The king collapsed on his throne in tears and cried till nightfall. Then Monkey stepped forward and called out, “Don't be so silly. Look at those Taoists' bodies. One was a tiger and the other was a deer. Antelope Power was an antelope. If you don't believe me, have his bones fished out and take a look at them. Is that a human skeleton? They were all mountain beasts who became spirits and came here to destroy you. The only reason they had not struck yet was because your life force is still strong; but in another couple of years when your life force was weaker they would have murdered you and your whole kingdom would have been theirs. You are very lucky that we came here in time to destroy their evil and save your life. What are you crying for? Give us our passport at once and let us go.”

This finally brought the king to his senses, and then the civil and military officials reported together, “The first two who died were indeed a white deer and a yellow tiger; and the cauldron contains the bones of an antelope. The holy monk must be believed.”

“If that is the case I must thank the holy monk,” said the king, who then said to his tutor, “it is late now, so please take the holy monks to the Deep Wisdom Monastery. Tomorrow morning the Eastern hall of the palace shall be opened up and the royal kitchens shall lay on a vegetarian banquet as a mark of our thanks.” They were then taken to the monastery, where they slept that night.

Shortly before dawn the next morning the king held an audience at which he ordered the officials to issue a notice to be posted at the four gates of the city and on every road recalling Buddhist monks. While the banquet was being set out the king went in his carriage to the gates of the Deep Wisdom Monastery to invite the Tang Priest and his disciples to the banquet in the Eastern hall of the palace.

When the Buddhist monks who had escaped learned of the notice they all returned in delight to the city to find the Great Sage Monkey, return his hairs, and thank him. When the banquet was over the king returned Sanzang the passport and escorted him out through the gates of the palace with his queen, consorts and concubines and the civil and military officials, The Buddhist monks could be seen kneeling beside the road and calling out, “Great Sage Equaling Heaven, we are the monks your lordship saved on the sandbank. Now that we have heard that you lordship has destroyed those evil beings and saved us, and His Majesty has issued a notice recalling us monks, we have come to return your hairs and kowtow in gratitude.”

“How many of you are there here?” Monkey asked.

“All five hundred: we are not one short.”

Monkey then shook himself and took the hairs back before saying to king, subjects, monks and lay people alike, “It was I who released these monks, it was I who took the cart through the two gates and along the ridge before smashing it, and it was I who killed those evil Taoists. Now that the evil has been destroyed you will realize that there is a Way in the Buddha's faith. From now on you must have no more foolish beliefs. I hope that you will combine the three teachings by honoring both the Buddhist clergy and the Way of Taoism, and by also educating men of talent in the Confucian tradition. I can guarantee that this will make you kingdom secure for ever.” The king accepted this advice and expressed his gratitude at great length as he accompanied the Tang Priest out of the city.

 

Because they were seriously seeking the scriptures,

They strove to maintain their brightness of spirit.

 

Setting out at dawn and not stopping till nightfall, they drank when thirsty and ate when hungry. Before they realized it spring and summer were over and it was autumn again. Late one day the Tang Priest reined in his horse and asked, “Where shall we spend the night, disciples?”

“Master,” said Monkey, “a man of religion shouldn't talk like a layman.”

“What is the difference in the way they talk?” Sanzang asked.

“At a time like this,” said Monkey, “a layman would be fast asleep in a warm bed wrapped up in a quilt with his child in his arms and a wife to keep his feet warm. We monks can't expect anything like that. We have only the moon and the stars to cover us with. We dine on the wind and sleep in the dew. We travel when we can find a way and only stop when there's no way forward.”

“Brother,” said Pig, “you only know half of the story. The trail is very steep now and I can barely manage my heavy load. We've got to find somewhere where I can get a good night's sleep and build myself up to carry my load tomorrow. Otherwise I'm going to collapse from exhaustion.”

“Let's go a little further in the moonlight,” said Monkey. “When we reach a house we can stay there.” Master and disciples had no choice but to carry on with Monkey.

They had not been going for long when they heard the sound of waves. “That's done it,” said Pig. “We've come to the end of the road.”

“There's a river in our way,” said Friar Sand.

“How are we going to get across?” asked the Tang Priest.

“Let me test it for depth,” said Pig.

“Don't talk nonsense, Wuneng,” said Sanzang. “How could you test the water for depth?”

“Find a pebble the size of a goose egg and throw it in,” Pig replied. “If it makes a big splash the water's shallow; and if it goes down with bubbles the water's deep.”

“Test it then,” said Monkey. The idiot then picked up a stone and threw it into the water; they heard the bubbles rising as the stone sunk.

“It's deep, too deep,” he said, “we'll never get across.”

“You have tested for depth,” said the Tang Priest, “but we don't know how wide it is.”

“I can't tell that,” said Pig.

“Let me have a look,” said Monkey. The splendid Great Sage sprang up into mid-air on his cloud and took a good look. What he saw was:

 

The light of the moon immersed in the vastness,

The floating reflection of the limitless sky.

The magical stream has swallowed Mount Hua;

Hundreds of rivers flow into its waters.

Waves in their thousands rise and then fall,

Towering breakers crash without number.

No fisherman burns his fire by the shore;

The herons are all now asleep on the sand.

It is as turbid and huge as the ocean,

And there is no end to its water in sight.

 

Monkey brought his cloud quickly down, put it away, and reported, “It's wide, Master, very wide. We'll never get across it. My fiery eyes with their golden pupils can see there hundred miles by day and distinguish good from evil too. By night they can see a hundred to a hundred and fifty miles. If even I can't see the other bank goodness only knows how wide it is.”

Sanzang was speechless with shock, then he sobbed, “What are we to do, disciples?”

“Don't cry, Master,” said Friar Sand. “There's someone standing by the river over there.”

“I expect it's a fisherman working his nets,” said Monkey. “I'll go and ask him.” Monkey took his iron cudgel in his hand and was before the man in two or three bounds, only to discover that it was in fact a stone tablet on which was inscribed in an ancient script three words in large letters and nine words in two rows of little ones underneath. The three words written large were RIVER OF HEAVEN, and the words in small writing were “250 miles across; few travelers have ever been here.”

“Master,” called Monkey, “come and take a look.”

When Sanzang read this he said through his tears, “Disciple, when I left Chang'an all those years ago I thought that the Western Heaven would be easy to get to. I never knew that so many evil monsters would block my way, or that there would be such enormous mountains and rivers to cross.”

“Listen, Master,” said Pig. “Where is that sound of drums and cymbals coming from? It must be people holding a religious feast. Let's go and get some of the food to eat and find out where there is a boat that will ferry us across tomorrow.” When Sanzang listened as he sat on the horse he could hear that it really was the sound of drums and cymbals.

“Those aren't Taoist instruments,” he said. “It must be some Buddhist monks performing a ceremony. Let's go there.” Monkey led the horse as they headed towards the music. There was no track to follow as they climbed and then lost height again and crossed sand banks until a village of some four or five hundred households came into sight. It was a fine settlement:

 

Protected by hills, beside the main road,

On the bank of the river, and watered by a stream.

All the wicket gates were shut;

Every household's bamboo fence was closed.

Clear were the dreams of the egrets on the strand,

Silent the song of the birds by the willows.

No sound came from the flute,

Nothing was heard of the chopping-board's rhythm.

The moon was rocked in stalks of knotweed;

The leaves of the rushes trembled in the wind.

Beside the fields the dogs barked through the fence;

The fisherman slept in his boat moored by the ford.

Few were the lights amid the stillness,

And the moon hung like a mirror in the sky,

A smell of duckweed wafted over

Carried by the wind from the Western bank.

 

When Sanzang dismounted he saw a house at the end of the road outside of which hung a silken banner. Inside it was bright with candles and lanterns, and there were clouds of incense.

“Wukong,” said Sanzang, “this is much better than a mountain hollow or the bank of a stream. Under the eaves we will be able to relax and sleep soundly, protected from the chilly dew. You all keep out of the way while I go to the gates of the believer's house that is giving the religious feast to ask for shelter. If they invite me in I shall call you over. But don't start playing it up if they don't invite me in. If you show your ugly faces you might give them a terrible fright and cause trouble, and then we would have nowhere to stay.”

“You're right,” said Monkey. “You go ahead, Master, while we wait here.”

The venerable elder then took off his rain hat, straightened his habit, took his monastic staff in his hand and went bareheaded to the gates, which were ajar. Not venturing to walk in uninvited, Sanzang stood there for a while until a very old man with prayer-beads round his neck who was repeating the name of Amitabha Buddha came out to shut the gate.

Sanzang at once put his hands together before his chest and said, “I salute you, benefactor.” The old man returned his greeting then said, “You're too late, monk.”

“What do you mean?” Sanzang asked.

“You're too late to get anything,” the old man said. “If you had been here earlier we were giving each monk a good meal, three pints of polished rice, a piece of white cloth, and ten copper cash. Why have you only come now?”

“Benefactor,” Sanzang replied, “I am not here to collect offerings.”

“If you're not here for offerings, what are you here for then?” the old man asked.

“I have been sent by the Emperor of the Great Tang in the East to fetch the scriptures from the Western Heaven,” Sanzang replied. “It was already late when I reached this village, and I have come here to beg for a night's shelter because I heard the drums and cymbals. I will be on my way at dawn.”

The old man shook his hand at him as he replied, “Monk, men of religion should not tell lies. Great Tang in the East is 18,000 miles from here. How could you have come from there by yourself?”

“You are quite right, benefactor,” said Sanzang. “I have only been able to reach here because I have three disciples who protect me. They clear paths across mountains and build bridges across rivers.”

“If you have these disciples,” the old man said, “why aren't they with you? But do come in. We have room for you to stay here.”

Sanzang then looked back and called, “Come here, disciples.”

As Monkey was impatient by nature, Pig coarse, and Friar Sand impetuous, the moment they heard their master calling they grabbed the horse's bridle and the luggage and ran in, hell-bent for leather. The sight of them gave the old man such a shock that he collapsed, muttering, “Demons, demons.”

“Please don't be afraid, benefactor,” said Sanzang. “They're not demons, they are my disciples.”

“But how could so handsome a master have such hideous disciples?” asked the old man, still shivering and shaking.

“They may not be much to look at,” said Sanzang, “but they certainly know how to subdue dragons and tigers and capture monsters and demons.” The old man was not entirely convinced as he helped the Tang Priest inside.

The three ferocious disciples rushed to the main hall, tied the horse up outside and put the baggage down. Several monks were reciting sutras inside. Covering his long snout with his hands, Pig shouted, “What's that sutra you're reciting, monks?” The monks looked up when they heard his question.

 

They looked at the stranger and saw a long snout,

As well as a pair of big ears that stuck out.

His body was rough and his shoulders were broad;

When he opened his muzzle, like thunder he roared.

But as for our Monkey and good Friar Sand,

Their faces were more than a person could stand.

The monks saying their sutras within the main hall

Were terribly frightened and scared one and all.

The teacher continued the text to recite,

Until the head monk said they should stop for the night.

They paid no more heed to the chimes and the bell,

And the Buddha's own images from their hands fell.

They all blew at once to put out every light,

And tried in their terror to scatter in flight.

They crawl on the ground as they stumble and fall,

And all of them trip getting out of that hall.

One old monk's head with another one clashes

Just like the collapse of piled-up calabashes.

What once was a pure and a most holy rite

Was all now reduced to a comical sight.

 

The sight of the monks stumbling and crawling about made the three disciples clap their hands and laugh aloud, at which the monks were more terrified than ever. Colliding with each other's heads they all fled for their lives and disappeared. By the time Sanzang helped the old man into the hall the lights had all been put out and the three of them were still chuckling away.

“Damned creatures,” said Sanzang, “you are all thoroughly evil, despite my daily teaching and advice. As the ancients said,

 

Only the saintly can become good without instruction;

Only the worthy can become good after instruction;

Only idiots will not become good even with instruction.

 

The disgraceful scene you've just made is one of the lowest and most stupid things I could possibly imagine. You charge in through the gates without any respect, make our elderly benefactor collapse in fright, send all the monks fleeing for their lives, and completely ruin their service. I shall have to take the blame for all of this.” None of them could find a word to say in their defense.

Only then did the old man believe that they really were Sanzang's disciples, turn back, and say, “It's nothing, sir, nothing. The lamps have just been put out and the flowers scattered as the service is ending anyhow.”

“If it's over,” said Pig, “bring out the food and wine for the completion feast. We need a meal before we go to bed.” The old man called for oil lamps to be lit. The servants could not understand why.

“There are lots of incense sticks and candles where they're saying surras in the main hall, so why does he want oil lamps lit?”

When some servants came out to look they found everything in darkness, so they lit torches and lanterns and rushed in together. When they looked inside and suddenly saw Pig and Friar Sand they dropped their torches in terror and fled, shutting the doors behind them, and fleeing to the inner part of the house with shout of “Demons, demons!”

Monkey picked up a torch, lit some lamps and candles, and pulled up an armchair for the Tang Priest to sit in while the disciples sat on either side of him. As they were sitting there talking they heard a door leading from the inner part of the house being opened. Another old man came in leaning on a stick and asking, “What evil spirits are you, coming to this pious household in the middle of the night?”

The first old man, who was sitting in front of them, rose and went to meet him behind the screen saying, “Stop shouting, elder brother. These aren't demons. This is an arhat sent from Great Tang in the East to fetch the scriptures. His disciples may look evil but really they are very good.” Only then did the old man put his stick down and bow in greeting to the four of them, after which he too sat down in front of them and called for tea and vegetarian food. He shouted several times, but the servants were still quaking with terror and too frightened to come in.

This was more than Pig could put up with. “Old man,” he said, “you have an awful lot of servants. What have they all gone off to do?”

“I have sent them to fetch food to offer to you gentlemen,” the old man replied.

“How many of them will be serving the food?” asked Pig.

“Eight,” said the old man.

“Who will they be waiting on?” asked Pig.

“You four gentlemen,” the old man replied.

“Our master, the one with the white face, only needs one person to wait on him,” said Pig. “The one with hair cheeks whose mouth looks like a thunder god only needs two. That vicious-looking creature needs eight, and I must have twenty.”

“From what you say must be rather a big eater,” the old man remarked.

“You're about right,” said Pig.

“We have enough servants,” the old man said, and by bringing together servants of all ages he produced thirty or forty of them.

As the monks talked to the old man the servants lost their fear and set a table in front of the Tang Priest, inviting him to take the place of honour. They then put three more tables on both sides of him, at which they asked the three disciples to sit, and another in front of these for the two old men. On the tables were neatly arranged some fruit, vegetables, pasta, rice, refreshments and pea-noodle soup. Sanzang raised his chopsticks and started to say a grace over the food, but the idiot, who was impatient and hungry to boot, did not wait for him to finish before grabbing a red lacquered wooden bowl of white rice that he scooped up and gulped down in a single mouthful.

“Sir,” said the servant standing beside him, “you didn't think very carefully. If you are going to keep food in your sleeves shouldn't you take steamed bread instead of rice that will get your clothes duty?”

“I didn't put it in my sleeve,” chuckled Pig, “I ate it.”

“But you didn't even open your mouth,” they said, “so how could you have eaten it?”

“Who is lying then?” said Pig. “I definitely ate it. If you don't believe me I'll eat another to show you.” The servants carried the rice over, filled a bowlful, and passed it to Pig, who had it down his throat in a flash.

“Sir,” said the astonished servants, “you must have a throat built of whetstones, it's so smooth and slippery.” Pig had downed five or six bowls before the master could finish the short grace; only then did he pick up his chopsticks and start eating with them. The idiot grabbed whatever he could and bolted it, not caring whether it was rice or pasta, fruit or refreshments.

“More food, more food,” he shouted, until it gradually began to run out, “Brother,” said Monkey, “don't eat so much. Make do with being half full. Anyhow, it's better than starving in a mountain hollow.”

“What a horrible face you're making,” said Pig. “As the saying goes,

 

The monk at a banquet who can't eat his fill

Would rather be buried alive on the hill.”

 

“Clear the things away and pay no more attention to him,” said Monkey.

“We will be frank with you, reverend sirs,” said the two old men with bows. “We would have no problem in feeding a hundred or more reverend gentlemen with big bellies like him in the daytime, but it is late now and the remains of the maigre-feast have been put away. We only cooked a bushel of noodles, five bushels of rice and a few tables of vegetarian food to feed our neighbors and the clergy at the end of the service. We never imagined that you reverend gentlemen would turn up and put the monks to flight. We have not even been able to offer any food to our relations and neighbors as we have given it all to you. If you are still hungry we can have some more cooked.”

“Yes,” said Pig, “cook some more.”

After this exchange the tables and other things used for the banquet were tidied away. Sanzang bowed to his hosts to thank them for the meal, then asked them their surname. “We are called Chen,” they replied.

“Then you are kinsmen of mine,” said Sanzang, putting his hands together in front of his chest.

“Is your surname Chen as Well?” the old men asked.

“Yes,” Sanzang replied, “Chen was my surname before I became a monk. May I ask why you were holding that religious feast just now?”

“Why brother to ask, Master?” said Pig with a laugh. “Anyone could tell you that it's bound to have been a feast for the new crops, or for safety, or for the end of funeral ceremonies.”

“No, it was not,” the old men said.

“Then what was it for?” Sanzang asked.

“It was a feast to prepare for death,” the old men replied.

“You don't know who you're talking to,” said Pig, falling about with laughter. “We could build a bridge out of lies. We're kings of deception. Don't try to fool us. As monks we know all about maigre-feasts. There are only preparatory maigre-feasts for transferring money to the underworld and for fulfilling vows. Nobody's died here, so why have a funeral feast?”

“This idiot's learning a bit of sense,” chuckled Monkey to himself.

“Old man,” he said aloud, “what you said must be wrong. How can you have a feast to prepare for death?”

At this the two old men bowed and replied, “And if you were going to fetch the scriptures why did you come here instead of taking the main route?”

“We were on the main route,” replied Monkey, “but a river was in our way and we weren't able to cross it. We came to your distinguished residence to ask for a night's shelter because we heard the drums and cymbals.”

“What did you see by the side of the river?” one of the old men asked.

“Nothing but a stone tablet on which was written 'River of Heaven' above and '250 miles across; few travelers have ever been here' underneath,” Monkey replied.

“Less than half a mile along the bank from the stone tablet is the Temple of the Great King of Miraculous Response,” the old man said. “Did you not see it?”

“No,” Monkey replied. “Would you old gentlemen tell me why he's called 'Miraculous Response?'”

The two old men burst into tears as they replied, “My lord, as for the Great King,

 

Because he responded a temple we built;

His miracles greatly the common folk helped.

He sends timely rain to the farms all about;

His clouds give their moisture to keep us from drought.”

 

“But if he sends timely rain and clouds he's being kind to you,” said Brother Monkey, “so why are you so upset and miserable?” At this the old man stamped on the ground, beat his chest and wailed, “Master,

 

Great is our gratitude, greater our anger:

Although he is kind he is also a danger.

He is not one of the gods true and right—

To eat boys and girls is his evil delight.”

 

“He likes eating boys and girls?” Brother Monkey exclaimed.

“Yes,” replied the old man.

“I suppose it's your family's turn now,” said Monkey.

“Yes, this year it is our turn,” the old man said. “There are a hundred households living here. This place is called Chen Village, and it is in Yuanhui County of the Kingdom of Tarrycart. There is a sacrifice to the Great King every year at which a boy, a girl, pigs, sheep, oxen and wine have to be offered. If he gets his meal he gives us wind and rain at the right time; but if there is no sacrifice he sends disaster.”

“How many sons are there in your household?” Monkey asked.

The old man beat his breast and said, “Alas, alas, we die of shame when you speak of sons. This is my brother, Chen Qing, who is fifty-seven. I am Chen Cheng and am sixty-two. We have both found great difficulty in having children. As I had no son my friends and relations persuaded me to take a concubine when I was nearly fifty. I had no option but to find one and we had a daughter. She is just seven this year, and we call her Pan of Gold.”

“That's a very grand name,” said Pig. “But why Pan of Gold?”

“Because we were childless we built bridges, repaired roads, contributed to putting up monasteries and pagodas, gave donations and fed monks. We kept an account of all this, and what with three ounces spent here and five spent there it added up to thirty pounds of gold by the time the girl was born. Thirty pounds is a pan of gold, and hence the name.”

“What about sons?” Monkey asked.

“My brother has a son who was also by a concubine. He is six this year, and we call him Chen Guan-given.”

“Why did you call him that?” Monkey asked. “In our family we worship Lord Guan Yu, and we called him Guan-given as it was from the statue of Lord Guan that we begged and obtained this son. My brother and I are 120 between us if you add our ages together, and these are our only two offspring. We never imagined that it would fall to us to provide the sacrificial offerings this year, and this is a duty we cannot escape. It is because as fathers we cannot bear to part from our children that we held this service to bring about rebirth, this maigre-feast to prepare for death.”

This brought the tears pouring down Sanzang's cheeks as he replied, “This is what the ancients mean when they said,

 

Long before the ripe ones the green plums always fall;

The harshness of heaven hits the childless worst of all.”

 

Monkey smiled at this and said, “Let me ask some more questions. Tell me, sir, how much property does your family have?”

“Quite a lot,” the younger old man replied. “About seven hundred acres of paddy fields, a thousand acres of dry fields, eighty or ninety fields of hay, two or three hundred water-buffalo and oxen, twenty or thirty donkeys and horses, and goodness only knows how many pigs, sheep, chickens and geese. We have more old grain piled up at home than we can eat, and more clothes than we can wear. That is the extent of our family's property.”

“It's a pity you're so stingy with all your wealth,” said Monkey.

“How can you accuse us of being stingy?” the old man asked.

“If you're so rich,” said Monkey, “why give your own children to be sacrificed? You could buy a boy for fifty ounces and a girl for a hundred. With all the other expenses together it shouldn't cost you more than two hundred ounces of silver to keep your own children. Wouldn't that be better?”

To this the younger old man replied through his tears, “My lord, you don't realize that the Great King is miraculously responsive, and that he often calls on this household.”

“If he comes here have you seen what he looks like and how tall he is?” asked Brother Monkey.

“We don't see him,” the younger old man replied, “we just know that the Great King is coming when we smell a fragrant wind. Then we burn huge amounts of incense and all of us, young and old alike, prostrate ourselves in the direction of the wind. He knows every trifling detail about our household—even about our spoons and the bowls we use—and remembers all our dates of birth. He will only accept our own son and daughter. Never mind two or three hundred ounces of silver: we could not buy identical-looking children of exactly the same age for tens of thousands of ounces.”

“So it's like that,” said Monkey. “Very well then, bring your son out for me to take a look at him.” Chen Qing hurried to the inner part of the house, brought Guan-given back with him into the hall, and set the boy down in front of the lamp. Not realizing the mortal danger he was in the little boy leapt about, filled his sleeves with fruit, ate and played around. Monkey looked at him, said a spell silently, shook himself, and made himself look just like Guan-given. Then the two boys started to jump and dance in front of the lamp, giving the two old men such a shock that they fell to their knees.

“That was a terrible thing for him to do, venerable sirs,” said Sanzang.

“But the gentleman was talking to us a moment ago,” said the old man. “How can he have turned into the exact likeness of my son? When you call them they respond and move together. This shock has shortened our lives. Please return to your normal appearance!” Monkey rubbed his face and was himself once more. “What powers you have, my lord,” said the old man, still on his knees.

“Was I like your son?” Monkey asked.

“Yes, just like him,” the old man replied. “Same face, same voice, same clothes, same height.”

“You didn't look carefully enough,” said Monkey. “Get some scales and weigh me to see if I'm the same weight as him.”

“Yes, yes, the same weight,” the old man said.

“Would I do for the sacrifice like that?” asked Monkey.

“Perfect,” said the old man, “just perfect. You would be accepted.”

“I shall take the child's place and keep him alive for your family to have descendants to burn incense to you,” said Monkey. “I shall be offered to the Great King instead.” At this Chen Qing kowtowed as he knelt there, saying, “My lord, if in your mercy you were to take his place I will give His Reverence the Tang Priest a thousand ounces of silver towards the cost of his journey to the Western Heaven.”

“Aren't you going to reward me?” asked Monkey.

“But if you are sacrificed in the boy's place it will be the end of you,” said the old man.

“What do you mean?” Monkey asked.

“The Great King will eat you,” the old man replied.

“He'd dare to eat me?” said Monkey.

“The only reason he might not eat you would be if he thought you would taste too high,” the old man said.

“Let Heaven do as it will,” said Monkey. “If I'm eaten up it'll be because I'm fated to have a short life; and if I'm not eaten it'll be because I'm lucky. Take me to the sacrifice.”

While Chen Qing kowtowed, expressed his thanks, and presented them with five hundred ounces of silver Chen Cheng neither kowtowed nor thanked Monkey, but leant against the doorway sobbing. As soon as Brother Monkey noticed this he went up to him, took hold of his clothes, and said, “Old man, is it because you can't bear to lose your daughter that you're not giving me anything or thanking me?”

Only then did Chen Cheng fall to his knees and reply, “Yes, I cannot bear to lose her. It is enough that in your great kindness you are saving my nephew by taking his place. But I have no son. She is my only child and she would weep for me bitterly after my death. I cannot bear to lose her.”

“Then you'd better go along at once and cook five bushels of rice and some good vegetarian dishes for that long-snouted venerable gentleman to eat. Then I'll make him turn into the likeness of your daughter and the two of us will be able to take part in the sacrifice. We'll see if we can do a meritorious deed and save your children's lives.”

These words came as a great shock to Pig, who said, “Brother, if you turn yourself into a spirit and leave me to die you'll be dragging me into disaster.”

“Brother,” said Monkey, “as the saying goes, a chicken doesn't eat what it doesn't earn. We came in here and were given an ample meal, but you had to complain that you were still hungry. Why aren't you willing to help them in their crisis?”

“But, brother,” protested Pig, “I can't do transformations.”

“You can do thirty-six transformations,” said Monkey. “How can you possibly deny that?”

“Wuneng,” Sanzang said to Pig, “what your brother says is absolutely correct, and he has made the right decision. As the saying goes, to save a human life is better than building a seven-storied pagoda. If you do this you will be thanking our hosts for their generous hospitality and accumulating good karma for yourself. Besides, it will be fun for you and your brother on this cool night when you have nothing else to do.”

“What are you saying, Master?” said Pig. “I can only change into a hill, a tree, a rock, a scabby elephant, a water-buffalo or a big, fat man. It'd be pretty hard for me to turn into a little girl.”

“Pay no attention to him,” said Monkey to Chen Cheng, “but bring your daughter out for me to see.”

Chen Cheng then hurried inside and came back into the hall with Pan of Gold in his arms; and everyone in the household, young and old, wives and concubines, members of the family and other relations, all came in to kowtow and beg Monkey to save the child's life. Round her hair the little girl was wearing a patterned turquoise headband from which hung ornaments representing the eight precious things. Her jacket was of red and yellow shot ramie, and over is she wore a cape in green imperial satin with a checked collar. Her skirt was of scarlet flowered silk, her shoes were of pink ramie and shaped like frogs' heads, and her trousers were of raw silk with gold thread. She was holding a piece of fruit in her hand and eating it.

“There's the girl,” said Monkey. “Make yourself like her at once. We're off to the sacrifice.”

“But she's much too small and delicate for me to turn into, brother,” said Pig.

“Hurry up if you don't want me to hit you,” said Monkey.

“Don't hit me,” pleaded Pig in desperation. “I'll see if I can make the change.”

The idiot then said the words of a spell, shook his head several times, called “Change!” and really did make his head look like the little girl's. The only troubles was that his belly was still much too fat and disproportionately big.

“Change some more,” said Monkey with a laugh.

“Hit me then,” said Pig. “I can't change any more, and that's that.”

“But you can't have a little girl's head on a monk's body,” said Monkey. “You won't do at all like that—you're neither a man nor a girl. Do the Dipper star-steps.” Monkey then blew on him with magic breath and in fact did change his body to make it look like the little girl's.

“Will you two old gentlemen please take the young master and the young lady inside and make no mistake about who they are,” said Monkey. “My brother and I will be trying to dodge the monster and fooling around, and we may come in here, so that it will be hard to tell us from the real children. Have some fruit ready for them to eat and don't let them cry, in case the Great King notices and our secret gets out. Now we're off to see if we can fool him.”

The splendid Great Sage then told Friar Sand to look after the Tang Priest while Pig and he changed into Chen Guan-given and Pan of Gold. When the two of them were ready Monkey asked, “How are the victims presented? Tied up in a bundle, or with their hands roped together? Are they steamed or chopped up into little bits?”

“Brother,” pleaded Pig, “don't do me down. I haven't got those magic powers.”

“We would never dare to,” said the old men. “We would just like you two gentlemen each to sit in a red lacquer dish that would be put on a table. You would then be carried into the temple on the tables by a pair of youngsters.”

“Fine, fine,” said Monkey. “Bring the dishes in here for us to try out.” The old men sent for the two red dishes, in which Monkey and Pig sat while four young men carried them for a few steps in the courtyard before setting them down again in the hall. “Pig,” said Monkey with delight, “being carried around on dishes like this makes us like abbots sitting in the seats of honour.”

“I wouldn't be at all scared of being carried in and out of here till dawn,” said Pig, “but being carried into the temple to be eaten is no joke.”

“Just watch me,” said Brother Monkey, “and run away when he eats me.”

“How do you know who he'll eat first?” said Pig. “If he eats the boy first I'll be able to get away; but what shall I do if he eats the girl first?”

At this one of the old men said, “During the sacrifices in other years some of the bolder of us have slipped into the back of the temple or hidden under the tables on which the offerings were made. They have seen that he eats the boy first and the girl afterwards.”

“Thank goodness,” said Pig, “thank goodness.”

While the two brother-disciples were talking they heard a mighty noise of gongs and drums and a blaze of lights outside as the villagers opened the front gates and poured in, shouting, “Bring out the boy and the girl.” The four young men then carried Monkey and Pig out to the sobs and wails of the old men.

If you do not know whether they lost their lives or not, listen to the explanation in the next installment.