"Formerly Ngamboma and Khuptingi, before they were born, while in their mothers' wombs, they loved each other. When the time for them to be born came near their mothers' bellies pained them. Then if their mothers put their bellies near to each other they got well. Then the children were born. In the jhums when they were placed apart in the jhum house while their mothers were at work they always got together. When they grew bigger they loved each other, and Ngamboma wanted to marry Khuptingi, but their fathers and mothers did not think it wise. Then Ngamboma made an image of Khuptingi in beeswax and tied it to a stump of a tree on the bank of the stream, and whenever the water rose Khuptingi got ill and when it went down she got better. Thus it went on for one year. One day the stream rose and carried away Khuptingi's image, then Khuptingi died. They placed her body in a dead-house. From the decaying matter which fell from her body flowers sprang up, and Ngamboma watched them always. One day a wild cat was going to take away those flowers, but Ngamboma caught it and said, 'Why did you think to steal my flowers--I'll just kill you?' he said. Then the wild cat--'Protector! Do not kill me; I am sent by Khuptingi,' he said. Then Ngamboma--'Where is Khuptingi, then?' he said. Then the wild cat--'If you catch hold of my tail we will both go (to her),' he said. Then the wild cat towed him to the village in which Khuptingi was in the sky, in Mi-thi-khua (the dead-people's-village), and they arrived at Khuptingi's house and they slept there, and they ate rice also together. When they slept together Khuptingi was only bare bones, and Ngamboma said, 'What bones are these?' and he threw them to the top of the wall and to the bottom of the wall (i.e., all about the room). Then the next day Khuptingi--'I am not well,' she said. Ngamboma--'What is the reason?' he said. The Khuptingi--'Last night when I was sleeping near you you threw me to the top of the wall and to the bottom of the wall; for that reason I am in pain,' she said. Then their villagers said, 'Let us go and fish,' they said. They went. The place where they caught fish--indeed it was not a stream, it was a patch of bamboo. The dead called the bamboo leaves fish, and they filled their baskets cram-full, but Ngamboma said to himself, 'They will stop the holes in the baskets with the leaves when they come to the stream so that the fish may not fall out by accident,' he said, and he stopped the holes (in his basket) with leaves. Then they all returned to the village. Ngamboma, by diverting a stream, caught a few fish and returned. When they reached their houses the dead roasted the leaves which they called fish, but when Ngamboma tried to roast them the leaves all burnt up. Then Khuptingi said to Ngamboma, 'The others have caught so many fish; why have you caught so few?' Ngamboma roasted the real fish which he had caught, but they burnt up just like the bamboo leaves. Then one day the people again