The earth was once entirely flat but was pressed up into mountains by a mythical woman, Agusanan.  It has always rested on the back of a great eel whose movements cause earthquakes.  Sometimes crabs or other small animals annoy him until, in his rage, he attempts to reach them, then the earth is shaken so violently that whole mountains are thrown into the sea.

A great lake exists in the sky and it is the spray from its waves which fall to the earth as rain.  When angered the spirits sometimes break the banks of this lake and allow torrents of water to fall on the earth below.

According to Mr. Maxey, the Mandaya of Cateel believe that many generations ago a great flood occurred which caused the death of all the inhabitants of the world except one pregnant woman.  She prayed that her child might be a boy.  Her prayer was answered and she gave birth to a son whose name was Uacatan.  He, when he had grown up, took his mother for his wife and from this union have sprung all the Mandaya.

Quite a different account is current among the people of Mayo.  From them we learn that formerly the limokon,[1] although a bird, could talk like a man.  At one time it laid two eggs, one at the mouth and one at the source of the Mayo river.  These hatched and from the one at the headwaters of the river came a woman named Mag,[2] while a man named BEgenday[3] emerged from the one near the sea.  For many years the man dwelt alone on the bank of the river, but one day, being lonely and dissatisfied with his location, he started to cross the stream.  While he was in deep water a long hair was swept against his legs and held him so tightly that he narrowly escaped drowning.  When he succeeded in reaching the shore he examined the hair and at once determined to find its owner.  After wandering many days he met the woman and induced her to be his wife.  From this union came all the Mandaya.

[1] See p. 63 note.

[2] Also known as Manway.

[3] Also known as Samay.

A variant of this tale says that both eggs were laid up stream and that one hatched a woman, the other a snake.  The snake went down the current until it arrived at the place where the sea and the river meet.  There it blew up and a man emerged from its carcass.  The balance of the tale is as just related.  This close relationship of the limokon to the Mandaya is given as the reason why its calls are given such heed.  A traveler on the trail hearing the cooing of this bird at once doubles his fist and points it in the direction from whence the sound came.  If this causes the hand to point to the right side it is a sign that success will attend the journey.[3] If, however, it points to the left, in front, or in back, the Mandaya knows that the omen bird is warning him of danger or failure, and he delays or gives up his mission.  The writer was once watching some Mandaya as they were clearing a piece of land, preparatory to the planting.  They had labored about two hours when the call of the limokon was heard to the left of the owner.  Without hesitation the men gathered up their tools and left the plot, explaining that it was useless for them to plant there for the limokon had warned them that rats would eat any crop they might try to grow in that spot.