THE WALLET OF KAI LUNG



CHAPTER I

THE TRANSMUTATION OF LING


I: INTRODUCTION

The sun had dipped behind the western mountains before Kai Lung, with
twenty li or more still between him and the city of Knei Yang, entered
the camphor-laurel forest which stretched almost to his destination.
No person of consequence ever made the journey unattended; but Kai
Lung professed to have no fear, remarking with extempore wisdom, when
warned at the previous village, that a worthless garment covered one
with better protection than that afforded by an army of bowmen.
Nevertheless, when within the gloomy aisles, Kai Lung more than once
wished himself back at the village, or safely behind the mud walls of
Knei Yang; and, making many vows concerning the amount of prayer-paper
which he would assuredly burn when he was actually through the gates,
he stepped out more quickly, until suddenly, at a turn in the glade,
he stopped altogether, while the watchful expression into which he had
unguardedly dropped at once changed into a mask of impassiveness and
extreme unconcern. From behind the next tree projected a long straight
rod, not unlike a slender bamboo at a distance, but, to Kai Lung's
all-seeing eye, in reality the barrel of a matchlock, which would come