Hero Tales and Drolls.

Suan’s Good Luck.

Narrated by Macaria Garcia. The story is popular among the Pampangans.

“Well, Suan, to-morrow tell me where the ring is,” said the datu.

“Yes, my lord, I will tell you, if you will give your soldiers over to me for to-night,” Suan replied.

“You shall have everything you need,” said the datu.

That evening Suan ordered the soldiers to stand around him in a semicircle. When all were ready, Suan pointed at each one of them, and said, “The ring is here, and nowhere else.” It so happened that Suan fixed his eyes on the guilty soldier, who trembled and became pale. “I know who has it,” said Suan. Then he ordered them to retire.

Late in the night this soldier came to Suan, and said, “I will get the ring you are in search of, and will give it to you if you will promise me my safety.”

“Give it to me, and you shall be safe,” said Suan.

Very early the next morning Suan came to the palace with a turkey in his arms. “Where is the ring?” the datu demanded. “Why, sir, it is in this turkey’s intestines,” Suan replied. The turkey was then killed, and the ring was found inside it.

“You have done very well, Suan. Now you shall have my daughter’s hand,” said the datu. So Suan became the princess’s husband.

In the morning Suan said boastfully, “I tell you, your orange has nine seeds.” Thus Suan won the whole treasure.

Hoping to recover his loss, the datu came again. This time he had with him fourteen cascos full of gold. He asked Suan to tell him what was inside his golden ball. Suan did not know what to say. So in the dead of night he went out to the cascos, but he could learn nothing there. The next morning Suan was summoned into the presence of the two datus. He had no idea whatever as to what was in the ball; so he said scornfully, “Nonsense!”

“That is right, that is right!” shouted a man. “The ball contains nine cents.” Consequently Suan won the fourteen cascos full of gold. From now on, nobody doubted Suan’s merit.

Suan Eket.

Narrated by Manuel Reyes, a Tagalog from Rizal province. He heard the story from his grandfather.

Many years ago there lived in the country of Campao a boy named Suan. While this boy was studying in a private school, it was said that he could not pronounce the letter x very well—he called it “eket.” So his schoolmates nick-named him “Suan Eket.”

Finally Suan left school, because, whenever he went there, the other pupils always shouted at him, “Eket, eket, eket!” He went home, and told his mother to buy him a pencil and a pad of paper. “I am the wisest boy in our town now,” said he.

One night Suan stole his father’s plough, and hid it in a creek near their house. The next morning his father could not find his plough.

“What are you looking for?” said Suan.

“My plough,” answered his father.

“Come here, father! I will guess where it is.” Suan took his pencil and a piece of paper. On the paper he wrote figures of various shapes. He then looked up, and said,—

which meant that the plough had been stolen by a neighbor and hidden in a creek. Suan’s father looked for it in the creek near their house, and found it. In great wonder he said, “My son is truly the wisest boy in the town.” News spread that Suan was a good guesser.

“I am looking for my carabao. Somebody must have stolen it.” “Go to Suan, your nephew,” said the man. “He can tell you who stole your carabao.” So Pedro went to Suan’s house, and told him to guess who had taken his carabao.

Suan took his pencil and a piece of paper. On the paper he wrote some round figures. He then looked up, and said,

which meant that the carabao was stolen by a neighbor and was hidden in the mountain. For many days Pedro looked for it in the mountain. At last he found it in a very secret place. He then went to Suan’s house, and told him that the carabao was truly in the mountain. In great wonder he said, “My nephew is surely a good guesser.”

One Sunday a proclamation of the king was read. It was as follows: “The princess’s ring is lost. Whoever can tell who stole it shall have my daughter for his wife; but he who tries and fails, loses his head.”

When Suan’s mother heard it, she immediately went to the palace, and said, “King, my son can tell you who stole your daughter’s ring.”

“Very well,” said the king, “I will send my carriage for your son to ride to the palace in.”

“What is it, mother?” said Suan.

“I told the king that you could tell him who stole the princess’s ring.”

“Foolish mother, do you want me to die?” said Suan, trembling.

Suan had scarcely spoken these words when the king’s carriage came. The coachman was a courtier. This man was really the one who had stolen the princess’s ring. When Suan was in the carriage, he exclaimed in great sorrow, “Death is at hand!” Then he blasphemed, and said aloud to himself, “You will lose your life now.”

The coachman thought that Suan was addressing him. He said to himself, “I once heard that this man is a good guesser. He must know that it was I who stole the ring, because he said that my death is at hand.” So he knelt before Suan, and said, “Pity me! Don’t tell the king that it was I who stole the ring!”

Suan was surprised at what the coachman said. After thinking for a moment, he asked, “Where is the ring?”

“Here it is.”

“All right! Listen, and I will tell you what you must do in order that you may not be punished by the king. You must catch one of the king’s geese to-night, and make it swallow the ring.”

The coachman did what Suan had told him to do. He caught a goose and opened its mouth. He then dropped the ring into it, and pressed the bird’s throat until it swallowed the ring.

The next morning the king called Suan, and said, “Tell me now who stole my daughter’s ring.”

“May I have a candle? I cannot guess right if I have no candle,” said Suan.

The king gave him one. He lighted it and put it on a round table. He then looked up and down. He went around the table several times, uttering Latin words. Lastly he said in a loud voice, “Mi domine!”

“Where is the ring?” said the king.

Suan replied,—

which meant that the ring was not stolen, but had been swallowed by a goose. The king ordered all the geese to be killed. In the crop of one of them they found the ring. In great joy the king patted Suan on the back, and said, “You are truly the wisest boy in the world.”

The next day there was a great entertainment, and Suan and the princess were married.

In a country on the other side of the sea was living a rich man named Mayabong. This man heard that the King of Campao had a son-in-law who was a good guesser. So he filled one of his cascos with gold and silver, and sailed to Campao. He went to the palace, and said, “King, is it true that your son-in-law is a good guesser?”

“Yes,” said the king.

“Should you like to have a contest with me? If your son-in-law can tell how many seeds these melons I have brought here contain, I will give you that casco filled with gold and silver on the sea; but if he fails, you are to give me the same amount of money as I have brought.”

The king agreed. Mayabong told him that they would meet at the public square the next day.

When Mayabong had gone away, the king called Suan, and said, “Mayabong has challenged me to a contest. You are to guess how many seeds the melons he has contain. Can you do it?” Suan was ashamed to refuse; so, even though he knew that he could not tell how many seeds a melon contained, he answered, “Yes.”

When night came, Suan could not sleep. He was wondering what to do. At last he decided to drown himself in the sea. So he went to the shore and got into a tub. “I must drown myself far out, so that no one may find my body. If they see it, they will say that I was not truly a good guesser,” he said to himself. He rowed and rowed until he was very tired. It so happened that he reached the place where Mayabong’s casco was anchored. There he heard somebody talking. “How many seeds has the green melon?” said one. “Five,” answered another. “How many seeds has the yellow one?”—“Six.”

When Suan heard how many seeds each melon contained, he immediately rowed back to shore and went home.

The next morning Suan met Mayabong at the public square, as agreed. Mayabong held up a green melon, and said, “How many seeds does this melon contain?”

“Five seeds,” answered Suan, after uttering some Latin words.

The melon was cut, and was found to contain five seeds. The king shouted, “We are right!”

Mayabong then held up another melon, and said, “How many does this one contain?”

Seeing that it was the yellow melon, Suan said, “It contains six.”

When the melon was cut, it was found that Suan was right again. So he won the contest.

Now, Mayabong wanted to win his money back again. So he took a bottle and filled it with dung, and covered it tightly. He challenged the king again to a contest. But when Suan refused this time, because he had no idea as to what was in the bottle, the king said, “I let you marry my daughter, because I thought that you were a good guesser. Now you must prove that you are. If you refuse, you will lose your life.”

Notes.

Two other printed variants are—

(c) “Juan the Guesser” (in H. E. Fansler’s Types of Prose Narratives [Chicago, 1911], pp. 73–77).

(d) “Juan Pusong” (JAFL 19 : 107–108).

This story seems to be fairly widespread among the Filipinos: there is no doubt of its popularity. The distinguishing incidents of the type are as follows:—

A¹ Lazy son decides that he will go to school no longer, and (A²) with his ABC book or a pencil and pad of paper, he has no trouble in making his parents think him wise. (A³) He tells his mother that he has learned to be a prophet and can discover hidden things. (A⁴) He spies on his mother, and then “guesses” what she has prepared for supper.

B He hides his father’s plough (cattle), and then finds it for him. (B¹) Plays similar trick on his uncle, thereby establishing his reputation as a diviner.

C King’s daughter loses ring, and the king sends for Juan to find it under penalty of death if he fails, or (C¹) his mother volunteers her son’s services. (C²) He accidentally discovers the thief by an ejaculation of sorrow, or (C³) shrewdly picks out the guilty one from among the soldiers.

In either case he causes the ring to be hid in a secret place or swallowed by a goose (turkey), in whose body it is found the next day.

D Juan marries the princess.

E By overhearing a conversation, Juan is able to tell the number of seeds in an orange (melon), and to win a large sum of money from a neighboring king who has come to bet with hero’s father-in-law.

F Hero required to accept another bet, as to the contents of three jars. (Method as in E,—swimming out to neighboring king’s casco and overhearing conversation.)

G Ejaculation guess as to contents of golden ball (bottle).

H Afraid of being called on for further demonstration of his skill, hero burns his “magic” book.

These incidents are distributed among the four forms of the story as follows:—

Version a A¹A⁴C¹C³DEG

Version b A¹A²BB¹C¹C²DEG

Version c A¹A²BCC²DE(accidentally hears answer)FH

Version d A¹A³A⁴EB

A concluding adventure is sometimes added to version c, “Juan the Guesser.” King and queen of another country visit palace of Juan’s father-in-law and want their newly-born child baptized. Juan is selected to be godfather. When called upon to sign the baptism certificate, he instantly dies of shame, pen in hand: he cannot write even his own name.

A connection between our story and Europe at once suggests itself. “Dr. Knowall” (Grimm, No. 98) is perhaps the best-known, though by no means the fullest, Western version. Bolte and Polívka (2 [1915] : 402) give the skeleton of the cycle as follows:—

A¹ A peasant with the name of Crab (Cricket, Rat), who buys a physician’s costume and calls himself Dr. Knowall, or (A²) who would like to satiate himself once with three days’ eating, (B) discovers the thieves who have stolen from a distinguished gentleman a ring (treasure), by calling out upon the entrance of the servants (or at the end of the three days), “That is the first (second, third)!” (C) He also guesses what is in the covered dish (or closed hand) while commiserating himself, “Poor Crab (Cricket, Rat)!” (D¹) Through a purgative he by chance helps to find a stolen horse, or (D²) he discovers the horse that has previously been concealed by him. (E) He gets a living among the peasants, upon whom he has made an impression with a short or unintelligible sermon or through the crashing-down of the pulpit, which has previously been sawed through by him.

Bolte lists over a hundred and fifty stories containing one or more incidents of this cycle. The discovery of the ring inside a domestic fowl (sometimes animal) is found in most of the European versions, as is likewise the “ejaculation guess” (our C³ and G).

These two details, however, are also found in Oriental forms of the story, which, as a whole, have some peculiarly distinctive traits. These (see Bolte-Polívka, 2 : 407) are (1) the rôle of the wife, (2) the collapsing of the room, (3) the burning of the magic book. The appearance in the Philippine versions of two of these motifs (one in modified form), together with a third (the betting-contest between the two kings, which is undoubtedly Eastern in origin), leads us to believe that our story of “Juan the Guesser” is in large measure descended directly from Oriental tradition, though it may owe something to Occidental influence.

In two of our variants it is the mother who in her fond pride places her son in jeopardy of losing his head. As the hero is a young bachelor when the story opens, the exploitation of his prowess would naturally devolve upon his mother. The burning of the magic book is found in version c, though the incident of the collapsing of the room or house is lacking in all our variants. The most characteristic episode, however, in the Philippine members of this cycle, is the betting-contest between the two kings. It is introduced five times into the four tales. Its only other occurrence that I know of in this cycle is in an Arabian story cited by Cosquin (2 : 192), which follows.

One day, when the king was boasting of his conjurer before some other kings, they said to him, “We too have some diviners. Let us compare their wits with the wisdom of your man.” The kings then buried three pots,—one filled with milk, another with honey, and the third with pitch. The conjurers of the other kings could not say what was in the pots. Then Asfour (the hero) was called. He turned to his wife, and said, “All this (trouble) comes of you. We could have left the country. The first (time) it was milk; the second, honey; the third, pitch.” The kings were dumfounded. “He has named the milk, the honey, and the pitch without hesitation,” they said, and they gave him a pension.

The close resemblance between this detail and the corresponding one (F) in “Juan the Guesser” is immediately evident. The fact that the difficulty in Juan’s career is overcome, not by an “ejaculation guess,” but by a providential accident (much the same thing, however), does not decrease the significance of the two passages.

That the betting-contest between the two kings is an Oriental conception (very likely based on actual early custom) is further borne out by its appearance in a remarkable group of Eastern stories of the “Clever Lass” type (see Child, English and Scottish Ballads, 1 : 11). “The gist of these narratives,” writes Professor Child, “is that one king propounds tasks to another; in the earlier ones, with the intent to discover whether his brother-monarch enjoys the aid of such counsellors as will make an attack on him dangerous; in the later, with the demand that he shall acquit himself satisfactorily, or suffer a forfeit: and the king is delivered from a serious strait by the sagacity either of a minister . . . or of the daughter of his minister, who came to her father’s assistance .... These tasks are always such as require ingenuity of one kind or another, whether in devising practical experiments, in contriving subterfuges, in solving riddles, or even in constructing compliments.”

One other Oriental variant of this story may be cited because of its similarity to two of our tales (cf. our episodes C and C²). This is an Anamese version, printed in the “Chrestomathie cochin-chinoise” (Paris, 1872), 1 : 30:—

There was once a man who, being qualified for nothing, and not knowing how to earn a living, made up his mind one day to become a diviner. As luck had many times served him, the public came to believe in his oracles.... He amassed a good round sum, and day by day his success made him more bold and boastful. Once a golden tortoise disappeared from the palace of the king. As all searches for it resulted in nothing, some one mentioned the diviner to the king, and begged permission to summon him. The king ordered his litter prepared, the escort and the umbrellas of honor, and sent to have the conjurer fetched. When the conjurer learned what was the matter, he was very much disturbed, but he could not resist the commands of the king. Accordingly he dressed himself, entered the litter, and set out. Along the road the poor diviner continually bemoaned his fate. Finally he cried out, “What is the use of groaning? The stomach (bung) has caused it all; the belly (da) will suffer for it” (an Anamese proverb). Now, it happened that the two litter-bearers were named Bung and Da, and it was they who had stolen the king’s gold tortoise. When they heard the exclamation of the diviner, they believed that they had been discovered. They begged him to have pity on them; they confessed that they had stolen the tortoise and had hidden it in the gutter. “Very well,” said the diviner, “I will spare you; I will say nothing; reassure yourselves.” When he reached the palace, he went through some magical performances, found the tortoise, and was overwhelmed by the king with rewards and honors.—COSQUIN, 2 : 192.

It is entirely possible that this story and our two stories containing the same situation are connected. Trading between Manila and Indo-China has been going on for centuries.

The history of the Philippine story has probably been something like this: To an early narrative about a wager between two neighboring kings or datus, in which the winner was aided by the shrewdness of an advisor (originally having a considerable amount of real ability), were added other adventures showing how the advisor came to have his post of honor. The germ of this story doubtless came from India via the Malay migrations; the additional details possibly belong to a much later period.

It is, moreover, not impossible that this whole cycle of the lucky “anti-hero” grew up as a conscious antithesis to the earlier cycle of the genuinely “Clever Lass” (see No. 7 in this collection).

In conclusion I might call attention to Benfey’s treatment of this droll in “Orient und Occident” (1 : 371 et seq.). Benfey traces the story from the Orient, but considers that its fullest form is that given in Schleicher’s Lithuanian legends. The tale is also found in “Somadeva,” Chapter XXX (Tawney, 1 : 272–274).

The Charcoal-maker Who Became King.

Narrated by José R. Perez, a Tagalog living in Manila, who heard the story when a boy from his nurse.

Once upon a time there lived a king who had one beautiful daughter. When she was old enough to be married, her father, as was the custom in ancient times, made a proclamation throughout his kingdom thus: “Whosoever shall be able to bring me ten car-loads of money for ten successive days shall have the hand of my beautiful daughter and also my crown. If, however, any one undertakes and fails, he shall be put to death.”

A boy, the only son of a poor charcoal-maker, heard this announcement in his little town. He hurried home to his mother, and said that he wanted to marry the beautiful princess and to be king of their country. The mother, however, paid no attention to what her foolish son had said, for she well knew that they had very little money.

The next day the boy, as usual, took his hatchet and went to the forest to cut wood. He started to cut down a very huge tree, which would take him several days to finish. While he was busy with his hatchet, he seemed to hear a voice saying, “Cut this tree no more. Dip your hand into the hole of the trunk, and you will find a purse which will give you all the money you wish.” At first he did not pay any attention to the voice, but finally he obeyed it. To his surprise, he got the purse, but found it empty. Disappointed, he angrily threw it away; but as the purse hit the ground, silver money rolled merrily out of it. The youth quickly gathered up the coins; then, picking up the purse, he started for home, filled with happiness.

The next morning she ordered her son to go to the palace to inform his Majesty that he would bring him the money he demanded in exchange for his daughter and his crown. The guard of the palace, however, thought that the youth was crazy; for he was poorly dressed and had rude manners. Therefore he refused to let him in. But their talk was overheard by the king, who ordered the guard to present the youth before him. The king read the announcement, emphasizing the part which said that in case of failure the contestant would be put to death. To this condition the charcoal-maker agreed. Then he asked the king to let him have a talk with his daughter. The meeting was granted, and the youth was extremely pleased with the beauty and vivacity of the princess.

After he had bidden her good-by, he told the king to send the cars with him to get the first ten car-loads of money. The cars were sent with guards. The drivers and the guards of the convoy were astonished when they saw the poor charcoal-maker fill the ten cars with bright new silver dollars. The princess, too, at first was very much pleased with such a large sum of money.

Five days went by, and the youth had not failed to send the amount of money required. “Five days more, and I shall surely be married!” said the princess to herself. “Married? Yes, married life is like music without words. But will it be in my case? My future husband is ugly, unrefined, and of low descent. But—he is rich. Yes, rich; but what are riches if I am going to be wretched? No, I will not marry him for all the world. I will play a trick on him.”

The next day the guard informed her that the riches of the young man were inexhaustible, for the purse from which he got his money seemed to be magical. When she heard this, she commanded the guard to tell the young man that she wished to see him alone. Filled with joy because of this sign of her favor, the youth hastened to the palace, conducted by the guard. The princess entertained him regally, and tried all sorts of tricks to get possession of the magical purse. At last she succeeded in inducing him to go to sleep. While he was unconscious, the deceitful princess stole the purse and left him alone in the chamber.

When he awoke, he saw that the princess had deserted him and that his purse was gone. “Surely I am doomed to die if I don’t leave this kingdom at once,” said he to himself. “My purse is gone, and I cannot now fulfil my contract.” He at once hurried home, told his parents to abandon their home and town, and he himself started on a journey for another kingdom. After much travelling, he reached mountainous places, and had eaten but little for many a day.

By good luck he came across a tree heavily laden with fruits. The tree was strange to him; but the delicious appearance of its fruit, and his hunger, tempted him to try some. While he was eating, he was terrified to find that two horns had appeared on his forehead. He tried his best to pull them off, but in vain. The next day he saw another tree, whose fruit appeared even more tempting. He climbed it, picked some fruits, and ate them. To his surprise, his horns immediately fell off. He wrapped some of this fruit up in his handkerchief, and then went back to find the tree whose fruit he had eaten the day before. He again ate some of its fruit, and again two horns grew out of his head. Then he ate some of the other kind, and the horns fell off. Confident now that he had a means of recovering his purse, he gathered some of the horn-producing fruits, wrapped them in his shirt, and started home. By this time he had been travelling for nearly two years, and his face had so changed that he could not be recognized by his own parents, or by his town-mates who had been hired by the king to search for him for execution.

When he reached his town, he decided to place himself in the king’s palace as a helper of the royal cook. As he was willing to work without pay, he easily came to terms with the cook. One of the conditions of their agreement was that the cook would tell him whatever the king or the king’s family were talking about. After a few months the charcoal-maker proved himself to be an excellent cook. In fact, he was now doing all the cooking in the palace; for the chief cook spent most of his time somewhere else, coming home only at meal times.

Now comes the fun of the story. One day while the cook was gone, the youth ground up the two kinds of fruit. He mixed the kind that produced horns with the king’s food: the other kind, which caused the horns to fall off, he mixed with water and put into a jar. The cook arrived, and everything was ready. The table was prepared, and the king and his family were called to eat. The queen and the king and the beautiful princess, who were used to wearing golden crowns set with diamonds and other precious stones, were then to be seen with sharp ugly horns on their heads. When the king discovered that they all had horns, he summoned the cook at once, and asked, “What kind of food did you give us?”

“The same food that your Highness ate a week ago,” replied the cook, who was terrified to see the royal family with horns.

“Cook, go and find a doctor. Don’t tell him or any one else that we have horns. Tell the doctor that the king wants him to perform an operation,” ordered the king.

The cook set out immediately to find a doctor; but he was intercepted by the charcoal-maker, who was eager to hear the king’s order. “Where are you going? Say, cook, why are you in such a hurry? What is the matter?”

“Don’t bother me!” said the cook. “I am going to find a doctor. The king and his family have horns on their heads, and I am ordered to find a doctor who can take them off.”

“I can make those horns fall off. You needn’t bother to find a doctor. Here, try some of this food, cook!” said the helper, giving him some of the same food he had prepared for the king. The cook tried it, and it was good; but, to his alarm, he felt two horns on his head. To prevent rumors from reaching the ears of the king, the youth then gave the cook a glass of the water he had prepared, and the horns fell off. While the charcoal-maker was playing this trick on the cook, he related the story of his magical purse, and how he had lost it.

“Change your clothes, then, and get ready, and I will present you to the king as the doctor,” said the cook.

The helper then dressed himself just like a doctor of surgery, and was conducted by the cook into the king’s presence.

“Doctor, I want you to do all you can, and use the best of your wisdom, to take off these horns from our heads. But before doing it, promise me first that you will not unfold the matter to the people; for my queen, my daughter, and I would rather die than be known to have lived with horns. If you succeed in taking them off, you shall inherit one-half of my kingdom and have the hand of my fair daughter,” said the king.

“I do promise. But listen, O king! In order to get rid of those horns, you must undergo the severest treatment, which may cause your death,” replied the doctor.

“It is no matter. If we should die, we would rather die hornless than live with horns,” said the king.

After the agreement was written out, the doctor ordered the treatment. The king and the queen were to be whipped until they bled, while the princess was to dance with the doctor until she became exhausted. These were the remedies given by the doctor.

While the king and queen were being whipped, the doctor who, we must remember, was the cook’s helper—went to the kitchen to get the jar of water which he had prepared. The cruel servants who were scourging the king and the queen took much delight in their task, and did not quit until the king and queen were almost lifeless. The doctor forgot the royal couple while he was dancing with the princess, and found them just about to die. He succeeded, however, in giving them some of the fruit-water he had made ready, and the horns fell off. The princess, exhausted, also asked for a drink when she stopped dancing, and the horns fell off her head too.

A few days afterwards the king and the queen died, and the doctor succeeded to the throne, with the beautiful princess as his wife. Then the doctor told her that he was the poor charcoal-maker who had owned the magic purse that she had stolen from him. As soon as he was seated on the throne, he made his friend the cook one of his courtiers. Although the new king was uneducated and unrefined, he welcomed all wise men to his palace as his counsellors, and his kingdom prospered as it had never done under its previous rulers.

Notes.

Another Tagalog version, called “Pedro’s Fortunes” and narrated by Facundo Esquivel of Nueva Ecija, represents the hero as inheriting the inexhaustible purse from his father.

Pedro, with his wealth, soon attracts the notice of the princess, who slyly wheedles his purse away from him. Bent on revenge, he sets out travelling. Hunger soon drives him to eat some beautiful blossoms he finds on a strange tree in the mountains. No sooner has he eaten, however, than horns grow out of his forehead. At first in despair, but later becoming philosophical, he eats some of the leaves of the tree. Horns disappear. Taking blossoms and leaves with him, he goes on. He finds another tree with blossoms similar to the first. He eats: fangs from upper jaw. Eats leaves from the same tree: fangs disappear. Takes with him specimens of both flowers and leaves. Third tree: blossoms tail-producing. When he reaches home, he makes a decoction of the three kinds of flowers, then goes to the palace and sells “lemonade from Paradise.” King, queen, and princess drink: horns, fangs, tails. All efforts to remove them vain. Proclamation that princess’s hand will be given to whoever can cure the royal family. Disguised as a doctor, Pedro cures king, queen, and princess with a decoction of the three kinds of leaves, first, however, demanding and getting back his purse. Pedro is married to princess.

These two stories (No. 2 and the variant) belong to the type in which the hero loses a magic article (or three magic articles) through the trickery of a princess, but recovers it (them) again by the aid of fruits (blossoms) which, if eaten, cause bodily deformity,—leprosy, horns, a tail, a long nose, transformation into an animal, or the like. The princess, a victim of one of these fruits, which the hero causes her to eat unwittingly, can be restored to her former beauty only by eating of another fruit which the hero, disguised as a physician, supplies on condition that the magic articles first stolen be given up. A detailed study of this cycle has been made by Antti Aarne (pp. 85–142). Aarne names the cycle “The Three Magic Articles and the Wonderful Fruit.” After an examination of some hundred and forty-five variants of the story, all but four of which are European, he concludes that the tale arose among the Celts (British Isles and France) and spread eastward (p. 135), and that the farther we go from these two lands, the more freely are the original details of the story handled (p. 137).

The prototype of this folk-tale Aarne reconstructs as follows (pp. 124–125):—

There are three brothers, soldiers. Each comes into the possession of a specific magic article. One obtains a purse which is never empty; the second, a horn which when blown raises an army; and the third, a mantle which transports its owner wherever he commands it to go. (The owner of the purse begins to lead such a luxurious life, that he becomes acquainted with the king and his family.) The king’s daughter deprives the hero of his magic purse. He gets from his brother the second magic article, but the same thing happens again: the princess steals the horn likewise. A third time the hero goes to the princess, taking the mantle given him by his brother. With the help of this, the hero succeeds in punishing the princess by transporting her to a distant island. But she cheats him again. In the magic mantle she wishes herself home, leaving him on the island. He happens upon an apple-tree. He eats some of the fruit, but notices with dismay that horns have grown from his head. After a time he finds other apples; and when he has eaten them, the horns disappear, and he regains his original form. Unrecognized, the youth sets out to sell to the king’s daughter some of the first apples. Without suspecting any evil, she eats them, and horns appear on her head. No one is able to cure her. Then the hero appears as a foreign physician at the court of the king, and makes ready his cure. He gives the princess enough of the good apple to cause the horns to decrease in size. In this way he compels her to give him back the stolen articles.

The Tagalog versions of the story differ considerably from this archetype. No brothers of the hero are mentioned. There is but one magic object, an inexhaustible purse: hence there is no magic flight to an island. In none of Aarne’s variants do we find blossoms producing horns which may be removed only by leaves from the same tree, as in our variant. The tail-producing fruit is found in nine European versions (five Finnish, two Russian, two Italian), but the fang-producing blossom is peculiar only to our variant; likewise the “lemonade from Paradise” method of dispensing the extract. In thirty-five of the Finnish and Russian forms of the story the hero whips the princess to make her give up the stolen articles, or introduces whipping as a part of the cure (cf. No. 2). Both Filipino versions end with the marriage of the hero to the princess, a detail often lacking in the other versions.

It is impossible to say when or whence this tale reached the Philippines. The fact that the story does not seem to be widespread in the Islands suggests that its introduction was recent, while the separate incidents point to some Finnish or Russian version as source. The only crystallized elements found in the Philippines are the poor hero’s obtaining a magic purse, his aspiring to the hand of the princess, her theft of the magic object, and its recovery by means of horn-producing fruits. The complete story (2) seems to be more native and less “manufactured” than the variant.

Besides Aarne, for a general discussion of this cycle see Cosquin, 1 : 123–132; R. Köhler’s notes to Gonzenbach’s No. 31, and his variants of this story in Zeitschrift des Vereins für Volkskunde (1896); Von Hahn, 2 : 246–247; Grimm, notes to No. 122, “Donkey Cabbages” (in Tales [ed. Hunt], 2 : 419–423). F. H. Groome’s “The Seer” (No. 23), a part of which resembles very closely the literary form of the story in the Gesta Romanorum (ch. 120), seems to have been overlooked by Aarne.

The Story of Carancal.

Narrated by José P. Caedo, a Tagalog from Batangas, Batangas.

Once upon a time there lived a couple who had long been married, but had no child. Every Sunday they went to church and begged God to give them a son. They even asked the witches in their town why God would not give them a child. The witches told them that they would have one after a year, but that when born he would be no longer than a span. Nevertheless the couple gave thanks.

Carancal, as the boy was called, was very strong and very kind-hearted. He was the leader of the other boys of the town, for he could beat all of them in wrestling.

After a few years the family’s property had all been sold to buy food for the boy. Day after day they became poorer and poorer, for Carancal’s father had no other business but fishing. So one day when Carancal was away playing, the wife said to her husband, “What shall we do with Carancal? He will make us as poor as rats. It is better for us to tell him to go earn his living, for he is old enough to work.”

“No, it is a shame to send him off,” said the father, “for we asked God for him. I will take him to the forest and there kill him; and if the neighbors ask how he died, we will say that an accident befell him while cutting trees.”

Early the next morning his father led Carancal to the forest, and they began to cut down a very big tree. When the tree was about to fall, Carancal’s father ordered the son to stand where the tree inclined; so that when it fell, Carancal was entirely buried. The father immediately went home, thinking that his son had surely been killed; but when he and his wife were talking, Carancal came home with the big tree on his shoulders.

“Father, father, why did you leave me alone in the forest?” said the obedient boy.

The father could not move or speak, for shame of himself. He only helped his son unload the heavy burden. The mother could not speak either, for fear Carancal might suspect their bad intentions toward him. Accordingly she and her husband planned another scheme.

The next day Carancal was invited by his father to go fishing. They rowed and rowed until they were far out into the blue sea. Then they put their net into the water. “Carancal, dive down and see that our net is sound,” said the father. Carancal obeyed. In about a minute the water became red and began to foam. This made the old man think that his son had been devoured by a big fish, so he rowed homeward. When he reached home, his wife anxiously asked if Carancal was dead; and the husband said, “Yes.” They then cooked their meal and began to eat. But their supper was not half finished when Carancal came in, carrying a big alligator. He again asked his father why he had left him alone to bring such a big load. The father said, “I thought you had been killed by a large fish.” Carancal then asked his mother to cook him a cavan of rice, for he was tired from swimming such a long distance.

The couple were now discouraged; they could not think of any way by which to get rid of Carancal. At last the impatient woman said, “Carancal, you had better go out into the world to see what you can do toward earning your own living. You know that we are becoming poorer and poorer.” . . .

“Do you want to go with me?” said Carancal.

“Yes,” said Bugtongpalasan.

“Let us wrestle first, and the loser will carry my bolo,” said Carancal as a challenge. They wrestled; and Bugtongpalasan was defeated, so he had to carry the big bolo.

“That is all right. Let us wrestle, and we will see if you can twist me,” said Carancal scornfully. So they wrestled. The earth trembled, trees were uprooted, large stones rolled about; but Tunkodbola was defeated.

“Here, take this bolo and carry it!” said Carancal triumphantly; and they continued their journey.

“Well, I am not a hill,” said Carancal. “I can balance myself.” They wrestled together, and Carancal was once more the winner.

The four companions now walked on together. They were all wandering about, not knowing where to go. When they were in the midst of a thick wood, they became hungry; so Carancal, their captain, ordered one of them to climb a tall tree and see if any house was nigh. Bugtongpalasan did so, and he saw a big house near the edge of the forest. They all went to the house to see if they might not beg some food.

It was a very large house; but all the windows were closed, and it seemed to be uninhabited. They knocked at the door, but no one answered. Then they went in, and found a table covered with delicious food; and as they were almost famished, they lost no time in devouring what seemed to have been prepared for them. After all had eaten, three of them went hunting, leaving Bugtongpalasan behind to cook more food for them against their return.

When the three arrived, they were very angry with Bugtongpalasan because no food had been prepared for them; but they untied him, and made him get the meal. Tunkodbola was the next one left behind as cook while the others went hunting, but he had the same experience as Bugtongpalasan. Then Macabuhalbundok; but the same thing happened to him too.

It was now the turn of Carancal to try his wit, strength, and luck. Before the three left, he had them shave his head. When the giant came and saw that Carancal’s head was white, he laughed. “It is a very fine thing to have a white head,” said the giant. “Make my head white, too.”

“Your head must be shaved to be white,” said Carancal, “and it is a very difficult thing to shave a head.”

“Never mind that! I want to have my head shaved,” said the giant impatiently.

Carancal then got some ropes and wax. He tied the giant tightly to a post, and then smeared his body with wax. He next took a match and set the giant’s body on fire. Thus the giant was destroyed, and the four lived in the house as if it were their own.

Not long afterwards a rumor reached their ears. It was to this effect: that in a certain kingdom on the other side of the sea lived a king who wanted to have a huge stone removed from its place. This stone was so big that it covered much ground. The prize that would be given to the one who could remove it was the hand of the king’s prettiest daughter.

The four set out to try their strength. At that time there were no boats for them to sail on, so they had to swim. After three weeks’ swimming, they landed on an island-like place in the sea, to rest. It was smooth and slippery, which made them wonder what it could be. Carancal, accordingly, drew his bolo and thrust it into the island. How fast the island moved after the stroke! It was not really an island, but a very big fish. Fortunately the fish carried the travellers near the shores of the kingdom they were seeking.

When the four arrived, they immediately presented themselves to the king, and told him that they would try to move the stone. The king ordered one of his soldiers to show them the stone. There a big crowd of people collected to watch the four strong men.

The first to try was Bugtongpalasan. He could hardly budge it. Then Tunkodbola tried, but moved it only a few yards. When Macabuhalbundok’s turn came, he moved the great stone half a mile; but the king said that it was not satisfactory. Carancal then took hold of the rope tied to the stone, and gave a swing. In a minute the great stone was out of sight.

The king was very much pleased, and asked Carancal to choose a princess for his wife. “I am not old enough to marry, my lord,” said Carancal sadly (sic!). “I will marry one of my companions to your daughter, however, if you are willing.” The king agreed, and Bugtongpalasan was made a prince.

The three unmarried men lived with Bugtongpalasan. By this time they were known not only throughout the whole kingdom where they were, but also in other countries. They had not enjoyed a year’s hospitality in Bugtongpalasan’s home when a letter addressed to the four men came. It was as follows:—

I have heard that you have superhuman strength, which I now greatly need. About a week ago a monster fish floated up to the shore of my town. It is decaying, and has a most offensive odor. My men in vain have tried to drag the fish out into the middle of the sea. I write to inform you that if you can rid us of it, I will let one of you marry my prettiest daughter.

After Carancal had read the letter, he instantly remembered the fish that had helped them in travelling. The three companions made themselves ready, bade Bugtongpalasan good-by, and set out for Walangtacut’s kingdom. They travelled on foot, for the place was not very far away.

In every town they passed through, the people cried, “Hurrah for the strong men!” The king received them with a banquet, and all the houses of the town were decorated with flags. In a word, every one welcomed them.

After the banquet was over, the three men marched with the king and all his counsellors, knights, dukes, and the common people to where the decaying fish lay. In this test, too, Carancal was the only successful one. Again he refused to marry; but as the princess was very anxious to have a strong man for her husband, Tunkodbola was chosen by Carancal, and he became her husband.

The fame of the strong men was now nearly universal. All the surrounding kings sent congratulations. The heroes received offers of marriage from many beautiful ladies of the neighboring kingdoms.

One day when Carancal and Macabuhalbundok were talking together, one of them suggested that they go on another journey. The other agreed, and both of them made preparations. But when they were about to start, a letter from another king came, addressed to Carancal. The king said in his letter that a great stone had fallen in his park. “It is so big that I thought it was the sky that fell,” he wrote. “I am willing to marry you to my youngest daughter if you can remove it from its present place,” said the king.

The two friends accepted the invitation, and immediately began their journey. They travelled by land and sea for many a day. At last they reached the place. There they found the same stone which they had removed before. As he knew that he could not move it far enough, Macabuhalbundok did not make any attempt: Carancal was again the one who did the work.

Once more Carancal refused to marry. “I am too young yet to marry,” he said to the king. “In my place I will put my companion.” So Macabuhalbundok was married.

Carancal remained a bachelor, for he did not wish to have a wife. The three princes considered him as their father, though he was younger than any of them. For a long time Carancal lived with each of them a year in rotation. Not long after the marriage of Macabuhalbundok, the father-in-law of Bugtongpalasan died, and so Bugtongpalasan became the king. Then the following year Tunkodbola’s father-in-law died, and Tunkodbola became also a king. After many years the father-in-law of Macabuhalbundok died, and Macabuhalbundok succeeded to the throne. Thus Carancal was the benefactor of three kings.

One day Carancal thought of visiting his cruel parents and of living with them. So he set out, carrying with him plenty of money, which the three kings had given him. This time his parents did not drive him away, for he had much wealth. Carancal lived once more with his parents, and had three kings under him.

Notes.

Of this story I have eight variants, as follows:—

(a) “Pusong” (Visayan), narrated by Fermin Torralba.

(b) “Cabagboc” (Bicol), narrated by Pacifico Buenconsejo.

(c) “Sandapal” (Tagalog), narrated by Pilar Ejercito.

(d) “Sandangcal” (Pampangan), narrated by Anastacia Villegas.

(e) “Greedy Juan” (Pampangan), narrated by Wenceslao Vitug.

(f) “Juan Tapon” (Ilocano), narrated by C. Gironella.

(g) “Dangandangan” (Ilocano), narrated by Salvador Reyes.

(h) “Tangarangan” (Ibanag), narrated by Candido Morales.

The incidents of this cycle may be tabulated thus.

A The hero, when born, is only a span in length, and never grows taller than four feet. He early develops an enormous appetite, and by the time he is twelve years old he has eaten his parents out of everything.

B Attempts of parents (or uncle) to get rid of the hero: (B¹) by letting a tree fall on him, (B²) by throwing him into a deep well and then stoning him, (B³) by commanding him to dive into a river to repair a fishing-net, (B⁴) by persuading him to enter wrestling-match with the king’s champion, (B⁵) by pushing him into the sea or by pushing rocks on him at the seashore.

C Hero’s first exploits: (C¹) carrying tree home on his shoulders, (C²) killing crocodile in river, or king of fishes in the sea, (C³) escape from the well, (C⁴) defeating champion.

D The hero now decides to leave home, (D¹) taking with him a strong club, an enormous bolo, or an enormous top, sword, and sheath.

E On his travels he meets two (three) strong men, whom he surpasses in strength-tests; or (E¹) three men, whom he hires. They all journey along together, seeking adventures.

F Tasks of the companions: (F¹) killing of troublesome giant by the hero after the monster has worsted the two other strong men, (F²) removal of large stone from king’s grounds, (F³) removal of enormous decaying fish, (F⁴) killing of two giants, (F⁵) killing seven-headed man, (F⁶) battering, blowing, and running contest with king’s strong men.

G Hero marries off his companions, but remains single himself, and (G¹) returns home to live with his parents, either for good or for only a short time.

These incidents are distributed among the different versions thus:—

No. 3 AB¹B³C¹C²DD¹EF¹F²F³GG¹

Version a AB¹B⁵D

Version b C¹DD¹EF³F⁴F⁵GG¹

Version c AB⁵B¹B⁴C¹C²C⁴

Version d AB¹B²C¹C³DE¹F⁶

Version e AB¹B³C¹C²DG¹

Version f AB⁴B¹C¹C⁴

Version g AB¹B²C¹C³DD¹EF⁴G

Version h AB¹B²C¹C³DD¹

Up to the point where the hero leaves home, these various Filipino stories agree in the main: i.e., the hero is a dwarf of superhuman strength and extraordinary eating-capacity; his parents (or guardian) are driven by poverty to attempt to kill him (usually twice, sometimes thrice), but their efforts are vain; he finally determines to leave home, often taking with him some mighty weapon. From this point on, the narratives differ widely. All are alike in this respect, however: the hero never marries. Obviously this group of stories is connected with two well-known European cycles of folk-tales,—“Strong Hans” and “John the Bear.” The points of resemblance will be indicated below in an analysis of the incidents found in the members of our group. (Variants are referred to by italicized lower-case letters thus: a [Pusong], b [Cabagboc], etc. No. 3 refers to our complete story of “Carancal.”)

A Hero is born as result of childless couple’s unceasing petitions to Heaven (3, a, f, g), and is only a span in length when born (c, d, g). Three of the tales do not mention anything definite about the hero’s birth (b, e, h). In all, however, his name is significant, indicating the fact that he is either a dwarf, or wonderfully strong, or a glutton (3 Carancal, from Tag. dangkal, “a palm;” [a] Pusong, from Vis. puso, “paunch, belly;” [b] Cabagboc, from Bicol, “strong;” [c] Sandapal, from Tag. dapal, “a span;” [d] Sandangcal, from Pampangan dangkal = Tag.; [f] Tapon, Ilocano for “short;” [g] and [h] Tangarangan and Dangandangan, from Ilocano dangan, “a span”). a describes the hero as having “a big head and large stomach,” but as being “very, very strong, he ate a sack of corn or rice every day.” In b the hero “had great strength even when an infant.” Sandangcal (d) required a carabao-liver every meal. In e the hero’s voracious appetite is mentioned. The hero in c “would eat everything in the house, leaving no food for his parents.” Juan Tapon (f), when three years old, “used to eat daily half a ganta of rice and a pound of meat, besides fish and vegetables;” the quantity of food he required increased steadily until, when he was fourteen, his parents could no longer support him. However, he never grew taller than a six-year-old boy. Dangandangan (g) could walk and talk the day he was born. He could eat one cavan of rice and one carabao daily. The hero of h was so greedy that by the time he was a “young man” his father could no longer support him. He is described as a “dwarf” In c and d there is nothing to indicate that the hero was not always a Tom Thumb in size. Nearly all these details may be found duplicated in Märchen of the “John the Bear” and “Strong Hans” types. For analogues, see Friedrich Panzer’s Beowulf, pp. 28–33, 47–48, 50–52. In Grimm’s story of the “Young Giant” (No. 90) the hero, when born, was only as big as a thumb, and for several years did not grow one hair’s breadth. But a giant got hold of him and suckled him for six years, during which time he grew tall and strong, after the manner of giants. It is interesting to note that none of the nine Filipino versions make any reference to an animal parentage or extraordinary source of nourishment of the hero.

B The poverty of the parents is the motive for their attempts on his life in a, c, d, e, f, h. In a the mother proposes the scheme; in h, the father; in g it is the boy’s uncle, by whom he had been adopted when his parents died. This “unnatural parents” motif is lacking in the European variants.

B¹–⁵ With the various attempts to destroy the hero may be discussed his escapes (C¹–³). The “falling-tree” episode occurs in all the stories but one (b). The events of this incident are conducted in various ways. In a, c, h, the hero is told to “catch the tree when it falls,” so that he can carry it home (in c the hero is pushed clear into the ground by the weight of the tree). In d the father directs his son to stand in a certain place, “so that the tree will not fall on him;” but when Sandangcal sees that he is about to be crushed, he nimbly jumps aside unobserved by his father, who thinks him killed. In f the tree is made to fall on the body of the sleeping hero. In g Darangdarang is told to stand beside the tree being cut: it falls on him. In all the stories but d the hero performs the feat of carrying home a tree on his shoulders (C¹). This episode is not uncommon in the European versions (see Panzer, op. cit., p. 35), but there the hero performs it while out at service. By the process of contamination these two incidents (B¹C¹) have worked their way into another Filipino story not of our cycle,—the Visayan story of “Juan the Student” (see JAFL 19 : 104).

B² Of the other methods of putting an end to the hero’s life, the “well” episode is the most common. In d and h father and son go to dig a well. When it is several metres deep, the father rains stones on the boy, who is working at the bottom, and leaves him for dead. In g the hero is sent down a well to find a lost ring; and while he is there, stones and rocks are thrown on him by his treacherous uncle. In all three the hero escapes, wiser, but none the worse, for his adventure (C³). This incident is very common in European members of the cycle. Bolte and Polívka (2 : 288–292) note its occurrence in twenty-five different stories.

B³ In our story of “Carancal,” as has been remarked, and in e, the father commands his son to dive into deep water to see if the fishing-net is intact. Seeing blood and foam appear on the surface of the water, the father goes home, confident that he is rid of his son at last; but not long afterward, when the parents are eating, the hero appears, carrying on his shoulder a huge crocodile he has killed (C²). Analogous to this exploit is Sandapal’s capture of the king of the fishes, after his father has faithlessly pushed him overboard into the deep sea (c). The hero’s fight under water with a monstrous fish or crocodile, the blood and foam telling the story of a desperate struggle going on, reminds one strongly of Beowulf’s fight with Grendel’s dam.

B⁴ In c, as a last resort, the father takes his son to the king, and has the best royal warrior fight the small boy. Sandapal conquers in five minutes. In f the father persuades his son to enter a wrestling-match held by the king. Juan easily throws all his opponents. With this incident compare the Middle-English “Tale of Gamelyn” (ll. 183–270) and Shakespeare’s “As You Like It” (act i, sc. ii).

B⁵ In a the father, at the instigation of his wife, pushes large rocks from a cliff down upon his son by the seashore; but the son returns home later, rolling an immense bowlder that threatens to crush the house.

D, D¹ Satisfied that he is no longer wanted at home, the hero sets out on adventures (a, g, h), taking along with him as a weapon a bolo five yards long (3), or a mighty bolo his father had given him,—such a one that none but the hero could wield it (g), or a short stout club (h). In b the parents are not cruel to their son. The hero leaves home with the kindest of feeling for his father. He carries along with him an enormous top, so heavy that four persons could not lift it, and which, when spun, could be heard for miles; a long sword made by a blacksmith; and a wooden sheath for it made by the father. In the European versions of the story the weapons of the hero play an important part (see Panzer, 39–43). In c the story ends with the sale of Sandapal to the king. In d, after Sandangcal has escaped from the well, he comes home at night, and, finding his parents asleep, shakes the house. Thinking it is an earthquake, they jump from the windows in terror, and are killed. (This incident is also told as a separate story; see JAFL 20 : 305, No. 17.) After the hero has eaten up all the livestock he had inherited by their death, he sells his property and sets out on his travels. In e the father sells his greedy son to merchants. In f the parents finally give up attempts on their son’s life, and he goes away to join the army.

F¹ The adventure with the demon in the house in the forest, related in 3, is not found in the other Filipino versions of the tale. It is found in the Islands, however, in the form of a separate story, two widely different variants of which are printed below (4, [a] and [b]). This incident occurs in nearly all the folk-tales of the “John the Bear” type. Bolte and Polívka, in their notes to Grimm, No. 91 (2 : 301–315), indicate its appearance in one hundred and eighty-three Western and Eastern stories. As Panzer has shown (p. 77) that the mistreatment of the companions by the demon in the woods usually takes place while the one left behind is cooking food for the others out on the hunt, this motif might more exactly be called the “interrupted-cooking” episode than “Der Dämon im Waldhaus” (Panzer’s name for it). For Mexican and American Indian variants, see JAFL 25 : 244–254, 255. Spanish and Hindoo versions are cited by Bolte and Polívka (2 : 305, 314). It is pretty clear that the episode as narrated in our stories 3 and 4 owes nothing to the Spanish variants mentioned by Bolte.

F²–⁵ The removal of an enormous stone is a task that Carancal has to perform twice. This exhibition of superhuman strength is of a piece with the strong hero’s other exploits, and has nothing in common with the transplanting of mountains by means of magic. (F³) The removal of a monstrous decaying fish is found in b as well as in 3. Cabagboc catches up the fish on the end of his sword, and hurls the carcass into the middle of the ocean. These exploits of the rock and the fish are not unlike the feat of the Santal hero Gumda, who throws the king’s elephant over seven seas (Campbell, 59). (F⁴) In b the task of slaying the man-eating giant falls upon Cabagboc, and his companion Uprooter, as the other comrade, Breaker, has been married to the king’s daughter. The giants are finally despatched by the hero, who cuts off their heads with his sword. In g the two strong men Paridis and Aolo are about to be slain by the man-eating giant against whom they have been sent by the hero to fight, when the hero suddenly appears and cuts off the monster’s head with his mighty bolo. (F⁵) The killing of a seven-headed dragon is a commonplace in folk-tales; a seven-headed man is not so usual. Cabagboc, after both of his comrades have been given royal wives, journeys alone. He comes to a river guarded by a seven-headed man who proves invulnerable for a whole day. Then a mysterious voice tells the hero to strike the monster in the middle of the forehead, as this is the only place in which it can be mortally wounded. Cabagboc does so and conquers. (F⁶) The hero’s wagering his strong men against a king’s strong men will be discussed in the notes to No. 11. The task of Pusong (a) has not been mentioned yet. After Pusong leaves home, he journeys by himself, and finally comes to a place where the inhabitants are feverishly building fortifications against the Moros, who are threatening the island. By lending his phenomenal strength, Pusong enables the people to finish their forts in one night. Out of gratitude they later make him their leader. Months later, when the Moros make their raid, they are defeated by Pusong, and captured with all their slaves. Among the wounded slaves are the parents of Pusong. On recognizing their son, they instantly die of shame for their past cruelty to him. Nor can the hero bear the shock any better than they: he too falls dead. ADDITIONAL NOTES.—The three weeks’ swim in 3 suggests Beowulf’s swim of a week and his fight with the sea-monsters (Beowulf 535 ff.). The mistaking of a monster fish for an island seems to be an Oriental notion. It occurs in the “1001 Nights” (“First Voyage of Sindbad the Sailor;” see Lane’s note 8 to this story).

G The denouement. Cabagboc finally reaches home, and spends the rest of his life with his parents (b); Sandapal (c) is bought by the king, and amuses the court lords and ladies by his feats of strength; Sandangcal (d) distributes ten billion pesos among his three helpers, and lives the rest of his days feasting on carabao-livers; Greedy Juan (e) comes back home with a magic money-producing goat, which he leaves to his parents, while he by chance finds a wonderful house in the forest with plenty to eat, and there he remains; Juan Tapon (f) joins the king’s army to fight a neighboring monarch; Dangandangan (g) becomes a general in the king’s army; Tangarangan (h) performs marvellous deeds abroad, but never returns home again.

Two other variants remain to be noticed briefly. One of these I have only in abstract, the other is avowedly a confusion of two stories by the narrator. Both are Ilocano tales. The hero’s name in both is Kakarangkang (from kaka, a term of respect given to either a senior or a junior; and dangkang, “a span”). In both, the hero is a great eater and prodigiously strong. The only adventure of Kakarangkang recorded in the abstract is an adventure with a crocodile. Kakarangkang goes fishing and hooks a crocodile; but, while trying to draw it to shore, he is thrown into the air, falls into the reptile’s mouth, and is swallowed. He manages, however, to cut his way out. In the other story, besides some incidents properly belonging to the story of “The Monkey and the Turtle” (cf. also 4 [b]), we find this same adventure with the crocodile, the slaying of a seven-headed giant (F⁵), and the removal of an enormous decaying fish (F³). The diminutive hero receives the hand of the king’s daughter in return for this last service,—an honor which the heroes of our other versions decline. The incident of the small hero being swallowed by an animal and ultimately emerging into the light of day alive, at once suggests Tom Thumb’s adventure in the cow and the wolf. For “swallow” tales in general, see Macculloch, 47–51; Bolte-Polívka, 1 : 395–398; Cosquin, 2 : 150–155. The combination of the “interrupted-cooking” episode (F¹), which properly belongs to the “John the Bear” cycle, with motifs from “The Monkey and the Turtle” and “The Monkey and the Crocodile” stories, will be discussed in the notes to Nos. 4, 55, and 56.

Suac and His Adventures.

Narrated by Anastacia Villegas of Arayat, Pampanga, who heard the story from her grandmother.

Once upon a time, in a certain town in Pampanga, there lived a boy named Suac. In order to try his fortune, one day he went a-hunting with Sunga and Sacu in Mount Telapayong. When they reached the mountain, they spread their nets, and made their dogs ready for the chase, to see if any wild animals would come to that place. Not long afterwards they captured a large hog. They took it under a large tree and killed it. Then Sunga and Suac went out into the forest again.

Sacu was left to prepare their food. While he was busy cooking, he heard a voice saying, “Ha, ha! what a nice meal you are preparing! Hurry up! I am hungry.” On looking up, Sacu saw on the top of the tree a horrible creature,—a very large black man with a long beard. This was Pugut.

“Well, let us see who shall have it, then,” said Pugut as he came down the tree. At first Sacu did not want to give him the food; but Pugut knocked the hunter down, and before he had time to recover had eaten up all the food. Then he climbed the tree again. When Sunga and Suac came back, Sunga said to Sacu, “Is the food ready? Here is a deer that we have caught.”

Sacu answered, “When the food was ready, Pugut came and ate it all. I tried to prevent him, but in vain: I could not resist him.”

“Well,” said Sunga, “let me be the cook while you and Suac are the hunters.” Then Sacu and Suac went out, and Sunga was left to cook. The food was no sooner ready than Pugut came again, and ate it all as before. So when the hunters returned, bringing a hog with them, they still had nothing to eat.

Accordingly Suac was left to cook, and his companions went away to hunt again. Suac roasted the hog. Pugut smelled it. He looked down, and said, “Ha, ha! I have another cook; hurry up! boy, I am hungry.”

“I pray you, please do not deprive us of this food too,” said Suac.

“I am going to eat you up,” said Pugut angrily, as he stepped on the grass and fell into the pit. The boy covered the pit with stones and earth, thinking that Pugut would perish there; but he was mistaken. Suac had not gone far when he saw Pugut following him; but just then he saw, too, a crocodile. He stopped and resolutely waited for Pugut, whom he gave a blow and pushed into the mouth of the crocodile. Thus Pugut was destroyed.

Suac then took his victim’s club, and returned under the tree. After a while his companions came back. He related to them how he had overcome Pugut, and then they ate. The next day they returned to town.

Suac, on hearing that there was a giant who came every night into the neighborhood to devour people, went one night to encounter the giant. When the giant came, he said, “You are just the thing for me to eat.” But Suac gave him a deadly blow with Pugut’s club, and the giant tumbled down dead.

Later Suac rid the islands of all the wild monsters, and became the ruler over his people.

The Three Friends,—The Monkey, the Dog, and the Carabao.

Narrated by José M. Hilario, a Tagalog from Batangas, Batangas.

Once there lived three friends,—a monkey, a dog, and a carabao. They were getting tired of city life, so they decided to go to the country to hunt. They took along with them rice, meat, and some kitchen utensils.

The first day the carabao was left at home to cook the food, so that his two companions might have something to eat when they returned from the hunt. After the monkey and the dog had departed, the carabao began to fry the meat. Unfortunately the noise of the frying was heard by the Buñgisñgis in the forest. Seeing this chance to fill his stomach, the Buñgisñgis went up to the carabao, and said, “Well, friend, I see that you have prepared food for me.”

For an answer, the carabao made a furious attack on him. The Buñgisñgis was angered by the carabao’s lack of hospitality, and, seizing him by the horn, threw him knee-deep into the earth. Then the Buñgisñgis ate up all the food and disappeared.

When the monkey and the dog came home, they saw that everything was in disorder, and found their friend sunk knee-deep in the ground. The carabao informed them that a big strong man had come and beaten him in a fight. The three then cooked their food. The Buñgisñgis saw them cooking, but he did not dare attack all three of them at once, for in union there is strength.

The next day the dog was left behind as cook. As soon as the food was ready, the Buñgisñgis came and spoke to him in the same way he had spoken to the carabao. The dog began to snarl; and the Buñgisñgis, taking offence, threw him down. The dog could not cry to his companions for help; for, if he did, the Buñgisñgis would certainly kill him. So he retired to a corner of the room and watched his unwelcome guest eat all of the food. Soon after the Buñgisñgis’s departure, the monkey and the carabao returned. They were angry to learn that the Buñgisñgis had been there again.

The next day the monkey was cook; but, before cooking, he made a pitfall in front of the stove. After putting away enough food for his companions and himself, he put the rice on the stove. When the Buñgisñgis came, the monkey said very politely, “Sir, you have come just in time. The food is ready, and I hope you’ll compliment me by accepting it.”

The Buñgisñgis gladly accepted the offer, and, after sitting down in a chair, began to devour the food. The monkey took hold of a leg of the chair, gave a jerk, and sent his guest tumbling into the pit. He then filled the pit with earth, so that the Buñgisñgis was buried with no solemnity.

When the monkey’s companions arrived, they asked about the Buñgisñgis. At first the monkey was not inclined to tell them what had happened; but, on being urged and urged by them, he finally said that the Buñgisñgis was buried “there in front of the stove.” His foolish companions, curious, began to dig up the grave. Unfortunately the Buñgisñgis was still alive. He jumped out, and killed the dog and lamed the carabao; but the monkey climbed up a tree, and so escaped.

One day while the monkey was wandering in the forest, he saw a beehive on top of a vine.

“Now I’ll certainly kill you,” said some one coming towards the monkey.

Turning around, the monkey saw the Buñgisñgis. “Spare me,” he said, “and I will give up my place to you. The king has appointed me to ring each hour of the day that bell up there,” pointing to the top of the vine.

“All right! I accept the position,” said the Buñgisñgis. “Stay here while I find out what time it is,” said the monkey. The monkey had been gone a long time, and the Buñgisñgis, becoming impatient, pulled the vine. The bees immediately buzzed about him, and punished him for his curiosity.

Maddened with pain, the Buñgisñgis went in search of the monkey, and found him playing with a boa-constrictor. “You villain! I’ll not hear any excuses from you. You shall certainly die,” he said.

“Don’t kill me, and I will give you this belt which the king has given me,” pleaded the monkey.

Now, the Buñgisñgis was pleased with the beautiful colors of the belt, and wanted to possess it: so he said to the monkey, “Put the belt around me, then, and we shall be friends.”

The monkey placed the boa-constrictor around the body of the Buñgisñgis. Then he pinched the boa, which soon made an end of his enemy.

Notes.

Buñgisñgis is defined by the narrator as meaning “a large strong man that is always laughing.” The word is derived from the root ñgisi, “to show the teeth” (Tag.). This giant has been described to me as being of herculean size and strength, sly, and possessing an upper lip so large that when it is thrown back it completely covers the demon’s face. The Buñgisñgis can lift a huge animal as easily as if it were a feather.

Obviously these two superhuman demons have to be overcome with strategy, not muscle. The heroes, consequently, are beings endowed with cleverness. After Suac has killed Pugut and has come into possession of his victim’s magic club, he easily slays a man-eating giant (see F⁴ in notes to preceding tale). The tricks played on the Buñgisñgis by the monkey (“ringing the bell” and the “king’s belt”) are found in the Ilocano story “Kakarangkang” and in “The Monkey and the Turtle,” but in the latter tale the monkey is the victim. It would thus seem that a precedent for the mixture of two old formulas by the narrator of “Kakarangkang” already existed among the Tagalogs (cf. the end of the notes to No. 3).

We have not a large enough number of variants to enable us to determine the original form of the separate incidents combined to form the cycles represented by stories Nos. 3, 4, and 55; but the evidence we have leads to the supposition that Carancal motifs ABCDF¹ are very old in the Islands, and that these taken together probably constituted the prototype of the “Carancal” group. I cannot but believe that the “interrupted-cooking” episode, as found in the Philippines, owes nothing to European forms of “John the Bear;” for nowhere in the Islands have I found it associated with the subsequent adventures comprising the “John the Bear” norm,—the underground pursuit of the demon, the rescue of the princesses by the hero, the treachery of the companions, the miraculous escape of the hero from the underworld, and the final triumph of justice and the punishment of the traitors (see No. 17 and notes).

For a Borneo story of a “Deer, Pig, and Plandok (Mouse-Deer),” see Roth, 1 : 346. In this tale, as well as in another from British North Borneo (Evans, 471–473, “The Plandok and the Gergasi”), it is the clever plandok who alone is able to outwit the giant. In the latter story there are seven animals,—carabao, ox, dog, stag, horse, mouse-deer, and barking-deer. The carabao and horse in turn try in vain to guard fish from the gergasi (a mythical giant who carries a spear over his shoulder). The plandok takes his turn now, after his two companions have been badly mishandled, and tricks the giant into letting himself be bound and pushed into a well, because the “sky is falling.” There he is killed by the other animals when they return. With this last incident compare the trick of the fox in the Mongolian story in our notes to No. 48. In two other stories of the cunning of the plandok, “The Plandok and the Tiger” (Evans, 474) and “The Plandok and the Bear” (ibid.), we meet with the “king’s belt” trick and the “king’s gong” trick respectively. For an additional record from Borneo, see Edwin H. Gomes, “Seventeen Years among the Sea Dyaks of Borneo” (Lond., 1911), 255–261.

How Suan Became Rich.

Narrated by Bonifacio Ynares, a Tagalog living in Pasig, Rizal.

Pedro and Suan were friends. Pedro inherited a great fortune from his parents, who had recently died; but Suan was as poor as the poorest of beggars that ever lived. Early one morning Suan went to his friend, and said, “I wonder if you have a post that you do not need.”

“Yes, I have one,” said Pedro. “Why? Do you need it?”

“Yes, I need one badly, to build my house.”

“Very well, take it,” said Pedro. “Do not worry about paying for it.”

Suan, who had not thought evil of his friend, took the post and built his house. When it was finished, his house was found to surpass that of his friend. This fact made Pedro so envious of Suan, that at last he went to him and asked Suan for the post back again.

“Why, if I take it from its place, my house will be destroyed. So let me pay you for it, or let me look for another post in the town and get it for you!”

“No,” said Pedro, “I must have my own post, for I wish to use it.”

Finally Suan became so greatly annoyed by his friend’s insistence, that he exclaimed, “I will not give you back your post.”

“Take heed, Suan! for I will accuse you before the king.”

“All right! do as you please.”

“We will then go to the king Monday,” said Pedro.

“Very well; I am always ready.”

When Monday came, both prepared to go to the palace. Pedro, who cared for his money more than for anything else, took some silver coins along with him for the journey. Suan took cooked rice and fish instead. Noon came while they were still on the road. Suan opened his package of food and began to eat. Pedro was also very hungry at this time, but no food could be bought on the way. So Suan generously invited Pedro to eat with him, and they dined together.

After eating, the two resumed their journey. At last they came to a river. The bridge over it was broken in the middle, and one had to jump in order to get to the other side. Pedro jumped. Suan followed him, but unfortunately fell. It so happened that an old man was bathing in the river below, and Suan accidentally fell right on him. The old man was knocked silly, and as a consequence was drowned. When Isidro, the son, who dearly loved his father, heard of the old man’s death, he at once made up his mind to accuse Suan before the king. He therefore joined the two travellers.

After a while the three came to a place where they saw Barbekin having a hard time getting his carabao out of the mire. Suan offered to help. He seized the carabao by the tail, and pulled with great force. The carabao was rescued, but its tail was broken off short by a sudden pull of Suan. Barbekin was filled with rage because of the injury done to his animal: so he, too, resolved to accuse Suan before the king.

When they came to the palace, the king said, “Why have you come here?”

Pedro spoke first. “I have come,” he said, “to accuse Suan to you. He has one of my posts, and he won’t return it to me.”

On being asked if the accusation was true, Suan responded with a nod, and said in addition, “But Pedro ate a part of my rice and fish on the way here.”

“My decision, then,” said the king, “is that Suan shall give Pedro his post, and that Pedro shall give Suan his rice and fish.”

Isidro was the next to speak. “I have come here to accuse Suan. While my father was bathing in the river, Suan jumped on him and killed him.”

“Suan, then, must bathe in the river,” said the king, “and you may jump on him.”

When Barbekin was asked why he had come, he replied, “I wish to accuse Suan. He pulled my carabao by the tail, and it was broken off short.”

“Give Suan your carabao, then,” said the king. “He shall not return it to you until he has made its tail grow to its full length.”

The accused and the accusers now took their leave of the king.

“Give me the carabao now,” said Suan to Barbekin when they had gone some distance from the palace.

The carabao was young and strong, and Barbekin hated to give it up. So he said, “Don’t take the carabao, and I will give you fifty pesos.”

“No; the decision of the king must be fulfilled,” said Suan. Barbekin then raised the sum to ninety pesos, and Suan consented to accept the offer. Thus Suan was rewarded for his work in helping Barbekin.

When they came to the bridge, Suan went down into the river, and told Isidro to jump on him. But the bridge was high, and Isidro was afraid to jump. Moreover, he did not know how to swim, and he feared that he would but drown himself if he jumped. So he asked Suan to pardon him.

“No, you must fulfil the decision of the king,” answered Suan.

“Let me off from jumping on you, and I will give you five hundred pesos,” said Isidro.

The amount appealed to Suan as being a good offer, so he accepted it and let Isidro go.

As soon as Suan reached home, he took Pedro’s post from his house, and started for Pedro’s house, taking a razor along with him. “Here is your post,” he said; “but you must lie down, for I am going to get my rice and fish from you.”

In great fright Pedro said, “You need not return the post any more.”

“No,” said Suan, “we must fulfil the decision of the king.”

“If you do not insist on your demand,” said Pedro, “I will give you half of my riches.”

“No, I must have my rice and fish.” Suan now held Pedro by the shoulder, and began to cut Pedro’s abdomen with the razor. He had no sooner done that, than Pedro, in great terror, cried out,—

“Don’t cut me, and you shall have all my riches!”

Thus Suan became the richest man in town by using his tact and knowledge in outwitting his enemies.

The King’s Decisions.

Narrated by José M. Hilario, a Tagalog from Batangas, who heard the story from his father.

Once a poor man named Juan was without relatives or friends. Life to him was a series of misfortunes. A day often passed without his tasting even a mouthful of food.

One day, weakened with hunger and fatigue, as he was walking along the road, he passed a rich man’s house. It so happened that at this time the rich man’s food was being cooked. The food smelled so good, that Juan’s hunger was satisfied merely with the fragrance. When the rich man learned that the smell of his food had satisfied Juan, he demanded money of Juan. Juan refused to give money, however, because he had none, and because he had neither tasted nor touched the rich man’s food. “Let’s go to the king, then,” said Pedro, the rich man, “and have this matter settled!” Juan had no objection to the proposal, and the two set out for the palace.

Soon they came to a place where the mire was knee-deep. There they saw a young man who was trying to help his horse out of a mud-hole. “Hey, you lazy fellows! help me to get my horse out of this hole,” said Manuel. The three tried with all their might to release the horse. They finally succeeded; but unfortunately Juan had taken hold of the horse’s tail, and it was broken off when Juan gave a sudden hard pull.

“You have got to pay me for injuring my horse,” said Manuel.

“No, I will not give you any money, because I had no intention of helping you until you asked me to,” said Juan.

“Well, the king will have to settle the quarrel.” Juan, who was not to be frightened by threats, went with Pedro and Manuel.

Night overtook the three on their way. They had to lodge themselves in the house of one of Pedro’s friends. Juan was not allowed to come up, but was made to sleep downstairs.

At midnight the pregnant wife of the host had to make water. She went to the place under which Juan was sleeping. Juan, being suddenly awakened and frightened, uttered a loud shriek; and the woman, also frightened because she thought there were robbers or ghosts about, miscarried. The next morning the husband asked Juan why he had cried out so loud in the night. Juan said that he was frightened.

“You won’t fool me! Come with us to the king,” said the husband.

When the four reached the palace, they easily gained access to the royal presence. Then each one explained why he had come there.

“I’ll settle the first case,” said the king. He commanded the servant to fetch two silver coins and place them on the table. “Now, Pedro, come here and smell the coins. As Juan became satisfied with the smell of your food, so now satisfy yourself with the smell of the money.” Pedro could not say a word, though he was displeased at the unfavorable decision.

“Now I’ll give my decisions on the next two cases. Manuel, you must give your horse to Juan, and let him have it until another tail grows.—And you, married man, must let Juan have your wife until she gives birth to another child.”

Pedro, Manuel, and the married man went home discontented with the decisions of the king,—Pedro without having received pay, Manuel without his horse, and the other man without his wife.

Notes.

Gāmaṇi, a certain old courtier of the ruling king’s dead father, decided to earn his living by farming, as he thought that the new king should be surrounded with advisers of his own age. He took up his abode in a village three leagues from the city, and, after the rainy season was over, one day borrowed two oxen from a friend, with which to help him do his ploughing. In the evening he returned the oxen; but the friend being at dinner, and not inviting Gāmaṇi to eat, Gāmaṇi put the oxen in the stall, and got no formal release from his creditor. That night thieves stole the cattle. Next day the owner of the oxen discovered the theft, and decided to make Gāmaṇi pay for the beasts. So the two set out to lay the case before the king. On the way they stopped for food at the house of a friend of Gāmaṇi’s. The woman of the house, while climbing a ladder to the store-room for rice for Gāmaṇi, fell and miscarried. The husband, returning that instant, accused Gāmaṇi of hitting his wife and bringing on untimely labor: so the husband set off with Gāmaṇi’s first accuser to get justice from the king. On their way they met a horse that would not go with its groom. The owner of the horse shouted to G. to hit the horse with something and head it back. G. threw a stone at the animal, but broke its leg. “Here’s a king’s officer for you,” shouted the man; “you’ve broken my horse’s leg.” G. was thus three men’s prisoner. By this time G. was in despair, and decided to kill himself. As soon as opportunity came, he rushed up a hill near the road, and threw himself from a precipice. But he fell on the back of an old basket-maker and killed him on the spot. The son of the basket-maker accused G. of murder and went along with the three other plaintiffs to the king. (I omit here the various questions that persons whom G. meets along the road beg him to take to the king for an answer.)

All five appearing in the presence of the king, the owner of the oxen demanded justice. In answer to the king’s question, he at first denied having seen G. return the oxen, but later admitted that he saw them in the stall. G. was ordered to pay twenty-four pieces of money for the oxen; but the plaintiff, for lying, was condemned to have his eyes plucked out by G. Terrified at the prospect, he threw money to G. and rushed away. The judgment in the case of the second false accuser was this: G. was to take his friend’s wife and live with her until she should bear another son to take the place of the child that miscarried. Again G. was bought off by the plaintiff. In the third case the owner of the horse at first denied having requested G. to hit the beast, but later admitted the truth. Judgment: G. was to pay a thousand pieces (which the king gave him) for the injured animal, but was also to tear out his false accuser’s tongue. The fellow gave G. a sum of money and departed. The fourth decision was as follows: inasmuch as G. could not restore the dead father to life, he was to take the dead man’s widow to his home and be a father to the young basket-maker; but he, rather than have his old home broken up, gave G. a sum of money and hurried away.

It is to be regretted that this Buddhistic birth-story was not known to Theodor Benfey, who, in his exhaustive discussion of our present cycle, particularly from the point of view of the “pound-of-flesh” incident (1 : 393–410), writes, “I may remark that this recital [i.e., of the decisions], which here borders on the comic, is based upon serious traditional legends which have to do with Buddhistic casuistry” (p. 397). Benfey’s fragmentary citations are not very convincing; but this Jātaka proves that his reasoning, as usual, was entirely sound.

An Indo-Persian version called the “Kází of Emessa,” cited by Clouston (op. cit.), might be mentioned here, as it too has close resemblances to our stories.

While a merchant is being taken by a Jew before the king because the merchant will not pay his bond of a pound of flesh, he meets with the following accidents: (1) In attempting to stop a runaway mule, he knocks out one of the animal’s eyes with a stone; (2) while sleeping on a flat roof, he is aroused suddenly by an uproar in the street, and, jumping from the roof, he kills an old man below; (3) in trying to pull an ass out of the mud, he pulls its tail off. The owner of the mule, the sons of the dead man, and the owner of the ass, go along with the Jew to present their cases before the king, whose decisions are as follows: (1′) The owner of the mule, valued at 1000 dínárs, is to saw the animal in two lengthwise, and is to give the blind half to the merchant, who must pay 500 dínárs for it. As the owner refuses, he is obliged to pay the merchant 100 dínárs for bringing in a troublesome suit. (2′) Merchant must stand below a roof and allow himself to be jumped on by the sons of the dead man; but they refuse to take the risk, and are obliged to pay the merchant 100 dínárs for troubling him. (3′) The owner of the tailless ass is compelled to try to pull out the tail of the Kází’s mule. Naturally the animal resents such treatment, and the accuser is terribly bruised. Finally, to avoid further punishment, he says that his own animal never had a tail. Hence he is forced to give the merchant 100 dínárs for bringing in a false suit.