and Massang, in awe at her beauty and power, durst not speak to her, but rose up and followed behind her the whole way she went.
On went the maiden, and ever on followed Massang, over burning plain and through fearful forest, past the sources of mighty rivers and over the snow-clad peaks of the everlasting mountains4, till they reached the dwelling of the gods and the footstool of dread Churmusta5.
Then spoke Churmusta—
“That thou art come hither is good. Every day now we have to sustain the fight with the black Schimnu; to-morrow thou shalt be spectator of the fray, and the next day thou shall take part in it.”
The next day Massang stood at the foot of Churmusta’s throne, and the gods waited around in silence. Massang saw a great herd as of black oxen, as it were early in the morning, driven with terror to the east side by a herd as of white oxen; and again he saw as it were late in the evening, the herd as of white oxen driven to the west side by the herd as of black oxen.
Then spoke the great Churmusta—
“Behold the white oxen are the gods. The black oxen are the Schimnus. To-morrow, when thou seest the herd as of black oxen driving back the white, then string thine iron bow, and search out for thy mark a black ox, bearing a white star on his forehead. Then send thine arrow through the white star, for he is the Schimnu-Khan.
Thus spoke the dread Churmusta.
The next day Massang stood ready with his bow, and did even as Churmusta had commanded. With an arrow from his iron bow he pierced through the white star on the forehead of the black ox, and sent him away roaring and bellowing with pain.
Then spake the dread Churmusta—
“Bravely hast thou dealt, and well hast thou deserved of me. Therefore thou shalt have thy portion with me, and dwell with me for ever.”
But Massang answered—
“Nay, for though I tarried at thy behest to do thy bidding, a promise is upon me which I made when my master would have taken my life. For I said, ‘Spare me now, and be assured I will repay thy clemency.’ ”
Then Churmusta commended him, and bid him do even as he had said. Furthermore he gave him a talisman to preserve him by the way, and gave him this counsel—
“Journeying, thou shalt be overcome by sleep, and having through sleeping forgotten the way, thou shalt arrive at the gate of the Schimnu-Khan. Then beware that thou think not to save thyself by flight. Knock, rather, boldly at the door, saying, ‘I am a physician.’ When they hear that they will bring thee to the Schimnu-Khan that thou mayest try thine art in drawing out the arrow from his forehead. Then place thyself as though thou wouldst remove it, but rather with a firm grasp drive it farther in, so that it enter his brain, first offering up with thine hand seven barley-corns to heaven; and after this manner thou shalt kill the Schimnu-Khan.”
Thus commanded the dread Churmusta.
Then Massang came down from the footstool of Churmusta and the dwelling of the gods, and went forth to seek out his master. But growing weary with the length of the day, and lying down to sleep, when he woke he had forgotten the direction he had to take, so he pursued the path which lay before him, and it led him to the portal of the Schimnu palace.
When he saw it was the Schimnu palace, he would have made good his escape from its precincts, but remembering the words of Churmusta, he knocked boldly at the door. Then the Schimnus flocked round him, and told him he must die unless he could do some service whereby his life might be redeemed; and Massang made answer, “I am a physician.” Hearing that, they took him in to the Schimnu-Khan, that he might pluck the arrow out of his forehead.
Massang stood before the Schimnu-Khan; but when he should have pulled out the arrow, he only pulled it out a little way, and the Schimnu-Khan said—
“Thus far is the pang diminished.”
Then, however, first casting seven barley-corns on high towards heaven, he plunged it in again even to the centre of his brain, so that he fell down at his feet dead. And as the seven barley-corns reached the heavens, there came down by their track an iron chain with a thundering clang which the dread Churmusta sent down to Massang, and Massang climbed up by the chain to the dwelling of the gods. But there stood by the throne of the Schimnu-Khan a female Schimnu, out of whose mouth came forth forked flames of fire, and when she saw Massang ascending to heaven by the chain, she raised an iron hammer high in air to strike it, and cleave it in two. But when she struck it, there issued seven bright sparks, which floated up to heaven, and remained fixed in the sky; and men called them the constellation of the Pleiades.
“Thus, for all his promise, and after all his sacrifices, Massang never went back to repay his master’s clemency!” exclaimed the Khan.
And as he let these words escape him the Siddhî-kür replied, “Forgetting his health, the Well-and-wise-walking Khan hath opened his lips!” And with the cry, “To escape out of this world is good!” he sped him through the air, swift, out of sight.
Thus far of the Adventures of the Well-and-wise-walking Khan the third chapter, showing how the Schimnu-Khan was slain.
Tale IV.
Then, when he saw he had again missed the end and object of his journey, the Well-and-wise-walking Khan again set out as at the first, till with toil and terror he reached the cool grove where lay the dead. At his approach the Siddhî-kür clambered up into the mango-tree, but rather than let the tree be destroyed he came down at the word of the Khan threatening to fell it. Then the Khan bound him in his bag and bore him away to offer to the Master and Teacher Nâgârg′una.
But when they had proceeded many days the Siddhî-kür said, “Tell, now, a tale, seeing the way is long and weary, and we are like to die of weariness if we go on thus speaking never a word between us.” But the Khan, mindful of the monition of his Master and Teacher Nâgârg′una, answered him nothing. Then said the Siddhî-kür, “If thou wilt not tell a tale, at least give me the token by which I may know that thou willest I should tell one.”
So the Well-and-wise-walking Khan nodded his head backwards towards him, and the Siddhî-kür told this tale, saying—
The Pig’s Head Soothsayer.
Long ages ago a man and his wife were living on the borders of a flourishing kingdom. The wife was a good housewife, who occupied herself with looking after the land and the herds; but the husband was a dull, idle man, who did nothing but eat, drink, and sleep from morning to night and from night to morning. One day, when his wife could no longer endure to see him going on thus indolently, she cried out to him, “Leave off thus idling thyself; get up and gird thyself like a man, and seek employment. Behold, thy father’s inheritance is well nigh spent; the time is come that thou find the means to eke it out.”
And when he weakly asked her in return, “Wherein shall I seek to eke it out?” she answered him, “How should I be able to tell this thing, but at least get thee up and make some endeavour; get thee up and look round the place and see what thou canst find,” and with that she went
