Part 11 (1/2)
”I saw you yesterday morning,” shouted the gander. ”You were young and handsome, and then before my very eyes you were changed back into an old man!”
”To continue my story,” said the young man, ”the fortune-teller at last announced that there was only one chance for my recovery and that a very small one. If at any time, while I was in my rightful shape, that is, as you see me now, a mad goose should come in, leading a tiger-forest out of slavery, the charm would be broken, and the evil spirit would no longer have control over me. When the fortune-teller's answer was brought to my father, he gave up hope, and so did I, for no one understood the meaning of such a senseless riddle.
”That night I left my native city, resolved not to disgrace my people any longer by living with them. I came to this place, bought this house with some money my father had given me, and at once began living the life of a miser. Nothing satisfied my greed for money. Everything must be turned into cash. For five years I have been storing away money, and, at the same time, starving myself, body and soul.
”Soon after my arrival here, remembering the fortune-teller's riddle, I decided that I would keep a goose to serve as night watch-man instead of a dog. In this way I made a start at working out the riddle.”
”But I am not a mad goose,” hissed the gander angrily. ”If it had not been for me you would still be a wrinkled miser.”
”Quite right, dear Ch'ang, quite right,” said the young man soothingly; ”you were not mad; so I gave you the name _Ch'ang_, which means mad, and thus made a mad goose of you.”
”Oh, I see,” said Hu-lin and Ch'ang together. ”How clever!”
”So, you see, I had part of my cure here in my back-yard all the time; but though I thought as hard as I could, I could think of no way of securing that Ch'ang should lead a tiger-forest into my room while I was sleeping. The thing seemed absurd, and I soon gave up trying to study it out. To-day by accident it has really come to pa.s.s.”
”So I am the tiger-forest, am I?” laughed Hu-lin.
”Yes, indeed, you are, my dear child, a pretty little tiger-forest, for _Hu_ means _tiger_, and _lin_ is surely good Chinese for a _grove of trees_. Then, too, you told me you were a slave girl. Hence, Ch'ang led you out of slavery.”
”Oh, I am so glad!” said Hu-lin, forgetting her own poverty, ”so glad that you don't have to be a horrible old miser any longer.”
Just at that moment there was a loud banging on the front gate.
”Who can be knocking in that fas.h.i.+on?” asked the young man in astonishment.
”Alas! it must be Black Heart, my master,” said Hu-lin, beginning to cry.
”Don't be frightened,” said the youth, soothingly stroking the child's head. ”You have saved me, and I shall certainly do as much for you. If this Mr. Black Heart doesn't agree to a fair proposal he shall have a black eye to remember his visit by.”
It did not take long for the grateful young man to buy Hu-lin's liberty, especially as he offered as much for her freedom as her master had expected to get when she was fourteen or fifteen years of age.
When Hu-lin was told of the bargain she was wild with delight. She bowed low before her new master and then, kneeling, touched her head nine times on the floor. Rising, she cried out, ”Oh, how happy I am, for now I shall be yours for ever and ever and ever, and good old Ch'ang shall be my playmate.”
”Yes, indeed,” he a.s.sured her, ”and when you are a little older I shall make you my wife. At present you will go with me to my father's house and become my little betrothed.”
”And I shall never again have to beg for crusts on the street?” she asked him, her eyes full of wonder.
”No! never!” he answered, laughing, ”and you need never fear another beating.”
THE NODDING TIGER
[Ill.u.s.tration]
Just outside the walls of a Chinese city there lived a young woodcutter named T'ang and his old mother, a woman of seventy. They were very poor and had a tiny one-room shanty, built of mud and gra.s.s, which they rented from a neighbour. Every day young T'ang rose bright and early and went up on the mountain near their house. There he spent the day cutting firewood to sell in the city near by. In the evening he would return home, take the wood to market, sell it, and bring back food for his mother and himself. Now, though these two people were poor, they were very happy, for the young man loved his mother dearly, and the old woman thought there was no one like her son in all the world. Their friends, however, felt sorry for them and said, ”What a pity we have no gra.s.shoppers here, so that the T'angs could have some food from heaven!”
One day young T'ang got up before daylight and started for the hills, carrying his axe on his shoulder. He bade his mother good-bye, telling her that he would be back early with a heavier load of wood than usual, for the morrow would be a holiday and they must eat good food. All day long Widow T'ang waited patiently, saying to herself over and over as she went about her simple work, ”The good boy, the good boy, how he loves his old mother!”
In the afternoon she began watching for his return--but in vain.
The sun was sinking lower and lower in the west, but still he did not come. At last the old woman was frightened. ”My poor son!” she muttered.
”Something has happened to him.” Straining her feeble eyes, she looked along the mountain path. Nothing was to be seen there but a flock of sheep following the shepherd. ”Woe is me!” moaned the woman. ”My boy!