This sort of mischief the Afang liked to play, especially about the
time when the oat and barley crops were ripe and ready to be gathered
to make cakes and flummery; that is sour oat-jelly, or pap. So it
often happened that the children had to do without their cookies and
porridge during the winter. Sometimes the floods rose so high as to
wash away the houses and float the cradles. Even those with little
babies in them were often seen on the raging waters, and sent dancing
on the waves down the river, to the sea.

Once in a while, a mother cat and all her kittens were seen mewing for
help, or a lady dog howling piteously. Often it happened that both
puppies and kittens were drowned.

So, whether for men or mothers, pussies or puppies, the Cymric men
thought the time had come to stop this monster's mischief. It was bad
enough that people should be eaten up, but to have all their crops
ruined and animals drowned, so that they had to go hungry all winter,
with only a little fried fish, and no turnips, was too much for human
patience. There were too many weeping mothers and sorrowful fathers,
and squalling brats and animals whining for something to eat.

Besides, if all the oats were washed away, how could their wives make
flummery, without which, no Cymric man is ever happy? And where would
they get seed for another year's sowing? And if there were no cows,
how could the babies or kitties live, or any grown-up persons get
buttermilk?

Someone may ask, why did not some brave man shoot the Afang, with a
poisoned arrow, or drive a spear into him under the arms, where the
flesh was tender, or cut off his head with a sharp sword?