Rare Earth/Chapter 22
Chapter XXII
Other and odder men came to the garden, Kya-Jih, the desert philosopher who lived far out in the Gobi, a hermit, a thin brown wisp of a man that any chance wind might blow away. He resembled an autumn leaf. For thirty years he had lived in the solitude of the sand dunes. His creed of life was simple. To try to be utterly selfless, to banish all unnecessary things. But this system failed because all that remained was of less value than that from which he cut himself adrift Everything was spoiled because he viewed all objects in a distorted manner. Was it worth while or not? His problem was beyond the scope of man. He lived on fruits and nuts and herbs. His body was as dry as ashes, nor was his soul more moist. To Scobee he ranted about eternal solicitude, bodily frailties, inconsequential fundamentals. He knew that present existence was wrong. He could see the defects in everything but he had nothing better to offer. Hung Long Tom translated his opinions to Scobee for Kya-Jih could speak only Chinese. But they were hardly worth translating, dry, whining dogma that could be summed up simply and concisely. Everything beautiful and pleasurable was wrong. Right was concerned with suffering, renunciation of
all physical delights, countless irritations.And Hung Long Tom said, "If he is right, then the ultimate end of all things is sorrow. Man need not be concerned with future existences because the hereafter would be on a lower plane than the present. The basis of all true religions must be beauty, all others are false. In sunsets, flowers, poetry much of divinity is hidden."
At this time throughout the city tales were told of a wandering medico whose cures were attracting universal attention. They were perfected as much by weird chants, potents, sorcery and incantations as by medicines. It was said that Pau Dah who came from beyond the far ranges of the Himalayas communed with dragons and was a past master of mystic spells. Once he had written a play to be performed for the distraction of fire demons. Whenever a fire broke out in certain districts this play was performed that the demons might be diverted from their job of firing the building to become spectators at the intriguing drama. It was a step upward from the acts of tumbling and sleight-of-hand tricks which fire-fighters usually indulged in. The fire demons must be kept amused to keep them good-natured.
In appearance Pau Dah was gaunt, stoop-shouldered, filthy. He appeared as though he had never been bathed since infancy, if then. Why throughout the East sanctity and philosophy are so closely woven with filth and obscenity will always be an unsolvable riddle. The holy men of China and Tibet are often fit subjects for quarantine. The same is true of the most devout of India. Filth is an emblem of sanctity. And in many sections of India the most bestial acts are consummated in the temples. It is an amazing fact that the true history of all religions could not be written in detail without the author being arrested as a purveyor of prurient and salacious literature. Much would be revolting.
Pau Dah wore a matted, straggly gray beard and his sun-scorched face was almost black. His costume was a sort of cassock of gray which hung in uneven ragged fringe about his bare legs. Around his neck was a long string of tiger claws, fang-like teeth, bits of bone, shells and gaudy beads. It was his chain of charms, the emblem of his wizardry, which he claimed was fully a thousand years old.
Hung Long Tom sent for Pau Dah to be brought to his garden. He had no faith in the old charlatan but still he decided to give his restorative powers a trial. After all what do we know about any medicine? In numerous cases the patient recovers not because of the medicine but in spite of it. The Shrine of Lourdes in France is a hard problem for the medical profession to explain away. Christian Science has often played havoc with the diagnosis of physicians. According to legend veiled death stalks throughout the tombs of ancient kings of Egypt Those who believe in the curse can cite proof. Those who do not, scoff at such assertions. Why then should there not be a Chinaman who had conquered the black art of sorcery?
Pau Dah looked around the garden and smiled, though so frightfully ugly was his face it was almost a leer. He too talked only Chinese but in substance, he said, "Before I can perfect a cure I must have a stone of blue, a yellow stone and one that glows with a green fire."
"Do you mean to keep?" asked Hung Long Tom.
"I do," was the blunt reply. "For you are asking me to perform that which few men in all the world may do. You wish me to cause the eyes of this boy to glow with sight again. I shall draw the sparkle from the jewels and cause it to reflect forever in his eyes. Of all Oriental medicants I am the greatest."
Hung Long Tom shrugged his shoulders. He believed that he was being victimized but nevertheless he caused the jewels to be brought and bestowed upon his guest. At once Pau Dah tucked them away in his cassock.
"Tonight," he said, "when moonlight flows like the waves of the Yellow Sea through this garden, I will cast my spell. Until then I must rest and ponder. My mind must glide through devious paths. Perhaps you have food which I may consume, a room in which I may sleep, a pipe that I may inhale briefly."
And Hung Long Tom ordered that Pau Dah be accommodated with all his requests. He more than half divined that Pau Dah was not as poor as he would have folks believe. The torn cassock was but a costume worn in a drama. He was an accomplished actor. Still his fame was limitless. That at least was genuine. It was said that he talked with foxes and understood the language of birds from whom he gathered many of his secrets.
When late evening came, Pau Dah emerged from his sleeping-room and rejoined Scobee and Hung Long Tom in the garden. He yawned once or twice displaying a cavernous mouth devoid of teeth. But lack of teeth had not prevented him from devouring a meal of sundry courses. He had taught Zung, the cook, how to prepare many new and tempting dishes which he swallowed as payment for the knowledge. It had been long since he had been better nourished or his appetite appeased by more tempting viands.
In the garden he glanced slowly about him. The moon was rising and it shone through the entwining branches of the trees as though they formed a scarf of black lace for it.
Pau Dah placed a small bowl on the ground. Into it he put some bits of leaves and broken twigs. Then he sprinkled a bit of powder over them and chanted a guttural verse in sing-song monotone that was harsh and unpleasant.
This done he suddenly clapped his hands, uttered three piercing shrieks and fell moaning to the ground where he lay writhing in apparent torment. He kept up his gyrations until suddenly the bowl began to glow, to glow with an eerie light, finally breaking into a white-blue flame which mounted steadily higher and higher. It made of that garden a place bewitched. The shadows of the trees commenced to dance about grotesquely. All sorts of wraiths seemed to be slinking about the deserted paths. Though perhaps they were only reflections of that weird blue flame. And now Pau Dah sprang to his feet. He started to chant, endlessly chant a wildly beautiful melody. The harshness crept from his voice. The screeching pitch modified. It rolled along, a languid monotone. There was a certain wild beauty about the song. It made Scobee drowsy. He was seated on the ground near Pau Dah. Presently he slept. His breathing was even. Finally the blue flame died out. The moon leapt into view from behind the trees.
"It is well," whispered Pau Dah.
Hung Long Tom leaned down and touched Scobee gently on the shoulder. "He is sleeping," he said.
"Do not disturb him," cautioned Pau Dah. "My work has been well done. Let him sleep in this breeze-tossed garden until morning. When he awakens his sight will be entirely restored."
So saying Pau Dah departed to return no more.
Hung Long Tom seated himself a short distance from Scobee. All through the night he would watch over him. Had their pilgrimage then succeeded?
At last morning came. The garden cast off its robe of night. The flowers commenced to unfold, the birds to stir about. Scobee opened his eyes.
Hung Long Tom's agitation was so great he scarcely breathed. It was one of the supreme moments of his life. Wonderful indeed would it be if China had given Scobee sight again.
"How do you feel?" he asked, striving to keep his voice from trembling.
"About the same as ever," was the reply. "I am still in darkness. I can see nothing."
Hung Long Tom shook his head. Once more hope had vanished, still it was perhaps too much to expect Pau Dah to perform a miracle where the renowned Steinlin had failed. Pau Dah was nothing more than a faker, a colorful faker, clever. He had slept and feasted. He had been rewarded with three precious stones. And he had walked majestically away while Scobee was sleeping. How he must be laughing now at his cleverness and their gullibility. Hung Long Tom had been victimized but he had no regrets. The chance that Pau Dah could help Scobee had been very slight but he took it because he wished nothing to be left undone that might help his boy.