“Only my companion,” she replied. “Don’t forget, we are soldiers—American soldiers.”

“But you are a woman!” He stared.

“Soldiers in uniform, all the same.”

“Ah, yes,” he sighed. “In China too the women fight. We shall win the war. When women fight they never lose.

“But you said there was a man.” His voice changed.

“Yes. Yes—I—I remember!” he exclaimed. “He was a slim man who walked a little lame.”

“In both feet,” Gale suggested.

“Yes, yes, in both feet. He said he was a pilgrim. Everyone is welcome here. Come.” He took a step. “It is time to eat. You and your companion are welcome. You shall eat. If you desire, you shall spend the night here.”

“Oh, no! no!” she protested. “I am not hungry. My companion has vanished. We must find her.”

“Come.” He grasped her hand. She squirmed a little. The hand with those talons was terrible, but she did not let go. She dared not. “Come,” he invited once more.

He led her through the door at the back of the large room and into the dark hallway beyond. Here he lit a large candle. Once again gripping her hand, he led her into room after room, murmuring again and again, “Not here. Not here. It is very strange.”

At last he paused. “There is but one other room,” he murmured. “That is the Room of Perpetual Silence. There the brethren go for meditation. If the door is closed, we dare not open it. Never is the door opened by another when a brother is in meditation.”

“Oh! But we must open the door,” she declared.

“Come. We will look.” He fairly dragged her along.

“The door is closed. We dare not open it.”

“What sort of room is it?” Gale stalled for time to think.

“The walls are very, very thick.” He spoke in a low chanting tone. “The door too, is thick. There is a Buddha, a meditating Buddha. The floor is thick. The ceiling is thick. No sound comes there. It is the Room of Absolute Silence.”

 Prev. P 33/149 next