Noon found him asleep in the fields of _kaoliang_, that giant millet
growing twelve feet high which is so dense that one may become lost in
its golden tangle. Utterly worn out, he had crept into this safe
hiding-place, and amidst the drone of the countless insects he had
dropped on his back, and lost consciousness--a small, unobserved
creature on the face of a troubled earth.
Yet in spite of his fatigue his sleep was disturbed. Uneasy dreams made
him thrash around and babble confused talk. He again lived through all
his experiences of the night before and found no comfort in the success
which had crowned his efforts. To escape from the great city in the
manner he had done was a feat which should have brought him peace.
Nevertheless as he slept he constantly heard his master's voice chiding
him for not showing more haste. The voice was so clear that he
understood perfectly everything that was said; and--strangest of
all--the three mysterious words which every one had spoken at the last
fateful interview, when he had been committed to this enterprise,
sounded unendingly in his ears in a great undertone.
Perhaps it was the harsh grinding of the cicadas which brought back the
message so insistently as he lay semi-conscious; for the cicadas were
singing with all the might which is theirs in the summer months.
Well--he had travelled far and braved many risks--was that not enough?
No--for now his master stood immediately over him, a huge figure full of
awe. His red beard bristled as he spoke with the force of his superior
judgment; and as the boy watched thunderstruck, the red beard came
nearer and nearer in a menacing way until at length he could feel the
bristles sticking into his face....
With a startled cry he awoke and threw off some millet stalks which had
fallen across him. Now he yawned and shook himself like a dog. He was
fully awake but still a little frightened. The vividness of the
apparition slowly disappeared like clouds driven along the skies by a
high wind. As he sat up and tightened his belt he was suddenly
overwhelmed by the great emptiness which oppressed his stomach.
"I haven't eaten for a whole day,--that is apart from the melon," he
grumbled, looking down at his thin body, and scratching his arms and
hands morosely. "It is possible to die of starvation even with food
growing around you."
Now he jumped up, and went rustling through the grain. In a land of
poverty--where the struggle for existence is bitter and keen--not to eat
is a confession of failure.
There were acres and acres of the same field; and as he threaded his way
forward he cursed the owners for their greed in tilling so much land.
But at length the great field ceased; and he came out suddenly on to a
rutted roadway and saw in the distance a tumble-down little red
building. It was a country shrine. He studied it critically for a long
while, and then remembered, from the manner in which three trees grew
beside it, having seen it before. It was about twenty _li_--seven miles
counted in English--to the southeast of the capital. He had come twenty
_li_ since he had left the last city gate.
Reassured, he went up to the closed doors without further hesitation.
"_Lao-ho-shang_ (old harmonious and esteemed one)," he loudly called,
hammering with his fists on the rotting woodwork, "a foodless man is at
your gateway. Distribute your goodness. _Lao-ho-shang, lao-ho-shang_,
come to your door!"
He repeated his call more and more vigorously; and presently there was
the sound of slow footsteps and the gate was cautiously unbarred. But it
was only opened an inch or so by a priest who was neither old nor young,
and who was clad in a garment of faded saffron edged with black.
The priest eyed him suspiciously for a long time and at last commenced
this interrogatory:
"How far have you journeyed?"
"Many miles from the South, many miles indeed."
"And what is your purpose in journeying when all is unsettled?"
"I seek my relatives because my father is dead."
"Where are your relatives?"
"In the city--"
"And what is your name?"
The boy without hesitation continued to lie calmly in the way all his
countrymen readily do--that is when they are pressed.
"I am called Liu--I am the second in the family--Liu Erh--I have walked
a hundred miles to find my relatives. Food is what I need to soothe my
hunger. A little hot food."
"Um,"--said the priest, "I, too, am short of food. For a fortnight I
have received no alms, not one copper coin has been vouchsafed me. With
trouble abroad how dare I venture out? And should I give away from my
small store when I may shortly be in need myself?"
Wang the Ninth, because of his hunger, was becoming angry at this long
discussion. Already he had measured his man: he knew him to be a coward
and covetous as well. With a swift movement he thrust his foot in
between the gate-post and the door so that the priest could not possibly
close it again,--that is unless he threw him back and broke his foot.
Now very roughly he used what was instantly effective--intimidation,
based on a half-truth.
"Look here," he said, "I have waited patiently and answered all your
questions and am very hungry. I have just passed soldiers. If you do not
give me freely I shall go and find them and declare that you have silver
buried in the Temple."
There was brief hesitation which may have lasted two seconds, but no
more. Then the door swung wide open.
"Come in," said the priest sullenly. Asia is like that. By audacity a
child may work his will over old and young alike. That is one of the
unappreciated morals of the Bible.
Wang the Ninth, again victorious, loafed in with an expression of
suppressed amusement on his face which would have done credit to an
actor. Behind him the priest shut the door securely; then turned round
and looked at him; muttered something under his breath; and finally led
him to a room where his store of food was secreted under a broken bench.
Together, in this companionship, neither speaking much, they prepared a
meal of boiled millet, a little salted vegetable, a cup of tea.
Presently having eaten his fill, the marauder became loquacious.
"Your stock of food is indeed low," he remarked, examining everything
and looking into the grain-bin several times. "When you first spoke
about shortage I doubted your story. If you wait a little I will fetch
you something as repayment and prepare a bite for myself for later on."
Without further ado, he marched out through the gateway and down the
roadway to where his sharp eyes half an hour before had noticed a patch
of Indian corn. Calmly, as if it were his own property, he pulled off a
great mass of corn cobs, only taking of the best. Then he stripped off
his short cotton coat, loaded it up with the loot, and marched back with
this fat bundle to the keeper of Buddha's shrine.
"Here," he said, "I have taken from an abundance that is neglected. If
there is suspicion or accusation I bear the blame. Now I prepare my
share."
With deft fingers he stripped off the husk from a dozen cobs, threw them
into a pot of water, and boiled them over the small charcoal fire until
beads of perspiration stood on his forehead. When he had satisfied
himself that they were well-cooked, he heaved a sigh of relief and
desisted. He had a couple of days' supply of food to the good, no matter
what happened; for Indian corn is a good and strength-giving food.
"I can journey in peace," he remarked, "when the sun is a little lower
and there is coolness in the air. Not soon will I commit the fault of
journeying with no provision belt. A hundred miles is far to travel for
the poor."
The priest talked a little but without much gusto. He was irritated by
everything that had occurred since he had unbarred his doors; and after
the manner of his race he was absorbed thinking about the way he could
redress the balance in his favour. With his arms behind his back, master
of the situation, Wang the Ninth began sauntering round the narrow
courtyard of the little Temple, and lifting the heavy reed curtain over
the doorway of the shrine he peered in.
"Who is your honourable Saint?" he inquired politely, looking at the
square, clumsy, gilt figure. Then almost before he had finished asking
the question he burst into a short laugh. His quick eyes had noticed
something. "_Lao-ho-shang_, have you noticed that an ear has dropped
off?" He pointed to the left ear of Buddha's disciple which was indeed
missing.
The priest became more nettled than ever.
"What would you?" he said. "This locality is poor--and very miserly as
well. Only on harvest-days do I receive alms in sufficiency for my
welfare. As for renovation where shall I find funds? All the shrines for
many miles lack repair, and some are even deserted by their keepers."
The devil in the boy leaped to the surface. With a rapid gesture his
hand travelled to his belt, and with a flash he threw a bright silver
coin on the matted floor as an offering.
"There," he said, "I have contributed."
The priest stood staring.
"Silver!" he exclaimed as if that had been the name of his God. "You
carry silver!" Now he bent down and picked up the coin which he examined
carefully.
"Yes, silver," assented Wang the Ninth, "an undoubted piece of silver."
"How is it that you who lack food have money?" said the priest. His
manner was full of suspicion.
The boy laughed easily.
"It is this way. Many in our locality were employed in the city before
the trouble commenced and they have all fled back. They had money in
their belts, and two who had known my father gave me small contributions
to help me on my way. Had it not been for this friendly help I would
indeed have fared badly."
"Um," said the priest, "and how many such coins have you with you?"
Wang the Ninth took several steps backwards so that if needs be he could
run for it. There was a note in the priest's voice that he did not like.
He was quite capable of trying to rob him. Already he regretted his
indiscretion.
"How many coins? Ho--ho, I am a bad hand at calculating." He took a few
more steps backward. "Are you discontented with my generosity?--well, I
cannot help it." With a swift movement he bent down and picked up the
bundle of corn which he had made. "The day is waning, I cannot waste
more time. _Lao-ho__shang_, I am about to leave you." And with this
lightly and quickly he sprang away and then through the narrow door on
to the roadway.
The priest followed him. On his face there was a sharp struggle. Had he
been able to do so, he would have rushed at him. But the chances of
success were poor having in view his feebleness and the boy's agility.
So sullenly he watched Wang the Ninth walk away looking over his
shoulder as he went, and beginning the song, "Every priest is only a
thief with a shaven pate," which is known to every urchin in the land.