THE STORY OF CHOP-CHIN AND THE GOLDEN DRAGON.
ONCE upon a time, long ago and long ago, there lived in Pekin, which, as
you all know, is the chief city of the Chinese Empire, a boy whose name
was Chop-Chin. He was the son of Ly-Chee, a sweeper of the Imperial
court-yard, whose duty it was to keep the pavement of the court-yard
always absolutely clean, in case His Celestial Majesty, the Emperor,
should feel inclined to put his celestial and majestic nose
out-of-doors. Chop-Chin hoped to become a sweeper also, when he was a
little older; but at the time when my story begins he was only twelve
years old, and the law required that all sweepers should have passed
their fourteenth year. So Chop-Chin helped his mother about the
house,--for he was a good boy,--carried his father's dinner to him, and
made himself generally useful.
One day Chop-Chin entered the court-yard at the usual time, carrying a
jar of rice on his head, and a melon in one hand. These were for his
father's dinner, and setting them down in a shaded corner, on the cool
white marble pavement, he looked about for his father. But Ly-Chee was
nowhere to be seen. A group of sweepers stood at the farther end of the
court-yard, talking together in a state of wild excitement, with many
gestures. One of them drew his hand across his throat rapidly, and they
all shuddered. Some one was to be killed, then? Chop-Chin wondered what
it all meant. Suddenly one of the group caught sight of him, and at once
they fell silent. Two or three, who were friends of his father, began to
wring their hands and tear their clothes, and the oldest sweeper of all
advanced solemnly toward the boy, holding out both his hands, with the
palms downward, in token of sympathy.
"My son," he said, "what is man's life but a string of beads, which at
one time or another must be broken? Shall the wise man disquiet himself
whether more or fewer beads have passed over the hand?"
"What words are these?" cried Chop-Chin, alarmed, though he knew not
why. "Why do you look and speak so strangely, Yow-Lay; and where is my
father?"
The old sweeper led the boy to a stone bench, and bade him sit down
beside him. "Thou knowest," he said, "that the first duty of us sweepers
is to keep the court-yard always as clean as the sky after rain, and as
white as the breath of the frost."
"I know it well," replied the boy. "Does not my father wear out two
pairs of scrubbing-shoes in a month--"
"Scrubbing-shoes, Granny?" said Toto, softly. "I didn't mean to
interrupt, but what _are_ scrubbing-shoes?"
"I remember asking the same question at your age, Toto," said the old
lady, "and my grandmother told me that the sweepers always wore shoes
with very thick soles, in which stiff bristles were fastened as in a
scrubbing-brush. It was their custom to dash the water in bucketfuls
over the pavement, and then dance violently about, scrubbing with their
feet as hard as they could."
"Oh, what fun!" cried Toto. "Mayn't we try it some day, Granny? I'll
fasten four brushes to your feet, Coon, and you can scrub the floor
every day."
"Thank you, kindly!" said the raccoon. "If you can get the brushes on my
feet, I will pledge myself to dance in them. That is certainly fair."
He winked slyly at Toto, while the grandmother continued:--
"Alas! my son," said the old man, "your father will wear out no more
scrubbing-shoes. Listen! This morning, while we were all busily at work,
it chanced through some evil fate that His Celestial Majesty felt a
desire to taste the freshness of the morning air. Unannounced he came,
with only the Princely Parasol-Holder, the Unique Umbrella-Opener, and
seven boys to hold up his celestial train. You know that your father is
slightly deaf? Yes. Well, he stood--my good friend Ly-Chee--he stood
with his back to the palace. He heard not the noise of the opening door,
and at the very moment when His Celestial Majesty stepped out into the
court-yard, Ly-Chee cast a great bucketful of ice-cold water backward,
with fatal force and precision."
Chop-Chin shuddered, and hid his face in his hands.
"Picture to yourself the dreadful scene!" continued the ancient sweeper.
"The Celestial Petticoat, of yellow satin damask, was drenched. The
Celestial Shoes, of chicken-skin embroidered in gold, were reduced to a
pulp. A shriek burst from every mouth! Your unhappy father turned, and
seeing what he had done, fell on his face, as did all the rest of us. In
silence we waited for the awful voice, which presently said:--
"'Princely Parasol-Holder, our feet are wet.'
"The Princely Parasol-Holder groaned, and chattered his teeth together
to express his anguish.
"'Unique Umbrella-Opener,' continued the Emperor, 'our petticoat is
completely saturated.'
"The Unique Umbrella-Opener tore his clothes, and shook his hair wildly
about his face, with moans of agony.
"'Let this man's head be removed at sunrise to-morrow!' concluded His
Celestial Majesty.
"Then we all, lying on our faces, wept and cried aloud, and besought the
celestial mercy for our comrade. We told the Emperor of Ly-Chee's long
and faithful service; of his upright and devout life; of his wife and
children, who looked to him for their daily bread. But all was of no
avail. He repeated, in dreadful tones, his former words:--
"'Our feet are wet. Our petticoat is saturated. Let this man's head be
removed at sunrise to-morrow.'
"Then the Unique Umbrella-Holder, who is a kindly man, made also
intercession for Ly-Chee. But now the Emperor waxed wroth, and he
said:--
"'Are our clothes to be changed, or do we stand here all day in wetness
because of this dog? We swear that unless the Golden Dragon himself come
down from his altar and beg for this man's life, he shall die! Enough!'
And with these words he withdrew into the palace.
"So thou seest, my son," said the old man, sadly, "that all is over with
thy poor father. He is now in the prison of the condemned, and to-morrow
at sunrise he must die. Go home, boy, and comfort thy poor mother,
telling her this sad thing as gently as thou mayest."
Chop-Chin arose, kissed the old man's hand in token of gratitude for his
kindness, and left the court-yard without a word. His head was in a
whirl, and strange thoughts darted through it. He went home, but did not
tell his mother of the fate which awaited her husband on the morrow. He
could not feel that it was true. It _could not be_ that the next day,
all in a moment, his father would cease to live. There must be some
way,--_some_ way to save him. And then he seemed to hear the dreadful
words, "Unless the Golden Dragon himself come down from his altar and
beg for this man's life, he shall die." He told his mother, in answer to
her anxious questions, that his father meant to pass the night in the
court-yard, as he would be wanted very early in the morning; and as it
was a hot day, and promised a warm night, the good woman felt no
uneasiness, but turned again to her pots and pans.
But Chop-Chin sat on the bench in front of the house, with his head in
his hands thinking deeply.
* * * * *
That evening, at sunset, a boy was seen walking slowly along the
well-paved street which led to the great temple of the Golden Dragon. He
was clad in a snow-white tunic falling to his knees; his arms and legs
were bare; and his pig-tail, unbraided and hanging in a crinkly mass
below his waist, showed that he was bent on some sacred mission. In his
hands, raised high above his head, he carried a bronze bowl of curious
workmanship. Many people turned to look at the boy, for his face and
figure were of singular beauty.
"He carries the prayers of some great prince," they said, "to offer at
the shrine of the Golden Dragon."
And, indeed, it was at the great bronze gate of the Temple that the boy
stopped. Poising the bronze bowl gracefully on his head with one hand,
with the other he knocked three times on the gate. It opened, and
revealed four guards clad in black armor, who stood with glittering
pikes crossed, their points towards the boy.
"What seekest thou," asked the leader, "in the court of the Holy
Dragon?"
Chop-Chin (for I need not tell you the boy was he) lowered the bowl from
his head, and offered it to the soldier with a graceful reverence.
"Tong-Ki-Tcheng," he said, "sends you greeting, and a draught of cool
wine. He begs your prayers to the Holy Dragon that he may recover from
his grievous sickness, and prays that I may pass onward to the shrine."
The guards bowed low at the name of Tong-Ki-Tcheng, a powerful Prince of
the Empire, who lay sick of a fever in his palace, as all the city knew.
Each one in turn took a draught from the deep bowl, and the leader
said:--
"Our prayers shall go up without ceasing for Tong-Ki-Tcheng, the noble
and great. Pass on, fair youth, and good success go with thee!"
They lowered their pikes, and Chop-Chin passed slowly through the
court-yard paved with black marble, and came to the second gate, which
was of shining steel. Here he knocked again, and the gate was opened by
four guards clad in steel from top to toe, and glittering in the evening
light.
"What seekest thou," they asked, "in the court of the Holy Dragon?"
Chop-Chin answered as before:--
"Tong-Ki-Tcheng sends you greeting, and a draught of cool wine. He begs
your prayers to the Holy Dragon that he may recover from his grievous
sickness, and prays that I may pass onward to the shrine."
The guards drank deeply from the bowl, and their leader replied: "Our
prayers shall not cease to go up for Tong-Ki-Tcheng. Pass on, and good
success go with thee!"
Onward the boy went, holding the bronze bowl high above his head. He
crossed the white marble court-yard, and his heart beat when he came to
the third gate, which was of whitest ivory, for he knew that beyond the
third court-yard was the Temple itself,--the House of Gold, in which
dwelt the mighty Dragon, the most sacred idol in all China. He paused a
moment, and then with a steady hand knocked at the gate. It opened
without a sound, and there stood four guards in white armor inlaid with
gold. The same questions and answers were repeated. They drank from the
bowl, promised their prayers for Tong-Ki-Tcheng, and then bade the boy
pass onward to the golden gate, which gleamed at the farther end of the
court-yard.
"But see that thou touch not the gate!" said the chief soldier. "It is
the gate of the Temple itself, and no profane hand may rest upon it.
Speak only, and the priests will hear and open to thee."
Softly Chop-Chin paced across the last court, which was paved with
blocks of ivory and silver, laid in cunning patterns. Halting before the
gate of gold, he raised the bowl in his hands, and said softly:--
"Ka Ho Yai! Yai Nong Ti!
Tong-Ki-Tcheng Lo Hum Ki Ni!"
The gates opened, and showed four priests in robes of cloth-of-gold,
with golden censers in hand.
"Rash youth!" said the chief priest, "by what right or by whose order
comest thou here, to the Sacred Shrine of the Holy Dragon?"
Chop-Chin knelt upon the threshold of the golden gate, and, with bowed
head and downcast eyes, held out the bronze bowl.
"By the right of mortal sickness, most holy priest, come I hither!" he
said, "and by order of the noble Tong-Ki-Tcheng. He prays thee and thy
brethren to drink to his recovery from his grievous malady, and that
your prayers may go up with mine at the Jewelled Shrine itself."
The priest drank solemnly from the bowl, and handed it to his
assistants, the last of whom drained the last drop of wine.
"Our prayers shall truly go up for Tong-Ki-Tcheng," he said. "Give me
thy hand, fair youth, and I will lead thee to the Jewelled Shrine. But
first I will cover thine eyes, for none save ourselves, priests of the
First Order of the Saki-Pan, may look upon the face of the Holy Dragon."
So saying, he bound a silk handkerchief firmly over the boy's eyes, and
taking his hand, led him slowly forward.
Chop-Chin's heart was beating so violently that he was half suffocated.
He felt the floor suddenly cold, cold, beneath his feet, and knew that
he was walking on the golden floor of the Temple. A few steps farther,
the hand of the priest drew him downward, and together with the four
priests he lay prostrate on his face before the shrine of the Golden
Dragon.
A great silence followed. The warm, incense-laden air was stirred by no
sound save the breathing of the five suppliants. No breeze rustled the
heavy satin curtains which shrouded the windows; no hum of insect or
song of bird came from the outer world, which was fast settling down
into night.
Silence!
The boy Chop-Chin lay as still as if he were carved in marble. He held
his breath from time to time, and his whole being seemed strained to one
effort,--that of listening. Did he hear anything? Was the breathing of
the four priests changing a little,--growing deeper, growing louder?
There! and there again! was that a whisper of prayer, or was it--could
it be--the faintest suspicion of a snore? He lay still; waited and
listened, listened and waited. After a little while there could be no
doubt about it,--the four men were breathing heavily, slowly, regularly;
and one of them rolled out a sonorous, a majestic snore, which resounded
through the heavy perfumed air of the Temple, yet caused no movement
among the other three. There could be no doubt about it,--the priests
were asleep!
Slowly, softly, the boy lifted his head; then he rose to his knees, and
looked fearfully at the sleepers. There they lay, flat on their faces,
their hands clasped over their heads. He touched one of them,--there was
no answering movement. He shook another by the shoulders; he shook them
all. They snored in concert, but gave no other sign of life. The drugged
wine had done its work.
Then, and not till then, did Chop-Chin venture to lift his eyes and look
upon the awful mystery which was hidden by these golden walls. He
trembled, he turned white as the tunic which covered his dusky limbs;
but standing erect, he gazed firmly at the Golden Dragon. From the floor
rose a splendid altar of gold, studded thick with precious gems. Rubies,
sapphires, and emeralds, set in mystic lines and figures, formed the
characters which told the thirty-two names of the world-renowned dragon;
and on the top of this glittering pedestal, fifteen feet in the air,
stood the idol itself.
It was, indeed, a marvellous thing to look upon. Ten feet long, composed
entirely of thin scales of the purest gold, laid over and over each
other, and each scale tipped with a diamond. Two magnificent rubies
glowed in the eye-sockets, and the head was surmounted by a crown of
emeralds worth any ordinary kingdom. But the tail! the tail was the
wonder of wonders. Millions of delicate gold wires as fine as silk waved
gracefully from the scaly tip a length of three feet, and each one was
tipped with a diamond, a ruby, or an emerald of surpassing beauty and
lustre. So wonderful was the shimmering light of the stones that the
whole tail seemed to sway and curl to and fro, as if some living
creature were moving it, and rays of rainbow-colored light darted from
it on every side, dazzling the eyes of the beholder.
Chop-Chin gazed and gazed, and hid his eyes and trembled, and gazed
again. At last he shook himself together, and whispered, "My father! my
father!" Then softly, surely, he began to climb up the golden altar.
Stepping carefully from glittering point to point, holding on here by a
projecting ornament of carven amethyst, there by a block of jasper or
onyx, he reached the top; then steadying himself, he leaned forward and
lifted the Holy Dragon from its stand. To his amazement, instead of
being barely able to move it, he found he could easily carry it, for the
golden plates which formed it were so delicate that the weight of the
whole great creature was incredibly small. Lightly the boy lifted it in
his arms, and slowly, surely, noiselessly bore it to the ground. Here
he paused, and looked keenly at the sleeping priests. Did that one's
eyelids quiver; did his mouth twitch, as if he were waking from his
sleep? Was that a movement of yon other man's arm, as if he were
stealthily preparing to rise, to spring upon the sacrilegious robber?
No! it was but the play of the colored light on the faces and raiment of
the sleepers. The voice of their snoring still went up, calmly, evenly,
regularly. The wine had done its work well.
Then Chop-Chin took off the sash which bound his tunic at the waist, and
shook out its folds. It was a web of crimson silk, so fine and soft that
it could be drawn through a finger-ring, and yet, when spread out, so
ample that the boy found no difficulty in completely covering with it
his formidable prize. Thus enwrapped, he bore the Golden Dragon swiftly
from the Temple, closing the doors of gold softly behind him. He crossed
the ivory and silver pavement of the inner court, and came to the ivory
gate. It was closed, and beside it lay the four white-clad warriors,
sunk in profound slumber. Stepping lightly over their prostrate forms,
Chop-Chin opened the gate softly, and found himself in the second court.
This, also, he traversed safely, finding the armed guardians of the
steel gate also sleeping soundly, with their mouths wide open, and their
shining spears pointing valiantly at nothing. A touch upon the
glittering gate,--it opened, and Chop-Chin began to breathe more freely
when he saw the bronze gates of the outer court-yard, and knew that in
another minute, if all went well, he would be in the open street. But,
alas! the four guards clad in black armor, who kept watch by the outer
gate, had been the first to drink the drugged wine, and already the
effect of the powerful narcotic which it contained had begun to wear
off. As Chop-Chin, bearing in his arms the shrouded figure of the mighty
idol, approached the gate, one of the four sleepers stirred, yawned,
rubbed his eyes, and looked about him. It was quite dark, but his eye
caught the faint glimmer of the boy's white robe, and seizing his pike,
he exclaimed,--
"Who goes there?"
Chop-Chin instantly stepped to his side, and said in a low whisper,--
"It is I, Nai-Ping, second priest of the Saki-Pan, bound on business of
the Temple. Let me pass, and quickly, for the chief priest waits my
return."
The sentinel bowed low, and undid the fastenings of the huge bronze
gates. They swung open silently, and the boy passed through with his
awful burden.
"Strange!" soliloquized the guard, as he drew the massive bolts again.
"I never knew one of the priests to go out at this time of night. But I
dared not say anything, lest he should find out that I was asleep at my
post. And now that he is gone," he added, "I may as well just take forty
winks, as he may be away some time."
So saying, he curled himself up on the marble pavement, and fell this
time into a natural slumber.
Ten o'clock of a dark night. The outer gates of the royal palace were
closed, though lights still shone in many of the windows. Outside the
gate a sentinel was pacing up and down, armed with pike and broadsword.
Every time he turned on his beat, he looked up and down the narrow
street to see if anything or anybody were approaching. Suddenly, as he
wheeled about, he saw before him a figure which seemed to have sprung
all in a moment out of the blackness of the night. It was the figure of
a boy, carrying a burden considerably larger than himself,--a dark and
shapeless mass, which yet seemed not to be heavy in proportion to its
size.
"What is this?" cried the astonished sentinel. "Who art thou, and what
monstrous burden is this thou carriest so lightly?"
"Hist!" said the boy, speaking in an awestruck whisper, "speak not so
loud, friend! This is the Celestial Footstool!"
The sentinel recoiled, and stared in dismay at the dark bundle.
"May the Holy Dragon preserve me!" he said. "What has happened?"
"His Celestial Majesty," replied Chop-Chin, "threw it in anger at his
Putter-on-of-Slippers yesterday, and broke one of its legs. All day my
master, the Chief Cabinet-maker, has been at work on it, and now he has
sent me with it by nightfall, that no profane eye may see clearly even
the outer covering of the sacred object."
"Pass in," said the sentinel, opening the gate. "But tell me, knowest
thou how it will fare with the Putter-on-of-Slippers? He is cousin to my
stepfather's aunt by marriage, and I would not that aught of ill should
befall so near a relative."
"Alas! I know not," said the boy, hastening forward. "I fear it may go
hard with him."
The sentinel shook his head sadly, and resumed his walk; while Chop-Chin
crept softly through the court-yard, keeping close to the wall, and
feeling as he went along for a certain little door he knew of, which led
by a staircase cut in the thickness of the wall to a certain unused
closet, near the Celestial Bed-chamber.
While all this was going on, the Emperor of China, the great and mighty
Wah-Song, was going to bed. He had sipped his night-draught of hot wine
mingled with honey and spices, sitting on the edge of the Celestial Bed,
with the Celestial Nightcap of cloth-of-silver tied comfortably under
his chin, and the Celestial Dressing-gown wrapped around him. He had
scolded the Chief Pillow-thumper because the pillows were not fat
enough, and because there were only ten of them instead of twelve. He
had boxed the ears of the Tyer-of-the-Strings-of-the-Nightcap, and had
thrown his golden goblet at the Principal Pourer, who brought him the
wine. And when all these things were done, his Celestial Majesty
Wah-Song got into bed, and was tucked in by the Finishing Toucher, who
got his nose well tweaked by way of thanks. Then the taper of perfumed
wax was lighted, and the shade of alabaster put over it, and then the
other lights were extinguished; and then the attendants all crawled out
backwards on their hands and knees, and shut the door after them; and
then His Celestial Majesty went to sleep.
[Illustration: At last the Emperor began to dream. He heard an awful
voice, the voice of the Golden Dragon. "Wah-Song! Wah-Song!
Awake!"--PAGE 44.]
Peacefully the Emperor slept,--one hour, two hours, three
hours,--discoursing eloquently the while in the common language of
mankind,--the language of the nose. At last he began to dream,--a
dreadful dream. He was in the Golden Temple, praying before the Jewelled
Shrine. He heard an awful voice,--the voice of the Golden Dragon. It
called his name; it glared upon him with its ruby eyes; it lifted its
crowned head, and stretched its long talons toward him. Ah! ah! The
Emperor tried to scream, but he could make no sound. Once more the
dreadful voice was heard:--
"Wah-Song! Wah-Song! Awake!"
The Emperor sprang up in bed, and looked about him with eyes wild with
terror. Ah! what was that?--that glittering form standing at the foot of
his bed; that crowned head raised high as if in anger; those glaring
red eyes fixed menacingly upon him!
"Ah, horror! ah, destruction! the Golden Dragon is here!"
With one long howl of terror and anguish, His Celestial Majesty Wah-Song
rolled off the bed and under it, in one single motion, and lay there
flat on his face, with his hands clasped over his head. Quaking in every
limb, his teeth chattering, and a cold sweat pouring from him, he
listened as the awful voice spoke again.
"Wah-Song!" said the Golden Dragon, "thou hast summoned me, and I am
here!"
The wretched Emperor moaned.
"I--I--I sum-summon thee, most Golden and Holy Dragon?" he stammered
faintly. "May I be b-b-bastinadoed if I did!"
"Listen!" said the Dragon, sternly, "and venture not to speak save when
I ask thee a question. Yesterday morning, in consequence of thine own
caprice in going out unannounced, thy silly shoes and thy pusillanimous
petticoat became wet. For this nothing, thou has condemned to death my
faithful servant Ly-Chee, who has brought me fresh melons every Tuesday
afternoon for thirty years. When others, less inhuman than thou,
interceded for his life, thou madest reply, 'We swear, that unless the
Golden Dragon himself come down from his altar and beg for this man's
life, he shall die!'"
The Emperor groaned, and clawed the carpet in his anguish.
"Therefore, Wah-Song," continued the Dragon, "I AM HERE! I come not to
beg, but to command. Dost thou hear me?"
"Ye-ye-yes!" murmured the wretched monarch. "I hear thee, Most Mighty.
I--I--didn't know he brought thee melons. I brought thee two dozen
pineapples myself, the other day," he added piteously.
"Thou didst!" exclaimed the Golden Dragon, fiercely. "Thou didst,
_slave!_ and they were half-rotten. HA!" and he gave a little jump on
the floor, making his glittering tail wave, and his flaming eyes glared
yet more fiercely at the unfortunate Wah-Song, who clung yet more
closely to the carpet, and drummed on it with his heels in an extremity
of fear.
"Listen, now," said the Fiery Idol, "to my commands. Before day-break
thou wilt send a free pardon to Ly-Chee, who now lies in the prison of
the condemned, expecting to die at sunrise."
"I will! I will!" cried the Emperor.
"Moreover," continued the Dragon, "thou wilt send him, by a trusty
messenger, twenty bags of goodly ducats, one for every hour that he has
spent in prison."
The Emperor moaned feebly, for he loved his goodly ducats.
"Furthermore, thou wilt make Ly-Chee thy Chief Sweeper for life, with
six brooms of gilded straw, with ivory handles, as his yearly
perquisite, besides three dozen pairs of scrubbing-shoes; and his son,
Chop-Chin, shalt thou appoint as Second Sweeper, to help his father."
The Emperor moaned again, but very faintly, for he dared not make any
objection.
"These are my orders!" continued the Dragon. "Obey them strictly and
speedily, and thine offence may be pardoned. Neglect them, even in the
smallest particular, and--Ha! Hum! Wurra-_wurra_-G-R-R-R-R-R-R!" and
here the Dragon opened his great red mouth, and uttered so fearful a
growl that the miserable Emperor lost hold of such little wits as had
remained to him, and fainted dead away.
Ten minutes later, the sentinel at the gate was amazed at the sight of
the Chief Cabinet-maker's apprentice, reappearing suddenly before him,
with his monstrous burden still in his arms. The boy's hair was
dishevelled, and his face was very pale. In truth, it had been very hard
work to get in and out of the hollow golden monster, and Chop-Chin was
well-nigh exhausted by his efforts, and the great excitement which had
nerved him to carry out his bold venture.
"How now!" cried the sentinel. "What means this, boy?"
"Alas!" said Chop-Chin, "alas! unhappy that I am! Was it my fault that
the mended leg was a hair-breadth shorter than the others? Good soldier,
I have been most grievously belabored, even with the Sacred Footstool
itself, which, although it be a great honor, is nevertheless a painful
one. And now must I take it back to my master, for it broke again the
last time His Celestial Majesty brought it down on my head. Wherefore
let me pass, good sentinel, for I can hardly stand for weariness."
"Pass on, poor lad!" said the good-natured soldier. "And yet--stay a
moment! thinkest thou that aught would be amiss if I were to take just
one peep at the Celestial Footstool? Often have I heard of its
marvellous workmanship, and its tracery of pearl and ebony. Do but lift
one corner of the mantle, good youth, and let me see at least a leg of
the wonder."
"At thy peril, touch it not!" cried the boy, in great alarm. "Knowest
thou not that the penalty is four hundred lashes? Not a single glance
have I ventured to cast at it, for they say its color changes if any
profane eye rest upon its polished surface."
"Pass on, then, in the name of the Dragon!" said the sentinel, opening
the gate; and bidding him a hasty good-night, Chop-Chin hurried away
into the darkness.
* * * * *
Now, while all this was going on, it chanced that the four priests of
the First Order of the Saki-Pan awoke from their slumber. What their
feelings were when they lifted their eyes and saw that the Golden Dragon
was gone, is beyond my power to tell. Their terror was so extreme that
they did not dare to move, but after the first horrified glance at the
bare altar flung themselves flat on their faces again, and howled and
moaned in their anguish.
"We slept!" they cried, in a doleful chant of misery. "Yea, verily slept
we.
"Ai! ai! we know not why;
Wow! wow! we know not how.
"Thou removedst thyself. Thou raisedst the paw of strength and the
hind-feet of swiftness. Because we slept, thou hast gone away, and we
are desolate, awaiting the speedily-advancing death.
"Hong! Kong! Punka-wunka-woggle!
Hong! Kong! Punka-wunka-wogg!"
While thus the wretched priests lay on the golden floor, bewailing their
sin and its dreadful consequences, there fell suddenly on their ears a
loud and heavy sound. It was at some distance,--a heavy clang, as of
some one striking on metal. "Pong! pong!" what could it be? And now came
other sounds,--the opening and shutting of gates, the tread of hasty
feet, the sound of hurried voices, and finally a loud knocking at the
door of the Temple itself.
"Open, most holy Priests of the Saki-Pan!" cried a voice. "We have
strange and fearful news! Open without delay!"
The unhappy priests hurried to the door, and flung it open with
trembling hands. Without stood all the guards of all the gates, the
white and the steel-clad soldiers clustering about the four black-clad
guardians of the outer gate.
"Speak!" said the chief priest in great agitation, "what is your
errand?"
"O Priest!" said the black guards, trembling with excitement, "we heard
a great knocking at the gate."
"Yes, yes!" cried the priest, "I know it. What more?"
"O Priest!" said the guards, "we were affrighted, so great was the
noise; so we opened the gate but a little way, and peeped through; and
we saw--we saw--" They paused, and gasped for breath.
"Speak, sons of pigs!" shrieked the priest, "_what_ did you see?"
"We saw the Golden Dragon!" said the soldiers, in a fearful whisper. "He
is sitting up--on his hind-legs--with his mouth open! and he knocked--he
knocked--"
But the priests of the Saki-Pan waited to hear no more. Rushing through
the court-yards, they flung wide open the great bronze gates. They
caught up the Golden Dragon, they raised it high on their shoulders, and
with shouts of rejoicing they bore it back to the Temple, while the
guards prostrated themselves before it.
"He went out!" sang the priests. "He walked abroad, for the glory and
welfare of his subjects. He cast upon the city the eye of beneficence;
he waved over it the plenipotentiary tail!
"Ai! ai! we know not why!
Wow! wow! we know not how!
Glory to the Holy Dragon, and happiness and peace to the city and the
people!"
* * * * *
But in the house of Ly-Chee all was sunshine and rejoicing. At daybreak
a procession had come down the little street,--a troop of soldiers in
the imperial uniform, with music sounding before them, and gay banners
flaunting in the morning air. In the midst of the troop rode Ly-Chee, on
a splendid black horse. He was dressed in a robe of crimson satin
embroidered with gold, and round his neck hung strings of jewels most
glorious to see. Behind him walked twenty slaves, each carrying a fat
bag of golden ducats; and after the troop came more slaves, bearing
gilded brooms with ivory handles and scrubbing-shoes of the finest
quality. And all the soldiers and all the slaves cried aloud,
continually:--
"Honor to Ly-Chee, the Chief-Sweeper of the court-yard! Honor and peace
to him and all his house!"
The procession stopped before the little house, and the good sweeper,
stupefied still with astonishment at his wonderful good fortune,
dismounted and clasped his wife and children in his arms. And they wept
together for joy, and the soldiers and the slaves and all the people
wept with them.
But the Celestial Emperor, Wah-Song, lay in bed for two weeks, speaking
to no man, and eating nothing but water-gruel. And when he arose, at the
end of that time, behold! he was as meek as a six-years old child.