An evil goblin once plagued a small fishing village in Southern China. His name was Pasang and his habits were particularly obnoxious: they involved the abduction of small children.
Pasang would watch for happy children having fun - larking about, laughing and playing hide and seek, say, among the beached sampans with their stark dragon's eyes painted on either prowside. Assuming the form of a child, a pathetic sobbing, snuffling toddler just that bit smaller than the rest, Pasang would come among them, rubbing his eyes, stumbling, not meaning to interrupt their pastime, it would seem, yet certainly appealing to their sympathy.
'And what's the matter with you?' one of the children would ask.
Wailing incoherently, Pasang would burst into tears and point off in the distance beyond the dunes or towards some bushes, indicating some incomprehensible injustice - perhaps a bully or an unfriendly stray dog. The other children gathered around and one, usually the nearest, would console him, giving the goblin reassuring hugs or smoothing his hair and cooing endearments. Nothing however could placate Pasang.
'Come along, then,' the bravest child would eventually say, enlisting one or two others to put the matter right, only momentarily abandoning their game, they thought, to follow this poor little crybaby off in the direction he was indicating. These children were never seen again.
Pasang however was seen again. Three times in a year he struck, using the same ploy to lead away two or three children, leaving behind others to report what they had seen. On one occasion he was overheard blubbering out his name to a little pig-tailed girl. Thus the stories of Pasang grew.
Roused by the frantic parents, the village elders blamed the trouble on a lame boy named Ho Tsing, an orphan in their care who acted as Supervisor of Children. He watched over them and played with them whenever he could, settling their petty disputes and being their friend.
He had a cat named Gounda who was very popular. One of the cat's best tricks was stalking prey, real or imaginary.
'Gounda, Gounda, Gounda!' Ho Tsing would call out. The cat would freeze.
'I hear a rat!' the boy would say, or 'I see a mouse!' or 'Look at that spider!'
The cat would skitter off, leap around a twig, a beetle or a leaf, bat it about, prance along on her hind legs, cartwheel, attack, attack until all the watching children were clapping and laughing with delight. The lame boy's cry of 'Gounda, Gounda, Gounda!' was famous in the village; it meant merriment.
Nevertheless it was this lad that the village elders dressed down at one of their private evening meetings.
'You have neglected your duty and indirectly caused considerable grief', one of them announced, sniffing slightly.
But masters, with respect,' answered Ho Tsing, 'how could I, a lame boy, stay with all the children at the same time? Their play has never been confined to one spot.'
'Well it will be from now on!' another elder declared.
'Aye, aye,' agreed the others.
'And this time,' added the second elder, 'you are responsible for every child. Woe betide you if we lose another one to Pasang!'
Ho Tsing thought to himself as he stood clenching his crutches. He realised he had neither father, mother, brother nor sister to help him and that these villagers considered him a burden. He saw too that he must act boldly now, like a man, to uproot their contempt.
'Masters,' he said, 'I will do better than that. I shall rid you of Pasang forever. We must, however, draw up an agreement in writing tonight.'
'What?' the elders laughed. 'You? Haha! How? Haha!'
'Excuse me, but never mind how,' Ho Tsing insisted. 'If I fail you can exile me from the village, as you probably will anyway should Pasang strike again. If I succeed, however, I wish to be given a house and ten acres of farmland.'
'This is preposterous,' said the elders. 'What if we refuse?'
'Then I shall take my cat and leave this village tomorrow. The story of your injustice will spread and you will still have to deal with Pasang.'
'Let's not be hasty now,' the first elder said, raising his hand to quell the angry mutterings that began after Ho Tsing's last speech. He whispered with the others for a long time before agreeing. They had no idea how to be rid of Pasang and nothing to lose.
They put aside a portion of the village's land together with a small house and drew up deeds in favour of Ho Tsing dated a month in advance, failure to dispatch the goblin in the appointed time to render the document null and void. They gave him a signed copy. Ho Tsing perused it carefully and signed too. Then he swore them to secrecy (it was part of his plan); the elders promised to tell no one.
Ho Tsing was put in charge of a central playground to which children were escorted by their parents, elder sisters or brothers.
'Now, children,' Ho Tsing announced on the first day. 'You know we are here because of Pasang and we know his tricks. Do not wander outside this area and please keep in sight of one another at all times. Remember that Pasang can assume any form he wishes except that of a mouse. So beware of anything strange except a mouse!'
Ho Tsing made this same announcement several days running. After a week, the shrill voices of so many happy children playing together in one place reached the ears of the redoubtable Pasang - whose appetite was aroused. Taking the form of a dragonfly, he hovered over the scene, waiting for an opportunity. Ho Tsing's announcement about the mouse enraged him.
'Am I not Pasang the Magnificent,' he said to himself, 'the Greatest Seaside Goblin of Them All? Does this callow cripple seek to impugn my reputation? I will show this limping upstart what I am capable of!' and he buzzed off to a corner of the playground where he transformed himself instantly into a mouse - not an ordinary mouse - no; that was not good enough for Pasang, who was a perfectionist as well as a goblin - but a frisky, pretty, golden mouse with a long lovely tail and a tiny red bell around its neck, an amazing mouse that pranced among the children who squealed and chased it, never having seen anything quite so remarkable.
'At last!' thought Ho Tsing.
'Gounda, Gounda, Gounda! I see a mouse!'
And that was that: end of Pasang, end of story. Of course some of the children cried, but later they were able to understand about the golden mouse and Pasang, about how things are not always as they seem.
