THE COCKEREL.
Long ago, in the old days, the birds all lived at Diriuna, which is at the foot of the hill country of Magavara. But of Diriuna nothing now remains, save only the circle of stones where the birds used to sit in council.
One night they were all dancing, and in their pleasure saw not that their fire had died down until not a spark was left to glimmer in the ashes. In the morning, therefore, when they arose, they wept for their warm fire, which was now dead.
But Kokorereko, the cockerel, when he was asked, promised to bring fresh fire that they might kindle it anew, and he set off, his strong wings cleaving the air. He flew, and flew, until he had covered many miles, and then alighted in the bush on a rock. With such force did he descend that his feet sank into the hard rock, and the mark of them remains to this day.
Where he alighted he slept, and the next day he flew on once more until he reached Kaierara, the long cape which stretches into the sea. There he saw a beautiful girl sitting alone in a house. Her ears hung low with weighty earrings, and her teeth were black as the seeds of wild bananas, from eating much betel nut.
When the girl looked on the comely Kokorereko she loved him, and she tried to hold him that he might not leave her. But he picked up a burning brand from the fire, and turned to go.
"Ah, tell me then," she cried, as he turned to go, "tell me, at least, where thou livest."
"Journey till the cape is rounded," he answered as he spread his wings, "and where the voice of drum and conch shell is heard in my village."
Alas! he had gone, and the girl shed many tears. But after a little her father and mother returned home, and she persuaded them by much weeping, to take her in their canoe to look for Kokorereko. They started soon. The little platform on the outrigger was laden with food for the journey. There were coconuts also to tempt Kokorereko, and a basket of plaited leaves in which to place him if he were caught.
They paddled, and paddled, and they rounded the cape. Then the girl cried, "Hark! do you not hear the voice of the drum?" They had reached the village of Lamogara, but that was not the home of Kokorereko.
"Nay," answered her father, "it is but a child idly playing. There is no dancing here."
So they laid hold of their paddles once more, and again the canoe cut through the clear water. And now it was night.
"The bird lied to thee, child," said the mother fretfully.
"Ah! but can you not hear it?" cried the girl with joy. "Pampam! pampam! It is the home of my love, my lord!"
In truth they had at least reached Diriuna, and in the dim starlight they saw birds with waving wings dancing beneath the palms.
The canoe floated outside till morning, for in that light who might know Kokorereko from another?
At last "Uba," the cold morning wind, blew from off the mountain, and one by one the stars began to fade. Then far over Kaierara the dawn broke, and slowly, very slowly, the birds woke and came out from their sleeping chamber one by one. First came Binama, the hornbill.
"Is that thy lover?" asked the father.
"Nay, but that is another bird," said the girl.
And so in like manner with the parrot, the black cockatoo, and the wagtail. At last came the bird of paradise.
"Surely now I see him," said the man.
"No," replied his daughter proudly. "My love is far more beautiful."
And now her long waiting met with its reward, for Kokorereko, the Chief of all the birds, came slowly forth. The eager girl held out her coconuts, saying, "Come, take what I have brought thee, my lord."
"Nay, but bring them hither," spake Kokorereko, for though coconuts were indeed his food, yet he was a great chief, and might not obey the voice of a woman.
"Alas! I may not take them to thee, my lord," lied the girl. 'Come down, I pray thee, to the water's edge."
Kokorereko thought for a time. Then he considered that this girl was but a traveller. "Here this morning, but gone by night," he said in his heart, and very slowly he walked towards the canoe.
And now, ah, woe! Quickly, as he stooped, was the basket laid upon his head until it covered him completely. Then in the darkness he was placed upon the canoe, and taken swiftly to Kaierara once more. Since that sad day, Kokorereko and his tribe live ever with the sons of men in their dwellings and about their feet.
But at Diriuna, where Kokorereko's followers were, great was the sorrow, and loud was the wailing which arose.
"Airake! our lord! Airake! our master!" cried all the birds. And no more was Diriuna a village. For Binama, the hornbill, fled to a hollow tree, where he remains even to this day. Iviki, the quail, chose the grass for her home. Kivivi, the plover, said, "By the sea shall I dwell," and all the other birds went far away into the jungle, and built their nests. And that is why Diriuna is no longer the Village of Birds, but is called Numa Pupu, or Desolation.