on, then, in the name of the Dragon!" said the sentinel, opening the gate; and bidding him a hasty good-night, Chop-Chin hurried away into the darkness.
Now, while all this was going on, it chanced that the four priests of the First Order of the Saki-Pan awoke from their slumber. What their feelings were when they lifted their eyes and saw that the Golden Dragon was gone, is beyond my power to tell. Their terror was so extreme that they did not dare to move, but after the first horrified glance at the bare altar flung themselves flat on their faces again, and howled and moaned in their anguish.
"We slept!" they cried, in a doleful chant of misery. "Yea, verily slept we.
"Ai! ai! we know not why;
Wow! wow! we know not how.
"Thou removedst thyself. Thou raisedst the paw of strength and the hind-feet of swiftness. Because we slept, thou hast gone away, and we are desolate, awaiting the speedily-advancing death.
"Hong! Kong! Punka-wunka-woggle!
Hong! Kong! Punka-wunka-wogg!"
While thus the wretched priests lay on the golden floor, bewailing their sin and its dreadful consequences, there fell suddenly on their ears a loud and heavy sound. It was at some distance, – a heavy clang, as of some one striking on metal. "Pong! pong!" what could it be? And now came other sounds, – the opening and shutting of gates, the tread of hasty feet, the sound of hurried voices, and finally a loud knocking at the door of the Temple itself.
"Open, most holy Priests of the Saki-Pan!" cried a voice. "We have strange and fearful news! Open without delay!"
The unhappy priests hurried to the door, and flung it open with trembling hands. Without stood all the guards of all the gates, the white and the steel-clad soldiers clustering about the four black-clad guardians of the outer gate.
"Speak!" said the chief priest in great agitation, "what is your errand?"
"O Priest!" said the black guards, trembling with excitement, "we heard a great knocking at the gate."
"Yes, yes!" cried the priest, "I know it. What more?"
"O Priest!" said the guards, "we were affrighted, so great was the noise; so we opened the gate but a little way, and peeped through; and we saw – we saw – " They paused, and gasped for breath.
"Speak, sons of pigs!" shrieked the priest, "what did you see?"
"We saw the Golden Dragon!" said the soldiers, in a fearful whisper. "He is sitting up – on his hind-legs – with his mouth open! and he knocked – he knocked – "
But the priests of the Saki-Pan waited to hear no more. Rushing through the court-yards, they flung wide open the great bronze gates. They caught up the Golden Dragon, they raised it high on their shoulders, and with shouts of rejoicing they bore it back to the Temple, while the guards prostrated themselves before it.
"He went out!" sang the priests. "He walked abroad, for the glory and welfare of his subjects. He cast upon the city the eye of beneficence; he waved over it the plenipotentiary tail!
"Ai! ai! we know not why!
Wow! wow! we know not how!
Glory to the Holy Dragon, and happiness and peace to the city and the people!"
But in the house of Ly-Chee all was sunshine and rejoicing. At daybreak a procession had come down the little street, – a troop of soldiers in the imperial uniform, with music sounding before them, and gay banners flaunting in the morning air. In the midst of the troop rode Ly-Chee, on a splendid black horse. He was dressed in a robe of crimson satin embroidered with gold, and round his neck hung strings of jewels most glorious to see. Behind him walked twenty slaves, each carrying a fat bag of golden ducats; and after the troop came more slaves, bearing gilded brooms with ivory handles and scrubbing-shoes of the finest quality. And all the soldiers and all the slaves cried aloud, continually: —
"Honor to Ly-Chee, the Chief-Sweeper of the court-yard! Honor and peace to him and all his house!"
The procession stopped before the little house, and the good sweeper, stupefied still with astonishment at his wonderful good fortune, dismounted and clasped his wife and children in his arms. And they wept together for joy, and the soldiers and the slaves and all the people wept with them.
But the Celestial Emperor, Wah-Song, lay in bed for two weeks, speaking to no man, and eating nothing but water-gruel. And when he arose, at the end of that time, behold! he was as meek as a six-years old child.
CHAPTER III
THE grandmother's story was received with great approbation, and the different members of the family commented on it, each after his fashion.
"I should like to have been Chop-Chin!" exclaimed Toto. "How exciting it must have been! Only think, Coon, of talking to the Emperor in that way, and scolding him as if he were a little boy."
"Well, I never saw an Emperor," said the raccoon; "but I certainly should not wish to talk to one, if they are all such wretched creatures as Wah-Song. I should like to have been the Finishing-Toucher; then if he had pulled my nose – hum! ha! we should see!"
"Dear Madam," said the bear, who had been staring meditatively into the fire, "there is one thing in the story that I do not understand; that is – well – you spoke of the boy's having a pig-tail."
"Yes, Bruin!" said the grandmother. "A Chinese pig-tail, you know."
"Yes, certainly," said Bruin. "A Chinese pig's tail it would naturally be. Now, I confess I do not see how a pig's tail could be worn on the head, or how it could be unbraided; that is, if the Chinese pigs have tails like that of our friend in the sty yonder."
Toto laughed aloud at this, and even the grandmother could not help smiling a very little; but she gently told Bruin what a Chinaman's pig-tail was, and how he wore it. Meantime, Miss Mary, the parrot, looked on with an air of dignified amusement.
"My respected father," she said presently, "spent some years in China. It is a fine country, though too far from Africa for my taste."
"Tell us about your father, Miss Mary!" exclaimed the squirrel. "Fine old bird he must have been, eh?"
"He was, indeed!" replied the parrot, with some emotion. "He was a noble bird. His beak, which I am said to have inherited, was the envy of every parrot in Central Africa. He could whistle in nine languages, and his tail – but as the famous poet Gabblio has sweetly sung, —
"'All languages and tongues must fail,
In speaking of Polacko's tail.'
"Polacko was my father's name," she explained. "He was universally respected. Ah, me!"
"But how came he to go to China?" asked Toto.
"He was captured, my dear, and taken there when very young. He lived there for twenty years, with one of the chief mandarins of the empire. He led a happy life, with a perch and ring of ebony and silver, the freedom of the house, and chow-chow four times a day. At last, however, the young grandson of the mandarin insisted upon my father's learning to eat with chopsticks. The lofty spirit of Polacko could not brook this outrage, and the door being left open one day he flew away and made his way to Africa, the home of his infancy, where he passed the rest of his life. I drop a tear," added Miss Mary, raising her claw gracefully to her eyes,
