The story tells how after Monkey had rejoined the Tang Priest the four of them headed West, united in their shared determination. The king of Elephantia had escorted them beyond his capital to thank them for bringing back his daughter. From there they traveled on, eating when hungry and drinking when thirsty, moving by day and resting at night. By now it was spring.

 

A light breeze ruffled the silky green catkins of willows,

And the view was splendid.

The season encouraged the birds to sing;

The flowers bloomed in the warm sun,

Making the whole world fragrant.

A pair of swallows came to the tree in the courtyard;

Now was the time to enjoy the spring.

Amid the world's red dust and the city's streets,

Light silks were worn to the sound of lute and pipe,

As flower vied and the cup was passed around.

 

Master and disciples were enjoying their journey when they saw a mountain blocking their way. “Be careful, disciples,” said the Tang Priest. “I'm worried that tigers and wolves may prevent us from crossing that high mountain ahead.”

“As a man of religion,” said Monkey, “you shouldn't say that sort of thing. Don't you remember what the Heart Sutra the Rook's Nest Hermit taught you says—'If one relies on the prajna-paramita, he is free in his mind, he has no fear, is rid of dreamlike thoughts of unreality and enjoys ultimate Nirvana.' All you have to do is

 

'Wipe the dust off your mind,

Wash out the dirt from your ear.

Without the most terrible suffering

You cannot be a great man.'

 

There's no need to be so glum. With me here you'll come to no harm even if the sky falls down, so why be scared of wolves and tigers?” The Tang Priest reined in his horse and replied:

 

“When I left Chang'an on imperial orders,

I was determined to worship the Buddha in the West,

Where his golden image shines in the sacred land,

And the jade hair gleams in the pagoda.”

 

“I shall search the nameless rivers of the world,

And climb all unknown mountain ranges.

I long to cross the mighty, misty waves;

But when, O when, will I find my rest?”

 

When Monkey heard this he chuckled and said, “You'll have no difficulty in that. When you've completed your mission all your destinies will be over and all your dharmas will be empty, so of course you'll be able to rest then.” This cheered up Sanzang, who gave his dragon-horse the rein and urged it forward. As they climbed the mountain they found it truly craggy and precipitous.

 

Towering peaks,

Tapering pinnacles.

Down in the deep and winding stream,

Beside the solitary cliff.

Down in the deep and winding stream,

You can hear the serpents playing and splashing in the water;

Beside the solitary cliff,

Amid the trees on the precipice, tigers whisk their tails.

Look up,

And the blue sky is high above the peaks;

Turn round,

And the heavens join the deeps in the valley.

Climbing it

Is like ascending a ladder;

Descending

Is like going into a pit.

This is indeed a weird and craggy ridge,

A wall of tapering cliffs.

On the craggy ridge,

The medicine-gatherer moves in fear;

On the sheer rock-face

The firewood-collector cannot take a step.

Wild goats and horses all run free

And many are the hares and mountain oxen.

The mountain is so high it blots out sun and stars;

One often meets evil monsters and gray wolves.

The path is hard to follow and difficult for the horse:

How will they ever see the Buddha at the Thunder Monastery?

 

As Sanzang reined in his horse to look at the mountain he saw that they had reached a most difficult spot. There was a wood-gatherer standing on the green, grassy slope, and this was what he looked like:

 

On his head a battered blue felt hat,

On his body a black woolen tunic.

The battered felt hat

That kept off sun and cloud was a strange sight;

In his black woolen tunic

He was amazingly happy and carefree.

The steel axe in his hand had been sharpened till it shone;

He cut dry wood and made it into bundles.

Spring hung from his carrying-pole,

And he was happy throughout the four seasons.

His appearance was relaxed,

And his mind free from anxiety.

He had accepted his lot throughout his life;

Fame and disgrace never bothered him on this mountain.

 

The wood-gatherer

 

Was cutting down dead wood upon the slope

When he saw the monk approaching from the East.

Giving his axe a rest, he came out of the tress,

And, climbing fast, soon scaled the rock-face.

 

“Stop here for a moment on your journey West,” he shouted. “I must warn you that there is a pack of vicious ogres and fierce wolves on this mountain. They eat travelers from the East who are heading West.”

The news terrified Sanzang out of his wits. Trembling in the saddle, he turned round sharply and called for his disciples.

“Did you hear what the woodman said?” he asked. “There are ogres and wolves on this mountain. Do any of you dare ask him for more details?”

“Don't worry, Master,” said Monkey, “I'll find out from him.”

Brother Monkey hurried up the mountain, and addressing the woodman as “Elder Brother” he asked all about it. “Why have you come here, venerable sir?” asked the woodman, returning his greeting.

“To tell you the truth, elder brother,” said Monkey, “We have come from the East and are heading West to fetch the scriptures. That's my master on the horse. He's a bit timid, so when you told him about the ogres and wolves he sent me to ask you about them. How long have they been here? Are they experts or just beginners? Please tell me about them. Then I can make the gods of the mountain and the local deities march them off.”

At this the woodman threw back his head and roared with laughter. “You really are a mad monk,” he said.

“I'm not mad,” replied Monkey, “I'm talking sense.”

“If you're talking sense,” said the woodman, “then how can you say you'll have them marched off?”

“You must be related to them,” said Monkey, “putting on those airs and blocking our way to talk that nonsense to us. If you're not related to them you're either a neighbour or a friend of theirs.”

“This is too much, mad monk,” said the woodcutter with another laugh. “The warning I've come specially to give you is meant well. I tell you to be on your guard all the time as you travel along, but you're holding me responsible for all those demons. Never mind whether I happen to know what these demons do. How could you possibly have them marched off even if I did know. Where would you send them?”

“If they were sky monsters,” replied Monkey, “I'd send them to the Jade Emperor, and if they were earth monsters I'd send them to the Earth Palace. Western ones would go to die Buddha and Eastern ones to the Sage. I'd send Northerners to the True Martial God of the North and Southerners to the Fire God. Dragon spirits would go to the Lord of the Seas and demons to King Yama. They all have somewhere to go. I know the people in all those places, so I'd only need to write out an order for the monsters to be sent there at the double the very same night.”

“You mad monk,” said the woodcutter with a mocking laugh, “you may have traveled in the clouds and learned a little magic, but even if you can expel evil spirits and bind demons you've never come up against such vicious fiends.”

“What's so vicious about them?” asked Monkey.

“This mountain is about two hundred miles across,” said the woodcutter, “and it's called Flat-top Mountain. There is a cave in it called the Lotus Flower Cave where two devil chieftains live. They are so determined to capture monks that they've drawn pictures of them and found out the name of the man they want to eat—the Tang Priest. You'll be all right provided you come from anywhere but Tang. But if you're from there, don't carry on.”

“The land of Tang,” replied Monkey, “is precisely where we're from.”

“Then they'll eat you,” said the woodcutter.

“We're in luck,” said Monkey, “we're in luck. The only thing is that I don't know how they're going to eat us.”

“How do you want them to eat you?” the woodcutter asked.

“If they eat my head first,” said Monkey, “that will be fine. But if they start with my feet, I'll suffer.”

“What difference does it make whether they start with your head or feet?” the woodcutter asked.

“You have no experience of it,” said Monkey. “If they start with my head, they'll have it off with one bite and I'll be dead. Whether they fry me, saute me, or stew me I won't feel the slightest pain. But if they start from my feet they can chew my ankles, crunch up my legs, and eat their way up to my waist with me still alive and in agony. It would be going through torment in small installments. That's why I'd suffer.”

“They've been there for a long time, monk,” said the woodcutter, “and the moment they get you they'll tie you up, pop you in the steamer, and eat you whole.”

“Even better,” said Monkey with a grin, “even better. That won't be at all painful; it'll just be a bit hot and close.”

“This is nothing to joke about, monk,” said the woodcutter. “Those monsters have five treasures that they carry about with them, and their magic powers are enormous. Even if you're one of the jade pillars of the heavens or one of the golden beams that support the sea you may well have to pass out in order to get the Tang Priest through.”

“How often?” Monkey asked.

“Three or four times,” replied the woodcutter.

“That's nothing,” said Monkey, “nothing at all. We all pass out seven or eight hundred times a year, so it will be easy to pass out three or four times more and then we'll be able to get through.”

The fearless Great Sage, whose one thought was to protect the Tang Priest, left the woodcutter and hurried back. When he reached the horse standing on the mountainside he said, “It's nothing much, Master. It's true that there are a few evil spirits here, but the local people only worry about them because they are timid. With me here there's no need for you to be afraid of them, so let's be on our way again.” Sanzang was relieved to hear this, and he followed Monkey's lead.

As they traveled along they realized that woodcutter had disappeared some time back. “Why can't we see the woodcutter who gave us the message?” asked Sanzang.

“What lousy luck,” said Pig. “We would have to meet a ghost in broad daylight.”

“He must have gone into the forest to look for some more firewood,” said Monkey. “I'll take a look.” Opening wide his fiery eyes with their golden pupils, the splendid Great Sage searched the mountain, but no sign of the woodcutter was to be seen. Then he looked up into the clouds and saw the Duty God of the Day there. He sprang up there himself and cursed him for a hairy devil several times before saying, “Why didn't you tell me straight instead of transforming yourself and putting on that act for me?”

The Duty God bowed to him anxiously and said, “Please forgive me for being so late with the warning. Those monsters really have enormous magic powers and can perform all kinds of transformations. You'll need all your skill and cunning to protect your master. You won't possibly reach the Western Heaven if you are at all slack.”

Monkey dismissed the Duty God. He was feeling worried as he landed his cloud and went up the mountainside until he found Sanzang, Pig and Friar Sand pressing ahead. “If I tell the master straight what the Duty God said,” he thought, “the master won't be able to face up to it and will start crying. But if I don't tell him and keep him in the dark he won't know how things stand, and it'll be a great nuisance for me if he gets captured by monsters. I'd better go and see Pig. I can send him ahead to fight the monster. If he wins, that will be something to his credit. If he can't do it and gets captured by the monster, I can go and rescue him, which will give me a chance to show what I can do and make myself famous.” As he made these calculations he wondered whether Pig would try to slip out of it and be protected by Sanzang. He decided he would have to force him into doing it.

The Great Sage resorted to a trick. He rubbed his eyes till they watered, then went up to the master. When Pig saw him he said to Friar Sand, “Put your carrying-pole down and unpack the luggage. We two will split it.”

“What do you mean, split it?” asked Friar Sand.

“Divide it,” said Pig. “You can go back to the River of Flowing Sands to be a monster, and I'll go back to Gao Village to see my wife. We can sell the white horse to buy the wood for the coffin the master will be needing when he grows old. Then we can break up instead of going on to the Western Heaven.”

When Sanzang heard this he said, “How can you talk such nonsense in the middle of the journey?”

“Who's talking nonsense? I'll say it again,” said Pig. “Can't you see that Monkey's coming back in tears? He's a real tough guy who isn't afraid of going down into the earth or up into the sky, or of being cut, burnt, or even being boiled in oil, so if he comes along deep in gloom and with the tears streaming down his face there must be monsters and wolves on this craggy mountain that softies like us could never get past.”

“Stop that nonsense,” said Sanzang. “I'll ask him what he has to say. Tell me straight,” he said to Monkey, “what is bothering you. Why are you crying? Are you trying to frighten us?”

“The person who gave us the message just now,” replied Monkey, “was the Duty God of the Day. He said that the evil spirits here are so ferocious that it will be hard to get through; besides, we'll never be able to make our way across these steep mountains. Let's go another day.”

Trembling with fear at this news, Sanzang tugged at Monkey's tigerskin kilt and said, “Why these thoughts of turning back when we've already done half the journey?”

“It's not that I'm wavering,” said Monkey, “but we'd be no match for so many monsters. 'A lump of iron in the furnace can only make a few nails.'”

“You are right,” said Sanzang, “it would be very difficult by yourself. As the military classic says, 'few are no match for many'. But I also have Pig and Friar Sand for you to deploy as your subordinates. Make a joint effort to clear the path and take me over the mountain. Then you will receive your just reward.”

As Brother Monkey's little show had only wrung these words out of his master, he wiped away his tears and said, “Pig will have to do two things I tell him to if you're to have even one chance in three of crossing the mountain as you want to, Master. If he won't do these two things for me you'll have no hope at all.”

“Brother,” Pig said, “if we can't cross the mountain, let's disband. Leave me out of this.”

“Disciple,” said Sanzang, “ask your brother what he wants you to do.”

“What do you want me to do, brother?” the idiot asked.

“Look after the master and patrol the mountains,” Monkey replied.

“But looking after the master means staying put,” said Pig, “and patrolling means moving. You can't ask me to stay put for a bit then move for a bit. I can't do both at once.”

“I'm not asking you to do them both,” said Monkey, “I just want you to do one of them.”

“That's much easier,” said Pig with a smile, “though I don't know what you mean by looking after the master or by patrolling the mountains. Tell me what you want, then I can do the one that suits me.”

“Looking after the master,” said Monkey, “means that if he wants to go for a stroll you must support him, and if he wants to eat you must beg some food for him. If he's hungry you'll be beaten. If he looks at all sallow you'll be beaten. If he's any thinner you'll be beaten.”

“That's very difficult,” said Pig with alarm. “There's nothing to looking after him or holding him up—even carrying him would be easy enough. But if he sends me to beg for food in a village the people on this path to the West won't realize that I'm a monk going to fetch the scriptures. They'll think that I'm a growing wild boar come down from the mountains. A crowd of men with forks, rakes and brooms will surround me, capture me, slaughter me, and salt me down for the New Year celebrations. That would be the end of me, wouldn't it?”

“Then you can patrol the mountains,” said Brother Monkey.

“What would that involve?” asked Pig.

“You would have to go into these mountains,” said Monkey, “to find out how many monsters there are, and all about the mountains, and what the monsters' caves are like, so that we can go across it.”

“Nothing to it,” replied Pig. “I'll patrol the mountains.” The idiot hitched up his tunic, grasped his rake, and proudly struck deep into the mountains. His spirits were high as he hurried along the path.

Monkey could not hold back an unkind laugh. “Wretched ape,” said Sanzang, “you haven't a shred of affection for your brothers, only jealousy. You trick him into patrolling the mountain with your cunning words, and then you laugh at him.”

“I'm not laughing at him,” said Monkey. “My laugh means something. Just you see—he won't patrol the mountains or dare to visit any monsters. He'll hide up somewhere for a while then make up some story to fool us with.”

“How do you know so much about him?” asked Sanzang.

“It's what I reckon he'll do,” replied Monkey “and if you don't believe me I'll go and take a look at him. I can help him subdue any demons and find out at the same time how sincere is his wish to see the Buddha.”

“Very good,” said Sanzang, “very good. But don't you go making a fool of him.” Monkey assented, and as he hurried up the mountainside he turned himself into the tiniest of insects with a shake of his body. He now looked very neat and small:

 

On his delicate wings he could lightly dance in the breeze;

His slim waist was as fine as a needle.

As he darted through the reeds or passed under flowers

He was faster than a shooting star.

Bright were his eyes,

Delicate his voice.

Of all insects he was the smallest,

Slim and elegant, but deeply clever.

If he were resting in the woods on a day off,

You would never see him,

And a thousand eyes could never find him.

 

He flew off, soon caught up with Pig, and perched on a bristle behind his ear; but Pig walked on, unaware that he was carrying a passenger. After two or three miles Pig dropped his rake, turned back to look at the Tang Priest, and began to curse at him, gesticulating widely.

“Soft-headed old monk,” he said, “vicious Monkey, and weak-minded Friar Sand. They're all enjoying themselves back there while they fool me into walking off here. We're all going to fetch the scriptures and we all want our reward, so why should I be the one to reconnoiter these mountains? Hm! If they know there are monsters around we should hide up for a while. But that's not even half good enough for them. They have to send me off by myself to find them. What lousy luck. I'll go and have a sleep somewhere. When I go back I can give him some kind of vague answer and say I've reconnoitered the mountains. That'll pay them back.”

Feeling pleased with himself for the moment Pig grasped his rake and set off. When he saw a reddish grassy slope in a mountain hollow he went straight to it, made himself a bed with the help of his rake, and lay down to sleep, saying as he stretched himself out, “This is the life. Not even Monkey can be as comfortable as I am.” Monkey, of course, had heard every word form behind his ear, and he could not resist the temptation to fly round and tease him. He shook himself and turned into a woodpecker.

 

His sharp iron beak was coloured red,

His green-blue feathers were glistening bright.

His steel claws were as sharp as nails,

And when hungry he broke the forest silence.

Dry and rotten timber was what he loved;

He hated lone and sturdy old trees.

His round eyes and flicking tail made him a lively creature,

And pleasant was the sound of his tapping.

 

This bird was neither too big nor too small, and would have weighed only two or three ounces. Its beak was copper-red, its legs were iron-black, and it came flying down with a swish of its wings.

When it pecked at the lip of Pig, who was sleeping with his head down, the idiot scrambled to his feet and shouted, “A monster, a monster! It jabbed me with its spear. My mouth's hurting terribly.” As he felt it with his hand he made the blood flow.

“Dammit,” he said, “nothing especially good has happened to me, so what's this lucky red doing on my lips?” At the sight of his bloody hand he started to look wildly about himself, muttering on the while, and when he saw nothing he said, “There's no monster here, so how did I get jabbed?” Then he looked up and saw a woodpecker flying above him.

“The wretch,” he said, gnashing his teeth, “it's bad enough being put upon by Monkey, but now you're getting at me. I suppose you didn't realize I was human and thought my snout was a black, rotten old tree full of insects. You pecked me to find yourself some. I'll have to tuck my snout into my clothes.” With that the idiot went back to sleep.

Monkey flew down again and pecked him behind the ear, at which the idiot leapt up again and said, “This damned bird is really going for me. It must have a nest full of eggs or chicks here and be attacking me to stop me taking it. Very well then, I won't sleep here.” He picked up his rake and left the red grassy slope to continue on his way.

Monkey, beside himself with delight, thought, “Even with his eyes wide open the blockhead can't recognize one of his own people.”

With a shake the splendid Great Sage turned himself back into a tiny insect and perched himself behind Pig's ear. Another mile or so deeper into the mountains there were three square granite boulders the size of tables in a hollow. Pig put down his rake and chanted a “re-e-er” to them.

“The idiot,” grinned Monkey to himself, “those boulders aren't human. They can't talk or return his greeting. He's wasting his time being polite to them.” In fact the idiot was pretending that they were Sanzang, Friar Sand and Monkey, and practicing his speech to them.

“When I go back,” he said, “if the master asks me about monsters, I'll say that there are some here. When he asks what sort of mountain this is he'll think I'm talking nonsense if I say it's made of mud or earth or tin or copper or flour or paper or simply painted. I'll say it's a mountain made of rock, and if he asks about the caves I'll say there is a stone cave. What about the gates? I'll say they're iron-plated and studded. When he asks how deep the cave is I'll say it has three sections, one behind another. If he really interrogates me and wants to know how many studs there are in the gates I'll say I was too excited to notice. Now I've got my story off pat I'll be able to make a fool of Monkey.”

His story now concocted, he headed back along the path, dragging his rake behind him, little knowing that Monkey had heard everything behind his ear and flown off ahead when he started back. Monkey resumed his real form to see his master, who said, “Ah, here you are. Why hasn't Pig come back?”

“He's still cooking up his story,” said Monkey, “he'll be here soon.”

“How could that stupid fool, whose ears cover his eyes, ever make up a story?” said Sanzang. “You must be the one who is lying.”

“You're covering up for him, master,” replied Monkey. “I heard it all from his own mouth.” He told Sanzang how Pig had been sleeping in the grass when he was woken up with a woodpeckers' peck, how he had expressed his homage to the boulders, and how he had concocted a story about the mountains being made of rock with a stone cave that had iron-plated gates and monsters living in it. It was not long before the idiot approached. He was going through his story again, his head bowed low, to make sure that he did not forget it when Monkey shouted, “Hey, idiot, what are you reciting?”

Pig pricked up his ears, looked around, and said, “I'm back.”

He fell to his knees and was picked up by Sanzang, who said, “You look exhausted, disciple.”

“I am,” replied Pig. “With all that walking and climbing I'm completely whacked.”

“Are there monsters?” Sanzang asked.

“Yes,” said Pig, “there certainly are. There's a whole pile of them.”

“What sort of send-off did they give you?”

“They called me Ancestor Pig and Grandfather Pig, gave me noodle soup and vegetarian dishes, talked to me, and sent me back over the mountain with drums and banners,” Pig replied.

“This must be some dream you had while you were asleep in the grass,” said Monkey, so frightening the idiot that he shrank two inches.

“Lord Monkey,” he said, “however did you know I had a sleep?”

Monkey went up to him, grabbed hold of him, and said, “Come here, I've something to ask you.”

“Ask me if you must,” said the idiot, now shaking with fright, “but why do you have to grab me like that?”

“What sort of mountain was it?” asked Monkey.

“A mountain of rock,” replied Pig.

“What sort of cave?”

“Stone.”

“What sort of gates?”

“Iron-plated.”

“How deep?”

“There were three sections.”

“No need to say more,” said Monkey, “I remember the rest. I'll say it all for you to make sure that the master believes it.”

“Cheek!” said Pig. “You've not been there, so you can't possibly know what to say for me.”

“'If he wants to know how many studs there are in the gates I'll say I was too excited to notice.' Isn't that right?” said Monkey. The panic-stricken idiot fell to his knees again as Monkey continued, “You chanted homage to those boulders and talked to them as if they were us three, didn't you? Then you said, 'Now I've got this story off pat I'll be able to make a fool of Monkey,' didn't you?”

“Brother,” pleaded the idiot, now kowtowing desperately, “you couldn't have heard all that while I was patrolling the mountains.”

“I'll get you, you chaff-guzzling moron,” said Monkey, “sleeping when you'd been told to patrol the mountains. If the woodpecker hadn't pecked you awake you'd still be asleep now. When you'd been woken up you concocted this pack of lies that might have ruined our whole journey. Stretch your ankle out and I'll give you five strokes of my cudgel to teach you a lesson.”

“A mere touch from that murderous cudgel,” said Pig, “would break my skin, and the feel of it would crack my sinews. Five blows would kill me.”

“If you didn't want to be beaten,” said Monkey, “why did you lie?”

“I only did it once,” said Pig, “and I'll never do it again.”

“As it was only once I'll give you three.”

“My lord,” said Pig, “half a blow would be the death of me.” The idiot's only recourse was to cling to Sanzang and beg him to put in a good word for him.

“When Monkey told me you were concocting lies,” said Sanzang, “I did not believe him, yet now you clearly deserve a beating. But as there are so few of you to serve me as we cross these mountains, you had better let him off, Monkey, until we are on the other side.”

“As the old saw goes,” said Monkey, “'to obey parental instructions is great filial piety.' As the master tells me not to beat you I'll let you off. Go and reconnoiter again. I'll show you no mercy if you lie or mess things up this time.”

The idiot rose to his feet and went off again. As he hurried along the path he suspected at every step that Monkey was following in some form or other, so he thought everything he saw might be Monkey. When after two or three miles a tiger came bounding up from the mountainside he raised his rake and said, “Come to see whether I'm lying, brother? This time I'm not.”

Further along a strong mountain wind blew a dead tree down and sent it tumbling towards him, at which he stamped, beat his chest and said, “What a way to treat me, brother. I said I wouldn't lie, but you go and turn yourself into a tree to attack me.”

A little later he saw a white-necked crow cawing in front of him. “You're shameless, brother,” he said, “shameless. I meant it when I said I wouldn't lie, so why've you turned into a crow? Come to listen to me?” In fact Monkey was not following him this time, and Pig's crazed suspicions that Monkey was there wherever he went were the product of his own imagination. We will leave the idiot with his frights for the time being.

 

In this Flat-top Mountain there was a Lotus Flower Cave where there dwelt two fiends, the Senior King Gold Horn and the Junior King Silver Horn. Gold Horn sat in his chair of office and said to Silver Horn, “It's a long time since we patrolled the mountain.”

“A fortnight,” replied Silver Horn.

“You should make a patrol today,” said Gold Horn.

“Why today?” asked Silver Horn.

“You can't have heard the news,” said Gold Horn, “that the Tang Priest, the younger brother of the Tang Emperor in the East, has been sent to worship the Buddha in the West. He has three followers called Sun the Novice, Pig and Friar Sand, so with their horse there are five of them in all. Find them and bring them to me.”

“If we want to eat some humans,” said Silver Horn, “we can catch a few anywhere. Why not let this monk go wherever he's going?”

“You don't realize,” replied Gold Horn, “that when I left Heaven a few years back I heard that the Tang Priest was a mortal incarnation of the Venerable Golden Cicada, and a holy man who had pursued goodness for ten lives and lost not a drop of his original essence. Anyone who eats his flesh will live forever.”

“If you can live for ever by eating his flesh,” said Silver Horn, “we won't have to bother with meditation, winning merit, refinish elixirs, or matching the male and female. All we need do is eat him. I'm off to fetch him.”

“You're too impatient, brother,” said Gold Horn. “Don't be in such a hurry. It would be wrong to rush out and catch some monk who isn't the Tang Priest. I remember what he looks like and I once drew pictures of him and his disciples. Take them with you and check any monks you meet against them.” He went on to tell him all their names, and when Silver Horn had their pictures and knew their names he went out of the cave, mustered thirty underlings, and left to patrol the mountain.

Pig's luck was out. He walked straight into the gang of monsters who blocked his way and said, “Who are you? Where are you from?” The idiot looked up, lifted his ears from over his eyes, and saw to his horror that they were evil ogres.

“If I say I'm a pilgrim,” he thought, “they'll catch me. I'll say I'm just a traveler.” The junior demon reported to the king that he was a traveler. Among the thirty junior demons there were some who had recognized him and some who had not, and one of these who had recognized him remembered Silver Horn being given his instructions.

He said, “This monk looks like Pig in the picture, Your Majesty.”

Silver Horn had the picture hung up, which made Pig think with horror, “No wonder I'm in such low spirits these days—they've got my spirit here.”

As the junior devils held it up with their spears, Silver Horn pointed at it and said, “The one on the white horse is the Tang Priest, and the hairy-faced one is Sun the Novice.”

“City god,” thought Pig, “you can leave me out. I'll offer you the triple sacrifice and 24 cups of pure wine...”

He muttered prayers as the devil continued, “The tall dark one is Friar Sand, and that's Pig with a long snout and big ears.” At the mention of himself Pig tucked his snout into his clothes.

“Bring your snout out, monk,” said the monster.

“I was born like this,” said Pig, “so I can't bring it out.” The monster ordered the junior devils to pull it out with hooks, at which Pig hastily thrust it out and said, “I just feel shy about it. Here it is. Look at it if you must, but don't hook it.”

Recognizing Pig, the monster raised his sword and hacked at him. Pig parried him with his rake and said, “Behave yourself, my lad, and take this.”

“You took your vows quite late,” said the monster with a smile.

“Clever boy,” replied Pig, “but how did you know?”

“From the way you handle that rake,” the monster said, “you used it to level up the ground in a vegetable garden. You must have stolen it.”

“You don't know this rake, my boy,” said Pig. “It's not the sort used in ground-leveling:

 

Its teeth are like a dragon's claws,

Flecked with gold in tigerish shapes.

Against a foe it blows a freezing wind,

And in a battle it shoots out flame.

It brushes away obstacles in the Tang Priest's path,

Capturing devils on the way to the Western Heaven.

When whirled, its vapors obscure the sun and moon,

And its black clouds darken the stars.

When it flattens Mount Tai the tigers tremble;

Dragons are frightened when it overturns the ocean.

Even if you have some tricks, you monster,

One blow from this rake will leave nine bloody holes.”

 

This made the monster more determined that ever, and with his Seven-starred Sword he battled thorough twenty inconclusive rounds with Pig on the mountain. Pig fought back with deadly fury, and at the sight of him pricking up his ears, spewing out saliva, and waving his rake with grunts and shouts, the frightened demon turned round to bring all his underlings into the battle beside him.

Had he been fighting only the one enemy, Pig would have done fine, but when all the little devils rushed him he lost control, could no longer put up any resistance, and fled in defeat. As he was not paying attention to the uneven path he tripped over a creeper and fell over. He was just picking himself up and starting off again when a junior demon who was lying there tugged at his ankle and brought him tumbling down like a dog eating muck. A crowd of demons seized him and carried him back to the cave, holding him by the bristles, ears, legs and tail. Indeed:

 

A single demon is hard enough to destroy;

Countless disasters can barely be averted.

 

If you don't know whether Pig lived or not, listen to the explanation in the next installment.