me to go with my sister to the house that we may cook thy food."

Then did he bid her do as she had said, and the two girls made haste, and came to the house and cooked much of the food they had brought from the garden, but the rest they laid in a basket, meaning to take it with them for their journey tood. For so had the girl planned. And if the old man returned not from the garden before the food was cooked, then might they eat and flee from him. Therefore they made no delay, but when the food was now cooked they ate of it, and placed the rest in a basket. And the two baskets, with food cooked and green, they hung by strings from their heads, and began to run along the beach.

Now it fell out that the old man worked still on the hillside, and as he worked his digging stick became blunt. So he took his stone axe and began to sharpen it, but even as he did thus, the axe slipped and cut his hand. He watched as the blood flowed from the cut, and said, "This is witchcraft!" But the blood flowed on; therefore he knew it was not so. Then said he, "Perchance a sorcerer hath done it!" But even so was the flow of blood not stayed. Then cried he, "Now I know that the children have fled!" And at these words the cut closed its edges, and the blood flowed no longer.

Then he made haste and ran down the hill, that he might find them and lead them back again.

The children were much afraid when they saw the old man so close to them, and ran the faster. Now, as they ran, they saw before them Uapanipani, the crane, and to him they cried, "Ah, grandfather, canst thou save us from him who pursues us?"

Then said Uapanipani, "Fear not. With me ye are safe."

Nevertheless the old man was close upon them, and he cried to Uapanipani, "Oh, Egubeda (Sharer of betel nut), take one child, but give me the other!"

At this word the children feared greatly lest Uapanipani should do as he had been bidden. But he turned to them and asked of them whither they desired to go.

'Take us to our own land," they cried, "to the house under the white-fleshed coconut."

Now was the old man but a stone's cast from them, and would have laid hold on the girls, but Uapanipani opened his mouth and swallowed them, and flew far over the head of the man as he stood on the beach. Nor were his wings weary until he set the children side by side at the door of their father's house. There were none in the house, and the children searched for a gift wherewith to reward Uapanipani, but he would take nought, save only a cup of coconut shell. Then he flew back to his own land, and was seen no more of them.

The father of the girls had gone to the gardens to gather food that a death feast might be held for his children, whom he thought to have perished. And it came to pass that when he returned and laid down his sheaves of taro, that the two girls ran from out the dark corner, where they lay hidden, and came towards him. And for that he had grieved for them so long a time anger lived no more in his heart, and he took them in his arms and comforted them, and thus were all their sorrows ended.