Chinese Literature

given a string of money at the oblation in spring and autumn. Mr. Ho had taken over his hut and had allowed him to cultivate his seven mow of land at the customary rate of 70 per cent of the harvest. Had Yun-pu actually been able to keep the 30 per cent of the harvest in his own hands, he would have considered himself quite lucky.

At first, Yun-pu had really felt extremely happy. He and his sons had laboured unstintingely, and he felt doubly reassured by the fact that the crops were growing well and the rain was just right. If he was careful in his cultivation and they managed a good harvest, everything would be all right, he had thought.

Pretty soon the seedlings took root and started to bud. Quickly, ears of grain appeared; with a few more days of mild south wind he could count on the appearance of a golden field of rice. Yun-pu had been filled with joy. Was this not ample reward for his unceasing hard labour?

He had felt like jumping up and down for joy. But it happened that the day after, Heaven had changed his mind. Huge drops of rain started falling in the southwest, and soon the shower spread to the village. In barely half a day, the water in the ponds had begun to rise. Uncle Yunpu was suddenly seized with a sense of uneasiness; he was afraid that the precious rice flowers in the fields would be destroyed by the heavy rain, and his harvest ruined. By afternoon the rain had stopped. Yunpu felt as light-hearted as if a heavy burden had been lifted from his shoulders.

In the middle of the night, however, the sky had suddenly turned so dark that it was impossible to see even two feet ahead. The clanging of gongs sounded from all sides; racing feet and shouting voices clamoured against the whirling of the wind. Uncle Yun-pu knew that some accident had taken place. In great haste, he woke his eldest son, and in the dark they raced towards the sound of the gongs.

' They met a neighbour on the way and learnt that both the west stream and the south stream had risen thirty feet. Tsaochialung was threatened by breaks here and there in the dykes surrounding the village. The gongs were sounded to call the people together to reinforce the dykes.

Uncle Yun-pu was stunned. For the water to rise suddenly 10 yards in the night was a rare phenomenon which had not occurred in forty or fifty years. He was in a panic. The faster the gongs beat, the more unsteady his steps became. The night was dark and the path slippery. He fell time and again, and picked himself up with great difficulty. Finally his son took hold of his arm and they ran on together. But they had gone only a few paces when they heard a loud crash, as if heaven itself had burst open. Uncle Yun-pu’s legs shook like leaves in the wind. Immediately, waves of turbulent water rushed towards them. Li-chiu quickly lifted his father on his back, turned around and raced home. Just as they entered their door, the water reached the stone steps.

The water had broken through a corner of the dyke at Hsintukou,

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