The Discomfiture of Cabrakan
Now only the third of this family of boasters remained, and he was the most proud of any.
“I am the Overturner of Mountains!” said he.
But Hun-Apu and Xbalanque had made up their minds that not one of the race of Vukub should be left alive.
At the moment when they were plotting the overthrow of Cabrakan he was occupied in moving mountains. He seized the mountains by their bases and, exerting his mighty strength, cast them into the air; and of the smaller mountains he took no account at all. While he was so employed he met the brothers, who greeted him cordially.
“Good day, Cabrakan,” said they. “What may you be doing?”
“Bah! nothing at all,” replied the giant. “Cannot you see that I am throwing the mountains about, which is my usual occupation? And who may you be that ask such stupid questions? What are your names?”
“We have no names,” replied they. “We are only hunters, and here we have our blow-pipes, with which we shoot the birds that live in these mountains. So you see that we do not require names, as we meet no one.”
Cabrakan looked at the brothers disdainfully, and was about to depart when they said to him: “Stay; we should like to behold these mountain-throwing feats of yours.”
This aroused the pride of Cabrakan.
“Well, since you wish it,” said he, “I will show you how I can move a really great mountain. Now, choose the one you would like to see me destroy, and before you are aware of it I shall have reduced it to dust.”
Hun-Apu looked around him, and espying a great peak pointed toward it. “Do you think you could overthrow that mountain?” he asked.
“Without the least difficulty,” replied Cabrakan, with a great laugh. “Let us go toward it.”
“But first you must eat,” said Hun-Apu. “You have had no food since morning, and so great a feat can hardly be accomplished fasting.”
The giant smacked his lips. “You are right,” he said, with a hungry look. Cabrakan was one of those people who are always hungry. “But what have you to give me?”
“We have nothing with us,” said Hun-Apu.
“Umph!” growled Cabrakan, “you are a pretty fellow. You ask me what I will have to eat, and then tell me you have nothing,” and in his anger he seized one of the smaller mountains and threw it into the sea, so that the waves splashed up to the sky.
“Come,” said Hun-Apu, “don’t get angry. We have our blow-pipes with us, and will shoot a bird for your dinner.”
On hearing this Cabrakan grew somewhat quieter.
“Why did you not say so at first?” he growled. “But be quick, because I am hungry.”
Just at that moment a large bird passed overhead, and Hun-Apu and Xbalanque raised their blow-pipes to their mouths. The darts sped swiftly upward, and both of them struck the bird, which came tumbling down through the air, falling at the feet of Cabrakan.
“Wonderful, wonderful!” cried the giant. “You are clever fellows indeed,” and, seizing the dead bird, he was going to eat it raw when Hun-Apu stopped him.
“Wait a moment,” said he. “It will be much nicer when cooked,” and, rubbing two sticks together, he ordered Xbalanque to gather some dry wood, so that a fire was soon blazing.
The bird was then suspended over the fire, and in a short time a savoury odour mounted to the nostrils of the giant, who stood watching the cooking with hungry eyes and watering lips.
Before placing the bird over the fire to cook, however, Hun-Apu had smeared its feathers with a thick coating of mud. The Indians in some parts of Central America still do this, so that when the mud dries with the heat of the fire the feathers will come off with it, leaving the flesh of the bird quite ready to eat. But Hun-Apu had done this with a purpose. The mud that he spread on the feathers was that of a poisoned earth, called tizate, the elements of which sank deeply into the flesh of the bird.
When the savoury mess was cooked, he handed it to Cabrakan, who speedily devoured it.
“Now,” said Hun-Apu, “let us go toward that great mountain and see if you can lift it as you boast.”
But already Cabrakan began to feel strange pangs.
“What is this?” said he, passing his hand across his brow. “I do not seem to see the mountain you mean.”
“Nonsense,” said Hun-Apu. “Yonder it is, see, to the east there.”
“My eyes seem dim this morning,” replied the giant.
“No, it is not that,” said Hun-Apu. “You have boasted that you could lift this mountain, and now you are afraid to try.”
“I tell you,” said Cabrakan, “that I have difficulty in seeing. Will you lead me to the mountain?”
“Certainly,” said Hun-Apu, giving him his hand, and with several strides they were at the foot of the eminence.
“Now,” said Hun-Apu, “see what you can do, boaster.”
Cabrakan gazed stupidly at the great mass in front of him. His knees shook together so that the sound was like the beating of a war-drum, and the sweat poured from his forehead and ran in a little stream down the side of the mountain.
“Come,” cried Hun-Apu derisively, “are you going to lift the mountain or not?”
“He cannot,” sneered Xbalanque. “I knew he could not.”
Cabrakan shook himself into a final effort to regain his senses, but all to no purpose. The poison rushed through his blood, and with a groan he fell dead before the brothers.
Thus perished the last of the earth-giants of Guatemala, whom Hun-Apu and Xbalanque had been sent to destroy.