[1] Ficus religiosa, Willd. one of the hugest of India’s many huge trees.
Lipi, and Lapra.
Once upon a time there were seven brothers. At first they were very poor, but afterwards they became comparatively rich, and were in position to lay out a little money at usury. The affairs of the youngest prospered most, so that before long he became the wealthiest of them all.
Each of the seven brothers planted fruit trees, and every day after they returned from their work, before they sat down to meat, they watered them. In process of time all the trees flowered, but the flowers on the eldest brother’s trees withered and dropped off the day they appeared. The trees of the other brothers failed to ripen their fruit, but those of the youngest brother were laden with delicious fruit which ripened to perfection. Five of the brothers said to him, “You are very fortunate in having such a splendid crop;” but the eldest brother was envious of his good fortune, and resolved to be revenged upon him.
The youngest brother brought up two puppies, whom he named Lipi and Lapra. They turned out good hunting dogs, and by their aid their master used to keep the family larder well supplied. The others were pleased to see so much game brought to the house. One day they said to him, “Take us also to where you get your large game.” To this he agreed, and they accompanied him to his usual hunting ground. Game was plentiful, but they could kill nothing, although every time he shot an arrow he brought down his animal. Five of his brothers praised him for his skill, and accuracy of aim, but the eldest brother, not having succeeded in bagging anything himself, envied him still more, and was confirmed in his desire for revenge.
It so happened that one day all the brothers, with the exception of the eldest and the youngest, went out to their work. The eldest brother finding himself alone with his youngest brother proposed that they should go together to the hill for the purpose of procuring fibre to make ropes. He said, “Come let us go to the hill to cut lar.”[1] His brother replied, “Come, let us set out.” He, however, wished to take his dogs with him, but his brother said, “Why should you tire them by taking them so far? Leave them behind.” But he replied, “I shall not go, unless you allow me to take them with me. How shall we be able to bring home venison if they do not accompany us? They may kill some game on the way.” As he insisted, he was permitted to do as he desired, and they set out for the hill.
As they went on their way they came to a spring, and the elder said, “Tie up the two dogs here. I know all this forest, and there is no game to be found in it.” The younger was averse to leaving his dogs behind him, but as his brother seemed determined he should do so, he tied them with a stout rope to a tree. His brother said, “See that you make them secure, so that they may not break loose and run away, and be lost.”
A low hill lay between them, and the high one on which the trees grew which yielded the lar. This they surmounted, and descending into the valley that divided them began the ascent, and soon reached the place where their work was to be. They soon cut and peeled sufficient lar, and sitting down twisted it into strong ropes. Just as they had prepared to return home, the elder brother seized the younger, and bound him with the ropes they had made. He then grasped his sickle with the intention of putting him to death. The helpless young man thought of his dogs, and in a loud voice wailed as follows;—
Come, come, Lipi and Lapra,