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Tales Of The Punjab

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So the Crow began to light the fire, and blow the bellows, but in so
doing he fell right in--to--the--very--middle--of--the---_fire_,
and was burnt!

So that was the end of him, and the Sparrow ate all the
_khichrî_.




THE TIGER, THE BRAHMÂN, AND THE JACKAL


Once upon a time a tiger was caught in a trap. He tried in vain to
get out through the bars, and rolled and bit with rage and grief when
he failed.

By chance a poor Brâhman came by. 'Let me out of this cage, O pious
one!' cried the tiger.

'Nay, my friend,' replied the Brâhman mildly, 'you would probably eat
me if I did.'

'Not at all!' swore the tiger with many oaths; 'on the contrary, I
should be for ever grateful, and serve you as a slave!'

Now when the tiger sobbed and sighed and wept and swore, the pious
Brâhman's heart softened, and at last he consented to open the door of
the cage. Out popped the tiger, and, seizing the poor man, cried,
'What a fool you are! What is to prevent my eating you now, for after
being cooped up so long I am just terribly hungry!'

In vain the Brâhman pleaded for his life; the most he could gain was a
promise to abide by the decision of the first three things he chose to
question as to the justice of the tiger's action.

So the Brâhman first asked a _pîpal_ tree what it thought of the
matter, but the _pîpal_ tree replied coldly, 'What have you to
complain about? Don't I give shade and shelter to every one who
passes by, and don't they in return tear down my blanches to feed
their cattle? Don't whimper--be a man!'

Then the Brâhman, sad at heart, went farther afield till he saw a
buffalo turning a well-wheel; but he fared no better from it, for it
answered, 'You are a fool to expect gratitude! Look at me! While I
gave milk they fed me on cotton-seed and oil-cake, but now I am dry
they yoke me here, and give me refuse as fodder!'

[Illustration: Buffalo turning the well-wheel]

The Brâhman, still more sad, asked the road to give him its opinion.

'My dear sir,' said the road, 'how foolish you are to expect anything
else! Here am I, useful to everybody, yet all, rich and poor, great
and small, trample on me as they go past, giving me nothing but the
ashes of their pipes and the husks of their grain!'

On this the Brâhman turned back sorrowfully, and on the way he met a
jackal, who called out, 'Why, what's the matter, Mr. Brâhman? You
look as miserable as a fish out of water!'

Then the Brâhman told him all that had occurred. 'How very
confusing!' said the jackal, when the recital was ended; 'would you
mind telling me over again? for everything seems so mixed up!'

The Brâhman told it all over again, but the jackal shook his head in a
distracted sort of way, and still could not understand.

'It's very odd,' said he sadly, 'but it all seems to go in at one ear
and out at the other! I will go to the place where it all happened,
and then perhaps I shall be able to give a judgment.'

So they returned to the cage, by which the tiger was waiting for the
Brâhman, and sharpening his teeth and claws.

'You've been away a long time!' growled the savage beast, 'but now let
us begin our dinner.'

'_Our_ dinner!' thought the wretched Brâhman, as his knees
knocked together with fright; 'what a remarkably delicate way of
putting it!'

'Give me five minutes, my lord!' he pleaded, 'in order that I may
explain matters to the jackal here, who is somewhat slow in his wits.'

The tiger consented, and the Brâhman began the whole story over again,
not missing a single detail, and spinning as long a yarn as possible.

'Oh, my poor brain! oh, my poor brain!' cried the jackal, wringing his
paws. 'Let me see! how did it all begin? You were in the cage, and
the tiger came walking by--'

'Pooh!' interrupted the tiger,' what a fool you are! _I_ was in
the cage.'

'Of course!' cried the jackal, pretending to tremble with fright;
'yes! I was in the cage--no, I wasn't--dear! dear! where are my
wits? Let me see--the tiger was in the Brâhman, and the cage came
walking by---no, that's not it either! Well, don't mind me, but begin
your dinner, for I shall never understand!'

'Yes, you shall!' returned the tiger, in a rage at the jackal's
stupidity; 'I'll _make_ you understand! Look here--I am the
tiger---'

'Yes, my lord!'

'And that is the Brâhman---'

'Yes, my lord!'

'And that is the cage---'

'Yes, my lord!'

'And I was in the cage--do you understand?'

'Yes--no--Please, my lord---'

'Well?' cried the tiger, impatiently.

'Please, my lord!--how did you get in?'

'How!--why, in the usual way, of course!'

'Oh dear me!--my head is beginning to whirl again! Please don't be
angry, my lord, but what is the usual way?'

At this the tiger lost patience, and, jumping into the cage, cried,
'This way! Now do you understand how it was?'

'Perfectly!' grinned the jackal, as he dexterously shut the door; 'and
if you will permit me to say so, I think matters will remain as they
were!'




THE KING OF THE CROCODILES


[Illustration: Farmer begging the crocodiles not to hurt him]

Once upon a time a farmer went out to look at his fields by the side
of the river, and found to his dismay that all his young green wheat
had been trodden down, and nearly destroyed, by a number of
crocodiles, which were lying lazily amid the crops like great logs of
wood. He flew into a great rage, bidding them go back to the water,
but they only laughed at him.

Every day the same thing occurred,--every day the farmer found the
crocodiles lying in his young wheat, until one morning he completely
lost his temper, and, when they refused to budge, began throwing
stones at them. At this they rushed on him fiercely, and he, quaking
with fear, fell on his knees, begging them not to hurt him.

'We will hurt neither you nor your young wheat,' said the biggest
crocodile, 'if you will give us your daughter in marriage; but if not,
we will eat you for throwing stones at us.'

The farmer, thinking of nothing but saving his own life, promised what
the crocodiles required of him; but when, on his return home, he told
his wife what he had done, she was very much vexed, for their daughter
was as beautiful as the moon, and her betrothal into a very rich
family had already taken place. So his wife persuaded the farmer to
disregard the promise made to the crocodiles, and proceed with his
daughter's marriage as if nothing had happened; but when the
wedding-day drew near the bridegroom died, and there was an end to
that business. The farmer's daughter, however, was so beautiful that
she was very soon asked in marriage again, but this time her suitor
fell sick of a lingering illness; in short, so many misfortunes
occurred to all concerned, that at last even the farmer's wife
acknowledged the crocodiles must have something to do with the bad
luck. By her advice the farmer went down to the river bank to try to
induce the crocodiles to release him from his promise, but they would
hear of no excuse, threatening fearful punishments if the agreement
were not fulfilled at once.

So the farmer returned home to his wife very sorrowful; she, however,
was determined to resist to the uttermost, and refused to give up her
daughter.

The very next day the poor girl fell down and broke her leg. Then the
mother said, 'These demons of crocodiles will certainly kill us
all!--better to marry our daughter to a strange house than see her
die.'

Accordingly, the farmer went down to the river and informed the
crocodiles they might send the bridal procession to fetch the bride as
soon as they chose.

The next day a number of female crocodiles came to the bride's house
with trays full of beautiful clothes, and _henna_ for staining
the bride's hands. They behaved with the utmost politeness, and
carried out all the proper ceremonies with the greatest precision.
Nevertheless the beautiful bride wept, saying, 'Oh, mother! are you
marrying me into the river? I shall be drowned!'

In due course the bridal procession arrived, and all the village was
wonderstruck at the magnificence of the arrangements. Never was there
such a retinue of crocodiles, some playing instruments of music,
others bearing trays upon trays full of sweetmeats, garments, and
jewels, and all dressed in the richest of stuffs. In the middle, a
perfect blaze of gold and gems, sat the King of the Crocodiles.

The sight of so much magnificence somewhat comforted the beautiful
bride, nevertheless she wept bitterly when she was put into the
gorgeous bride's palanquin and borne off to the river bank. Arrived
at the edge of the stream, the crocodiles dragged the poor girl out,
and forced her into the water, despite her struggles, for, thinking
she was going to be drowned, she screamed with terror; but lo and
behold! no sooner had her feet touched the water than it divided
before her, and, rising up on either side, showed a path leading to
the bottom of the river, down which the bridal party disappeared,
leaving the bride's father, who had accompanied her so far, upon the
bank, very much astonished at the marvellous sight.

Some months passed by without further news of the crocodiles. The
farmer's wife wept because she had lost her daughter, declaring that
the girl was really drowned, and her husband's fine story about the
stream dividing was a mere invention.

Now when the King of the Crocodiles was on the point of leaving with
his bride, he had given a piece of brick to her father, with these
words: 'If ever you want to see your daughter, go down to the river,
throw this brick as far as you can into the stream, and you will see
what you will see!'

Remembering this, the farmer said to his wife, 'Since you are so
distressed, I will go myself and see if my daughter be alive or dead.'

Then he went to the river bank, taking the brick, and threw it ever so
far into the stream. Immediately the waters rolled back from before
his feet, leaving a dry path to the bottom of the river. It looked so
inviting, spread with clean sand, and bordered by flowers, that the
farmer hastened along it without the least hesitation, until he came
to a magnificent palace, with a golden roof, and shining, glittering
diamond walls. Lofty trees and gay gardens surrounded it, and a
sentry paced up and down before the gateway.

'Whose palace is this?' asked the farmer of the sentry, who replied
that it belonged to the King of the Crocodiles.

'My daughter has at least a splendid house to live in!' thought the
farmer; 'I only wish her husband were half as handsome!'

Then, turning to the sentry, he asked if his daughter were within.

'Your daughter!' returned the sentry, 'what should she do here?'

'She married the King of the Crocodiles, and I want to see her.'

At this the sentry burst out laughing. 'A likely story, indeed!' he
cried; 'what! _my_ master married to _your_ daughter! Ha!
ha! ha!'

Now the farmer's daughter was sitting beside an open window in the
palace, waiting for her husband to return from hunting. She was as
happy as the day was long, for you must know that in his own
river-kingdom the King of the Crocodiles was the handsomest young
Prince anybody ever set eyes upon; it was only when he went on shore
that he assumed the form of a crocodile. So what with her magnificent
palace and splendid young Prince, the farmer's daughter had been too
happy even to think of her old home; but now, hearing a strange voice
speaking to the sentry, her memory awakened, and she recognised her
father's tones. Looking out, she saw him there, standing in his poor
clothes, in the glittering court; she longed to run and fling her arms
round his neck, but dared not disobey her husband, who had forbidden
her to go out of, or to let any one into the palace without his
permission. So all she could do was to lean out of the window, and
call to him, saying, 'Oh, dearest father! I am here! Only wait till
my husband, the King of the Crocodiles, returns, and I will ask him to
let you in. I dare not without his leave.'

The father, though overjoyed to find his daughter alive, did not
wonder she was afraid of her terrible husband, so he waited patiently.

In a short time a troop of horsemen entered the court. Every man was
dressed from head to foot in armour made of glittering silver plates,
but in the centre of all rode a Prince clad in gold--bright burnished
gold, from the crown of his head to the soles of his feet,--the
handsomest, most gallant young Prince that ever was seen.

Then the poor farmer fell at the gold-clad horseman's feet, and cried,
'O King! cherish me! for I am a poor man whose daughter was carried
off by the dreadful King of the Crocodiles!'

Then the gold-clad horseman smiled, saying, '_I_ am the King of
the Crocodiles! Your daughter is a good, obedient wife, and will be
very glad to see you.'

After this there were great rejoicings and merrymakings, but when a
few days had passed away in feasting, the farmer became restless, and
begged to be allowed to take his daughter home with him for a short
visit, in order to convince his wife the girl was well and happy. But
the Crocodile King refused, saying, 'Not so! but if you like I will
give you a house and land here; then you can dwell with us.'

The farmer said he must first ask his wife, and returned home, taking
several bricks with him, to throw into the river and make the stream
divide.

His wife would not at first agree to live in the Crocodile Kingdom,
but she consented to go there on a visit, and afterwards became so
fond of the beautiful river country that she was constantly going to
see her daughter the Queen; till at length the old couple never
returned to shore, but lived altogether in Crocodile Kingdom with
their son-in-law, the King of the Crocodiles.




LITTLE ANKLEBONE


Once upon a time there was a little boy who lost his parents; so he
went to live with his Auntie, and she set him to herd sheep. All day
long the little fellow wandered barefoot through the pathless plain,
tending his flock, and playing his tiny shepherd's pipe from morn till
eve.

But one day came a great big wolf, and looked hungrily at the small
shepherd and his fat sheep, saying, 'Little boy! shall I eat you, or
your sheep?' Then the little boy answered politely, 'I don't know,
Mr. Wolf; I must ask my Auntie.'

So all day long he piped away on his tiny pipe, and in the evening,
when he brought the flock home, he went to his Auntie and said,
'Auntie dear, a great big wolf asked me to-day if he should eat me, or
your sheep. Which shall it be?'

Then his Auntie looked at the wee little shepherd, and at the fat
flock, and said sharply, 'Which shall it be?--why, _you_, of
course!'

So next morning the little boy drove his flock out into the pathless
plain, and blew away cheerfully on his shepherd's pipe until the great
big wolf appeared. Then he laid aside his pipe, and, going up to the
savage beast, said, 'Oh, if you please, Mr. Wolf, I asked my Auntie,
and she says you are to eat _me_.'

Now the wolf, savage as wolves always are, could not help having just
a spark of pity for the tiny barefoot shepherd who played his pipe so
sweetly, therefore he said kindly, 'Could I do anything for you,
little boy, after I've eaten you?'

'Thank you!' returned the tiny shepherd. 'If you would be so kind,
after you've picked the bones, as to thread my anklebone on a string
and hang it on the tree that weeps over the pond yonder, I shall be
much obliged.'

So the wolf ate the little shepherd, picked the bones, and afterwards
hung the anklebone by a string to the branches of the tree, where it
danced and swung in the sunlight.

Now, one day, three robbers, who had just robbed a palace, happening
to pass that way, sat down under the tree and began to divide the
spoil. Just as they had arranged all the golden dishes and precious
jewels and costly stuffs into three heaps, a jackal howled. Now you
must know that thieves always use the jackal's cry as a note of
warning, so that when at the very same moment Little Anklebone's
thread snapped, and he fell plump on the head of the chief robber, the
man imagined some one had thrown a pebble at him, and, shouting 'Run!
run!--we are discovered!' he bolted away as hard as he could, followed
by his companions, leaving all the treasure behind them.

'Now,' said Little Anklebone to himself, 'I shall lead a fine life!'

So he gathered the treasure together, and sat under the tree that
drooped over the pond, and played so sweetly on a new shepherd's pipe,
that all the beasts of the forest, and the birds of the air, and the
fishes of the pond came to listen to him. Then Little Anklebone put
marble basins round the pond for the animals to drink out of, and in
the evening the does, and the tigresses, and the she-wolves gathered
round him to be milked, and when he had drunk his fill he milked the
rest into the pond, till at last it became a pond of milk. And Little
Anklebone sat by the milken pond and piped away on his shepherd's
pipe.

Now, one day, an old woman, passing by with her jar for water, heard
the sweet strains of Little Anklebone's pipe, and following the sound,
came upon the pond of milk, and saw the animals, and the birds, and
the fishes, listening to the music. She was wonderstruck, especially
when Little Anklebone, from his seat under the tree, called out, 'Fill
your jar, mother! All drink who come hither!'

Then the old woman filled her jar with milk, and went on her way
rejoicing at her good fortune. But as she journeyed she met with the
King of that country, who, having been a-hunting, had lost his way in
the pathless plain.

'Give me a drink of water, good mother,' he cried, seeing the jar; 'I
am half dead with thirst!'

'It is milk, my son,' replied the old woman; 'I got it yonder from a
milken pond.' Then she told the King of the wonders she had seen, so
that he resolved to have a peep at them himself. And when he saw the
milken pond, and all the animals and birds and fishes gathered round,
while Little Anklebone played ever so sweetly on his shepherd's pipe,
he said, 'I must have the tiny piper, if I die for it!'

[Illustration: Old woman finding the pond of milk]

No sooner did Little Anklebone hear these words than he set off at a
run, and the King after him. Never was there such a chase before or
since, for Little Anklebone hid himself amid the thickest briars and
thorns, and the King was so determined to have the tiny piper, that he
did not care for scratches. At last the King was successful, but no
sooner did he take hold of Little Anklebone than the clouds above
began to thunder and lighten horribly, and from below came the lowing
of many does, and louder than all came the voice of the little piper
himself singing these words--

'O clouds! why should you storm and flare?
Poor Anklebone is forced to roam.
O does! why wait the milker's care?
Poor Anklebone must leave his home.'

And he sang so piercingly sweet that pity filled the King's heart,
especially when he saw it was nothing but a bone after all. So he let
it go again, and the little piper went back to his seat under the tree
by the pond; and there he sits still, and plays his shepherd's pipe,
while all the beasts of the forest, and birds of the air, and fishes
of the pond, gather round and listen to his music. And sometimes,
people wandering through the pathless plain hear the pipe, and then
they say, 'That is Little Anklebone, who was eaten by a wolf ages
ago!'*




THE CLOSE ALLIANCE

A TALE OF WOE


One day a farmer went with his bullocks to plough his field. He had
just turned the first furrow, when a tiger walked up to him and said,
'Peace be with you, friend! How are you this fine morning?'

'The same to you, my lord, and I am pretty well, thank you!' returned
the farmer, quaking with fear, but thinking it wisest to be polite.

'I am glad to hear it,' replied the tiger cheerfully, 'because
Providence has sent me to eat your two bullocks. You are a
God-fearing man, I know, so make haste and unyoke them.'

'My friend, are you sure you are not making a mistake?' asked the
farmer, whose courage had returned now that he knew it was merely a
question of gobbling up bullocks; 'because Providence sent me to
plough this field, and, in order to plough, one must have oxen. Had
you not better go and make further inquiries?'

'There is no occasion for delay, and I should be sorry to keep you
waiting,' returned the tiger. 'If you'll unyoke the bullocks I'll be
ready in a moment.' With that the savage creature fell to sharpening
his teeth and claws in a very significant manner.

But the farmer begged and prayed that his oxen might not be eaten, and
promised that if the tiger would spare them, he would give in exchange
a fine fat young milch cow, which his wife had tied up in the yard at
home.

[Illustration: Farmer pleading with the tiger]

To this the tiger agreed, and, taking the oxen with him, the farmer
went sadly homewards. Seeing him return so early from the fields, his
wife, who was a stirring, busy woman, called out, 'What! lazybones!--
back already, and _my_ work just beginning!'

Then the farmer explained how he had met the tiger, and how to save
the bullocks he had promised the milch cow in exchange. At this the
wife began to cry, saying, 'A likely story, indeed!--saving your
stupid old bullocks at the expense of my beautiful cow! Where will
the children get milk? and how can I cook my pottage and collops
without butter?'

'All very fine, wife,' retorted the farmer, 'but how can we make bread
without corn? and how can you have corn without bullocks to plough the
fields? Pottage and collops are very nice, but it is better to do
without milk and butter than without bread, so make haste and untie
the cow.'

'You great gaby!' wept the wife, 'if you had an ounce of sense in your
brain you'd think of some plan to get out of the scrape!'

'Think yourself!' cried the husband, in a rage.

'Very well!' returned the wife; 'but if I do the thinking you must
obey orders; I can't do both. Go back to the tiger, and tell him the
cow wouldn't come along with you, but that your wife is bringing it'

The farmer, who was a great coward, didn't half like the idea of going
back empty-handed to the tiger, but as he could think of no other plan
he did as he was bid, and found the beast still sharpening his teeth
and claws for very hunger; and when he heard he had to wait still
longer for his dinner, he began to prowl about, and lash his tail, and
curl his whiskers, in a most terrible manner, causing the poor
farmer's knees to knock together with terror.

Now, when the farmer had left the house, his wife went to the stable
and saddled the pony; then she put on her husband's best clothes, tied
the turban very high, so as to make her look as tall as possible,
bestrode the pony, and set off to the field where the tiger was.

She rode along, swaggering and blustering, till she came to where the
lane turned into the field, and then she called out, as bold as brass,
'Now, please the powers! I may find a tiger in this place; for I
haven't tasted tiger's meat since yesterday, when, as luck would have
it, I ate three for breakfast.'

[Illustration: Farmer's wife on a horse]

Hearing these words, and seeing the speaker ride boldly at him, the
tiger became so alarmed that he turned tail, and bolted into the
forest, going away at such a headlong pace that he nearly overturned
his own jackal; for tigers always have a jackal of their own, who, as
it were, waits at table and clears away the bones.

'My lord! my lord!' cried the jackal, 'whither away so fast?'

'Run! run!' panted the tiger; 'there's the very devil of a horseman in
yonder fields, who thinks nothing of eating three tigers for
breakfast!'

At this the jackal sniggered in his sleeve. 'My dear lord,' said he,
'the sun has dazzled your eyes! That was no horseman, but only the
farmer's wife dressed up as a man!'

'Are you quite sure?' asked the tiger, pausing.

'Quite sure, my lord,' repeated the jackal; 'and if your lordship's
eyes had not been dazzled by--ahem!--the sun, your lordship would
have seen her pigtail hanging down behind.'

'But you may be mistaken!' persisted the cowardly tiger; 'it was the
very devil of a horseman to look at!'

'Who's afraid?' replied the brave jackal. 'Come! don't give up your
dinner because of a woman!'

'But you may be bribed to betray me!' argued the tiger, who, like all
cowards, was suspicious.

'Let us go together, then!' returned the gallant jackal.

'Nay! but you may take me there and then run away!' insisted the tiger
cunningly.

'In that case, let us tie our tails together, and then I can't!' The
jackal, you see, was determined not to be done out of his bones.

To this the tiger agreed, and having tied their tails together in a
reef-knot, the pair set off arm-in-arm.

Now the farmer and his wife had remained in the field, laughing over
the trick she had played on the tiger, when, lo and behold! what
should they see but the gallant pair coming back ever so bravely, with
their tails tied together.

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