“Tubu, tubu, bagkang,
    Grow, grow, bagkang,
    Baba, baba mamaa’n.” [115]
    Handle, handle, betel-nut.

But the children, in their turn, said:—­

    “Tubu, tubu, mamaa’n,
    Grow, grow, betel-nut,
    Baba, baba bagkang.” 
    Handle, handle, bagkang.

By and by, when the bagkang-stems had grown so tall as almost to reach the clusters of betel-nuts at the top of the trunk, the boy and girl said to each other.  “Let us pick betel-nuts, and throw them down on the bagkang.”

And as soon as they began to pick, the betel-nuts became so big and heavy that the bagkang-plants fell down when the betel-nuts dropped on them.

Then the Buso went away; and the children climbed down in haste, ran home, and told their mother and father how the Buso had tried to carry them off.

The Buso-Child

Datu Ayo was a great man among the Bagobo, well known throughout the mountain-country for his bravery and his riches.  He had gathered in his house many products of Bagobo workmanship in textiles and brass and fine weapons.  At his death, human sacrifices of slaves were offered up for him.  It was not many years ago that he went down to the great city of the dead, and many of his children and grandchildren are living now.  His sons like to think about their father’s renown; and, as a reminder, the eldest son, Kawayun, always kept in his medicine-case two of the incisor teeth of the great Ayo, until he needed money, and sold the medicine-case with its contents.  It had made Kawayun happy to look at his father’s teeth.

When Datu Ayo died, his wife was about to become a mother.  Now, the Bagobo women know that, when they become pregnant, they must be very careful to protect themselves from the evil Buso.  On going to bed at night, an expectant mother places near her the woman’s knife (gulat), the kampilan, [116] and all the other knives, to frighten Buso away.  Failing this, the Buso will come to the woman while she sleeps, and change her baby into a Buso-child.  One night, the wife of Datu Ayo lay down to sleep without putting any knives near her; and that very night the Buso came, and he transformed her child into a Buso-child.  She did not know when he came, nor did she even think that a Buso had been near her, until her baby was born.

Everybody around the woman at the birth saw that something was the matter with the child.  It was little and frail, and as weak as threads of cotton.  Its body was flat, and its legs and arms were helpless and flabby.  Then all the men said, “That is a Buso-child.”

As the little boy grew old enough to creep, he moved just like a fish, with a sort of wriggling motion.  He could not stand on his feet, for his legs were too weak to support his body; and he could not sit down, but only lie flat.  He could never be dressed in umpak [117] and saroa’r, [118] and his body remained small and puny.