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It wasn't long before he had gathered what he needed to look like a saintly stork. Round his ankles were two gold rings set with blood-red rubies. Round his shoulders draped a rich red cape. Around his neck strung a necklace of holy beads and on his head sat a felt hat adorned with flowers of beaten gold topped by a sparkling diamond. After an age of preening and admiring his reflection in a nearby pond, Bebaka set off in the direction of the river.
Arriving at the same deep pools where he had seen the priest, Bebaka stood on the riverbank on one leg and jangled his prayer bell. He was by now quite famished.
Soon enough several fat fish and the meaty mud crab appeared. A little startled to see the stork rather than the priest, they gaped in awe at Bebaka as he intoned a prayer and gave his blessing.
The mud crab spoke first. "What are you doing here?" he asked the bird. "Has the Pedanda sent you? What do you want from us?"
Bebaka rolled his head and replied: "I have been sent here to warn you that you are in very grave danger. Men with large poles and nets are on their way, as we speak, to catch you and take you home for their tea."
"Oh no!" cried the carp. "Whatever shall we do? We have heard stories about these men and their fishing rods. How can we escape?"
"Don't be afraid," answered Bebaka. "I am here to save you. I will myself take you out of this pool to safer waters. Just jump into my mouth and I will fly you to a place where you will never have to be afraid again."
The mud crab looked doubtful, but the fish were so scared they were ready to believe the holy bird.
As Bebaka opened his mouth, the first of the fish jumped into his lower beak. Bebaka gently closed his mouth and flew off. Their flight was very short because, as soon as they were out of sight of the others, Bebaka flew down to a large rock and prepared to enjoy his meal.
This fish was much bigger than the small fishes he was used to scooping up in his large beak in the paddy and it took him rather a long time to swallow the fat carp whole. As the fish went down his gullet it wriggled and twisted but soon enough it was safely in Bebaka's stomach. Bebaka burped loudly with appreciation and spat out the bony remains of the fish. He left these bones on the rock below.
Then he flew back to the deep pool and repeated the journey with the second carp, who soon found out to his horror that Bebaka was not a holy stork at all.
In no time, Bebaka had gobbled five fish and left their bones on the rock. He was very full indeed. But being a greedy bird, and believing he still had room for one more tasty morsel, he flew over to the pool and found the juicy mud crab.
"Where exactly have you taken those fishes?" asked the crab who was a rather suspicious fellow.
"Oh, I have taken them out of harm's way," said Bebaka, "to a place where no one will make a meal of them."
"But you weren't gone very long," argued the crab. "How do I know I will be safe from these fishermen you speak of?"
"I am a holy stork," answered Bebaka. "I am all-seeing and all-knowing, so I guarantee if you come with me you will never encounter the fisherman's net."
The crab studied Bebakas holy garb a moment longer, then decided to put aside his fears and go along with him.
As Bebaka opened his mouth, the crab jumped in and the pair took off. As they flew, the crab peered out with his swivelling eyes to watch where they were going.
When Bebaka landed on his rock once more, the crab's eyes nearly fell out in shock. He had spied the pile of fish bones and realized to his horror that Bebaka was not a saint at all, but just a greedy bird who had eaten his friends.
Bebaka tried to swallow the crab as he had the other fish, but that wasn't a very smart thing to do. The crab, with its hard shell and strong pincers, didn't go down well at all. He started a merry dance in Bebaka's throat, and then clamped as hard as he could on the bird's gullet. Bebaka started to choke. He coughed and coughed, but the crab hung on with all his might. Bebaka shook his head from side to side, trying to fling the creature from his mouth. But still the crab held on.
Finally Bebaka collapsed in a heap next to the bones of his fishy victims.
The crab quickly crawled out and buried himself in a hole in the riverbank. "What a lucky escape!" he thought to himself.
Bebaka miraculously began to breathe again. After a little while, the crab stuck his head out of the hole and asked the stork, who was still lying on the ground: "Are you alive?"
"Only just," replied Bebaka softly.
"Let this be a lesson to you," said the crab. "You lied to us. You pretended to be a holy bird when you were nothing of the kind."
"I am sorry," said Bebaka, full of remorse. His brush with death had made him realize how precious life was. He was also ashamed of his trickery.
Slowly he dragged himself up and, head bowed in shame, he took off his priest's clothes and discarded his bell. Once he had regained his strength, he flew home to his nest and decided that, from then on, he would be the holiest of holy birds. He wouldn't tell any more lies and he would share whatever he had with anyone who came along.
The Golden Axe
In a little hut on the fringes of a forest there once lived a poor woodcutter named Lentjod. He was a kind old man who lived with his wife and made his living from chopping firewood which he sold in a nearby village.
Lentjod enjoyed his work, though it had not made him rich. He barely earned enough money to pay for food for himself and his wife. His six children, now grown up, had gone to work in the village. Lentjod missed them all but there was nothing he could do. He wanted to build a big house for everyone to live in together but he just didn't have enough money.
One particularly fine spring morning, Lentjod was outside as usual, cutting wood by the side of a deep gorge that dropped towards a raging river. Chop, chop, chop, went his axe as he cut a fallen tree trunk into equal pieces.
Then Lentjod swung too hard and his axe flew from his hands. He watched in horror as it went tumbling down the gully, bouncing over rocks and moss until it hit the water with a loud splash.
"Oh no!" he cried. "My axe!"
Without his axe, Lentjod would not be able to work and he certainly couldn't afford to buy a new one. He would have to climb down the gully and try to find it. Slowly and carefully he clambered down the steep slope, wheezing as he went—for Lentjod was not a young man any more.
Finally he reached the water's edge, but he could not see his axe beneath the swirling currents, hard as he peered. He walked up and down the river's edge and kept searching, but there was no sign of it.
Just as he was about to give up and go home, he was startled by the sight of a young woman bathing in a shallow rock pool by the raging river. She was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen.
He had no way of knowing, of course, that this was not an ordinary girl. In fact, she was a dedari —a Balinese fairy—who had come down to earth from heaven, to bathe. Not wishing to intrude, Lentjod turned to leave. But it was too late; she had seen him.
"Wait," she commanded. As Lentjod turned, she asked gently: "What troubles you, old man? I can see that you have lost something that is of great value to you."
Her voice was as soft and magical as the tinkle of a silver bell.
Lentjod was spellbound and started telling her about his loss and how he would not be able to make