The story tells how Sanzang and his disciples came to the Meditation Monastery where they met the lamas and were given a vegetarian meal. When the four of them had eaten the girl was also fed. By now night was gradually falling and the lamp was lit in the abbot's lodgings. The lamas, who wanted to ask the Tang Priest about why he was going to fetch the scriptures and were also eager for a look at the girl, stood packed together in rows under the lamp. “Abbot,” said Sanzang to the lama he had first met, “when we leave your monastery tomorrow what will the road West be like?” Before answering, the lama fell to his knees. Sanzang quickly helped him up and said, “Stand up, please. Why do you greet me in this way when I ask about the road?”

“When you travel West tomorrow, reverend sir, you will find that the road is level,” the lama replied. “There is no need to worry. There is just one thing at present that is rather awkward. I wanted to tell you about it as soon as you came in, but I was afraid that it would offend your distinguished self. I only venture to tell you now that the meal is over that you will be most welcome to spend the night in the young lamas' room after your long, hard journey from the East. But it would not be right for the lady Bodhisattva to do so. I don't know where I should invite her to sleep.”

“Your suspicions are not called for, abbot,” Sanzang replied, “and you should not suppose that my disciples and I have wicked ideas. When we were coming through Black Pine Forest this morning we found this girl tied to a tree. My disciple Sun Wukong refused to save her, but out of my enlightened heart I rescued her and have brought her here for you to put up, abbot.”

“As you have been so generous, reverend Father,” the abbot replied, “we can set out a straw mattress behind the devarajas in the Devaraja Hall for her to sleep on.”

“That's splendid,” Sanzang said, “splendid.” After this the young lamas took the girl to sleep in the back of the hall while in the abbot's lodgings Sanzang urged the officials of the monastery to put themselves at their ease, whereupon they all dispersed.

“We have had a hard day,” Sanzang said to Brother Monkey. “We must go to bed early and be up early in the morning.” They all slept in the same room, guarding the master and not daring to leave him. Later that night

 

The moon rose high and all was peaceful;

The Street of Heaven was quiet and nobody moved.

Bright was the Silver River; the stars shone clearly;

The drum in the tower hastened the changing watch.

 

We will say nothing more of the night. When Monkey rose at first light he told Pig and Friar Sand to get the luggage and the horse ready then urged the master to start out. But Sanzang wanted to sleep longer and would not wake up, so Monkey went up to him to call, “Master.”

The master raised his head but still could make no reply. “What will you say, Master?” Monkey asked.

“Why is my head spinning,” Sanzang replied, “why are my eyes swollen, and why an I aching all over from my skin to my bones?”

When Pig heard this he stretched out his hand to feel the master's body. It was feverish. “Now I understand,” said the idiot with a grin. “He had several bowls too many of last night's free rice and went to sleep head-down. It's indigestion.”

“Nonsense,” shouted Monkey, “Let me ask the master what's really the matter.”

“When I got up in the middle of the night to relieve myself,” Sanzang replied, “I did not put my hat on. I think I must have caught a chill in the wind.”

“I'm sure you're right,” said Monkey, “Can you travel now?”

“I cannot even sit up,” Sanzang replied, “let alone mount the horse. The journey will have to wait.”

“What a thing to say, Master,” said Monkey, “As the saying goes, 'A teacher for a day is one's father for life.' As your disciples we are like your sons. There's another saying that

 

A son does not have to shit silver or gold;

As long as be can do what's needed he'll be fine.

 

If you're not feeling well you shouldn't be worrying about the journey being delayed. There'll be no problem about waiting for a few days.” The three brother-disciples all looked after their master. The morning was followed by midday and dusk, and after a good night dawn returned. Time fled, and three days had soon passed.

The morning after that Sanzang tried to sit up, calling, “Wukong, as I have been very ill these last couple of days I have not asked you before: have people been giving food to the lady Bodhisattva we rescued?”

“What are you bothering about her for?” laughed Monkey, “What you should be concerned with is your own illness.”

“Yes, yes,” said Sanzang. “Help me up and fetch me paper, brush and ink. Borrow an inkstone here in the monastery.”

“What do you want them for?” Monkey asked.

“I want to write a letter,” Sanzang replied. “I shall seal it up with our passport and ask you to deliver it for me to His Majesty Emperor Taizong in Chang'an.”

“Easy,” said Monkey, “I may not be much good at anything else, but when it comes to delivering letters I'm the champion of the whole world. So wrap the letter up and give it to me. I'll take it to Chang'an in a single somersault, give it to the Tang Emperor, and come back with another somersault before your brush and inkstone have dried up. But why do you want to write a letter? Tell me what you want to say in the letter—you can write it down later.”

“This is what I will write,” said Sanzang, weeping:

 

“Your subject beats his head three times upon the ground,

With a triple shout of 'Long live Your Majesty' as I bow to my lord.

The civil and military officials ate all present,

And four hundred courtiers all listen to what is said.

Years ago I left the East on your command,

Hoping to see the Buddha on the Vulture Peak.

But on my journey I have met with obstructions;

And been delayed by unexpected disaster along the way.

My illness is grave; I cannot move one step;

The gate to Buddha is as distant as the gate to heaven.

I will not live to bring back the scriptures;

I submit with respect that a new envoy should be sent.”

 

When Monkey heard this he could not help bursting out into uproarious laughter. “You're hopeless, Master,” he said, “thinking that sort of thing after just a touch of illness. If you were seriously ill you'd only have to ask me to find out whether you were going to live or die. I have my own special way of dealing with it. I'd ask, 'Which king of the Underworld dared think of this? Which of the judges issued the warrant? Which demon messenger is coming to fetch him?' If they make me angry I'll lose my temper the way I did when I made havoc in Heaven, smash my way into the Underworld with my cudgel, capture the ten kings and rip the sinews out of every one of them. I'll show them no mercy.”

“Stop that boasting, disciple,” Sanzang replied. “I am very ill.”

“Brother,” said Pig, going up to him, “it's very awkward to have the master saying he's in a bad way and you insisting he isn't. Let's settle things as quickly as we can, sell the horse, pawn the luggage, buy a coffin to bury the master in and split up.”

“You're talking out of turn again, you idiot,” Monkey replied. “What you don't realize is that the master used to be our Tathagata Buddha's second disciple. His original name was the Venerable Golden Cicada. This is great hardship he has to endure because he once slighted the Buddha's Dharma.”

“But, brother,” Pig replied, “even if the master did slight the Buddha's Dharma he was exiled to the East and born into another body amid the sea of right and wrong and the battlefield of tongues. He swore an oath to go to the Western Heaven, worship the Buddha and fetch the scriptures. Every time he's met an evil spirit he's been tied up; and every time he's come across a monster he's been hung up. He's had to put up with every kind of agony. That should be enough. Why has he had to be ill as well?”

“This is something you wouldn't know about,” Monkey replied. “The master once dropped off to sleep instead of listening to the Buddha teaching the Dharma, and as he drowsed he trod on a grain of rice with his left foot. That is why he has to be ill for three days in the lower world.”

“So goodness only knows how many years someone who eats as messily as I do will have to be ill,” replied a shocked Pig.

“Brother,” Monkey replied, “the Buddha will spare ordinary creatures such as you. There's something else you don't know. As the poet said,

 

Hoeing millet in the noonday sun;

Sweat drops on the ground beneath the millet.

Who understands that of the food that's in the bowl,

Every single grain was won through bitter toil?

 

The master will only be ill today. Tomorrow he'll be better.”

“I am feeling different today from how I did yesterday,” said Sanzang. “My throat is absolutely parched. Go and find some cold water somewhere for me to drink.”

“Fine,” Monkey replied. “If water's what you want, Master, that means you're better. I'll go and fetch some.”

Monkey at once took the begging bowl and went to the kitchen at the back of the monastery, where he came across all the monks red-eyed and sobbing with grief. The only thing was that they dared not cry aloud.

“Don't be so petty, little monks,” said Brother Monkey. “Before we leave we'll thank you for the days we've spent here, and we'll pay for our cooking fuel and lighting by the day. You really shouldn't be such pustules.”

“We wouldn't dare accept it,” the lamas said at once, falling to their knees, “we wouldn't dare.”

“What do you mean, you wouldn't dare?” said Monkey. “It must be that long-snouted monk of ours who has an enormous appetite. He'd eat you out of house and home.”

“My lord,” the lamas replied, “there are over a hundred senior and junior lamas in this monastery. If each of us kept you for a single day we could afford to support you for over a hundred days. We're not the sort of skinflints who'd calculate what you will cost us in food.”

“If you're not working out the cost then why are you sobbing?” Monkey asked.

“Lord,” the lamas replied, “there's an evil monster in the monastery. We don't know which mountain it's from. Last night we sent two junior lamas to strike the bell and beat the drum. We heard the sound of the bell and the drum but the lamas never came back. When we looked for them the next day all we found were their monk's hats and shoes lying in the courtyard at the back and their skeletons. They had been eaten. In the three days you have been here six lamas have disappeared from the monastery. That's why we can't help being frightened and grieved. When we realized that your venerable master was ill we couldn't stop these tears stealing out even though we kept the news to ourselves.”

“Say no more,” said Brother Monkey, who was both shocked and delighted by what he heard. “It must be an evil monster who's killing people here. I'll wipe it out for you.”

“My lord,” the lamas replied, “any evil spirit worthy of the name has magical powers. It's bound to be able to ride clouds, come out of the underworld and disappear again. As the ancients put it so well, 'Trust not the straightest of the straight; beware of the inhuman human.' Please don't take offence, my lord, when we say that if you can rid our monastery of this scourge that would be a great happiness for us. But if you can't catch it things will be pretty difficult.”

“What do you mean by things being pretty difficult?” Monkey asked.

“We will be honest with you, my lord,” the lamas replied. “Although there are only a hundred or so of us lamas in this monastery we all became monks as children:

 

When our hair grows we have it shaved off;

Our clothes are patched with rags.

We rise in the morning to wash our faces,

Then bow with hands together

In submission to the Great Way.

At night we tidy up, burn incense,

And piously pray,

Chanting the name of Amitabha.

When we look up we see the Buddha

On his ninefold lotus throne

Well-versed in the Three Vehicles,

Riding in his mercy on clouds of dharma,

And we long to see the Sakyamuni in the Jeta park.

Looking down we see into our hearts,

Accept the Five Prohibitions,

Pass through a thousand aeons,

And live each life amid the countless dharmas,

Hoping to understand emptiness and the impermanence of matter.

When the benefactors come,

Old, young, tall, short, fat, thin,

We each beat wooden fish,

Strike bronze chimes,

Slowly and deliberately,

With the two rolls of the Lotus Sutra

And the short Litany of the Emperor of Liang.

When the benefactors do not come,

New, old, strange, familiar, rustic, smart,

We put our hands together,

Eyes shut,

Silent,

Entering meditation on the rush mats,

Firmly closing the gates under the moon.

Let the orioles sing and other birds chirp in idle strife:

They cannot mount our expeditions and compassionate chariot of dharma.

This is why we cannot subdue tigers and dragons,

Or recognize monsters and spirits.

If, my lord, you provoked the evil monster,

To which we hundred and more lamas would be but a single meal,

All of us living creatures would fall to the wheel of rebirth,

This ancient monastery of meditation would be destroyed,

And finally there would be no light at the Tathagata's assembly.

This would cause great troubles.”

 

When Brother Monkey heard the lamas say this anger surged up from his heart and hatred from his gall. “What a stupid lot you lamas are!” he shouted at the top of his voice. “Are you only aware of those evil spirits? Do you know nothing of what I've done?”

“Really we don't,” the lamas replied in very quiet voices.

“Then I'll tell you briefly about it,” Monkey said.

 

“I used to subdue tigers and dragons on the Mountain of Flowers and Fruit;

I once went up to Heaven and made great havoc in its palace.

When I was hungry I nibbled just two or three

Of Lord Lao Zi's elixir tablets;

When I was thirsty I sipped six or seven cups

Of the Jade Emperor's own wine.

When I glare with my golden eyes that are neither black nor white,

The sky turns deathly pale

While the moon is hidden in cloud.

When I wield my gold-banded cudgel that's the right length,

It strikes unseen

And leaves no trace behind.

What do I care about big or little monsters,

However rough or vicious they may be?

Once I go for them

They may run away, nimble about, hide or panic.

Whenever I grab one

They'll be filed down, cooked, ground to bits or pulverized in a mortar.

I'm like one of the eight immortals crossing the sea,

Each of whom gives a unique display of his magical powers.

Lamas, I'll catch that evil spirit and show it to you:

Then you'll know what sort of person this Monkey is.”

 

When the lamas heard this they nodded and said quietly, “From the way this damned baldy is shooting his mouth off and talking big there must be something behind it all.”

They all made polite noises of respectful assent except for the older lama who said, “Wait. Your master is ill, and catching the evil spirit is not as important as that. As the saying goes,

 

When a young gentleman goes to a feast

He either gets drunk or eats till he's filled.

When a strong warrior goes into battle

He either is wounded or gets himself killed.

 

If you two fight it out here you may well get your master into trouble too. It's not a sound idea.”

“You're right,” said Monkey, “you're right. I'll take my master a drink of cold water and be right back.” Picking up the begging bowl he filled it with cold water, went out of the monastery kitchen and back to the abbot's lodgings and called, “Master, cold water for you.” Sanzang, who was just then suffering torments of thirst, raised his head, held the bowl with both hands, and took only one sip of the water. It really was a case of

 

A drop when you're thirsty is just like sweet dew;

Get the right medicine and you'll feel good as new.

 

Seeing the venerable elder gradually recovering his spirits and looking less worried Monkey asked, “Could you manage some soup and other food, Master?”

“That cold water was a magical cure,” Sanzang replied. “I have already half recovered from my illness. I would like some food if there is any.”

“The master's better,” Monkey shouted repeatedly at the top of his voice. “He wants some soup and other food.” He told the lamas to arrange some at once. They washed and boiled rice, made noodles, cooked pancakes, steamed breadrolls, and prepared vermicelli soup. Four or five tables of food were carried in, but the Tang Priest ate only half a bowl of rice gruel, while Monkey and Friar Sand managed only a tableful between them. Pig gobbled up the rest. The dishes were then taken out, the lamp was lit, and the lamas dispersed.

“How long have we been here now?” Sanzang asked.

“Three whole days,” Monkey replied. “By tomorrow evening it will be four days.”

“We could have covered a lot of distance in three days,” Sanzang replied.

“Never mind about the distance, Master,” said Monkey. “We'll be on our way tomorrow.”

“Yes,” said Sanzang, “even if I am still a little poorly there is nothing that can be done.”

“If we're setting out tomorrow let me catch the evil spirit tonight,” said Monkey.

“What evil spirit?” Sanzang asked in astonishment. “There's an evil spirit in this monastery that I'm going to catch for them,” Monkey replied.

“But how can you be having ideas like that before I have even recovered from my illness?” Sanzang asked. “If that monster has magical powers and you fail to catch it, then it will kill me, won't it?”

“You're always running people down,” Monkey replied. “Wherever we go I subdue evil creatures. Have you ever seen me come off second best? That could only happen if I did nothing. If I act I'm bound to win.”

“Disciple,” said Sanzang, clutching him, “the saying is quite right that goes:

 

Do people a good turn whenever you can;

If it is possible treat them with mercy.

Worrying cannot compare with true kindness;

Better be patient than strive for supremacy.”

 

In the face of his master's impassioned pleas and refusal to allow him to subdue the monster, Monkey could only speak frankly.

“I'll be honest with you, Master,” he said. “The evil spirit has been eating people here.”

“Who has it eaten?” Sanzang asked with shock.

“In the three days we've been here it's eaten six of this monastery's young lamas,” Monkey said, to which Sanzang replied:

 

“Foxes will grieve at the death of the hare;

Creatures will all for their own kind show care.

 

As it has eaten monks from this monastery and I am a monk too I will let you go, but do be careful.”

“No need to tell me,” said Monkey, “I'll wipe it out the moment I get my hands on it.”

Watch him as he tells Pig and Friar Sand in the lamplight to guard the master. When he leapt happily out of the abbot's lodgings and went back to the Buddha Hall he looked and saw that though there were stars in the sky the moon had not yet risen and it was dark inside the hall. He breathed out some of his magic fire to light the glazed lamp then beat the drum that stood to the East and struck the bell to the West. That done, he shook himself and turned himself into a young lama of only eleven or twelve who was wearing a yellow silk shirt and a white cotton tunic, striking a wooden fish with his hand as he recited a sutra. He waited till the first watch without seeing anything happen. The waning moon rose only in the second watch. Then a roaring wind could be heard. It was a splendid wind:

 

Black mists cast the sky into darkness;

Gloomy clouds cover the earth with murk.

Inky black in every quarter,

All enveloped in indigo.

At first the wind raises dust and dirt;

Then it blows down trees and ravages woods.

Amid the dust and dirt the stars still shine;

When trees go down and woods are ravaged the moonlight is obscured.

It blows so hard the Moon Goddess holds tight to the sala tree

And the Jade Hare hunts all around for the medicine dish.

The Nine Bright Shiner star lords shut their gates;

The dragon kings of the four seas close their doors.

The city god in his temple looks for the little devils;

Immortals in the sky cannot ride their clouds.

The kings of the Underworld search for their horse-faced demons

While the panicking judges get their turbans in a tangle.

The wind blows so hard it moves Mount Kunlun's rocks,

And churns up the waves on rivers and lakes.

 

As soon as the wind had passed by there was a fragrance of musk and incense and the tinkling of pendants. When Monkey looked up he saw that a woman of great beauty was going towards the Buddha Hall. Monkey mumbled the words of a sutra for all he was worth. The woman went up to him, put her arms around him and asked, “What's that sutra you're reciting?”

“One I vowed to,” said Monkey.

“But why are you still reciting it when the others are all asleep?” she insisted.

“I vowed to, so why shouldn't I?” Monkey replied.

Keeping a tight hold on him, the woman kissed his lips and said, “Let's go round the back for a bit of fun.” Monkey deliberately turned his head aside as he replied, “Stop being so naughty.”

“Do you know how to tell people's fortunes from their faces?” the woman asked.

“I know a bit about it,” Monkey replied.

“What can you tell about me?” she continued. “You look to me rather like someone who's been driven out by her parents-in-law for carrying on with strangers.”

“You're wrong,” she replied, “you're wrong.

 

I have not been driven out by my parents-in-law,

Nor have I carried on with strangers.

Because of my ill fate in an earlier life

I was married to a husband who is much too young

And can't do his staff in the candlelit bedroom:

That is the reason why I have left my husband.

 

As the stars and moon are so bright tonight and we are fated to come hundreds of miles to meet each other, let's go round to the garden at the back to make love.”

When Brother Monkey heard this he nodded to himself and thought, “So those stupid lamas all died because they were led astray by lust. Now she's trying to lure me. Lady,” he said in reply, “I'm a monk and still very young. I don't know anything about love-making.”

“Come with me and I'll teach you,” the woman replied.

“All right then,” Monkey thought with an inward smile, “I'll go with her and see how she fixes things.”

Shoulder nestling against shoulder and hand in hand the two of them left the Buddha Hall and went straight to the garden at the back. Here the monster tripped Monkey over and sent him to the ground. With wild calls of “My darling!” she made a grab for his crotch.

“So you really want to eat me up, my girl,” he said, seizing her hand and throwing her off balance so that she somersaulted to the ground.

“So you can throw your sweetie to the ground, can you, my darling?” she said.

“If I don't take this chance to finish her off what am I waiting for?” he thought. “As they say, hit first and win, strike second and lose.” He leaned forward with his hands on his hips, sprang to his feet and reverted to his own form. With a swing of his gold-banded iron cudgel he struck at the monster's head.

In her astonishment she thought, “What a terror this young monk is.” When she opened her eyes wide for a better look she realized that he was the Tang Priest's disciple Monkey, but she was not afraid of him. What sort of evil spirit was she, you may wonder.

 

A golden nose,

Snowy white fur.

She makes her home in a tunnel,

Where she is thoroughly safe.

Three hundred years ago, after training her vital forces,

She paid several visits to the Vulture Peak,

Carrying a full load of flowers and wax candles.

Tathagata sent her down from Heaven.

She was a beloved daughter to the Pagoda-carrying Heavenly King;

Prince Nezha treated her as his own sister.

She was no bird that fills up the sea,

Nor was she a tortoise carrying mountains on its back.

She did not fear Lei Huan's swords

Nor was she afraid of Lu Qian's blade.

She came and went

Flowing like the mighty Han and Yangtse;

Moved up and down,

Even up a peak as high as Mounts Taishan and Heng.

Seeing the charming beauty of her face

You would never know she was a mouse-spirit with great powers.

 

In the pride in her enormous magic powers she held up a pair of swords that rang out as she parried to left and right, moving East and West. Although Monkey was rather stronger he could not overpower her. Then magic winds arose on all sides, dimming the waning moon. It was fine battle they fought in the garden at the back:

 

Evil winds blew from the ground;

Dim was the light of the waning moon.

Deserted was the hall of the Brahma Kings,

And the devils' cloister could not be clearly seen.

The back garden saw a battle Between the warrior Sun,

A sage in Heaven, And the furry girl,

A queen among women,

Both competing in magical powers and refusing to submit.

One turned her heart in anger from the dark-skinned baldy;

The other glared with his all-seeing eyes at the finely dressed woman.

With swords in her hands,

She is no female Bodhisattva.

The blows of the cudgel

Were as fierce as a living vajrapani's.

The resounding golden band flashed like lightning;

For an instant the iron shone white as a star.

In fine buildings they grabbed at the precious jade;

In golden halls the mandarin duck figurines were smashed.

As the apes howled the moon seemed small;

Vast was the sky as wild geese called.

The eighteen arhats

Applauded in secret;

Each of the thirty-two devas

Was struck with panic.

 

The Great Sage Monkey was in such high spirits that his cudgel never missed. Realizing that she was no match for him, the evil spirit frowned suddenly and thought of a plan as she extricated herself and made off.

“Where do you think you're going, you baggage?” Monkey shouted. “Surrender at once.”

The evil spirit paid no attention and fled. When she was hard-pressed by Monkey's pursuit she took the embroidered shoe off her left foot, blew on it with a magic breath, said the words of a spell, called out, “Change!” and turned it into a likeness of herself that came back at him waving a pair of swords. Meanwhile she turned her real body with a shake into a pure breeze and went.

This was Sanzang's star of disaster. She headed straight for the abbot's quarters, lifted Sanzang up into a cloud, and, on the instant, before anyone could see anything, she was back at Mount Pitfall and inside the Bottomless Cave, where she told her underlings to prepare a vegetarian marriage feast.

 

The story switches back to Brother Monkey, who fought with desperate anxiety until he was able to seize an opening and smash the evil spirit to the ground with a single blow, only to find that she was in fact an embroidered shoe. Realizing that he had fallen for a trick he went straight back to see the master. But was the master there? There were only the idiot and Friar Sand muttering together. His chest bursting with fury, Monkey put all thought of what he ought to do out of his head and raised his cudgel to lay about him.

“I'll kill the pair of you,” he shouted, “I'll kill the pair of you.”

The idiot was desperate, but there was no way for him to escape. Friar Sand, however, as a general from the magic mountain who had seen a great deal, adopted a very mild and conciliatory approach when he stepped forward, knelt down and said, “Elder brother, I understand. I'm sure that after you've killed us two you intend to go straight back home instead of rescuing the master.”

“When I've killed you two I'm going to rescue him myself,” Monkey retorted.

“How can you say that?” replied Friar Sand with a smile. “Without us two it would be a case of

 

You can't spin a thread from only one strand

Or clap with the palm of a single hand.

 

Who'd look after the luggage or the horse for you? We'd do much better to forget our differences and fight side by side like Guan Zhong and Bao Shuya than to have a battle of wits like Sun Bin and Pang Juan. As the old saying goes,

 

To kill a tiger you need your brothers' help;

Have fathers and sons fight together in battle.

 

I hope you will spare us, brother, so that tomorrow morning we can all work together with a single mind in our search for the master.” Although his magical powers were tremendous Monkey knew what was right and needed at the time, so that Friar Sand's entreaties made him change his mind.

“Get up, Pig and Friar Sand,” he said. “But when we hunt for the master tomorrow you'll have to make a real effort.” The idiot was so grateful at being let off that he would gladly have promised Monkey half the sky.

“Brother,” Friar Sand said, “leave it all to me.” The three brother disciples were so anxious that none of them could sleep. They wished they could make the sun rise in the East with a nod of the head and blow all the stars out of the sky with a single breath.

After sitting there till dawn the three of them packed up and were about to get out, only to find the gateway barred by one of the lamas, who asked, “Where are you going, gentlemen?”

“This is most embarrassing,” Monkey replied with a smile. “Yesterday I boasted to all the monks that I'd capture the evil spirit for them. So far from me capturing her she's made my master disappear. We're off to look for him.”

“My lord,” said the lamas with horror, “our trivial problem has got your master involved. Where will you look for him?”

“I know where I'll look,” Monkey replied.

“Even though you're going please don't be in such a hurry,” said the lamas. “Have some breakfast first.” Two or three bowls of hot gruel were brought in that Pig cleaned up with great gusto.

“What fine monks,” he said. “When we've found the master we'll come back here to see you again.”

“What you mean is come back to eat their food,” said Monkey. “Go and see if the girl is still in the devarajas' hall.”

“She's gone, my lord,” the lamas said, “she's gone. She has spent only one night there and is gone the next morning.” Monkey cheerfully took his leave of the lamas and made Pig and Friar Sand lead the horse and carry the luggage as they headed back East.

“Brother,” said Pig, “you're wrong. Why are we going East?”

“You wouldn't know,” said Monkey. “That girl who was tied up in the Black Pine Forest the other day—I saw through her with my fiery eyes and golden pupils, but you all thought she was a good person. And now it's her who's eaten the monks and her who's carried the master off. You all did a fine thing rescuing that 'lady Bodhisattva'. As she's carried the master off we're going back the way we came to look for her.”

“Good, good,” sighed the other two with admiration. “You're much cleverer than you look. Let's go.”

The three of them hurried back into the forest, where this was what could be seen:

 

Piles of cloud,

Heavy mists,

Many a layer of rock,

A twisting path.

The tracks of foxes and hares cross each other;

Tiger, leopard, jackal and wolf move in and out of the undergrowth.

With no sign of a monster to be seen in the wood

They do not know where Sanzang might be found.

 

In his anxiety Monkey pulled out his cudgel, shook himself and made himself look as he had when he made great havoc in Heaven, with three heads, six arms and six hands wielding three cudgels. With these he lashed out furiously and noisily among the trees.

“Friar Sand,” said Pig when he saw this, “not finding the master has made him go off his head.” In fact Monkey had beat a way through the trees and flushed out two old men—the mountain god and the local deity—who went up to him, knelt down and said, “Great Sage, the god of this mountain and the local deity pay their respects.”

“That rod certainly gets results,” said Pig. “He clears a path with it and flushes out the mountain god and the local deity. If he cleared another path he'd even flush out an evil star.”

“Mountain god, local deity,” said Monkey, “you're a disgrace. You're hand in glove with the bandits here. When they make a good haul they buy pigs and sheep to sacrifice to you. On top of that you're accomplices of the evil spirit. You helped her kidnap my master and bring him here. Where's he being hidden? If you want to be spared a beating tell me the truth right now.”

“Great Sage,” the two gods said with alarm, “you are misjudging us. The evil spirit doesn't live on our mountain or come within our jurisdiction. But when the wind blows at night we have heard a thing or two about her.”

“Tell me everything you know,” said Monkey.

“The evil spirit carried your master off to a place over three hundred miles due South of here,” the local deity replied. “There's a mountain there called Mount Pitfall with a cave in it called the Bottomless Cave. He was taken there by a disguised evil spirit from that cave.” This news gave Monkey a shock that he did not reveal.

Shouting at the mountain god and the local deity to dismiss them he put his magical appearance away, turned back into himself and said to Pig and Friar Sand, “The master's a long way from here.”

“If it's a long way let's go there by cloud,” Pig replied.

The splendid idiot went ahead on a wild wind followed by Friar Sand on a cloud. As the white horse had originally been a dragon's son he too came by wind and mist as he carried the luggage on his back. The Great Sage set off by somersault as he headed due South, and before long a high mountain came into view that was blocking the way for the clouds.

The three of them took hold of the horse and stopped their clouds. This is what the mountain looked like:

 

The summit touched the azure sky,

Its peaks joined with the blue of the heavens.

Trees by the million grew on every side,

While flying birds sung noisily all around.

Tigers and leopards moved in packs,

Water deer and roebuck walked through the bushes.

On the Southern slopes rare flowers bloomed fragrant;

On the Northern side the snow never melted.

Steep and craggy were its ridges,

Sheer were its overhangs and rockfaces.

Pinnacles shot straight up

And deep ravines curved all around.

It was dark green among the pines,

And the rocks were jagged.

It struck fear into the traveler's heart.

No sign could be seen of woodcutters,

And the immortal boys picking herbs had vanished.

The tigers and leopards here could make mists,

And all the foxes set winds roaring.

 

“Brother,” said Pig, “this mountain's so high and sheer there must be evil on it.”

“Goes without saying,” Monkey replied. “High mountains all have monsters; there's never a steep ridge without spirits. Friar Sand,” he called, “you and I are going to stay here while we send Pig into the mountain hollows to look around and find out the best way for us to take. If there really is a cave palace he must discover where the entrance is. Find everything out so that we can go in together to find the master and rescue him.”

“Just my lousy luck,” said Pig, “having to go first and take the brunt.”

“Last night you said we could leave it all to you,” Monkey replied, “so why are you trying to get out of it now?”

“Stop shouting at me,” Pig said. “I'm going.” The idiot put down his rake, tugged at his clothes and leapt empty-handed down from the mountain to find the path.

If you don't know whether this departure was to be for good or ill listen to the explanation in the next installment.