THE TALKING BANANAS.
In the old days lived a man and his wife who had one little son. They dwelt in peace, and had but one fear. This was that some day the witch on the hill behind the house might come down and kill their little child.
Now it fell on a day that the husband and wife desired to go fishing. To do thus they must needs leave their child behind. But they guarded against the witch by cutting a bunch of bananas, which they hung up in the house. Then they bade the bananas answer if anyone spake to them, and they set out.
Fish were plentiful, therefore the man and woman built a little platform on which they smoked a great many of the fish they had caught. Now the smoking of fish cannot be hastened, or they will not be pleasant eating, so the little lad had many days to remain alone.
Nevertheless he did not fret. There was a swing of jungle creeper hanging from the big almond tree in front of the house, and he spent most of the day there. Each day, too, he pulled a ripe banana from the bunch and ate it.
Soon the witch, who often spied upon the child, began to think that he was alone. Then growing bolder, she crept down the hill and drew near to the swing where the child sat.
"Art alone, child?" she asked.
"Of a truth, no," answered the child.
"Who are with thee, then?"
"Au rava (my kinsfolk)," answered he.
"I would fain hear their voices," she said.
"Au rava!" called the child, and his voice was shrill.
"U!" answered the bananas from the house. Then the witch made haste back to her home on the hill, for she dared not harm the child if any grown persons were nigh.
But the next day she thought upon it, and said in her heart that the voice might be that of a visitor. So, hungering for human flesh, she crept down the hill again. The child had been eating bananas every day, and there were but a few on the stalk. Yet they knew their work and fulfilled it.
"Who are with thee?" asked the witch once more.
"Au rava," answered the child.
"I would fain hear their voices."
"Au rava!" he called to the bananas.
"U!" they answered from the house within, and their voice was low.
She hastened home again. And in like manner was it every day. Then alas! came an evil day. The little lad, being hungry, picked the last banana on the stalk, and ate it. When he had made an end of eating, he went out and sat on the swing under the almond tree.
Not long was he there ere the witch came again, and asked the child who were with him.
"Au rava," he made answer as was his custom.
"Then let me hear them speak," said the witch.
"Au rava!" he called.
But all was still, for there were no bananas left to speak.
Then did the witch's eyes gleam, and she drew a little nearer, and said in a soft voice,
"Thy people may be sleeping. Call louder, child, that I may listen to their voices."
"Au rava!" shouted the child.
For a moment the witch stood and waited. But there was no sound. Then she knew that the child had lied, and that he was alone. Therefore she fell upon him straightway, and killed him, and took from his body his liver, which was what she had desired. Then she thrust leaves into the opening she had made, and closed the edges. When she had thus done, she wrapped the dead child in his little mat, and laid him in the house, and made haste back to the hill where she dwelt.
Now it came to pass that in a little the child's father and mother returned from their fishing. They had with them strings of fresh fish, and, moreover, piles of those they had smoked.
"Little son will like some fish," said the father.
"Yea, truly," answered his wife, as she went into the house. "But look," she cried, pointing to the mat in the corner, "he is asleep."
"Ah, wake him then," said her husband. "He will not like to sleep now we are home."
Then did the woman gently shake the child by the shoulder, but he stirred not. And she laid her hand on his cheek. "Ah! lord," she cried to her husband. "Our child is cold and still. Come thou and waken him."
The man ran quickly and caught the child in his arms. But even then they saw the hole the witch had torn in his flesh, and they knew what had befallen him. The man gave the dead child to his mother, and went to get his stone axe.
"It is not sharp enough," he said, and began to sharpen it until its edge was keen enough to cleave ebony.
Then he called up the hill to the witch.
"Kaidurum (old woman), here is fish for thee," he cried.
But the witch feared to venture down, therefore she called back, "Tell thy wife to bring it hither."
"Nay," lied the man, "but her foot is sore. Do thou come."
The witch longed for the fish, and at last hunger overcame her fears, and she came down. Now when she reached the doorway she looked in before entering, so that she might run up the hill if harm were meant.
But the man awaited her inside, and as soon as the witch's head appeared he brought his stone axe down with great force on her neck. Then she fell to the ground, and much blood was shed.
"I have taken vengeance!" cried the man, and he caught the old woman's body in his arms and ran up the hill to her house. He entered, and laid her down on her own mat. Then with his axe he cut down every post, and the house lay in ruins over the body of the witch. But not for long, for the man seized a burning piece of wood and set fire to the corners of the house, and the flames of it rose to the sky. So did the witch perish and become ashes at the hand of the man whose son she had slain.