How the Jackal Cheated the Lion. (Variant.)
In a more ancient time than this, a Lion King dwelt in a certain forest. A Jackal who lived in that very forest, establishing a friendly state with the Lion began to reside near him. Should I state the mutual trust of them both [it was this]—the Lion knew that although by the aid of the Jackal’s means of success (that is, advice and stratagems), the Lion was seizing and eating the flesh of other animals, he did not get from the Jackal any other assistance that ought to be given.
When a little time had passed in that way, it was evident that the Jackal’s body was becoming very fat. The Lion saw it, and assuming a false illness remained lying down at the time when the Jackal came. Having seen it, the Jackal made obeisance to the Lion, and asked, “What, O Lord, are you lying down for? Has some ailment befallen Your Majesty? Are you not going to hunt to-day?”
Then the Lion said, “My friend Jackal, a headache having afflicted me to-day, I am in a very serious state. From this time onward, having hunted, and eaten only the small amount of the brains of the animals, I will give thee all the rest of the flesh. Do thou subsist on it. For the reason that I am not well enough to go to hunt this day, thou and I, both of us, must remain hungry. Art thou unable to go hunting [alone] this day only?” he asked.
Thereupon the Jackal said to the Lion, “O Lord, is that which should be done a difficult thing? Your Majesty will stay thus. I will go, and will return calling some animal or other [to come] near Your Majesty.” Having instructed him to spring up and seize it as soon as it comes, the Jackal went to seek animals.
While going for this purpose [it saw that] a Goat was tied in a field. Having told many falsehoods to the Goat it returned, inviting it [to come] near the Lion. Then the Lion sprang to seize it. Thereupon the Goat, having become afraid, ran away. The Jackal went [after it], and causing it to turn back again, returned [with it].
Then the Lion, having killed the Goat, went to bathe in order [to purify himself, so as] to eat the small quantity of brains. In the meantime the Jackal removed the brains, and having eaten them replaced the skin.
The Lion having returned after bathing, when he came to split open the skin in order to eat the brains, saw that there were no brains. Having seen it, the Lion asked the Jackal, “Where are my brains?”
Thereupon the Jackal said, “O Lord, if this one had any brains would it have come twice near Your Majesty? It came twice because it had no brains.” So saying the Jackal ate the small quantity of flesh also.
Western Province.
Improbable as the notion appears that an animal, other than insects or fishes, would return into the same danger shortly after escaping from it, one instance of this has come under the observation of myself and a friend, with whose approval I insert this account of the occurrence.
As Mr. H. E. H. Hayes, late of the Public Works Department, Ceylon, was walking one day near the water, at the embankment of the Vilānkuḷam tank in the Northern Province, a crocodile made its appearance suddenly in the water near him, apparently attracted by his young terrier. He fired a charge of snipe shot at its head, and it disappeared.
He and I went to the spot on the following day. I remained on the look-out on the top of the bank, while he was partly hidden behind a tree nearer the water. There he tweaked or pinched the dog so as to make it yelp a little. Then we observed a crocodile’s head raised among some weeds far out in the tank. Not many minutes afterwards the crocodile’s head appeared out of the water only a few feet away from the dog. Mr. Hayes at once shot it with his rifle; and when he recovered it found the shot marks of the previous day in its head.
In this case it might almost be said with truth that the animal had no brains, since the brain of an ordinary tank crocodile is only about the size of a large walnut. When I split the skull of one, the men who were with me could not find the brain cavity, and thought it had no brains.
In Indian Nights’ Entertainment, Panjāb (Swynnerton), p. 268, a Tiger with a broken leg takes the place of the Lion, and a Jackal brought an Ass to eat what he represented to be the superior grass at the place. After the Tiger had killed it and eaten part of it, he crawled to a spring for a drink, and in his absence the Jackal ate the heart (which the Tiger wanted itself), and gave the same explanation of its absence. The author added a note, “the heart among the Punjābīs being the seat of reason.”
In the Panchatantra (Dubois), an Ass was brought to a sick Lion King in order that he might eat the heart and ears, as a remedy for his illness. When he was brought back the second time by a Jackal, the Lion killed him and ate the heart and ears.
In the Kathā Sarit Sāgara (Tawney), p. 85, there is a similar story, except that after killing the Ass the Lion went to bathe, and the Jackal then ate the heart and ears. He told the Lion that “the creature never possessed ears or a heart, otherwise how could he have returned when he had once escaped?”
[1] Ehema nan̥ ehemada, “If so (would it be) so?” [↑]
STORIES OF THE ROḌIYĀS
No. 69
The Roll of Cotton
In a certain country there is a city. In the city there are two persons, an elder sister and a younger sister. There are two female children of the two persons.
The younger sister took to spinning cotton. At that time her daughter also came there. A roll of cotton was driven away in the wind out of the daughter’s hand. Then her mother beat the daughter. “Wherever it should go do thou bring back the roll of cotton,” she said. This girl, weeping and weeping, follows the roll of cotton.
She came to a betel plot which a lame man had made. To this girl who was following the roll of cotton the lame man says, “Anē! Pour water on this betel plot and go, please,” he said. Afterwards, having poured it she went on. “The betel has been plucked,” she said.
As she was going [she came to a place where] a dog was tied. “Anē! Younger sister, tie me in the shade and go, please,” he said. “While you are going home to-morrow there will be a haunch of a bull tied up [for you],” he said. So having tied the dog in the shade she went on.
Then the roll of cotton having gone on, stopped in a cane-brake. At that time a King came there. That girl was tying hooked sticks in order to get the roll of cotton. So the King said, “I will bring the roll of cotton. Go thou to the royal palace and cook,” he said.
The girl went and cooked. The King got the roll of cotton. The King having gone, gave the roll of cotton to the girl.
After he had given it, both of them ate the cooked rice. After they had eaten it the King called the girl to the house. Having called her, he said to the girl, “Please take from these boxes any box thou wantest,” he said.
Then the girl, having looked at them, took a small sandalwood box.
Afterwards the King said, “This will provide a livelihood for the persons who are rearing thee, also,” he said.
Taking the box, she came near the dog that was tied up. There the dog had tied up the haunch of a bull. Having taken the haunch of the bull from there, she came near the lame man. Having got betel from there, she came near her mother at the girl’s house.
Having come there she opened that box. Having opened it, after she looked [in it she found that] the box was full of silver and gold; the box had been filled. Then that other elder sister and the elder sister’s daughter saw these articles [and heard how the girl obtained them].
On the following day that mother and daughter took to spinning cotton. Afterwards, from the mother’s hand by force a roll of cotton was carried away [by the wind]; having been carried away she beat the daughter, and told her to bring the roll of cotton. So this daughter, weeping and weeping, goes after the roll of cotton.
She goes near the lame man who is making the betel plot. Then the lame man said, “Please pour water [on these plants].” Having said, “I will not,” she went by the place where the dog was. The dog said, “Anē! Elder sister, tie me in the shade and go. As you go [home] I will place a haunch of a bull for you,” he said. Having said she would not she went away.
The roll of cotton having gone into the very cane-brake, that also stopped there. Then this girl was tying hooked sticks in order to get the roll of cotton. Then the King [came there, and] said, “I will bring the roll of cotton. Go thou to the palace and cook,” he said.
The girl having gone, without any deficiency cooked rice and vegetables. The King having taken the roll of cotton [there], both of them went to eat the rice. Having gone and looked [at it in order] to eat it, they could not eat it; it had the taste of water.
Having called the girl he said, “From these please take for thyself any box thou wantest,” he said.
This one having searched and searched, took in her arms a great chest. Afterwards the King said, “Go thou; please open the box at the place where thy mother and father are,” he said.
The girl, after it became night, having summoned every one,[1] opened the box. All [the things] in the box were cobras and polangās. The cobras and polangās having bitten the people of the village, destroyed them. They made all the village desolate.
Roḍiyā. North-western Province.
In Wide-Awake Stories (Steel and Temple), p. 178—Folk Tales of the Punjab, p. 167—there is an account of the good luck of a kind girl and the bad luck of an unkind girl, but the incidents are unlike those of the Sinhalese story.
No. 70
The Jackal and the Leopard
In a certain country there is a Gamarāla. There is a goat-fold of the Gamarāla’s. At that goat-fold one by one the goats are disappearing during the night. Afterwards the Gamarāla having gone there [to watch for the thief] went to sleep. In the hand of the Gamarāla there was a lump of salt chillies.
Afterwards the Leopard came at night. The Leopard lifting each goat looks at it. Having looked, afterwards having lifted up the Gamarāla [and found he was the heaviest] he took him. Carrying him away he took him to his rock cave. Then the Gamarāla quickly [entered it, and] shut the door. The Leopard then was trying to go into the cave. Having heard the uproar the Jackal Paṇḍitayā came. “What is this, Sapu-flowers’ Minister, you are doing?” he asked.
“In other years I brought goats [and ate them without trouble]. That one having entered the cave has shut the door.”
“You, Sir, having put your tail inside the cave be pleased to wave it,” he said; the Jackal Paṇḍitayā said. “Do not catch hold of the tail,” he said [to the Gamarāla]. “Otherwise, having put thy foot against the wall, and having folded it two-fold or three-fold, hold it [fast],” he said. “Do not jam a little of the golden salt chillies under the tail of the Sapu-flowers’ Minister,” he said.
Then the Gamarāla having seized the tail jammed in the salt chillies. Afterwards the Sapu-flowers’ Minister pulling out his tail bounded away. Having bounded off and gone, he sat down on a flat rock. Afterwards the Jackal Paṇḍitayā asked, “What are you on that flat rock for?”
“I am looking if this country is fruitful or unfruitful,”[1] he said.
Again, the Gamarāla, saving his life, went to the village. The Jackal Paṇḍitayā went to the Gamarāla. “What is it, Gamarāla? Couldn’t you kill him?”
“While he was outside how could I, sitting in the cave, kill him?”
“I will tell you a trick for that one,” the Jackal Paṇḍitayā said. Afterwards he said, “You must make a trap for that one,” he said.
“Where shall I make the trap?” [the Gamarāla] asked.
“At the fence of the goat-fold,” he said.
Afterwards he made the trap. The Sapu-flowers’ Minister was noosed in the trap. On the following day the Gamarāla came to look. Having come before the Gamarāla, also the Jackal Paṇḍitayā came near the trap. “Gamarāla, to-day indeed he has been hanged,” he said.
Etana metana tō gasannē
Kambul baeṭa dīpannē
Kanda sewanaṭa aedapannē
“Strike thou there and here a blow;
Knocks upon the cheeks bestow;
Drag him to the hill’s shadow,”
the Jackal Paṇḍitayā said.
Hampottayi tō gannē
Mālu tika maṭa dennē.
Then he said—
“’Tis the skin will be for thee,
The little flesh thou’lt give to me.”
Roḍiyā. North-western Province.
Part of this story was given in The Orientalist, vol. iv, p. 30. A Jackal that had followed a Leopard which was trying to get at a man who had taken refuge in a corn store, advised it to insert its tail through a gap in the doorway, and wave it about. When it did so, the Jackal said in the Peraelibāsa,[2] which the Leopard did not understand, Kaṭu anuwē potun deṭak, which when transposed becomes aṭu kanuwē detun poṭak, “Two or three twists round the pillar of the corn store.” The man acted as advised, and held the tail fast. When some men came up they killed the Leopard.
[1] That is, as we should say, “I have come here to enjoy a view of the scenery!” [↑]
[2] There appears to be some doubt regarding the spelling of this compound word. I give it as I have heard it. Except in the last letter I have followed that of the late Mr. W. Goonetilleke, the learned Editor of The Orientalist, who in vol. i, p. 8, of that journal said of it: “Pereḷibāse therefore means ‘the language of transposition,’ or ‘the transposed language.’ ” In Clough’s Dictionary the second word is spelt bāsa. In Mr. A. M. Guṇasēkara’s excellent Sinhalese Grammar the spelling is peraḷibāsa in the Index, and peraḷi bāsē (or bhāshāwa) in the paragraph dealing with it. Professor E. Müller-Hess has drawn my attention to the form pereḷi on one of the inscribed tablets at Mihintale. [↑]
No. 71
How the Boars killed the Rākshasa
There is a certain city. There is a very great jungle belonging to the city. A wild Sow stays in the jungle. The Sow having come to a house on the high ground, and pains having come to her, gave birth to a little Boar. The men of the house having seen the little Boar, catching it and amply giving it to eat, reared it.
[After he had grown up], one day that village Boar says, “I cannot remain thus.” Having thought, “I must go to a great jungle,” he went away.
After that, having gone to the jungle, while he was there a Rākshasa having come to that jungle was eating the large Boars. Afterwards the village Boar said [to the others], “I will tell you a good trick,” he said.
“What is it?” the other large Boars in the jungle asked.
“Please dig two very large wells. At the bottom make the two wells one,”[1] he said. “The large village Boar will be [on the ground] in the middle of the two wells,” he said. He told the other large Boars to be round the well.
The Rākshasa every day comes to a rock. The large village Boar asks the other large Boars, “This Rākshasa having come, what will you do as he comes?”
The other Boars say, “This Rākshasa having come makes grimaces at us.”
“Then ye also make grimaces,” he said.
“Again, he inflates his sides at us.”
“Do ye also inflate your sides,” he said.
“He makes a very great roar.”
“Do ye also at that time roar all together,” he said.
On the following day the Rākshasa having come, and having looked in the direction of the Boars, made grimaces, inflated his sides, and made a very great roar. [The Boars did the same.]
Then the Rākshasa thought, “To-day these Boars will eat me.” Thinking this he went near the Lion.
Afterwards the Lion scolded him. “Anē! You also having gone, and having been unable [to do anything], have you come back?”
“What am I to do? All that I do the Boars are doing.”
Afterwards the Rākshasa again came to the place where the Boars were. After that, the village great Boar says to the other Boars, “To-day the Rākshasa is coming to eat us indeed. What shall we do?” he said to the great Boars. “[This is what we will do.] The Rākshasa having come, when he springs at the great Boars I will jump into the well. Having jumped in, I will come to the ground by the tunnel [and the other well],” he said. “Before I ascend you eat the Rākshasa,” he said.
In that way the Rākshasa came. Having come, as he was springing [at the Boar] the Boar jumped into the well. Then the Rākshasa having jumped [in after him] they bit him and ate him up.
Afterwards the great village Boar asked the other Boars, “Who else is there to eat your flesh?”
Then, “Still there is a Lion King,” they said. Saying, “Aḍā! Seeking him there, let us all go,” they all went.
The Lion King as the Boars were coming climbed up a tree. Then the Boars at once having broken the roots of the tree, felled the tree to the ground. The Lion ran away.
Then the Boars, saying, “Seize him, seize him!” having gone chasing him, killed the Lion.
Roḍiyā. North-western Province.
This tale is given in the Jātaka story No. 492 (vol. iv, p. 217). A Boar reared by a carpenter joined the wild ones, and taught them how to kill a Tiger that devoured them, by means of two pits. The tunnel connecting them is omitted. The Boar did not jump into the pit; ‘only the Tiger fell into one of the pits when he sprang at the Boar. After killing the Tiger they proceeded to kill a sham ascetic who was his abettor, in the same manner as in the Sinhalese story.
Although the Roḍiyās are not often present at the services at the Buddhist temples, they go to them occasionally, not, however, being permitted to enter the temple enclosure, but standing outside it. There they can hear the reading of the sacred books (baṇa), and perhaps in this manner they have learnt the story of the Boars. I have not met with it as a folk-tale elsewhere. The reference to the tunnel connecting the two pits shows that it has independent features. This tunnel alone explains the excavation of the two pits, one to jump into and the other to escape by.
[1] That is, unite them by a tunnel. [↑]
No. 72
The Grateful Jackal
In a certain village there was a boy who looked after cattle. One day, in the morning having taken the cattle [to graze], as they were going to water, that boy, when a python seizing a Jackal was going to eat it, went and beat the python, saying, “Anē! This python is going to eat the Jackal, isn’t it?”
Then the python having let the Jackal go seized the boy. So the boy cried out, “Ānḍā! Ānḍā! O my father! The python has seized me!” he cried.
Then the Jackal having come running, when he looked [saw that] the python had caught the boy, and thinking “Aḍā! Because of me this one seized the boy,” the Jackal looking and looking backwards, ran off [to fetch assistance]. After he had looked [to see] if there was any one, there was no one. The Jackal heard several people in the distance. The Jackal went running there. When he was going near the men, the men said, “A mad Jackal has come,” they said.
Then again the Jackal came running to the place where the python was. Again he came running to the place where the men were. Having come [there], after the Jackal looked [he saw that] the clothes of men who were bathing were under a tree. The Jackal having gone to the place where the clothes were, taking a waist cloth in his mouth ran off. Having run off, and having put down the cloth at the place where the python, holding the boy, was staying, the Jackal ran into the jungle.
Then those men having seen that the Jackal which had taken the cloth in its mouth was running away, saying, “Aḍā! The mad Jackal taking our cloth in its mouth is running away,” followed the Jackal. When they looked, having seen that the python had seized the boy, they said, “Aḍā! The python has caught such and such a one’s boy and encircled him.”
Then those men who were ploughing and ploughing having all come running, and having beaten and thrown down the python, saved the boy. [Afterwards] those men asked at the hand of the boy, “What did the python seize thee for?”
Then the boy said, “As I was coming the python had seized the Jackal, and I was sorry. At that time I tried to save the Jackal, and that one having let the Jackal go, seized me.”
Roḍiyā. North-western Province.
STORIES OF THE KINNARĀS
No. 73
Concerning a Monk and a Yakā
A monk, tying a Yakā [by magical spells] gets work from him. For seven years he got work. Then the time having come for the Yakā to go, the Yakā every day having gone near the monk says, “Monk, tell me a work [to do].”
The monk said one day, “In Galgamuwa tank there will be seven islands. Having gone there and planed them down, come back.” After that, the Yakā having gone and planed the tank, and having very quickly come, said at the hand of the monk, “Monk, tell me a work.”
Then the monk said, “Having cut a well of seven fathoms, and having cut a Damunu[1] tree, and removed the splinters, and put it down to the bottom of a well, and tied a creeper noose to the Damunu stick, you are to draw it up [from inside the well] to the ground.”
Afterwards the Yakā having cut a well of seven fathoms, and cut a Damunu tree, and removed the bark from it, and tied a creeper noose to it, and put the Damunu stick to the bottom of the well, the Yakā sitting on the ground holding the creeper noose tried to draw it out. He could not draw it. When he was drawing it, because there was slime on the Damunu stick he was unable to draw it out.
On account of the time during which the Yakā had been delayed near the well, the monk being afraid of the Yakā, the monk went backwards and backwards for three gawwas (twelve miles). The Yakā having pushed against the monk for so much time, and having got a bill-hook also, on the road he drove him (the monk) away. Having gone there [afterwards] to kill the monk, he met with the monk. After that, the Yakā threw the bill-hook, so that having cut the monk with it he would die. After he had thrown it, the bill-hook was behind,[2] and the monk was in front [of it]. On account of that, the name [of the place] there became Kaettāēpahuwa Kinnarā. North-western Province. This story is known throughout the district to the north of Kurunāēgala. The explanation of the Damunu tree incident which was given to me is that the monk, being unable to find enough work for the Yakā, gave him this task as one that would provide occupation for him for a long time. When the bark is freshly removed, the Damunu sticks are extremely slippery. The creeper was tied at one end in a ring which was passed over the smooth stem of the tree. When the Yakā endeavoured to raise the tree by pulling at the creeper, the ring slipped up the stem instead of raising the tree. Elsewhere in the same district I heard of another man, a villager, who had mastered a Yaksanī (female Yakā), and who made her perform work for him. In appearance she was an ordinary female, and the man’s wife was unaware of her true character, as he had not informed her of it, being afraid of alarming her. The man kept the Yaksanī under control by means of a magic iron nail, which he had driven in the crown of her head. One day during his absence she went to her mistress, and told her that a thorn had run into her head while she was carrying firewood on it, and that she was unable to draw it out. The woman extracted the nail for her, and the Yaksanī, being then free, killed the family, and escaped. In Folk-Lore of Southern India (Naṭēśa Sāstrī), p. 272—Tales of the Sun, p. 285—there is a story of a landowner who learnt an incantation by means of which he summoned a Brahma-Rākshasa, who became his servant, at the same time informing him that if he failed to provide work the Rākshasa would kill him. Everything he could think of was done in an incredibly short time—tank repaired and deepened, lands all cultivated—and there being nothing more to be done the wife gave the demon a hair of her head to straighten. He failed to do it, but remembering that goldsmiths heated wires when about to straighten them, he placed the hair on a fire, which burnt it up. He was afraid to face his mistress after it, so he ran away. Regarding the thorn in the demon’s head, see No. 20. [1] Grewia tiliaefolia (?). [↑] In a certain country dwelt a man and a woman, it is said. These two had a son and a daughter. When a man came one day and asked for the daughter [in marriage] at the hand of the father, the father said, “It is good. Come on Wednesday.” The man having said “Hā,” went away. Afterwards another man came and asked for the girl at the hand of the mother. The mother said, “It is good. Come on Wednesday.” The man having said “Hā,” went away. After that, yet a man came and asked for her at the hand of the girl’s younger brother. The younger brother said, “It is good. Come on Wednesday.” The man having said “Hā,” went away. Well then, the company of three persons having come on Wednesday and eaten rice and betel, caused the girl to come out [of the house], inviting her to go. Then the three persons endeavoured to call her to go in three [different] directions. Because the girl was unable to settle the dispute she ate a kind of poison, and lying down died there and then. Afterwards they buried her. After that, the man who came first went to a sooth-sayer. The man who came next watched alone at the place where they buried her. The man who came last having said, “It doesn’t matter to me,” went to his village. The man who went to ask for sooth having inquired about it, came to the place where they buried the girl. Having come and made incantations in the manner prescribed by the sooth-sayer, he made her arise, and got her [back to life]. After she had recovered she went to the village. The man also went there. Now then, after the three men had come together there, the man who brought her back to life asked, “To whom do you belong?” The girl said, “The man who watched alone at the grave is my mother. The man who went to inquire of the sooth-sayer is my father. The man who went to his village is my man.” Having said this, the girl went with the man to his village. Kinnarī. North-western Province. This is a story of Vikrama and the Vampire, one of the puzzling questions set to the King being a decision as to whom the girl belonged. In Indian Nights’ Entertainment (Swynnerton), p. 237, the girl threw herself down from the house-top. One of the suitors sprang on the funeral pile, and was burnt with her. The second watched over the grave. The third became a Fakīr, and learnt how to revive the dead. He revived both the girl and the burnt suitor. The merchant whose opinion was required decided that the two who were burnt together were brother and sister, the Fakīr who gave them renewed life was their father, and the man who merely sat by the grave must become her husband. In the Jātaka story No. 150 (vol. i, p. 321), there is an account of a person who had learnt the spell for reviving the dead. In this case it was a tiger, who killed him. In Totā Kahānī (Small), p. 139, out of three suitors for the hand of a girl who was carried off by a fairy, one learnt the manner of her disappearance and the place where she was, the second made a magical flying wooden horse, on which the third rode to rescue her, killed the fairy, and brought her back. The Parrot’s decision was that the last one had the best right to her, as he had risked his life for her. In a river in a certain country a Crocodile stayed, it is said. While it was living there, the Crocodile having become friendly with a Crab, the Crocodile said to the Crab, “Friend, you call the Jackal to drink water, so that I may seize and eat the Jackal after he has come.” The Crab said “Hā.” On the bank of that river there were Muruta[1] trees, and there were flowers on those Muruta trees. The Crocodile said to the Crab, “I will lie down on the high ground. You bring flowers that have fallen below those Muruta trees and cover me.” Having said [this], the Crocodile lay down on the high ground near the water, and the Crab having brought the Muruta flowers covered the Crocodile. Having covered him, the Crab, calling the Jackal, came to drink water. The Crocodile stayed as though dead. Then the Jackal having come near the Crocodile said, “In our country, indeed, dead Crocodiles wag their tails. This Crocodile, why doesn’t he wag his tail? Maybe he isn’t dead.” Then that Crocodile which remained as though dead, wagged his tail. After that, the Jackal, without stopping even to drink water, bounded off, and went away. Afterwards the Crocodile said to the Crab, “Friend, to-morrow I will stop at the bottom of the water. You come there with the Jackal. Then I will seize and eat him.” The Crab having said “Hā,” on the following day came with the Jackal to the place where the Crocodile was. Then the Crocodile seized the Jackal by the foot [as he was going to drink water]. The Jackal said— Kimbulundāē raewatundāē Keṭala alē ḍāē ganḍāē? “Are the Crocodiles cheated quite, Thus the Keṭala yam to bite?” Then the Crocodile let go. After that, on that day also without drinking water he bounded off, and went away. From that day, the Jackals having become angry with the Crabs, and having seized and bitten the Crabs in the rice fields, place the Crabs’ claws on the earthen ridges in the fields. Kinnarā. North-western Province. In The Orientalist, vol. ii, p. 46, there is a story of a Jackal and a Crocodile, in the latter part of which the first incident is given, the tree being a Veralu (Elaeocarpus serratus). The Crab is not introduced into it. In the Jātaka story No. 57 (vol. i, p. 142) a Crocodile endeavoured to entrap a Monkey by lying still on the top of a rock. The Monkey, suspecting some trick, from the unusual height of the rock, addressed the rock and inquired why it did not reply as usual. The Crocodile then spoke. In Indian Folk Tales (Gordon), p. 63, the God Mahādeo (Śiva) took the place of the Crocodile, in order to be revenged on the Jackal for cheating him in the matter of the dead elephant (see No. 39, note); and the two incidents of the shamming death and seizure of the root are related. In Old Deccan Days (Frere) p. 310, a Jackal escaped from an Alligator [Crocodile] in the same manner. No. 74
The Three Suitors
No. 75
The Crocodile and the Jackal