When the others still could not see it the junior demon king pointed again and said, “There it is.” Sanzang shuddered thrice in the saddle, once each time the demon pointed.

“Why did I shudder, disciples?” he asked uneasily.

“Probably it's indigestion,” said Friar Sand.

“Nonsense,” said Monkey, “it must be because these steep mountains make the master feel nervous. Don't be frightened. You'll feel better when I've cleared the path with my cudgel.” Monkey then ran through all the routines in the military manuals as he swung his cudgel up and down and all around in front of his master's horse. The Tang Priest watched as he displayed divine powers unmatched on earth.

At the sight of Monkey hacking his way forward the demon almost died of terror; his souls went flying as he watched from the mountain top. “Well,” he found himself saying, “now I know that all I've been hearing about Sun the Novice for years is absolutely true.”

“Your Majesty,” said the junior demons, coming up to him, “you're boosting your enemy and making yourself small. Why? Who is it who's so terrific?”

“With Monkey's magic powers we'll never be able to eat the Tang Priest,” said Silver Horn.

“If you're not up to it,” said the junior demons, “we'll send some of us to ask the senior king to send all the troops in our cave into battle. If we all work together they can't possibly get away.”

“You've never seen that iron cudgel,” said the junior king. “He's more than a match for a whole army, so with only four or five hundred of us we wouldn't have a hope against that cudgel of his.”

“In that case,” said the other demons, “we'll never be able to eat the Tang Priest. There was no point in capturing Pig. Let's free him.”

“We were right to capture him and shouldn't let him go,” said the junior king. “We may not be able to eat the Tang Priest yet but sooner or later we will.”

“How many years will that take?” the others asked.

“It won't be a matter of years,” replied the junior king. “In my opinion we must catch him by cunning, not by being vicious. Try to grab him by force and we won't get so much as a smell of him. But if we make friends with him by kindness we'll be able to get him by trickery.”

“Please find a place for us in your plan, Your Majesty,” said the little demons.

“Go back to the camp,” the junior demon king told them, “but don't let on to His Senior Majesty. If he gets alarmed and gives the game away our plan will be ruined. I can catch the Tang Priest through magical transformations.” As the other demons went away he leapt down the mountainside to the path, shook himself and changed into a aged Taoist. This is what he looked like:

A gleaming star-hat,

Unkempt white hair.

An embroidered belt round a cloak of feathers,

Cloud sandals tied with yellow coir.

Clear of spirit and bright-eyed as an immortal,

Strong and light like one who will live for ever.

He could be compared to the Taoist Riding a Buffalo,

But is more like the Master of the White Scroll.

This false image could be a real one;

His deception appears to be the truth.

There he was, beside the path, pretending to be a Taoist who had broken his leg. His feet were covered in blood. “Help help,” he shouted.

Just as Sanzang was happily walking along, supported by the Great Sage Monkey and Friar Sand, he heard a shout of “Help me, Father.”

“Well I never,” said Sanzang. “Who could that be shouting in these wild and uninhabited mountains? It must be someone who's been frightened by tigers, leopards or wolves.” Reining in his horse he called, “Who's that in trouble? Come out.” The demon crawled out from the undergrowth and kowtowed noisily for all he was worth before the Tang Priest, who was most upset to see that he was a Taoist and of such advanced years at that. He dismounted rapidly and helped the old man to his feet, begging him to rise.

“It's agony,” said the demon, “agony.”

When the Tang Priest released his hold and looked down he saw that blood was pouring from the old man's foot. “Where have you come from, sir,” asked a shocked Sanzang. “and how did you injure your foot?”

“West of this mountain, Father,” lied the demon, “there is a pure and quiet Taoist temple. I am a priest there.”

“What were you doing, wandering around here instead of looking after the incense and reciting the scriptures and the law in your temple?” Sanzang asked.

“The other day a benefactor of ours from South of the mountain invited all us priests to perform a service for his natal star and spread blessings for him. I was about halfway there with my disciple-we were late-when a ferocious and strongly patterned tiger carried my disciple off. As I staggered along shaking with terror and not knowing where to go I lost my balance on a scree and injured my foot. I can't find my way back. Thank heavens I have met you today, Father. I beg you in your great mercy to save me. If we find our way back to the temple, I'd even sell myself into slavery to repay your kindness.”

“Sir,” replied Sanzang, completely taken in, “you and I share a common destiny. I an a Buddhist priest and you are a Taoist. Although we wear different robes, we cultivate our conduct according to the same principles. Were I to fail to save you I would not be a true monk. But help you though I would, you can't walk.”

“I can't even stand, let alone walk,” replied the demon.

“Never mind, never mind,” said Sanzang. “I can walk, so you can ride my horse for a while and give it back when we reach your temple.”

“You are very generous and I am most grateful,” said the demon, “but I have hurt my thigh and couldn't ride.”

“Indeed,” said Sanzang, who then instructed Friar Sand to put the luggage on the horse and carry the Taoist over his shoulders. Friar Sand assented.

The monster turned round at once and looked closely at Friar Sand. “Father,” he said, “I got such a scare from that tiger, but this terrible-looking monk frightens me even more. I'd be too afraid to let him carry me.”

“Wukong, you carry him,” said Sanzang.

“Certainly, certainly,” replied Monkey. The demon recognized him and docilely allowed himself to be carried by him, saying no more.

“That old Taoist doesn't know what he's doing,” chuckled Friar Sand. “Fancy refusing to let me carry you and wanting Monkey to instead. If it wasn't for our master he'd smash you against a sharp boulder and break all your sinews.”

As Monkey carried the demon on his shoulders he muttered to himself with some amusement, “Wretched demon, how dare you try to provoke me? Do you think I'm a mere child? Your devilish nonsense may be good enough to hoodwink the Tang Priest but it won't fool me. I can see that you are a local mountain demon. I reckon you want to eat my master. He's no ordinary person-he's not for you to eat. Besides, if you want to eat him you'll have to give a good half to me.”

Hearing Monkey's mutterings the monster replied, “Father, I'm a Taoist monk from a decent family who was unlucky enough to meet that tiger today. I'm no evil spirit.”

“If you were afraid of the tiger why didn't you recite the Great Bear Scripture?” Monkey asked.

Sanzang, hearing Monkey's grumbling just as he was mounting the horse, chastised him: “Insolent ape. 'Better to save a human life than to build a seven-storied pagoda.' If you're carrying him, just get on with it. Stop talking about 'Great Bear Scriptures' or 'Little Bear Scriptures.'”

“You're in luck, damn you,” said Monkey. “Merciful and pious my master may be, but he's a bit rough under his kindly manner. He'll be angry if I don't carry you with me. I'll do it if I must, but there's something I want to tell you first: warn me if you want a piss or a shit. If you do it down my back the stench will be more than I can stand. Besides, there's nobody to wash my clothes if they get dirty.”