Atop of all other oppression too!' The little fir-clump filled with clamouring coolies--panic-stricken, and in their terror capable of anything.

The man from Ao-chung clicked the breech-bolt of his gun impatiently, and made as to go downhill.
'Wait a little, Holy One; they cannot go far.

Wait till I return,' said he.
'It is this person who has suffered wrong,' said the lama, his hand over his brow.
'For that very reason,' was the reply.
'If this person overlooks it, your hands are clean.

Moreover, ye acquire merit by obedience.' 'Wait, and we will all go to Shamlegh together,' the man insisted.
For a moment, for just so long as it needs to stuff a cartridge into a breech-loader, the lama hesitated.

Then he rose to his feet, and laid a finger on the man's shoulder.
'Hast thou heard?
I say there shall be no killing--I who was Abbot of Such-zen.