flowed the Palace. They were celebrating victory. On the frontier a serious uprising of the Kitan Tartars had been suppressed by the valiant action of the Imperial forces. An Lu-shan had been in charge of one of the regiments in his Majesty's service. Unshaken by a veritable rain of arrows, he had pushed forward at the head of his men. He rode in a chariot drawn by three fiery horses as far as the road would permit, then he sprang out and went forward afoot. Gone was all awkwardness from his movements. He leaped from rock to rock with the power and grace of a blue tiger. His troops watched him, fascinated. He wore a suit of white folded-paper armor, so strong that despite the fact that his conspicuousness made him a target for Kitan arrows, not one of them had the force to penetrate his apparently flimsy costume. His men marveled at his courage for they were adequately protected by suits of chain and mail armor. It was stimulating to be able to follow so magnificent a leader. In the deep of the night, with hushed footsteps, half the regiment crept forward while the remainder put on an act of boisterous merriment. They shouted songs that shattered the silence of the night into a thousand fragments. They played musical instruments, ear-splittingly off key. The leaders of the Kitan Tartars relaxed their vigilance. There would be no night attack. Such a boisterous army could not be a menace. Besides there was no moon. Who knew what evil spirits, or ferocious demons might lurk in the appalling velvet black?
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