his fright he was surprised by a thunderbolt. A heavy rain
poured down in streams, and a storm wind arose which rooted up the
tallest trees. Everything glimmered before his eyes and his ears were
deafened. But he held his sword in his hand, and stood as firm as a
rock. Suddenly in the midst of black smoke and flashes of lightning,
he saw a monster with a pointed beak and long claws, which was
carrying off a human body. When he looked more closely he recognized
by the dress that it was Giauna. He leaped up at the monster and
struck at him with his sword, and at once Giauna fell to the ground.
A tremendous crash of thunder shook the earth, and Kung fell down
dead.

Then the tempest cleared away, and the blue sky appeared once more.

Giauna had regained consciousness, and when she saw Kung lying dead
beside her she said amid sobs: "He died for my sake! Why should I
continue to live?"

A-Sung also came out, and together they carried him into the cave.
Giauna told A-Sung to hold his head while her brother opened his
mouth. She herself took hold of his chin, and brought out her little
red pellet. She pressed it against his lips with her own, and breathed
into his lungs. Then the breath came back to his throat with a
rattling noise, and in a short time he was himself once more.

So there was the whole family reunited again, and none of its members
had come to harm. They gradually recovered from their fright, and were
quite happy: when suddenly a small boy brought the news that Giauna's
husband and his whole family had been killed by the thunder. Giauna
broke down, weeping, and the others tried to comfort her.

Finally Kung said: "It is not well to dwell too long amid the graves
of the dead. Will you not come home with me?"

Thereupon they packed up their belongings and went with him. He
assigned a deserted garden, which he carefully walled off, to his
friend and his family as a dwelling-place. Only when Kung and A-Sung
came to visit them was the bolt drawn. Then Giauna and her brother
played chess, drank tea and chatted with them like members of the same
family.

But Kung's little son had a somewhat pointed face, which resembled a
fox's, and when he went along the street, the people would turn
around and say: "There goes the fox-child!"

Note: "Not in the new-fangled eight-section form": Ba Gu
Wen Dschang, i.e., essays in eight-section form,
divided according to strict rules, were the customary
these