It would be hard to say whether the porter or I was most bewildered by our meeting, for I, mind you, had made a long journey on the mountain with Fermin Majusay, looking for a certain butterfly you wouldn't be interested in, and had spent a whole night by the fire which Fermin made, while the porter had only to go to the other end of the courtyard of the temple of Tzin Piaôu with his water-jug. Yet we returned from our respective errands at the same moment, and met at the door of my heathen tutor's cell! The porter came within an ace of letting the jug fall, and I dare say I should have done the same thing, if I had had a jug.
The old gentleman looked up at Nang and me, and into us, and through us, with eyes that smiled into vacancy, and at that moment, I think, I first began to entertain some doubts of his complete benevolence.
"Well, Nang," purred the old gentleman from his slab, "what's the matter with you?"
"Holy One," stammered the porter, "not two pipes ago I let this gentleman out to go on a long journey. And here he is. And he has not come back, for I barred the gate behind him."
"Oh, well, Nang, what difference does that make?" purred the Holy One, soothingly. "You may go now."
The porter went away, shaking his head and muttering, and my heathen priest and I were left alone together.
"And have you had," said he, raising himself a little on his hollowed slab, "an easy and a pleasant journey?"
"I did not go for pleasure," I answered sulkily, for I felt that he was mocking me.
"Ah, yes," he answered quickly, "it was for instruction. I forgot. And did you gain instruction from my Little Gods?"
"This time you sent me," I reminded him, "to see some Little Devils."