"By having access to this enclosure you will be able to walk where
otherwise you must stand. That in itself is cheap at the price of
three reputed strings of inferior cash. Furthermore, it is possible to
breathe."

"The outlook, in one direction, is an extensive one," admitted Kai
Lung, gazing towards the sky. "Here, moreover, is a shutter through
which the vista doubtless lengthens."

"So long as there is no chance of you exploring it any farther than
your neck, it does not matter," said Li-loe. "Outside lies a barren
region of the yamen garden where no one ever comes. I will now leave
you, having to meet one with whom I would traffic for a goat. When I
return be prepared to retrace your steps to the prison cell."

"The shadow moves as the sun directs," replied Kai Lung, and with
courteous afterthought he added the wonted parting: "Slowly, slowly;
walk slowly."

In such a manner the story-teller found himself in a highly-walled
enclosure, lying between the prison-house and the yamen garden, a few
days after his arrival in Yu-ping. Ming-shu had not eaten his word.

The yard itself possessed no attraction for Kai Lung. Almost before
Li-loe had disappeared he was at the shutter in the wall, had forced
it open and was looking out. Thus long he waited, motionless, but
observing every leaf that stirred among the trees and shrubs and
neglected growth beyond. At last a figure passed across a distant
glade and at the sight Kai Lung lifted up a restrained voice in song: