the hut.

'Koane! Koane!' cried she, 'come and help me to plug up the hole. There
will be no milk left for our father and mother.' But Koane could not
stop it any more than Thakane, and soon the milk was flowing through the
hut downhill towards their parents in the fields below.

The man saw a white stream a long way off, and guessed what had
happened.

'Wife, wife,' he called loudly to the woman, who was working at a little
distance: 'Do you see Koumongoe running fast down the hill? That is some
mischief of the children's, I am sure. I must go home and find out what
is the matter.' And they both threw down their hoes and hurried to the
side of Koumongoe.

Kneeling on the grass, the man and his wife made a cup of their hands
and drank the milk from it. And no sooner had they done this, than
Koumongoe flowed back again up the hill, and entered the hut.

'Thakane,' said the parents, severely, when they reached home panting
from the heat of the sun, 'what have you been doing? Why did Koumongoe
come to us in the fields instead of staying in the garden?'

'It was Koane's fault,' answered Thakane. 'He would not take the cattle
to feed until he drank some of the milk from Koumongoe. So, as I did not
know what else to do, I gave it to him.'

The father listened to Thakane's words, but made no answer. Instead,
he went outside and brought in two sheepskins, which he stained red
and sent for a blacksmith to forge some iron rings. The rings were then
passed over Thakane's arms and legs and neck, and the skins fastened on
her before and behind. When all was ready, the man sent for his servants
and said:

'I am going to get rid of Thakane.'

'Get rid of your only daughter?' they answered, in surprise. 'But why?'

'Because she has eaten what she ought not to have eaten. She has touched
the sacred tree which belongs to her mother and me alone.' And, turning
his back, he called to Thakane to follow him, and they went down the
road which led to the dwelling of an ogre.

They were passing along some fields where the corn was ripening, when a
rabbit suddenly sprang out at their feet, and standing on its hind legs,
it sang:

Why do you give to the ogre Your child, so fair, so fair?

'You had better ask her,' replied the man, 'she is old enough to give
you an answer.'

Then, in her turn, Thakane sang:

I gave Koumongoe to Koane, Koumongoe to the keeper of beasts; For
without Koumongoe they could not go to the meadows: With