m go home and look after the little
girl, who had no one else to protect her.

And this the boys did, and took such 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 away, 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 not
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, an