In Sung there was a rich man whose wall was damaged by heavy rain. The man's son said, "There are bound to be thieves if we don't repair it." The father of a neighbor said the same thing. Sure enough, that night before repairs could be made, the rich man lost a lot of his property. The rich man's family praised their son's good sense but suspected the neighbor's father.

-Han Fei Tzu.

The Flying Bull.

A man who bought a strong, healthy bull dreamed that a pair of wings sprouted from the bull's shoulders and it flew away. He took this for an unlucky sign and feared that he was about to suffer some loss. So he led the bull to the marketplace and sold it for less than he had paid.

Wrapping the money in a scarf, he slung it over his shoulder and set out for home. Halfway there he saw a hawk eating a dead rabbit. He went over and found the bird quite tame, so he tied its leg with one end of the scarf and put it back over his shoulder. The bird thrashed about, and when the man's grip loosened, it soared away with his money.

Forever after, the man told people that there is no way to avoid what fate has arranged.

-P'u Sung-ling.

Social Connections.

Old Fei, a farmer, had applied himself to his acres and become tolerably rich. His only regret in life was that he had no friends in high society.

One day during a terrible rainstorm Fei's daughter-in-law was washing vegetables by the riverbank when a small boat anch.o.r.ed beside a willow. Inside there was a scholar sheltering under the dripping mat awning of the boat. His clothes and shoes were drenched; his two attendants were even worse off. The boatman told the daughter-in-law that the pa.s.senger's name was Fei and that he held a degree of the second rank. On returning home, she told her father-in-law the surprising fact that the graduate's surname was the same as theirs.

The old farmer gathered up rain gear and hurried to the boat. "What a storm!" he said to the scholar. "Would you care to take refuge in our poor quarters, honorable sir?" Cold and hungry, the scholar gladly accepted. In the farmer's home the required courtesies were performed, and the scholar was delighted to learn that they had the same name. Together they traced the family genealogy, behaving as if they were indeed one happy family.

Old farmer Fei gave orders for a banquet. Holding the scholar by the hand, he led him out under the eaves, remarking, "I can't complain about the way things have gone in the village. Those are my irrigated farms, so many acres; ginger, taro and cane, so many patches; plentiful fishponds; so many banks of wild rice; and besides, there are the mulberry fields and vegetable gardens, and the herb patches that grow in the shade of our mulberries."

Old Fei drew the scholar by the hand to the left side of the hall, where they could see more than ten tall buildings. "My granaries," said the farmer. "And those are stalls for the oxen, the sheep, and the hogs. Right and left are the tenant farmers' houses and other bungalows we rent." The scholar nodded continually, his mind dazzled, his eye covetous. When dinner was announced, old Fei invited the scholar to the table.

The viands and delicacies were abundant and clean, far from what one usually finds in a country homestead. The old farmer raised his cup and said, "This brew has been aged five years. We offer it today especially for my honored younger brother." The scholar thanked him profusely, and soon both Feis were warm with spirits. The scholar for his part gave a full account of his pedigree and connections. "This official was my father's cla.s.smate," he said. "And that one my examiner and patron. So-and-so the local official was my examiner, too. Various others are my cousins. At present so-and-so in office in the city are on good terms with me and would satisfy my every wish. Anyone a.s.sociated with me would be immune from misfortune of any kind."

Old farmer Fei took it in with enthusiasm and reverence. The meal ended, and so did the rains. As the sun was going down, the scholar said goodbye, for he had to leave even though the farmer begged him to stay the night. Sorrowfully old Fei watched him depart.

Next day, wearing his best clothes and taking a mult.i.tude of servingmen, the farmer set sail. He reached the city and called on the scholar, who received him cordially. From then on their friendship deepened. Produce from farmer Fei's fields was frequently presented to scholar Fei. When the fall harvest was in, part of the new crop was sent to the graduate. At the year's end there would come a gift of preserved meats. The grateful scholar was pained that he could not do something useful in return for the food he had taken. Finally, however, he came up with an idea and consulted a certain police constable with whom he was on close terms. The policeman arranged for a certain bandit to commit a crime and frame farmer Fei for it. Soon the farmer found himself in jail.

Seeking help, the farmer's son rushed to the home of the scholar. "Your father has treated me so generously," the scholar said tearfully, "that I would spare nothing to save him. But his offense is not light. This isn't something I can take care of by putting in a word. We're involved with a bunch of real crooks here-what's the best way to deal with this, I wonder?"

The son said, "If there's any way to free my father, we'll follow your instructions to the letter." The scholar told him how much to pay to bribe this official and that official-how much for the magistrate's clerk, the constable, and last of all, the bandit. Paying off the higher-ups and the lower-downs would cost five thousand ounces of silver.

Now, the wealth of a farmer is in his land; there is little cash. Unable to raise the entire amount, the son was forced to give all the deeds for the land and buildings to the scholar, who took possession of the property in the name of other officials. He even circulated pet.i.tions and instructions to his superiors and inferiors to milk the son from every possible angle. To meet these demands the farmer's son was reduced to "netting sparrows and unearthing rats," as they say-doing any odd jobs that would turn a penny. At last when the household was stripped clean, the father was set free. One year had gone by.

While in prison, the farmer felt ever grateful to the scholar for keeping him in mind. Old Fei often remarked that he was lucky to know the young man. When he finally returned home and counted up his losses, all that was left to him in the world was his wretched family. The air shook with his great sobs. But before his tears had time to dry, a representative of the receiver of his property arrived.

When the farmer had calmed himself, he fell to wondering why a bandit he had never met could have wreaked such vengeance upon him. So he killed a chicken and took it with some wine back to the jail to feast the bandit and ask the cause of his hatred.

"I ruined you and your family," the bandit said, "yet you have come to feed me. You must be an honorable man. I can no longer conceal the truth, which is that your brother the scholar instructed the constables to do everything." Hearing this, the old farmer realized at last what had happened. He dashed to the graduate's house but time and again was told that scholar Fei was away on business.

Unable to vent his anger there, the old farmer went home and laid the blame on his daughter-in-law. "If it were not for you," he said, "this disaster would never have happened." "Your surnames happened to be the same," she replied, "so I mentioned it to you. I didn't ask you to get involved with the man."

In his anguish the old farmer cursed her, and she was so outraged that she hanged herself. The son, furious at seeing his wife dead for no reason, also hanged himself. And old Fei, having now neither home nor descendants, put the cord around his own neck too.

-Ching Hsing-shao.

A Small Favor.

Ting Ch'ien-hsi of Chuch'eng in Shantung was a wealthy and chivalrous man who took pleasure in doing justice and setting wrongs to right. But when the imperial censor in residence ordered his arrest to answer certain charges, Ting disappeared. He traveled to Anch'iu county and there ran into a rainstorm, so he took refuge in an inn. By noon the rain had not stopped.

A young man came with a generous gift of food for Ting. Soon it was dusk, and Ting stayed the night at the young man's home. Both the traveler and his horse were well taken care of. Ting asked the young man his name. "The master of the house is Mr. Yang. I am his wife's nephew," he replied. "He likes to be in the company of friends and has gone out. Only his wife is at home. I fear we are too poor to provide properly for a guest; I hope you will forgive us."

Ting asked Mr. Yang's occupation and learned that he eked out a living by running a gambling den. The next day the rain continued, and Ting and his horse were treated as generously as the day before. At nightfall hay was cut for the horse in bundles that were soaked and uneven. Ting was surprised, and the young man said to him, "To tell you the truth, we are too poor to feed the horse. My uncle's wife just now pulled some thatch off the roof."

Puzzled, Ting thought the lad might be hinting for money and offered him some silver, but it was refused. When Ting insisted, the youth took the silver inside, only to come out again and return it to the guest. "My aunt says that Mr. Yang often goes away for days without any money; he relies on the hospitality of friends. So when a guest comes to our house, how can we ask for money?"

Before Ting left he said, "I am Ting from Chuch'eng. When your master returns, please inform him that I would be honored by a visit from him when he is free."

Many years later, there was a famine. The Yangs were in grave trouble and had nowhere to turn. Mrs. Yang casually asked her husband to go and see Ting Ch'ien-hsi, and he agreed. He arrived in Chuch'eng and gave his name at Ting's gate.

At first Ting did not remember him, but when Yang's story was relayed to him he rushed out to greet his guest. Noticing Yang's tattered clothes and worn-out shoes, Ting placed him in a warm room, feasted him, and treated him with love and respect. The next day Ting had a cap and clothes, warm and well-lined, made for the guest. Although Yang was overwhelmed by Ting's hospitality, his worries were increasing, for he was anxious to get relief for his family. Several days went by, however, and his host still made no mention of sending him home with parting gifts.

At last Yang said apprehensively to Ting, "There's something I cannot keep from you. When I left home, we didn't have even a peck of rice. Now I have already received so much of your generosity, and while I am surely delighted, what of my family?"

"Nothing to worry about," replied Ting. "I've already taken care of them for you. Please don't let it concern you. Stay with us a little longer, and then I'll help you with your travel expenses." Ting summoned a group of gamblers and arranged for Yang to take a commission out of their game. During the night Yang made one hundred pieces of silver.

After this Ting sent him home, where Yang found his wife in new clothes, with a young maidservant attending her. Amazed, he asked what had happened. "The day after you left," she said, "carts and men on foot came with gifts of cloth and silk and beans and grain, enough to fill the whole house! They said it was a present from Mr. Ting. He also sent a serving maid to do my bidding."

Yang's grat.i.tude knew no measure. From then on he became prosperous and did not have to follow in his former occupation.

The Recorder of Things Strange says: To enjoy company and entertain guests is what drinkers, gamblers, and floating types are best at. More remarkable is Yang's wife, who offered such generous hospitality though she was no drinker or gambler herself. What humanity is there in those who accept a favor but do not reciprocate? Ting is a man who did not forget even the gift of one meal.

-P'u Sung-ling.

Pitted Loquats.

Chu I-chun, a member of the Imperial Academy, was on friendly terms with a Taoist priest. In the temple were two loquat trees, and every year when the fruit ripened, the priest would offer some to Chu. The loquats never had pits, and when Chu asked why, the priest replied that they were a supernatural species. Chu received this explanation with skepticism.

The priest loved fine food and particularly relished steamed pork. One day Chu invited him for dinner, and instructed his servant to purchase a pig and carry it through the house in the priest's presence. In a short while the meat was presented at the table, well cooked and succulent. They ate their fill, and when the feast ended, the priest asked Chu how the meal had been prepared so quickly.

"It's really a simple trick," said Mr. Chu. "I'll tell you if you tell me the secret of your loquats."

"Nothing to it, really," said the priest. "When they first flower, I pinch out the fine hair from the core."

"Well then," said Chu, "as for the meal, I had it cooked yesterday." And smiling broadly, heads thrown back, they parted.

-Tai Yen-nien.

Memory Trouble.

In the land of Ch'i in eastern China there was a man who had so much trouble remembering things that he would even forget to stop when he was walking or to get up when he was sleeping. His wife grew worried and said, "They claim that Ai Tzu has skill and knowledge to cure the most deep-seated ailments. Why don't you go and put yourself under his care?"

The man agreed. He mounted his horse, took bow and arrows to defend himself on the way, and set off. But soon he felt pressure in his bowels and got off his horse to relieve himself by the side of the road. The arrows he planted in the ground, the horse he tied to a tree.

When the man was finished, he looked to his left and spotted the arrows. "That was close!" he said. "Where did those stray arrows come from? One of them could have hit me!" He looked to his right and saw the horse. "That was some scare," he thought, "but I have gained a horse." When he took the reins, he stepped into his own dung. Stamping his foot, he said, "I've walked into some dog dung and dirtied my shoes. What a shame!"

He turned the horse toward the way they had come and laid on the whip. Soon he was back at his house. He paced to and fro before the main gate. "Who could live here?" he asked himself. "Don't tell me it's Ai Tzu's place!" His wife saw him and realized that his memory had failed again. She scolded him, but the man said forlornly, "My good woman, I don't believe we are acquainted. Why should you speak so harshly to me?"

-Lo Cho Medical Techniques Chang was a poor man of Yi county in Shantung. He happened to meet a Taoist priest on the road who was skilled in physiognomy. The priest read his features and said, "You ought to make your fortune in some profession." "What should I pursue?" asked Chang. The priest eyed him again. "Medicine should do," he said.

"How could I go into that," replied Chang, "when I can hardly read?"

The priest smiled. "A famous doctor doesn't have to read much. Do it, that's all."

Chang returned home and, since he had no work anyhow, resolved to follow the priest's advice. He got together some quack remedies and cleared a place to set up shop in town. There he displayed fishes' teeth, honeycombs, and other such, hoping to scare up a few cups of rice with his slippery tongue. But day after day no one took any notice of him.

It happened that the governor of Ch'ingchou was troubled by a cough and ordered his subordinates to summon medical advice. Since Yi county was far off in the mountains, doctors were scarce. But the county magistrate, fearful lest he fail in his duty, ordered the chiefs of the hamlets to produce one. By consensus they recommended Chang.

The county magistrate summoned Chang to come at once. But Chang himself suffered from an asthmatic cough which he could not relieve, so the official command frightened him and he firmly declined. The magistrate would not accept his answer and ordered Chang delivered under escort to the governor.

Chang's carriage pa.s.sed through remote mountains, where water was precious as nectar. His great thirst made his cough worse, and he stopped at a hamlet to find water. No one could spare any, though he begged everywhere. Then he spotted a woman straining a mess of wild vegetables in a small amount of water. Some liquid, turgid as phlegm, remained in the pan, and the parched Chang asked for it. The woman gave it to him, and a short while after he drank it his thirst eased and his cough vanished. "An effective remedy, it seems," he thought to himself.

When Chang reached the governor's headquarters, physicians from the various counties had already tried out their treatments with no success. Chang asked for a secluded spot, where he pretended to prepare a prescription. He pa.s.sed the medicine around for people to see. At the same time, he sent someone to find pigweed and bishopweed among the common folk. Then he strained them and presented the juice to the governor, whose cough improved after a single dose. Overjoyed, the governor rewarded Chang richly and gave him a gold plaque to display. And in this manner Chang's name was made. His doorway became as crowded as the marketplace, and all who came were cured.

Once a man came to him with a case of typhoid, but Chang was drunk and dosed the patient with the medicine for malaria. When Chang awoke, he realized his mistake but was afraid to tell anyone. Three days later a grand ceremonial procession arrived at his gate to thank him, for the typhoid victim had recovered after a spell of severe vomiting and diarrhea. Incidents of this kind occurred frequently.

From then on Chang became a wealthy man without holding office, and the value of his services continued to rise with his rising reputation. He would visit only those who offered him large fees and comfortable transportation.

Another famous physician was Old Man Han, who lived in Yitu of Ch'ing province. Before he became famous he peddled tonics in the four corners of the realm. One night when he was far from any inn, he was given lodging by a family. It happened that their son was dying of typhoid, and the parents begged Han to treat the boy. Han feared that if he refused, they would throw him out; yet the truth was that he had no cure for the disease. Pacing back and forth wondering what to do, he rubbed his hand along his body, and some grime came off in his fingers. In his distraction he kneaded the dirt into a pellet. Then the thought struck him that he could dose the boy with it, for it certainly could do no harm. If there was no improvement by dawn, Han would have already earned a meal and his night's rest.

Han gave the boy the pellet, and in the middle of the night the boy's father came knocking furiously at Han's door. Sure that the boy had died, the physician leaped out of bed and vaulted the compound wall to avoid a beating. The father pursued the fleeing doctor for over a mile and finally caught up with him. Then Han learned that the patient had sweated and recovered. They led the medical man back to a sumptuous banquet and sent him on his way richly rewarded.

-P'u Sung-ling The Lost Horse A man who lived on the northern frontier of China was skilled in interpreting events. One day for no reason, his horse ran away to the nomads across the border. Everyone tried to console him, but his father said, "What makes you so sure this isn't a blessing?" Some months later his horse returned, bringing a splendid nomad stallion. Everyone congratulated him, but his father said, "What makes you so sure this isn't a disaster?" Their household was richer by a fine horse, which the son loved to ride. One day he fell and broke his hip. Everyone tried to console him, but his father said, "What makes you so sure this isn't a blessing?"

A year later the nomads came in force across the border, and every able-bodied man took his bow and went into battle. The Chinese frontiersmen lost nine of every ten men. Only because the son was lame did father and son survive to take care of each other. Truly, blessing turns to disaster, and disaster to blessing: the changes have no end, nor can the mystery be fathomed.

-Liu An The Deer in the Dream A woodsman of the state of Cheng was gathering firewood in the forest when he met a frightened deer. He stood before the animal and struck it dead. Afraid someone else would find and appropriate it, he hastily hid the deer in a ditch and covered it with the wood he had gathered. Presently, however, the place where he had hidden the deer slipped his mind, and he ended up thinking it had all been a dream.

As the woodsman continued on his way, he sang a song about what had happened. A pa.s.serby on the road overheard the song, and making use of the words, found the deer and took it home. The pa.s.serby told his wife, "I heard a woodsman who dreamed he had a deer but didn't know where it was. I now have it, so plainly his dream was true."

"Might it not be," said his wife, "that you dreamed a woodsman had a deer? Why must there be a woodsman at all? Since you now have the deer, doesn't it mean that your dream is true?"

"Well, since the deer is in my possession," said the man, "what difference does it make whether he was dreaming or I was?"

When the woodsman who had killed the deer returned home, he was distressed over losing the animal. That night he dreamed of the place where he had hidden it and also of the pa.s.serby who had taken it. Early next morning he searched and found the man just where the dream had indicated. He took the man to court over the deer, and the case came before the magistrate.

Addressing the woodsman, the magistrate said, "At first when you really got a deer, you called it a dream. And when you really dreamed of getting a deer, you called it real. The pa.s.serby really got your deer, and you are challenging him for it. His wife says that you are claiming another's deer from a dream, and that no one got your deer. Now then, the pa.s.serby and his wife have possession of this deer, but I advise that it be divided between you."

The magistrate brought the case to the attention of the king of Cheng. "Ah well," said the king, "I suppose you will in turn be dreaming that you divided the deer?" The king consulted the prime minister, his chief adviser, who said, "I cannot tell dreaming from waking. Only the Yellow G.o.d-king or Confucius could do that. Since we have neither, it seems best to accept the magistrate's decision."

-Lieh Tzu Loss of Memory Hua Tzu of the state of Sung suffered a loss of memory in his middle years. Whatever he took in the morning was forgotten by evening. Whatever he gave in the evening was forgotten by morning. On the road he would forget to move ahead. Indoors he would forget to sit down. Here and now, he has forgotten then; later he will not remember the here and now.

His whole household was plunged into confusion by his ailment. Finally he sought the help of an astrologer, but divination provided no answer. He sought the help of a medium, but prayer could not control the problem. He visited a physician, but the treatment brought no relief.

In the state of Lu there was a Confucian scholar who claimed that he could cure the disease, and Hua Tzu's wife paid him half their estate to do it. "No sign or omen," said the Confucian, "can solve this. No prayer can preserve him. No medicine will work. I must try to transform his mind and alter his thinking; then there may be hope." The scholar stripped Hua Tzu, and the naked man demanded clothes. The scholar starved Hua Tzu, and he demanded food. He locked Hua Tzu in a dark room, and he demanded light.

The delighted Confucian said to Hua Tzu's son, "This illness can be cured. But my remedy is a secret handed down for generations, a secret that has never been revealed to anyone outside our family. I must ask you to dismiss all your father's attendants so that he can live alone with me for seven days." The son agreed.

No one knows what methods the scholar used, but Hua Tzu's ailment of many years cleared up. When Hua Tzu realized that he was cured, he went into a tremendous rage. He chastised his wife, punished his son, and drove off the Confucian with weapons. People seized Hua Tzu and asked him why he did this.

"In my forgetfulness I was a free man, unaware if heaven and earth existed or not," said Hua Tzu. "But now I remember all that has pa.s.sed, all that remains or has perished, all that was gained or lost, all that brought sorrow or joy, all that was loved or hated-the ten thousand vexations of my decades of life. And I fear that these same things will disturb my mind no less in times to come. Where shall I find another moment's oblivion?"

-Lieh Tzu The Sun During his travels to the east, Confucius came upon two boys arguing. He asked them why, and one replied, "I say that the sun is closest to us when it first comes up, and farthest away at noon."

"No," said the other, "it's farthest from us when it rises and closest at noon."

The first boy said, "When the sun rises, it's as big as a chariot's canopy. At noon it's the size of a plate. Isn't this because the farther is smaller, the closer is larger?"

The second boy said, "When the sun rises it's still cool, but by noon it's quite hot. Isn't this because what's closer is hotter, and what's farther is cooler?"

When Confucius could not solve the problem, the two boys said, "Who says you know so much?"

-Lieh Tzu THE ANIMAL KINGDOM.

A Faithful Mouse Yang T'ing-yi tells about the time he saw two mice come into the open and a snake gobble one of them down. The other mouse, eyes popping like peppercorns, kept his distance as he glared. The snake got the mouse it had caught into its belly and slithered for its hole. It was more than halfway in when the second mouse dashed forward and clamped his teeth around the snake's tail. Furious, the snake backed out. The ever-nimble mouse darted to safety in a flash. The snake gave chase but failed to catch the mouse, so it returned to its hole. As it was entering, the mouse seized its tail exactly as he had before. Each time the snake crawled in, the mouse struck; each time the snake came out, the mouse ran. This went on for quite a while, until the snake spat the dead mouse onto the ground. The second mouse came up and cried over his friend. Then, squeaking dolefully, he picked up the corpse in his mouth and left. My friend Chang Li-yu wrote a poem in its honor called "The Faithful Mouse."

-P'u Sung-ling The Loyal Dog A man of Luan had run afoul of the law and was about to be executed. His son sc.r.a.ped together all the family's savings, which came to a hundred pieces of silver, to appeal the case to the governor. When the son mounted his donkey and set out for the capital, his black dog followed after him. The son shouted at the dog to go home, but the moment he started to ride away, the animal followed again. Even when he whipped the dog it hung around and sidled after him.

Man, donkey, and dog had gone a dozen miles or so in this manner when the son dismounted and hurried to the side of the road to relieve himself. Then he began throwing stones at the dog, until the animal finally fled for its life. Once free, the man and the donkey set out and made good time, when suddenly the dog reappeared. Breathing so hard its sides were like pumping bellows, it snapped at the donkey's tail and ankles. Angrily the son laid his whip to his pet. It yelped and barked, but leaped ahead and snapped at the donkey's head as if it were trying to block the way.

Angrier than ever, the son turned the donkey around and rode back the way he had come, driving the dog before him. When he had it running a long way ahead of him, he swung around and galloped toward the capital.

It was nightfall when he arrived. He felt for the satchel of silver at his side. Half the money was missing! He broke into a heavy sweat and lost his wits completely. All night he tossed and turned, until it struck him that there must have been a reason for the commotion the dog had made.

He had to wait until early morning for the city gates to open. Then he rode carefully back the way he had come, with a sharp eye out for his money. Travelers on the roads were thick as ants, however, and he figured there was little chance of finding it. He came to the spot where he had dismounted to relieve himself. There in the high gra.s.s he saw the dog's lifeless body, its fur soaked as if it had been bathed. He lifted the dog's ear and saw the silver, intact, before his very eyes.

Moved by the dog's devotion, the son bought a coffin and buried it. The place is still known as the Loyal Dog's Tomb.

-P'u Sung-ling Black and White The philosopher Yang Chu had a younger brother named Pu. One day Pu left the house wearing white clothes. A storm came up and soaked them, so he changed into some dark ones. When he returned home, his dog did not recognize him and barked furiously. Pu was angry and raised his arm to beat the dog, when his older brother said, "Don't hit him. Would you recognize your dog if he went off white and came home black?"

-Lieh Tzu The Dog Goes to Court In the fall of the year a traveler was riding home from a business trip with five or six hundred pieces of silver. In a county called Chungmou he dismounted from his mule and sat by the roadside to rest. A young man with a long pole on which he was carrying a dog sat down beside him.

The dog whimpered piteously at the merchant as if begging for his freedom, so the traveler bought the dog from the youth and set it loose. Meanwhile the young man noticed that the merchant's sack was heavily loaded. He quietly followed the traveler to a deserted spot, where he beat him to death with the pole. He dragged the body to a small bridge that crossed a stream, covered the corpse with sand and reeds, shouldered the sack, and left.

Seeing the stranger dead, the dog kept out of sight but trailed the youth home. He took note of the place and left, running all the way to the county courthouse. It happened that the judge was opening the day's sessions, and the sergeants-at-arms were in position, strict and severe. The dog dashed forward and made a great outcry, half moaning, half appealing. He could not be driven off.

"What's your complaint?" asked the judge. "I'll send an officer to follow you." The dog led the officer to the foot of the bridge where the traveler's body was hidden; then he barked toward the water. The officer pulled up the reeds and discovered the corpse. He reported back to the judge, but there was no way to apprehend the culprit. The dog also returned to the courthouse, where he barked and flung himself about. "You know who did it?" asked the judge. "I might as well send officers to follow you."

This time the judge dispatched several men with the dog. They trailed him for seven or eight miles until they came to a house in a remote village. The dog entered it, leaped on a young man inside, and savaged him, tearing his clothes and drawing blood. The officers dragged the man to the courthouse, where he confessed and gave details of his crime. "The merchant's silver has not been touched," he told them, and they returned to the house for it. Inside the merchant's sack of money they also found a doc.u.ment with his name and village.

The judge pa.s.sed sentence on the young man and had the sack placed in the public treasury. Again the dog planted himself and barked without letup. The judge reflected, "Although the merchant is dead, his family must be alive. The sack belongs to them; that must be why the dog is barking." So he sent his officers off to the dead man's village. The dog followed.

When they arrived, the merchant's family was terribly shocked to learn that he was dead. The man's son went back with the officers to Chungmou, where the culprit had already died in jail. The judge took the sack of silver, checked it carefully, and turned it over to the son.

The dog meanwhile followed the son to Chungmou and then back again when the coffin was escorted home. And in all the hundreds of miles that they covered, the animal conducted itself like a human being.