for nineteen years and saved three dollars. He married a young wife and passed the New Year happily. He was a very rich man. . . . But come, arise, you must be hungry. You will need much food to make you strong for the dangers that lie ahead."
"Dangers, I know of no dangers."
"That is regrettable, for death stares you in the face."
"Fine, that proves at least that I'm not dead, or dying or tossing about in delirium."
"No, I can assure you you are in perfect health. I found you lying by the Black Dragon River, so I brought you to my house."
"So there is an exit from this cave."
"Several and death is one of them. I will show you the way. However, for your guidance, be it known that my house is within the cavern. How you came unto my people I have no way of knowing."
"The explanation is simple. I came down by parachute when my plane was destroyed, and, since your house is near the Black Dragon River, it wouldn't be exaggerating to say I fell through your skylight."
"Your words are not without a substance of humor but the incident is regrettable nonetheless."
"I prefer to call it fortunate and I am grateful."
"Is a condemned man grateful for the rope that hangs him?"
"What's that to do with me?"
"Perhaps much."
"What fantastic stuff is this? Are you threatening me? I don't scare easily. My squadron of flyers were and still are known as Flying Tigers."
"And you have done great work for China. For that we shall honor you."
"Thanks."
"Unfortunately, soon thereafter you must die."
"I assure you I intend to keep on living. I've wiggled out of worse spots than this. But what have I done? What law have I broken?"
"You've invaded our solitude. For ages we have been people of legend. Come, let us go into my library for a moment and I will read a short passage from one of the endless stream of books on China written by your people. Odd how you Americans can write so much about us when you know so little. I spend many a droll half hour reading over these merrie tales. So many of your people are patronizing about the Chinese. We only taught you the Golden Rule, gave you the first printed book, the first paper, the first ink, the first silk, the first tea—"
"But alas," broke in Trent ruefully, "what good are all these great gifts if I cannot live to enjoy them."
"I am amazed that you are so opposed to dying, when you can die for a great principle—in order that our solitude will not be violated."
"Sounds a bit selfish if you ask me."
"Not at all. There was once an Indian philosopher who spoke for all men when he said, 'Ah, brother, you will never know the blessing of doing nothing and thinking nothing; and yet, next to sleep, that is most delicious. Thus we were before our birth, thus we shall be after death!'"
As he spoke, Mu Lin drew aside a curtain and they entered a library, large in extent but very homelike. Beside comfortable chairs scattered about the room were convenient tables piled with books while yellow lanterns burned above in the best position to give proper light. Mu Lin went to a bookshelf and took down the volume he wanted.
"This book," he said, "was published about a hundred years ago but it will serve its purpose. It gives only a few lines
