Couldn't you save him ?" "Well, I might." Sanang was not pleased.

"It'll be a while before the shadow comes out of him.

But it would be rare sport to watch and see the warlocks and the ghouls and the goblins set on it the way terriers do be setting on an otter." "Oh, save him, Sanang! Save him!" "Now, Golden Bells, I might be able to save him, and again I mightn't." "Save him, Sanang!" Li Po broke in.

"Save him the way the wee one wants.

For if you don't, Sanang, I'll write a song about you that'll be remembered for generations, and they'll point out your grandchildren and your grandchildren's grandchildren, and they'll laugh and sing Li Po's song: "'There was a fat worm who considered himself a serpent--'" "Oh, now, Li Po, for God's sake, let you not be composing poems on me, for 'tis you have the bitter tongue.