is eyes. He remained
for a time looking up into the starry sky and wondering if what he had
heard would really come true, or whether he could have dreamt the whole
story of his grandfather's coming to life again. Could it really be that
the old family property would be given back to his father? He remembered
now that he had once heard his father speak of having lived in a large
house on a beautiful compound. It was just before K'ang-p'u's mother had
been carried away by the fever. As she had lain tossing upon the rude
stone bed, with none of those comforts which are so necessary for the
sick, K'ang-p'u remembered that his father had said to her: "What a
shame that we are not living in my father's house! There you might have
had every luxury. It is all my fault; I disobeyed my father."

Soon after that his mother had died, but K'ang-p'u had remembered those
words ever since, and had often wished that he could hear more about
this house where his father had spent his boyhood. Could it be possible
that they would soon be living in it? No, surely there must be some
mistake: the night fairies of his dreams had been deceiving him. With
a sigh he closed his eyes and once more fell asleep.

* * * * *

When K'ang-p'u next awoke, the sun was shining full in his face. He
looked around him, sleepily rubbing his eyes and trying to remember
all that had happened. Suddenly he thought of the tablet and of his
grandfather's appearance at midnight. But, strange to say, the basket
had disappeared with all its contents. The tablet was nowhere to be
seen, and even the stone arch under which he had gone to sleep had
completely vanished. Alas! his grandfather's tablet--how poorly he had
guarded it! What terrible thing would happen now that it was gone!

K'ang-p'u stood up and looked round him in trembling surprise. What
could have taken place while he was sleeping? At first, he did not know
what to do. Fortunately, the path through the corn was still there, and
he decided to return to the village and see if he could find any trace
of his father. His talk with the old man must have been only an idle
dream, and some thief must have carried off the basket. If only the
stone arch had not vanished K'ang-p'u would not have been so perplexed.

He hurried along the narrow road, trying to forget the empty stomach
which was beginning to cry for food. If the soldiers were still in the
village, surely they would not hur