Part 11 (2/2)

my boy!” She took her crutch from its corner and limped off to a neighbour's house to tell him of her trouble and beg him to go and look for the missing boy.

Now this neighbour was kind-hearted, and willing to help old Mother T'ang, for he felt very sorry for her. ”There are many wild beasts in the mountains,” he said, shaking his head as he walked away with her, thinking to prepare the frightened woman for the worst, ”and I fear that your son has been carried off by one of them.” Widow T'ang gave a scream of horror and sank upon the ground. Her friend walked slowly up the mountain path, looking carefully for signs of a struggle. At last when he had gone half way up the slope he came to a little pile of torn clothing spattered with blood. The woodman's axe was lying by the side of the path, also his carrying pole and some rope. There could be no mistake: after making a brave fight, the poor youth had been carried off by a tiger.

Gathering up the torn garments, the man went sadly down the hill. He dreaded seeing the poor mother and telling her that her only boy was indeed gone for ever. At the foot of the mountain he found her still lying on the ground. When she looked up and saw what he was carrying, with a cry of despair she fainted away. She did not need to be told what had happened.

Friends bore her into the little house and gave her food, but they could not comfort her. ”Alas!” she cried, ”of what use is it to live? He was my only boy. Who will take care of me in my old age? Why have the G.o.ds treated me in this cruel way?”

She wept, tore her hair, and beat her chest, until people said she had gone mad. The longer she mourned, the more violent she became.

The next day, however, much to the surprise of her neighbours, she set out for the city, making her way along slowly by means of her crutch. It was a pitiful sight to see her, so old, so feeble, and so lonely. Every one was sorry for her and pointed her out, saying, ”See! the poor old soul has no one to help her!”

In the city she asked her way to the public hall. When she found the place she knelt at the front gate, calling out loudly and telling of her ill-fortune. Just at this moment the mandarin, or city judge, walked into the court room to try any cases which might be brought before him.

He heard the old woman weeping and wailing outside, and bade one of the servants let her enter and tell him of her wrongs.

Now this was just what the Widow T'ang had come for. Calming herself, she hobbled into the great hall of trial.

”What is the matter, old woman? Why do you raise such an uproar in front of my yamen? Speak up quickly and tell me of your trouble.”

”I am old and feeble,” she began; ”lame and almost blind. I have no money and no way of earning money. I have not one relative now in all the empire. I depended on my only son for a living. Every day he climbed the mountain, for he was a woodcutter, and every evening he came back home, bringing enough money for our food. But yesterday he went and did not return. A mountain tiger carried him off and ate him, and now, alas!

there seems to be no help for it--I must die of hunger. My bleeding heart cries out for justice. I have come into this hall to-day, to beg your wors.h.i.+p to see that the slayer of my son is punished. Surely the law says that none may shed blood without giving his own blood in payment.”

”But, woman, are you mad?” cried the mandarin, laughing loudly. ”Did you not say it was a tiger that killed your son? How can a tiger be brought to justice? Of a truth, you must have lost your senses.”

The judge's questions were of no avail. The Widow T'ang kept up her clamour. She would not be turned away until she had gained her purpose.

The hall echoed with the noise of her howling. The mandarin could stand it no longer. ”Hold! woman,” he cried, ”stop your shrieking. I will do what you ask. Only go home and wait until I summon you to court. The slayer of your son shall be caught and punished.”

The judge was, of course, only trying to get rid of the demented mother, thinking that if she were only once out of his sight, he could give orders not to let her into the hall again. The old woman, however, was too sharp for him. She saw through his plan and became more stubborn than ever.

”No, I cannot go,” she answered, ”until I have seen you sign the order for that tiger to be caught and brought into this judgment hall.”

Now, as the judge was not really a bad man, he decided to humour the old woman in her strange plea. Turning to the a.s.sistants in the court room he asked which of them would be willing to go in search of the tiger.

One of these men, named Li-neng, had been leaning against the wall, half asleep. He had been drinking heavily and so had not heard what had been going on in the room. One of his friends gave him a poke in the ribs just as the judge asked for volunteers.

Thinking the judge had called him by name, he stepped forward, knelt on the floor, saying, ”I, Li-neng, can go and do the will of your wors.h.i.+p.”

”Very well, you will do,” answered the judge. ”Here is your order. Go forth and do your duty.” So saying, he handed the warrant to Li-neng.

”Now, old woman, are you satisfied?” he continued.

”Quite satisfied, your wors.h.i.+p,” she replied.

”Then go home and wait there until I send for you.”

Mumbling a few words of thanks, the unhappy mother left the building.

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