Adventure, December 3, 1920 — page 125: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

The Worm that Turned recesses of the temple, squatted beneath the pillars or floated about under the blackened rafters. In the far background, illuminated by a ray of light falling from above, sat the great Buddha placid, serene, the calm of eternity upon his brow, his unwinking gaze still fastened on the vault at his feet which hid Tong’s treasure. The mighty god himself shielded him from harm; he was safe; the fat Tiger could never drive him from his home on the sampan. He leisurely approached a little table behind which stood a priest dispensing joss-sticks. He laid down a coin and received a little bundle of twelve, aromatic with camphor and resin, and was on the point of lighting them at the ever-burning taper supplied for the purpose, when suddenly his jaw fell and a cold sensation struck his heart and almost robbed him of his breath. For behold, the porcelain slab was gone and a circular brick-lined recess was revealed to his terrified gaze, empty and void! What could it mean? ’ The priest followed his eye and pointing black finger. “My son, hast thou intrusted aught to the watchful care of our mighty Buddha?” he asked. _Tong assented in a choking voice. “The servants of the court have removed all—have robbed the temple,” said the priest bitterly. ‘Those who wish their documents renewed must apply to the judge and pay a new fee. The priests no longer have control.” “Who has done this?” cried Tong fiercely. “The White Devils?” “The viceroy issued the command,” returned the priest, “‘but surely the White Devils are to blame in the end. What is it thou hast lost, my son?” “A lease that secured me a home for ninety- nine years.” “Then renew it.” “J can not. The fat Tiger would demand money. I have none. He surely will cast me out.” “The White Devils are at the bottom of all our ills,” said the priest. ‘They should be hanged up over the temple gate by their entrails.” And he turned to serve a new customer. the spot; then he mechanically lighted his joss-sticks and set them in a row, fastening them with a little wax to a large greasy stone on which many similar offerings were already sending upward little votive pig- tails of aromatic vapor. He dropped down among the*silent worshipers, but his thoughts were elsewhere. Occasionally his restless eye caught the glint he FOR a long time Tong stood rooted to 115 of. gold from the ancestral portraits. It sug- gested the shining gleam of the watch of his friend the porter. Such a little treasure represented an entire sampan and he shuddered to think how the fat Tiger would spit at him and drive him off should he attempt to approach his comfortable little cabin. How snug it seemed now it was Jost; and then his precious trap and the water- rats! That the Tiger might not be aware of his loss never entered his poor head. He regarded him- self already as belonging to the huge army of the homeless, having to slink about in the cold, damp darkness seeking a corner to lie down in; and, alas, he well knew that every spot of vantage was already secured and would be stoutly defended by its occupant. An endless vista, sad and gray, presented itself to his mental vision—not a ray of light ‘anywhere. His eye sought his smoking joss- sticks. One of them had fallen over and become extinguished—a bad omen surely, one fitting the present occasion. Thus the yellow race fell and expired while the White Devils triumphed! But could it not be resurrected and set on high again even as he relighted and replaced his taper? Once more Tong felt the expansion of his brain, the tingle and exaltation of the morn- ing. His muscles became tense and he raised his fists above his head and shook them at an unseen enemy. When he glanced about him at his praying fellows he saw with enlightened eyes the lines of care and sorrow in their grimy faces, the bent backs, the hollow eyes, the emaciated limbs. Each of these men had a secret care, some pitiful right he feared to lose, the distress for his daily bread, or one of the countless sorrows which bowed down his unfortunate countrymen. Why had not the ghosts of their ancestors who- lurked in the shadows of the temple seized these evil-doers and torn them to shreds? Surely there must be among them very ancient, strong fat ghosts, spirits of the heroes of old, doughty knights. and dragon-slayers! It would be but a trifle for such as these; and he thought of the downtrodden starving millions who suffered and died, unwept for and unavenged. His blood courséd though his veins like fire and hammered in his pulses. He sprang up and rushed from the temple—whither he knew not—-. but presently, finding himself again hemmed in by the jostling throng, the long dusty street before him with its shops and tea-houses, the hot bright sunlight streaming over all, his exaltation collapsed and vanished, and he slunk along in dejection, the old submissive, puny Tong of before. He stopped for a moment at a tiny stall and purchased with his last coins a little boiled rice, a pitiable portion that would not have EOMNICLOOOKS (C@