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 capered and fiddled. No wolves at all appeared. Homesickness was a thing of the past—forgotten. "Let me give you a copper cash, merry stranger," said Chang, when they came to a Y of the road. "Not now," said he of the fiddle and bow. "I judge you are poorer than I." "Indeed?' laughed the prince. "When I am King (he forgot himself there), I shall reward you handsomely." "Ho. Ho," shrieked the beggar. "When you are King. When you are King, I'll accept a reward. Make me a general in your army." "It shall be done," said Chang. "What is your very nice name?" "My pitiful name is Tang—Tang, the fiddler. Farewell, my little King, who rides a bamboo horse." So, they parted, both merry.

Sad to relate, Prince Chang's merriment was to be of brief duration. A band of robbers sprang up from the roadside and surrounded him, pummeling him without mercy—all striking at one time. They took his stick and his clothing and the little bag of coins that hung from his neck. They left him