Embu Bonglâ nî Khorâng.[13] Brai bùrùi sânùi dangman. Bîsùrhâ zânù lùngnù gùiâman. Bînîhai sen-khokhâ sananai, zî nâ manù, bîzangnu mai slailânai mikhâm zâiù. Bebaidînù khâmùi khâmùi sânse senau nâ mâsebù nângâlâbâ, embu bonglâ gazâ senau thîp nângânai thâdang. Obâsù braiâ dâulâ gesîpbâ sâünù thângnânai, sen nai-hùinaise, ârù sen khô dikhângnânai ilit mannai­khai rong zânânai, mâmâr bîbân khânânai, nå-hâ-lâgi bât-zret-bât-thet bân-bù-naise. Ârù bùrùi-khô phuzâ-nânai bungnaise “Bùrùi, bùrùi, mâ dâbù uthiâ-lùi? Sân-zåbai!” Hannânai, phùzâbâ bùrùiâ mâmâr sikhângnânai oṭ sunânai sâne-zang oṭ sailainaise. Ârù braiâ bungnaise “Zangfùrhâ dinî khaphâl gâham! Senau nâ thîp-bungnânai thâdang!” Obâsù bùrùiâ bungnaise “Hùrù, hùrù! nai-nî, lâbonai!” hanbâ, braiâ mâmâr khithîfainaise. Ârù brai bùrùiâ sânùizang orau gahâmùi nainânai nunaise gâsenù embu­bonglâ gazâ. Obâsù bùrùiâ braikhô bungnaise “Dinî nanghâ khaphâlâ gahâm zâdang! Ga­hâmùînù khâm manzâsîgan!” hannânai bungbâ braiâ senkhô dåkhånaise, ârù buruikhô buthât­nù thin-bâ, bùrùiâ gon gongse lânânai thå thå bù-thât-hù-lâng-naise. Emphâre bùthât-zap-bâ mâse âtheng bainânai thoifrâmnâ­nai bùrùi-nî khâmflai singau thâdangman. Unau gâsenù embu-fùr-khô sâi-khâng-nânai, brai bùrùiâ bînîfrai uthîbâ ârù khâmflai dikhângbâ, be thoifrâm­nai embukhô nunânai, braiâ, “Bùrùi, mâse embu thâbai, bùthât! bùthât!” Hanbâ, embuâ rai-dau-naise “Âfâ lùi âng-khô dâ bùthât: âng nangnù hâli oinâ­nai, khodâl zaunânai, mai gainâ­nai hùgan.” Obâsù braiâ bung­naise: “Mobâthù embu-bonglaia hâbâ maunânai hùnai nudang-lùi? Nang hâbâ maunânai hùnaia gakhâ! Buthâtzânù gînânai nang bekhônù khithâdang.” Bungbâ, embu bonglâiâ gahâmùi khulum-bai-nai-khai, ârù sumai lâ-nai-khai, braiâ bùrùiâ onnânai bîkhô buthârâlâbâ nå-i-au dinnaise. Obâsù âjibù thâiù kâlibùthâiû dùilâng bùthùr såbâ, embu-bonglâiâ nângal lânânai du­bliau hâli oinù thângnaise. Ârù bî nângal-mothiau gâ-khù-nânai hâli oibai thâbâ, bînî dubli thing sùrba rajâ sâse hâthi gânânai fainai nubâ embubonglâ raihoṭnaise “Helùi, helùi, nang maunî mânsùi lùi? Âng nî âli-fùr-khô gâphle-gâsi khâmdang!” Hanbâ râzâiâ, “Âng khô bebaidî rainaiâ sùr?” Hannânai, mânsùi hoṭbâ, sâfrâ singau hâkhmânânai thâiù. Bînîkhai mânsùiâ nunù hâekhai thâng-phâ-phinse. Be­baidînù khonle khonle raiù, khon-frimbù bîkhô nunù hâekhai râzaiâ mosôkhônù lânù thinnânai nå-hâ-lâgi lângnaise. Obâsù bî bù khîthu khîthu thângnânai gogrâ nî nå sâïau thurui singau hâpsù-nânai thânânai rajâ khô baidî baidî raibai thâ-sùnaise. Râjâiâ bîkhô khnânânai, naibâbù nuekhai brâpnânai gogrâkhônù sefainù thinnaise. Khintu bî bînîfrai thângkhmânânai saurâ nå sâ-i-au thânânâi ârù rainaise Bebaidînù gâsenù nå sephainù gnâng zânaikhai, râzâiâ unau gînânai bîkhô gahâmùi sùngnaise, “Helùi âfâ, nanglai modai nâ mânsùi? Âng nangkhô mungbù khâmliâ.” Hanbâ, bî bungnaise “Âng modai nunggâ, mânsùi-sù. Ârù nang ângnî mosâ lâbonai-khai âng nângkhô raidang. Ârù nang dâ nangnî phisazùkhô âng zang hâbâ khâmnânai hùgan hannânai sumai lâiâ gô mâni, âng nangkhô bebaidînù nue zânânai raibai thâgan.” Hanbâ, râzaiâ sumai lânângnaise. Obânia bî nånîfrai onkhâtnaise. Onkhâtbâ râzâiâ sumai lânaikhai, ârù mâbâ modai-fùr zânù hâgô nungnânai, hâbâ khâmnânai hùnaise, ârù dolâ, hâthi, gorai gâ-khù-hù-lainânai nåhâlâgi hoṭbâ ârù brai bùrùinî nå khâthî man-fai-ba, brai bùrùia gînânai, nå-nîfrai khâtlângdang-man. Bîkhô embu-bongla fisât­lâiâ nunânai “Gînù nânggâ” hannânai, mânsùi hoṭnânai lâbo-finnaise. Obâsù brai bùrùi fisâtlâ ârù bîhâmzù boibù zå zânânai rong zâ-lainânai mânsùi fùrkhô khâm-dùi zâhùnai lùng­hùnaise. Bebaidînù thâùi dang, sânse bîhâmzùâ embu-bonglâ-khô nainù bânânai embu-bongla-khô duguinù thinnaise. Embu bong­laiâ bungnaise “Âng udui-nî-frai dùi-au-nù thâiù. Dâ dùgùibâ ânghâ mâ zânù?” Obâsù hing­zauâ bungnaise “Nang dui gusu-au thânai-khô âng mithî­dang. Khintu nangnî bîkhong-nî gâdi-mâlâ nunânai-sù âng nangkhô thukuinù nâmaidang,” hanba, embu bonglâiâ mânthi zânaise. Zâbâ dùi glopglop phû­dung-nânai hoâkhô linghoṭnaise. “Mâmâr faidù! Âng thukuinù nânggo.” Bî mâmâr fainânai, sùngbâ; “Nang âglâ dùiau bât-sùm grù. Âng unau bîkhong hùnânai hùgan,” hanbâ, bî bîau bât-sùm-nânai khâng-grâng-nânai thoinânai thânaise. Zapbai! The Story of the Toad.[13] There was an aged couple, who were very poor. But they had a fish trap, which they set at night; and the fish they caught they exchanged for rice. And one night it happened that no fish got into the trap, but only toads, so that the trap was brimfull. And at early dawn, when the cock crowed, the old man came, and finding the trap very heavy was rejoiced, and hoisting it on to his back waddled away. And when he got home he woke up his wife, crying “Old woman, old woman, not up yet? The day has dawned.” So the old woman jumped up, and blew up the fire, and the old couple squatted over it, warming themselves. And the old man said “We are in luck to-day! The trap is brimfull.” Then the old woman said “Let’s see, let’s see.” So the old man tumbled out the contents of the trap, and, behold, they were all toads. So the old woman said “We are in luck to-day! We shall have lots to eat to-day!” And the old man bid her kill the toads without further words. And the old woman, taking her stick, ran about after the toads and slew them one by one. But one alone, half dead with fear, crawled under the old woman’s stool. But the rest she skinned and cleaned. Then, removing the stool, the old man saw the survivor, and said to the old woman “There is one left; kill that, too!” But the toad called out “Ah! father, do not kill me. I will plough for you, and hoe for you, and plant out paddy for you!” But the old man replied “How shall a toad do all these things? Your ploughing and hoeing would be a bitter business! You only want to get off being killed.” But he pleaded so sore, and begged so hard, that they took pity on him and let him stay in their house. And so the days went by till the rainy season came round, and the toad went off to plough in the field. And as he was sitting on the handle of the plough urging on his cattle, a king came by that way riding on his elephant, and the toad called out to him “What fellow is that? You are knocking down all the balks of my field!” To which the king replied “Who dares speak to me thus,” and sent men to fetch him. But he hid behind a clod, so that they could not find him. And when he continued to abuse them without their finding him, the king bade them take away the plough cattle to his house. And the toad, followed secretly behind, and, hiding himself in the thatch of the cowshed, began to abuse the king afresh. And the king searched for him in vain; and at last ordered the cowshed to be pulled down and the cattle to be put elsewhere. And the toad went and hid there, too, and abused the king again. Finally, the king was frightened and called to him: “Oh! father, are you god or mortal? And what harm have I done you?” And he said “I am mortal of a sooth. And I abuse you because you have carried off my cattle. And if you do not give me your daughter in marriage, I shall remain invisible and abuse you daily.” So the king swore that the toad should have his daughter, and the toad came forth. And the king, for his oath’s sake, and lest the toad should be in some sort a god, gave him his daughter, and sent him home with a sedan-chair and elephants and horses. And when he got near his home, the old man and old woman ran clean away. But the toad, their adopted son, seeing their terror, bade them not be afraid, and sent men after them to fetch them. And then they sat down with their son-in-law and daughter-in-law and feasted the men who had come with them. And one day the girl, finding her husband very loathsome to look upon, told him to take a bath. “But,” said her husband, “what is the good of my taking a bath? I am a frog and always bathing.” But his wife replied “I know very well that you live in cold water. But I want to get rid of those nasty protuberances on your back, and want to bathe you.” So, finally, her husband agreed. So she heated some water to boiling, and called out “Come quick, I must bathe you!” And when the toad came, and asked what he was to do, she said “You jump straight in, and I will bathe you afterwards.” So he jumped in, and, turning over on his back, died. And that’s all!

Mùi ârù daukhâ dandâ nî khorâng. Bîsùr sâne zang âglânîfrai fisikhî man. Ârù bîsùr bong­fâng fângseau ozainù lùgùse thâ­naiman. Phâre sânse mùikhô sel mâseâ nunânai bîkhô gufûng ârù zânù lâgi gahâm nunânai selâ rai­daunaise “Helùi khurmâ! Nang beau mâ nâmaidang? Âng nang khô nunânai on-sùdang ârù nanghâ khusi dangbâ, âng nang­zang khurmâ khâmgan.” Beaunù mùiâ bungnaise: “Nangzang ângzang mâbrùi khurmâ zânù hâgô? Nang ângni hothru. Nang ângkhô manbâ, nang âng­khô zâgô. Âng nangnî bîdot.” Be khorang khnânânai selâ monau dukhu mannânai bung­naise “Nang zî khorâng khithâ­dang, gâsenù nunggô. Ârù bînî­khâi ânghâ raubô gùiliâ, thoithro-bai. Bînikhai âng dâ monau gunî­nânai gokhainî[14] haran lâbai. Ârù nang boidî raunîbù mungbù khâ­me, omâzang khurmâ khâmnù mon zâdang. Nang ângkhô beau mungbù dâ bung.” Be khorâng-au-nù mùiâ mânthî zânaise. Obâ bîsùr sâne zang bongfâng guriau thâng-lai-naise. Beaunù daukhâ-dandâ-î-â sel-khô nunânai, bîkhô âgâr-nù lâgi mùinù zâbrânù gahâm khorâng khithâdangman. Khintu be khorâng-khô mùiâ khnâ-song-hiâ-khai, daukhâ dandâiâ sâkhthar manse khithânaise: “Sâne fisikhî dangman-nù. Bîsùr sâne zang khorâng khâlainaise zî “Zangfùr zebù dukhuau gârlainù nânggâ.” Phâre sânse bîsùr maubâ thâng­naiau hâgrâ gezer gezer thâng­dangman. Beaunù lâmâ gezerau mâfur mâse lùgù man-naise. Phâ bîsùr sânùi nî gezerau sâse bong­fâng gâkhùnù hâgoman, sâse hai­âman. Zeblâ mâfurâ hù-sù-bù-dang, sâse khâtnânai bongfângau gâkhùhùinaise. Sâseâ mungbô upai mane zânânai hâiau khug­lupnânai, hâng lâiabâ thânaise. Unau mâfurâ fainânai bikhô manâm-su-nânai hâng gùie nunâ­nai, gârlângnaise. Phâ bong­fângnî mânsùiâ sùngnaise “Helùi sikhî, nangkhô mâfurâ manâm-su-nânai mâ khithânai?” Beaunù bî bungnaise “Bebaidî mânsùi-zang nang khurmâ dâ khâm,” erùi hannânai bungnai.” Daukhâ dandâ bungnaise “Besùr sânùi-nî baidi nang-hâ-bù zânù hâgô. Theobù mùiâ bînî khorâng khô lâiâkhùise. Phâre âzi-bù-dang kâli-bù-dang sânse selâ phân nunânai mùikhô bî thauni-hâ lâgi bîkhô phânau khùkhlainaise. Phâre bî phân-nî deoling-khô oṭ-sonù thinbâ-bù, otnù manâ hannânai oṭsoâkhùise. Unau daukhâiâ bîsùrnî khorângkhô mithînânai nâmai-lâng-nânai mùikhô phânau nângnânai thânai nunaise. Nubâ, bîkhô gahâm khâmnù lâge upai khâmnaise. Phâre, okhâ naise naise zâdang­man, ereaunù bî bungnaise “Sikhî nung uduikhô dukhrâng hùnânai hâng laiâlâbâ thâ. Ârù âng gâp-bâ, nang khât. Be upai-au goâbâ, ârù gùiliâ-se.” Bî khitha­nai-baidi-nù mùiâ khâmnânai dang. Ereau-nù phân-nî girimaiâ fainânai mùi-khô thoinai mon khâmnânai, zongkhô hâiau thunâ­nai dinnânai phânnî deoling khô kheonânai fahâm-dang-man. Ereau-nù daukhâiå gâpnânai hùbâ, mùiâ sikhângnânai dophong khâtbâ, mânsùiâ zongkhô lânâ­nai, khubui hoṭ-naise: khintu mùinî modomau nângâlâbâ selnî modomau nâng-hùi-naise. Beau­nù selâ thoinaise. Zapbai! The Story of the Doe and the Raven. The doe and the raven were great friends, and lived together in the shade of the same tree. And one day a jackal, seeing the doe, and finding her to be fat and good to eat, said to her “Oh friend, what are you doing there? I am charmed to see you, and, if you permit, would like to swear eternal friendship.” But the doe said “How can there be friendship between the likes of us? we are sworn foes. If you get hold of me, you will eat me. I am your food.” But the jackal, on hearing this, pretended to be mightily grieved, and said “What you observe is true enough, and that is just why all my family are dead and I alone am left. And, considering these things, I, for my part, am turned Hindu, eat no flesh, and have vowed friendship to all animals. So you need be in no fear of me.” To which the doe attached implicit credence, and so they two walked together under the trees. But the raven came up and said all he could to induce the doe to abandon the fellowship of the jackal. But, as he could not prevail with her, he told her the following story: “Once upon a time there were two friends. And they vowed that if ever they fell into danger, they should on no account leave one another. And one day they were going through the jungle together, when they met a bear. Now, one of them could climb trees, and the other could not. And when the bear pursued them, the one scrambled up into the first tree he met. But the other, not knowing what else to do, lay on the ground, and, pretending to be dead, held his breath. And the bear, coming and sniffing at him, and finding him apparently dead, left him. Then his friend, shouting to him from the tree, said “What was it that the bear whispered to you?” And he replied “The bear said to me ‘never make friends with men like that fellow in the tree.’” “And so,” said the raven, “will it be with you and your friend the jackal.” For all that, the doe refused to listen, and after some days the jackal, when walking out with the doe, spied a snare, and thrust her into it. And when she bade him bite the cords and loose her, he reminded her of his vows and of the fact that the cords were of hide. Then the raven, after long searching, came up and found the doe in the toils, and set to work to devise a remedy. And when the day was dawning he said to the doe “You swell out your belly, and hold your breath, and when I give the word, run for your life.” Presently, the owner of the snare came up, spear in hand, and, seeing his quarry seemingly dead, loosed her bonds. Upon which the raven cawed loudly, and the doe, jumping up, ran for her life. But the hunter, seizing his spear, threw it after her. And the spear missed the doe, and pierced the wicked jackal, who died. And that’s all!

Brai sáse ni khorâng. Sâse brai dangman. Bî sân-se hâgrâiau thâthî dân-nù thângbâ, mosa mâse sùgùmnai khnânaise. Ârù obânù bînî khâthî nî frai dau mâse bîr-lâng-bâ, braiâ gîkhrong­nânai bung-nâise “Âng nangkhô manbâ, khugubân phurungauman.” Bî be khorâng-khô-nù bungùi thâdang, mosâ khnânânai “Be braiâ mâ khithâdang? Ang bekhô mithinù nângbai, ârù bekhô âng zâ-liâ-bù. Erùi nungnânai brai­khô mâthù[15] hùnaise “Helùi brai, nanglai mâthù[16] khithâdang?” Theobù braiâ khnâsongâlâbâ bî khorângkhônù bungù ârù thâthi dânù. Obâsù mosâiâ khâthî-åse-au fainânai, brai-khô bungnaise “Nang mâ khorâng bungdang, ângnù khithâiâbâ âng nangkhô zâgan.” Ereùi hanbâ brai gînâ­nai “Nang gabun ângnî nåiau thâng. Oba âng nang-nù khithâ­gan.” Hanbâ, bî thângnaise. Okha naibâ, mosâiâ sùngùi sùngùi brai-nî nåiau phungaunù okhar fainaise. Phâre braiâ nunânai “Apâ, nang mau-nù thângnu lùi” hanbâ “Âng buro­bu thângâ. Nang-nî-au-sù mîa-nî khorâng sùlùngnù faidang. Oba­sù braiâ bungnâise “Âng nang hât-sing-bâ be khorâng-khô khi­thânu hâiâ. Ârù mâ-ne-sù lai-bau.” Ereùi bungbâ, bî thâng­nânai mâne mâthâm bîzang lâbo­naise. Obâsù braiâ mai dângrî set-lâi-au dîhonnaise. Dîhonnânai bî ghai mithînai mosôkhô uthumai khamnânai mosôfùrkhô khânânai mai-mâran hùnaise. Hùbâ, boi uthumai zânai mosâiâ bungnaise “Abô, âng-hâ khårå megem-sù dang.” Phâ braiâ khithâ­naise; “rå-dåse, âbô, rå thå, dânù zâsîsù,” hannânai, hù-ùi thânaise. Phâre unau mosâiâ khårå megemnânai gaglai-sù-nânai thâbâ, phânsân gnâng lauthî lânâ­nai gahâmùi thunânai hùnaise. Obâ mosâiâ “Abô! ângkhô mâ khâmù? Âng dinî thoisîgan!” Hanbâ, braiâ bungnaise “Nang mîâ ghugubân sùlùngnù nâmai­dangman bebaidî dukhu zânù hâiâbâ, âng nangkhô mâbrui fùrùngan?” Hannânai, ârù thù-khrâng thùsi khâmse. Obâsù mosâiâ bungnaise “Âng dukhu zâdang, be nunggo; nangnî kho­râng khô âng mithiâkhui.” Hanbâ, braiâ bungnaise “Bî­khônù ghughubân hannânai bungu.” Obânù mosâ bungnaise “Âng mithîbai, zang-fùrkhô hogaṛ dù!” Braiâ bungnaise “Rå, âru bângai mithî-zap-si-gan.” Hannânai, ârù hunaise. Unau mosâiâ brai-khô khulum-bai-nù homnaise. Phâre maiâ gâbâ bîsùr-khô hogâr-hoṭ-naise. Hog­âr-slâp-nù manâlâbâ, uthumai ârù bîsùrbù khâtlângnaise. Khât lângbâ, mengnânai, bîsûr dâpse au boibo zå zânânai zirainaise. Obâ­nù bîsùr boi didungkhô nunânai brainù hùnùlâgi railainaise “Be dîdungkhô hùâbâ, bî mobâbâ zang-fùr-khô sinai mangan.” Bungnânai, bîbù bungù “nang­thâng.” Brainî sinnainai mosâiâ thâng-nâng-naise. Obâsù bî thùrthùr bùrbùr gînânai thângdang, âru brai-nî nå man-hùi-nânai, brainù didung-khô zâsi[17] hubâ, braiâ bungnaise: “Manâbai; âng udubai. Âng onkhâtliâ. Inzur-goblong-thing hoṭ.” Han-bâ, mosâiâ lânzâiâ zang didung-khô hoṭnaise. Obânù, braiâ sekhâ lânânai lânzaikhô dân-so-naise. Beaunù mosâiâ gâp-khrau gâpsî khâtlângbâ, braiâ bungnaise “Ârù ânghâ sâse âgùi sing-sing hù-siù-lâng-dang! Nang khâtnânai mâu-tḥu gonù?” Be bîbaidinù khârùi khârùi naifinnâ­nai raukhôbù nuekhai, zirainaise, ârù khânkhrai gurungau dùi nunânai, khândâ lânzai-khô sunânai zånaise. Phâre khânkhraiâ on­khâtrânai lânzaiau khepnaise. Obânia mosâiâ “Gomâ gomânu brainî bîgúiâ fai-mât-dang;” hannânai, bînîfrai khîbù khîsât khât­lângnaise. Obâsù zesenù khârù khânkhraiâ gaglaigan nungnânai, gahâmùi khep-sin-lângù. Bebai­dînù khârùi khârùi mosâiâ thoi­frâmnai zânaise. Unau bongfâng-fùr-au nângnânai âgârbâ, obâsù mosâiâ gahâm zânaise, ârù brai-bi-gùi-khô thângbai nunânai, khâm dùi zânaise. Zapbai! The Old Man and the Tiger. There was once an old man, who, when he was cutting reeds for his fence in the jungle, heard a tiger growling close to him; and it happened that at that moment a bird also flew away. On which the old man, though he was in truth very frightened, called after the bird “Ah! if you had only stopped, I would have taught you the secret of the ghughu ban.” And this saying he kept on repeating, so that the tiger said to himself “What is it that the old man is saying? I must get him to tell me; and in that case I won’t even eat him.” So he called to the old man. “Look here, old man, what is that about the ghughu ban?” But the old man, answering not a word, kept on chopping his reeds. Then the tiger crept up quite close to him, and said to the old man “If you don’t tell me what you are talking about, I will eat you!” But the old man, for all his fear, only said “You come to my house tomorrow, and I will tell you.” Very early the next morning the tiger asked his way to the old man’s house, and when he got there, it being still early morning, the old man said “And what may your honour be pleased to want?” And the tiger replied “I want to know what you were talking about yesterday.” But the old man replied “I cannot possibly teach you alone. You had better go and get two or three other tigers.” And so the tiger went away and returned with two or three of his brethren. In the meanwhile the old man had spread his unthreshed paddy in the yard. And, putting his earliest acquaintance first, he tied all the tigers to the post, round which the cattle revolve when they are treading out the grain, and set them to work to tread. But the one in the middle, who was unaccustomed to such labour, cried out in a piteous voice that his head ached, and that he was getting very giddy. But the old man said “Wait a bit, my friend; you haven’t learned yet.” And when the tiger complained again, the old man fetched his goad and pricked him sore, so that, giddy and stumbling, he had to go round and round, and when the tiger said “I shall die at this rate,” the old man replied “You wanted to learn the ghughu ban yesterday, and unless you endure this trouble, you cannot possibly learn;” and, so saying, pricked him the more cruelly. Finally, the tiger said “If so be, I must be in pain, I must be. But I don’t see what it is all about.” Then the old man replied “This is precisely what they called the ghughu ban.” Then the tiger said “I see, I see, now let us go. We have learned our lesson.” But the old man said “Wait a bit, the paddy is nearly trodden out,” and would not stop pricking the tigers for all their entreaties. And when the paddy was all threshed, the old man began untying their bonds. But before he had finished, the tigers were in such pain that they tore the rope out of his hands and ran away. When they stopped to rest, they saw the old man’s rope, and said to one another “If we do not give the old man his rope again, we shall get into further trouble.” So, after much debate, the first tiger was deputed to take it back. So back he went, trembling with fear in every limb, and, getting close to the old man’s house, offered him his rope. But the old man said “It is night, and I am in bed. I can’t come out. Put the rope in at the window.” So the tiger put it on his tail and thrust it in at the window. But the old man had his knife ready and cut the tiger’s tail off. On which the tiger once more fled, howling with pain. But the old man shouted after him “You may run as far as you like, but my brother is after you, and will catch you.” On which the tiger ran faster than ever. At last, however, he stopped to rest near a cool pool of water, and, not seeing the old man’s brother, dipped the wounded stump of his tail into the pool for refreshment. But a crab, which dwelt in that pool, nipped the stump of his tail; and the tiger crying “The old man’s brother has caught me!” again fled through the jungle, and it was not till the crab was knocked off against the trees that he at last rested. And that’s all!

Mùkhrâ ârù Sessâ nî Khorâng. The Tale of the Monkey and the Hare.
Mâse sessâ ârù mùkhrâ zang fisikhî man. Bîsùr sânùi zang ozainù lùgùse thâiù, lùgùse zâiù, ârù lùgùse thâbaibaiù. Obâsù sânse sâse Darrangârùi mânsùi goe thâlit lânânai, âlâsî zânù thâng­nai nâmau lùgù mannânai, bîsùr railainaise “Be mânsùi-nî goe thâlit-fùr-khô zânù lâgî zangfùr buddî manse khâmnù nânggô,” hannânai, sessâ-khô nâmau-nù thânù thinnânai mùkhrâia hâgrâ-iaù hâkhmânai thânaise. Phâre mânsùiâ manfaibâ, sessakhô nunânai, bîbân dinnânai, hùsùnaise. Hùsùbâ, mùkhraia hâgrânîfrai mâmâr onkhâtnânai thâlitfùrkhô lânânai bongfângau gâ-khù-hùi-naise. Ârù “sessâ-faigan” hannânai, thâlit goe-fùrkhô mâmâr zâ-grù-naise. Ârù thâlit bigùr buâ sessânù dinnaise. A monkey and a hare were great friends. They lived together, ate together, and walked about together. One day they saw a man from Darrang going to a feast and bearing plantains and betel-nuts, and they said to one another that they must contrive some plan to get hold of his load. So the monkey sent the hare to wait on the road, but himself hid in the jungle. And when the man came up and saw the hare sitting on the road, he put down his load, and ran after him. No sooner had he done so, than the monkey came and carried off the plantains and betel-nuts into a tree, and, for fear the hare should return, ate them all up in a great hurry, keeping only the skins of the plantains for his friend.
Emphâre unau sessâkhô mân­sùiâ homnù hâiâkhùise ârù unau nåiau thâng-phâ-phin-naise. Obâsù sessaiâ gâbzrî-ùi gâbzrî-ùi thângnânai, fisikhîkhô lùgù man-hùi-nânai, gur thâlit bîbâ, thâlit bigùr bùa hùnaise. Bînîkhai sessâiâ brâpnânai “Bekhô bângai dukhu hùgan,” monau nungnânai, thâsobâre singau thâhùnaise. Unau mukhrâiâ bongfângnîfrai on­khâtnânai: “Sikhî lùi! sikhî lùi! hanùi hanùi gâbzrî gâbzrî thângbâ, sessâiâ brâpnânai bungnaise “Mâthù sikhî-sikhî lùi! Âng beaunù razânî khuser ne-fai-dang. Nangnù ângkhô mânu nânggô?” Obâsù mukhrâiâ nu­zâhùinânai bungnaise “He sikhî! khuserkhô ângnù thåse ù, herâ! Bese gathâu âng zâ-nai-nî;” hanbâ, sessâ bungnaise; “Âng nang-nù hùnù hâiâ. Razâ khnâbâ ângkhô bugan.” Theobù bî embrâ-brâ-bînaikhai “Zâ lùi zâ, âng nangzang hâ-liâ” hannânai, zânù hùnaise. Phâre bî zânânai, sâlâiau mânbâ “Sikhî âng thoinaise” hannânai, bâbrâp­baibâ, sessâ bungnaise “Nang gagainù dukhu mandang. Âng dâ nangkhô mâ khâmgan?” hannânai, bere jåthâ nî bâhâ sing­au thâ-hùi-naise. Mùkhrâ bù un un gâbzrînânai thângnânai ârù nu-zâ-hùi-nai-sui-lâiù “Sikhî nang mâ khâmdang, herâ” bung­bâ, sessâ khithânaise “âng razâ nî zåthâ nedang” hanbâ “Sikhî, ângnù bângai dâmnai-nù hù, herâ!” Sessâiâ bungnaise “Uh âng hâiâ, herâ; râzâ khnâbâ âng­khô buthâtgân,” bungbâ bù, em­brâbrâ “Âng lâsui-sù dâmgan, herâ,” hannânai, bere bâhâkhô âkhâi-phât-ne zang bu-zâp-naise. Obânu berefrâ mukhâng, megon, modom gasenú oṭ phop-bâ mù­khrâiâ gâp-khrau gâp-sî bâbrâp-bai naise. Obâniâ sessâiâ bung­naise: Âng dù-hùi-nù nang-nù khithâ-dangman, theobû nang kho­râng lâia. Âng mâ khâmgan?” hannânai, ârù dâpseau zîbô-gowâl-nî khâthîau thâ-hûi-naise. Azùnghâ mùkhrâ bù khîthû khîthû thângnânai bungnaise “Ârù beau lai nang mâ khâmdang, herâ?” Sessâ bungnaise “Âng razâ-lùnghâ-nî[18] sâmâ-lauthî nedang, herâ.” Bungbâ “Sikhî, âng-nù bù hù, herâ! âng bângai dângnai-nî!” Bî “hùâ” hanbâbú, embrâ-brâ, dangnainânai, beaubù bî zîbô-zang oṭ-zâ-naise. Bînîfrai sessâ thângnânai photobâreau thâ-hui-naise. Mùkhrâ bù gâbzrî gâbzri thângnânai, ârù lùgù lâ-hùi-nânai sessâ-khô súngbâ, bi bungnaise: Bekhônù razânî dolâ hannânai bungù. Mùkhrâ bung­naise: “Sikhî, âng bângai uthî-nai nî, herâ!” bungbâ “Uh! âng hùnù haiâ. Razâ khnâbâ, âng-khô mâ bunggan? Nang mâbâ âbrâ mânsùi, herâ! Khorâng khithâbâ-bù khnâsonggâ,” bungbâbù, mù­khraiâ “Nonggâ, herâ, sikhî dåse buâ uthîgan” hannânai, phåtåbâ­reau bât-drumbâ, gådåhâ lâgi thrùp thângnaise. Obâsù sessâ khithânaise “Duhui thâlit zâ­nânai bîgur hùnaiâ, benù, herâ­sikhî, nang beaunù thâ-dù! Âng nangkhô khulumbai! âng thâng­naise” hannânai, bî mu-khrâ-khô beaunù gâr-lai-naise. But when the man found that he could not catch the hare, he gave up the chase, and went home disconsolate; and so the hare went back, searching for his friend, and shouting his name. But when he found him and demanded his share of the spoil, the monkey offered only the skins of the plantains, and the hare, in his rage, said that he would have his revenge. So, first of all, he went and sat very quietly under some kachu plants. Then the monkey climbed down from the tree and began crying “My friend! my friend!” and the hare replied “Who are you calling friend? I am watching the king’s sugarcane field. What do you want?” Then the monkey came forth and said “Ah, my friend, give me a little of the cane to suck.” But the hare said “I cannot give you any. If the Raja were to hear, he would beat me.” But as the monkey grew importunate, he said “Eat, then, if you will, and don’t blame me.” But when he ate, the acrid juice of the kachu caught his tongue, and he rolled on the ground howling. But the hare only said “It’s your own fault. I told you not to.” Then he went and sat beneath a wasps’ nest. And the monkey, moaning and complaining, followed him and asked him what he was doing there, and the hare replied that he was watching the king’s cymbals. “Let me play on them, only a little!” entreated the monkey. But the hare said “I daren’t do it. The Raja would kill me.” “I will only play very gently,” said the monkey, and, prevailing by means of his importunity, clapped his hands on the wasps’ nest and broke it, and straightway the wasps stung his mouth and face and body all over, so that he rolled on the ground crying out in agony. But the hare only said “I told you not to, and you would not listen, what could I do?” And then he went away to where a gowal snake lay. And again the monkey followed him, and asked what he was doing there. And the hare said that he was watching the king’s sceptre. “Ah! let me brandish it, do,” said the monkey, and for all the hare’s warnings would seize the sceptre. Whereby he got bitten, and was in greater pain than ever. Then the rabbit went away and sat down on a marsh, and the monkey followed him once more, crying as he went, and when he again questioned his friend, the hare said: “This is what they call the king’s litter.” “Let me sit on it for a moment,” said the monkey. “I can’t do it,” said the hare, “what would the king say? I think you are a fool, my friend. I tell you not to do things and you will persist.” But the monkey did not listen to him and jumped on to the marsh and stuck miserably in the mud. And then the hare said “Now, my friend, you give me plantain skins to eat, do you? You can stay where you are. I wish you good-day. I am off.” And, so saying, he left the monkey and went his ways.
Obâsù unâù bîthîng gândâ mâse fainai nubâ, bîkhô mukhraiâ dikhâng-nù thing-dangman. Gândâiâ bungnaise “Âng-hâ ukhui-sù-dang ârù dùi-gâng-sùi-dang: âng nangkhô dikhângnù hâiâ,” hannânai, bî thângnaise. And first of all a rhinoceros came. But when the monkey begged for help, he said that he was hungry and thirsty, and really could not stop; he was very sorry; and, so saying, he too went away.
Bînî unau ârù moesù mâse fai­nai-au bîkhô bù khithâdangman Bîbù khnâsongâlâbâ blot thâng­naise. Boinùkhrî khî-zap-au mosâ mâse ukhui-sù-nânai bîthîng thângdangman. Mùkhrâ nunânai bungnaise “He âfâ, nang âng­khô be dukhu nî frai dikhângâbâ, ârù raubô dikhângliâ.” Hannânai gahâmùi khulumnù homnaise. Theobú bî “Âng nangkhô dikhângnânai mâ mangan?” hannânai, khozo-ne-sù[19] thângbâ, mukhrâiâ bungnaise “Âfâ, nang ângkhô be photobâre-nî-frai di­khângnânai hâbrùfùrkhô sù-srâ-nânai ângkhô nang zâ!” hanbâ, bî ukhui-sû-nai-khai, be khorâng-au khnâ-song-nânai, bîkhô bung­naise “Âng nangkhô zânû mon gúiâ, manâthù, bebaidî dukhuau gaglainaikhô dikhângbâ, ânghâ gahâm zâgan. Theobù nang gai­gainù zâsinânai hùnai-i-au, âng zânù hâgo,” hannânai, bînî lân­zai-khô pholau hoṭbâ, mùkhrâiâ bînî lânzâiau hombâ, dikhâng-bù-naise, mù-khrâ khîthânaise “Âfâ nang ângkhô dâniâ modom-fùr-khô gahâmui susrâ, emphâre rânbâ zâ,” hannânai sândungau dåse zåbai thâdangman. Ereaunu mosâ-iâ phâtsething naineau, bî bongfângau fât-drâp gâ-khù-naise. Mosâ bekhô nunânai, brâp-nânai, bongfâng guriaunù sânne sânthâm nebai thânaise. Bebaidî thânânai, unau khugâ sînânai, hâthai hâzîzî khâmnânai, thoithî-nânai, thânaise, ârù thâmfaifrâ khugâ-i-au brûng-brûng han-lai-nù homnaise. Beaunù mu­khrâiâ ose ose thoi-mâtbai nung­nânai bongfâng bîzô nî frai lâse lâse onkhâtbùnânai âglâ lâse-i-hai lânzai khugau sù-nai-grù-bâ-bù mosâ mungbô khâmâkhuise. Ârù unau âtheng thângse sùnânai hùnai, beaubù mungbô khâmâkhùise. Obâsù mùkhrâ bungnaise “Nang ângnî âthengfùrkhô khrem-khrem oṭnânai zâgauman, lanzai-khô khrem khrem oṭnânai zâgauman,” hannânai, rong zânânai: “Dâniâ ângnî khårokhô-nù zâ,” hannâ­nai, khugau sùnânai hùbâ, obânù mosâiâ khrem oṭ-khrep-naise. Thoibai! Zapbai! And when a buffalo presently came, the monkey addressed him, but he, too, had other business, and went away. Last of all there came a tiger, who was extremely hungry, and to him the monkey said, “My father, if you do not help me out of this scrape, I have no help left,” and with such and such like words the monkey entreated him. But the tiger said “What good will it do me if I help you?” and was going away, when the monkey cried out “Father, father, take me out of the dreadful marsh, and then, if you like, clean me and eat me.” And the tiger was so hungry that he said: “It is not so much that I want to eat you, but if I rescue one fallen into such calamity, it will be well with me hereafter. However, as you yourself have offered yourself to be eaten, I see no harm.” So saying, he stretched out his tail into the marsh, and the monkey, grasping it, was drawn out. Then the monkey said: “Let me get dry in the sun, and when I am a bit cleaner, you can eat me.” And so saying he sat him down in the sun and waited. But presently the tiger looked another way, and the monkey slipped up a tall tree. But the tiger, being in a great rage, waited two or three days at the foot of the tree. But, as the monkey would not descend, he lay at the tree’s root as one dead, and opened his mouth with his teeth grinning, and the flies came and buzzed in his mouth, so that at last the monkey thought that of a verity he was dead. So finally he crawled down, and slowly inserted his tail in the tiger’s mouth. But the tiger never stirred. Then he felt one of the tiger’s great paws. But the tiger never stirred. Then the monkey said “Ah, you would scrunch my bones to make your bread, would you?” and danced about gaily, and cried “See if you can eat my head now,” and, so saying, he put his head in the tiger’s jaws. And then the jaws closed with a scrunch, and that was the end of the monkey. And that’s all!

Khusung ârù Mùkhrâ. The Tortoise and Monkey.
Besur sâne zang fisikhî man. Sânse lâmâiau thâbâ, sâse mânsùi gur thâli mairang bânnânai lâ­bonai nùnaise. Bîkhô nunânai mùkhraiâ fisikhînù khithânai-sùi: “Helùi sikhî, nang beaunù zåbai thâ. Be fainai mânsùia bîbân dinnânai nangthângkhô hùsùbâ, nangthâng khât.” Erùi hannânai khusungkhô bî lâmâ-au-nù dinnânai mùkhrâiâ hâgrâ singau hâpnânai ânda zânânai hâkhmâ­nânai thânaisui obâ be mân­sùiâ khâthi zâbâ, khusungkhô nunânai, bîbân dinânai, húsúnaise. Obânú mùkhrâiâ hâgrâ nî frai onkhâtnânai be thâli ârù gur khô lângnânai bongfângau gâkhùhùi­naise. Unau be mânsùiâ khu­sung-khô manekhai, gaigainî nå-i-au thâng-fâ-fin-naise. Benî unau, khusungâ hâgrâ-nî-frai onkhâtnânai fisîkhô nâmainânai man-nânai, thâlit ârù gur bînaise. Khintu mùkhrâiâ thâlit zânânai bigur gazâ, gur zânânai, thinkli gazâ khusungnù hùnaise. Beau­nù khusungâ brâp-naikhai, bîkhô bongfângau dikhâng-lâng-naise. “Nang âng-khô gur ârù thâlit zânai nudang-man. Beau mâ dang, nang gagainù nai.” Bebaidî bungnânai mùkhrâiâ bongfâng-nî-frai onkhatnânai thângnaise Phâre khusungâ beaunù thânânai onkhâtnù haiâkhùise. Be bong­fângnî sing-thing baidî baidî omâ thângdangman. Khintu raubô bîkhô on-â-khùise. Unau, gândâ brai mâse be thing thângbâ bî bîkhô khulumnânai bungnaise “Âfâ, nang ângkhô onbâ âng nangnî bîkhung sâïau bât-drùm-nù nâmâiù.” Beaunù gândaiâ bîkhô onnânai thinnaise. Thin-bâ, bî bât-drùm-naise. Obânù gândâ-hâ zânzi bai-naise! Obâ­niâ, bîkhô khusungâ hâgrâ zang khupnânai dinnânai, razânî nåau thângnânai razâ zånai khâmflai sing-au thâ-hùi-naise. Phâ zeblâ mel khun khun zâdangman, obâ khusungâ khîphînâise. Razâ bîkhô khnânânai “Sùr khîphî­dang? Khîthù dân!” Beaunù boibô “Âng khîphîâkhùi” hannâ­nai bungnaise. Ârù bebaidînù khonnesùi khîphîni-au, sâse mân­sùiâ bîkhô razâ nî khâmflai singau nuhoṭnaise. Nunânai razâni sigângau bung-naise “Âfâ, nang­thâng âng-khô dân lâgi-bù, âng manse khorâng khithânù nâmâiù. Nangthângnî khâmflai singau-nù mâbâ mâse dang. Âng mithîgo bînù khîphîdang.” Phâre razâiâ nainânai, bîkhô nunânai, khîthù dânnù thinnaise. Obâniâ khu­sungâ bungnaise “Âfâ nang ângnî khîthû dâ dân! Âng nangthâng-nù gândâ mâse hùgan.” Beaunù razâiâ brâpnâ­nai, bîbînai-baidi-nù mânsùi zâbrâ bî zang hùnânai hoṭnaise. Bî thângnânai, gândâ-khô boi bong­fang guriau khithî-hui-naise. Mânsùifur gândâkhô lâbonânai, razânî singau hùbâ, razâ hontoh zânânai bînù gorai mâse hùnaise. A tortoise and a monkey were great friends, and as they were on the road one day, a man passed laden with plantains. And the monkey, seeing him, said “You go and wait on the road, and when the man pursues you, run away. And so the man put down his load (the monkey having hid in the jungle), and ran after the tortoise. Then the monkey came out of the jungle and took the plantains and molasses that the man bare, and climbed with them into a tree. Then the man, not being able to catch the tortoise, returned, and, not getting his things, went home. Then the tortoise returned and asked his friend for his share of the plantains and molasses. And the monkey offered him for molasses potsherds, and for plantains their skins only; and, when the tortoise insisted, the monkey got angry and hoisted his friend into the tree, saying “See for yourself, if any plantains or molasses be left.” And so he went away and left him. And he could not get down, and one by one various animals came under the tree, but could not help him. And last of these came a very aged rhinoceros, and the tortoise begged leave to jump down on his back. And to this the rhinoceros consented, and so the tortoise leapt down, with such force that he broke the old rhinoceros’ back. Then he covered up the corpse with leaves, and going to the king’s court, sat him down under the king’s throne; and, when the royal council was assembled, the tortoise sneezed loudly, “Who dared to sneeze?” said the king. “Cut off his nose!” But they all with one accord declared that they had not sneezed, and, after he had sneezed once or twice again, some one saw the tortoise under the king’s throne. So he said respectfully “If your Majesty wishes, you can kill me, but I have something to say: There is some living thing under your Majesty’s throne. Without doubt, it was that which sneezed.” On which the king, looking under his throne, saw the tortoise, and ordered them to cut off his nose. But the tortoise said “Do not cut off my nose, and in return I will give your Majesty a rhinoceros.” And at first the king was angry, but for his entreating gave him men with him to fetch his rhinoceros, and when the men returned with the body of the rhinoceros, the king was very pleased, and gave the tortoise a horse.
Be gorâiau uthînânai khâtbaibâ, mùkhrâiâ nunânai sùng-bâ, bî bungnaise “Be goraikhô ângnù razâiâ hunai.” Obânù bî sùng­naise “Mâbrùi razâiâ nangnù hùnai?” Beaunù bî khithânaise, “Nang ângkhô zî bangfâng sâiau gâr-bu-dangman; âng beaunù thânânai, lâmâkhândâ mâse-nî sâiau bongfâng-nî-frai bât-drûm­bâ, bî thoinaise. Unau âng bînî sâiau zâbrâ zigâp hung-nânai hùsinnânai bîkhô dinnânai razânî sigâng-au gândâ nî khorâng khithânaise. Beaunù razâiâ ângnù hontoh zânânai, be gorai­khô hùdang.” Beaunù mùkhrâiâ bî khithânai baidî khamnaise. Râjâiâ bîkhô nunânai brâpnânai khîthû dânnaise. Zapbai! And as he was riding off, he met the monkey and told him that the king had given him the horse. And when the monkey asked him why, he said that he had jumped on to a common lizard from the tree, on which the monkey had left him and had killed it. And that then he had covered it up with leaves and told the king it was a rhinoceros. And the king was pleased and gave him a horse. So the monkey killed a lizard, and went and told the king it was a rhinoceros, and got his nose cut off for his pains. And that’s all!