I ate some of the meat and settled back to rest again. Presently I dozed off.
When I awakened it was dark and Kazu was back. Martin had started a big campfire outside, evidently with Kazu's aid, for it was stoked with several logs fully eight feet in diameter and was sending flames fifty feet into the sky. Kazu himself was squatting directly over it, staring down at us. When I came to the door, he spoke.
"Ah, little brother Bill. I am so sorry that you were hurt. I am afraid I forgot to be gentle, and that is not forgiveable in Buddha."
I made an appropriate reply, and then waited. Evidently he had as yet told nothing of his day's expedition. Finally he plucked a roasted bullock from the fire and popped it into his mouth like a nut.
"Today," he said, "I visit Chungking, Nanking, Peking. I think I see hundred million Chinese. I know more than that see me. Also I talk to them. They understand, for miles. They expected me. As you say, brother Llewelyn, Rau has excellent propaganda machine. Everywhere they hail me as Buddha, come to save them from war and disease and western imperialism. I speak to them as Buddha; today, I am Buddha."
Baker glanced at us meaningfully and murmured, "I was afraid of this." But Kazu continued.
"Today all of China believes I am Buddha. Only you and I know this is not so, but we can fight best if they believe."
"Have you eaten?" inquired Martin. Kazu nodded.
"At every temple they collect rice for Buddha. Many small meals make full belly. But," his face wrinkled with concern, "many thousands could live on what I eat today. China is so poor. So many people, so little food. I must find ways to help them." He paused, and then resumed in a firmer tone.
"But not in communist way. Rau was right about western imperialists, but he named wrong country. Russian imperialists have enslaved China. First we must drive communists from China. Then I can help."