“Let my dog out at once, bear chief!” cried he. “If you do not, I shall destroy your palace.” But the bear chief only laughed, and said nothing. The boy was very angry at his silence, and aiming one of his arrows at the bottom of the mountain, shot straight through it. As the arrow touched the ground a rumbling was heard, and with a roar a fire broke out which seemed to split the whole mountain into pieces. The bear chief and all his servants were burnt up in the flames, but his sister and all that belonged to her were spared because she had tried to save the two elder boys from punishment. As soon as the fire had burnt itself out the little hunter entered what was left of the mountain, and the first thing he saw was his two brothers—half bear, half boy. “Oh, help us! help us!” cried they, standing on their hind legs as they spoke, and stretching out their fore-paws to him. “But how am I to help you?” asked the little brother, almost weeping. “I can kill people, and destroy trees and mountains, but I have no power over men.” And the two elder brothers came up and put their paws on his shoulders, and they all three wept together. The heart of the bear chief’s sister was moved when she saw their misery, and she came gently up behind, and whispered: “Little boy, gather some moss from the spring over there, and let your brothers smell it.” With a bound all three were at the spring, and as the youngest plucked a handful of wet moss, the two others sniffed at it with all their might. Then the bearskin fell away from them, and they stood upright once more. “How can we thank you? how can we thank you?” they stammered, hardly able to speak; and fell at her feet in gratitude. But the bear’s sister only smiled, and bade them 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 Koumongoé 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 Koumongoé, 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.”