The Bones Of Djulung
: The Lilac Fairy Book
In a beautiful island that lies in the southern seas, where
chains of gay orchids bind the trees together, and the days and
nights are equally long and nearly equally hot, there once lived
a family of seven sisters. Their father and mother were dead, and
they had no brothers, so the eldest girl ruled over the rest, and
they all did as she bade them. One sister had to clean the house,
a second carried water from the spr
ng in the forest, a third
cooked their food, while to the youngest fell the hardest task of
all, for she had to cut and bring home the wood which was to keep
the fire continually burning. This was very hot and tiring work,
and when she had fed the fire and heaped up in a corner the
sticks that were to supply it till the next day, she often threw
herself down under a tree, and went sound asleep.
One morning, however, as she was staggering along with her bundle
on her back, she thought that the river which flowed past their
hut looked so cool and inviting that she determined to bathe in
it, instead of taking her usual nap. Hastily piling up her load
by the fire, and thrusting some sticks into the flame, she ran
down to the river and jumped in. How delicious it was diving and
swimming and floating in the dark forest, where the trees were so
thick that you could hardly see the sun! But after a while she
began to look about her, and her eyes fell on a little fish that
seemed made out of a rainbow, so brilliant were the colours he
'I should like him for a pet,' thought the girl, and the next
time the fish swam by, she put out her hand and caught him. Then
she ran along the grassy path till she came to a cave in front of
which a stream fell over some rocks into a basin. Here she put
her little fish, whose name was Djulung-djulung, and promising to
return soon and bring him some dinner, she went away.
By the time she got home, the rice for their dinner was ready
cooked, and the eldest sister gave the other six their portions
in wooden bowls. But the youngest did not finish hers, and when
no one was looking, stole off to the fountain in the forest where
the little fish was swimming about.
'See! I have not forgotten you,' she cried, and one by one she
let the grains of rice fall into the water, where the fish
gobbled them up greedily, for he had never tasted anything so
'That is all for to-day,' she said at last, 'but I will come
again to-morrow,' and biding him good-bye she went down the path.
Now the girl did not tell her sisters about the fish, but every
day she saved half of her rice to give him, and called him softly
in a little song she had made for herself. If she sometimes felt
hungry, no one knew of it, and, indeed, she did not mind that
much, when she saw how the fish enjoyed it. And the fish grew fat
and big, but the girl grew thin and weak, and the loads of wood
felt heavier every day, and at last her sisters noticed it.
Then they took counsel together, and watched her to see what she
did, and one of them followed her to the fountain where Djulung
lived, and saw her give him all the rice she had saved from her
breakfast. Hastening home the sister told the others what she had
witnessed, and that a lovely fat fish might be had for the
catching. So the eldest sister went and caught him, and he was
boiled for supper, but the youngest sister was away in the woods,
and did not know anything about it.
Next morning she went as usual to the cave, and sang her little
song, but no Djulung came to answer it; twice and thrice she
sang, then threw herself on her knees by the edge, and peered
into the dark water, but the trees cast such a deep shadow that
her eyes could not pierce it.
'Djulung cannot be dead, or his body would be floating on the
surface,' she said to herself, and rising to her feet she set out
homewards, feeling all of a sudden strangely tired.
'What is the matter with me?' she thought, but somehow or other
she managed to reach the hut, and threw herself down in a corner,
where she slept so soundly that for days no one was able to wake
At length, one morning early, a cock began to crow so loud that
she could sleep no longer and as he continued to crow she seemed
to understand what he was saying, and that he was telling her
that Djulung was dead, killed and eaten by her sisters, and that
his bones lay buried under the kitchen fire. Very softly she got
up, and took up the large stone under the fire, and creeping out
carried the bones to the cave by the fountain, where she dug a
hole and buried them anew. And as she scooped out the hole with a
stick she sang a song, bidding the bones grow till they became a
tree--a tree that reached up so high into the heavens that its
leaves would fall across the sea into another island, whose king
would pick them up.
As there was no Djulung to give her rice to, the girl soon became
fat again, and as she was able to do her work as of old, her
sisters did not trouble about her. They never guessed that when
she went into the forest to gather her sticks, she never failed
to pay a visit to the tree, which grew taller and more wonderful
day by day. Never was such a tree seen before. Its trunk was of
iron, its leaves were of silk, its flowers of gold, and its fruit
of diamonds, and one evening, though the girl did not know it, a
soft breeze took one of the leaves, and blew it across the sea to
the feet of one of the king's attendants.
'What a curious leaf! I have never beheld one like it before. I
must show it to the king,' he said, and when the king saw it he
declared he would never rest until he had found the tree which
bore it, even if he had to spend the rest of his life in visiting
the islands that lay all round. Happily for him, he began with
the island that was nearest, and here in the forest he suddenly
saw standing before him the iron tree, its boughs covered with
shining leaves like the one he carried about him.
'But what sort of a tree is it, and how did it get here?' he
asked of the attendants he had with him. No one could answer him,
but as they were about to pass out of the forest a little boy
went by, and the king stopped and inquired if there was anyone
living in the neighbourhood whom he might question.
'Seven girls live in a hut down there,' replied the boy, pointing
with his finger to where the sun was setting.
'Then go and bring them here, and I will wait,' said the king,
and the boy ran off and told the sisters that a great chief, with
strings of jewels round his neck, had sent for them.
Pleased and excited the six elder sisters at once followed the
boy, but the youngest, who was busy, and who did not care about
strangers, stayed behind, to finish the work she was doing. The
king welcomed the girls eagerly, and asked them all manner of
questions about the tree, but as they had never even heard of its
existence, they could tell him nothing. 'And if we, who live
close by the forest, do not know, you may be sure no one does,'
added the eldest, who was rather cross at finding this was all
that the king wanted of them.
'But the boy told me there were seven of you, and there are only
six here,' said the king.
'Oh, the youngest is at home, but she is always half asleep, and
is of no use except to cut wood for the fire,' replied they in a
'That may be, but perhaps she dreams,' answered the king.
'Anyway, I will speak to her also.' Then he signed to one of his
attendants, who followed the path that the boy had taken to the
Soon the man returned, with the girl walking behind him. And as
soon as she reached the tree it bowed itself to the earth before
her, and she stretched out her hand and picked some of its leaves
and flowers and gave them to the king.
'The maiden who can work such wonders is fitted to be the wife of
the greatest chief,' he said, and so he married her, and took her
with him across the sea to his own home, where they lived happily
for ever after.
From 'Folk Lore,' by A. F. Mackenzie.