good care of their sister that, as
she was very small, she soon forgot that she had ever had a father and
mother.

[From the Bureau of Ethnology, U.S.]

The Sacred Milk of Koumongoe

Far way, in a very hot country, there once lived a man and woman who had
two children, a son named Koane and a daughter called Thakane.

Early in the morning and late in the evenings the parents worked hard
in the fields, resting, when the sun was high, under the shade of some
tree. While they were absent the little girl kept house alone, for her
brother always got up before the dawn, when the air was fresh and cool,
and drove out the cattle to the sweetest patches of grass he could find.

One day, when Koane had slept later than usual, his father and mother
went to their work before him, and there was only Thakane to be seen
busy making the bread for supper.

'Thakane,' he said, 'I am thirsty. Give me a drink from the tree
Koumongoe, which has the best milk in the world.'

'Oh, Koane,' cried his sister, 'you know that we are forbidden to touch
that tree. What would father say when he came home? For he would be sure
to know.'

'Nonsense,' replied Koane, 'there is so much milk in Koumongoe that he
will never miss a little. If you won't give it to me, I sha'n't take the
cattle out. They will just have to stay all day in the hut, and you know
that they will starve.' And he turned from her in a rage, and sat down
in the corner.

After a while Thakane said to him: 'It is getting hot, had you better
drive out the cattle now?'

But Koane only answered sulkily: 'I told you I am not going to drive
them out at all. If I have to do without milk, they shall do without
grass.'

Thakane did not know what to do. She was afraid to disobey her parents,
who would most likely beat her, yet the beasts would be sure to suffer
if they were kept in, and she would perhaps be beaten for that too. So
at last she took an axe and a tiny earthen bowl, she cut a very small
hole in the side of Koumongoe, and out gushed enough milk to fill the
bowl.

'Here is the milk you wanted,' said she, going up to Koane, who was
still sulking in his corner.

'What is the use of that?' grumbled Koane; 'why, there is not enough to
drown a fly. Go and get me three times as much!'

Trembling with fright, Thakane returned to the tree, and struck it a
sharp blow with the axe. In an instant there poured forth such a stream
of milk that it ran like a river into