Before the world was made, there were Tagamaling.  The Tagamaling is the best Buso, because he does not want to hurt man all of the time.  Tagamaling is actually Buso only a part of the time; that is, the month when he eats people.  One month he eats human flesh, and then he is Buso; the next month he eats no human flesh, and then he is a god.  So he alternates, month by month.  The month he is Buso, he wants to eat man during the dark of the moon; that is, between the phases that the moon is full in the east and new in the west.

The other class of Buso, however, wants human flesh all of the time.  They are the Tigbanua’, the chief of whom is Datu of all the Buso.  A Tigbanua’ lives in his own house, and goes out only to eat the bodies of the dead.

The Tagamaling makes his house in trees that have hard wood, and low, broad-spreading branches.  His house is almost like gold, and is called “Palimbing,” but it is made so that you cannot see it; and, when you pass by, you think, “Oh! what a fine tree with big branches,” not dreaming that it is the house of a Tagamaling.  Sometimes, when you walk in the forest, you think you see one of their houses; but when you come near to the place, there is nothing.  Yet you can smell the good things to eat in the house.

Once a young man named Duling, and his younger brother, went out into the woods to trap wild chickens.  Duling had on his back a basket holding a decoy cock, together with the snares of running-nooses and all the parts of the trap.  While they were looking for a good spot to drive in the stakes for the snare, they heard the voice of Tagamaling in the trees, saying, “Duling, Duling, come in!  My mother is making a little fiesta here.”

The boys looked up, and could see the house gleaming there in the branches, and there were two Tagamaling-women calling to them.  In response to the call, Duling’s younger brother went up quickly into the house; but Duling waited on the ground below.  He wanted the Tagamaling-girls to come down to him, for he was enamoured (kalatugan) of them.  Then one girl ran down to urge Duling to come up into the tree.  And as soon as she came close to him, he caught her to his breast, and hugged her and caressed her.

In a moment, Duling realized that the girl was gone, and that he was holding in his arms a nanga-bush, full of thorns.  He had thought to catch the girl, but, instead, sharp thorns had pricked him full of sores.  Then from above he heard the woman’s voice, tauntingly sweet, “Don’t feel bad, Duling; for right here is your younger brother.”

Yet the young man, gazing here and there, saw around him only tall trees, and could not catch a glimpse of the girl who mocked him.

Immediately, Duling, as he stood there, was turned into a rock.  But the little brother married the Tagamaling-girl.

There is a place high up in the mountains of Mindanao, about eight hours’ ride west of Santa Cruz, where you may see the rock, and you will know at once that it is a human figure.  There is Duling, with the trap and the decoy cock on his shoulder.  You may see the cock’s feathers too.