THE FORTUNE-TELLER 159 



him for perhaps five seconds, at a distance of two 

 hundred and fifty yards, walked leisurely up the 

 hill and disappeared. 



That night a fortune-teller put in an appearance, 

 introduced by the superstitious Chi-shi. 



He was a dirty old ruffian who chanted monoton- 

 ously as he sat on the floor inhaling the smoke of 

 a fire of juniper twigs and twiddling some little 

 forked sticks. After manipulating these, speaking 

 in a low, rapid voice, and, at the close of the per- 

 formance uttering several prayers in an earnest 

 tone of supplication, he delivered his prophecy. 

 The serow was a certainty — provided we went to 

 the right place ! George, also, was to see a big 

 ram, but not get a shot. We were to get plenty 

 of wapiti, have great success wherever we went, 

 and arrive home safely to find our businesses (neither 

 of us has any !) flourishing and dwell for ever in 

 a dream of Utopian bliss. This seemed satisfactory 

 as far as it went, but George's ram rather stuck ! 



Despite the forebodings of Chi-shi, who evidently 

 regarded such an offer as tampering vv^ith the moral 

 probity of the gods, vv^e offered the old humbug 

 another bowl of rice if he would guarantee fine 

 weather and a nice fat ram with long curly horns. 



The oracle flatly refused to commit himself to 

 any definite statement about the weather, wherein 

 he showed his wisdom. 1 would as soon prophesy 

 as to the climatic conditions on the west coast of 

 Scotland. His Delphic utterance — and it was 

 really rather smart — amounted to this. If — if, 

 mark you ! — it cleared and George read his 

 prayers very earnestly, he would get a good sheep I 

 It didn't clear, George didn't get his sheep, and 

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