Gods Men by Pearl S. Buck Page A

way, act as the old woman’s grandson, and so they could walk all day more quickly and safely than by night. Then too he could use the money which Mr. Fong had given him, which until now he dared not use at an inn. Yet to make the pretense it was needful to tell the old woman who he was and she was so simple that he could not make up his mind whether he dared to trust his life into her hands.
    When night drew near and a village showed itself in a distant cluster of lights, he thought he could tell her. He knew by now that she was good and only what she said she was, and if he were with her he might keep her awake to danger. If by chance she betrayed him as not Chinese, then he must make his escape as best he could.
    So before they came to the village he took her aside, much to her bewilderment, for she did not know why he plucked her sleeve. Behind a large date tree, where he could see on all sides, he told her.
    â€œGrandmother, you have been honest with me, but I have not told you who I am.”
    â€œYou are not a bandit!” she exclaimed in some terror.
    â€œNo—I am someone worse for you. My father was a foreigner, like your priest.”
    â€œIs it true?” she exclaimed. She strained her eyes and then put up her hand to feel his face.
    â€œIt is true,” he said, “and my father and mother and my sisters were killed as the priest was killed and I go to the sea to find a ship to take me to my own country.”
    â€œPitiful—pitiful,” she murmured. “You are not very old. You are not yet grown.”
    â€œNo,” Clem said. “But I am alone, and so I am glad that you met with me.”
    â€œIt was the amulet,” she said. “Heaven saw us two lonely ones walking the same road and brought us together.”
    â€œGrandmother,” he went on, “you cannot see my eyes, but they are not black as the priest’s eyes were.”
    â€œAre they not?” she asked surprised. “What color are they, then?”
    â€œBlue,” he told her.
    â€œBlue?” she echoed. “But only wild beasts have blue eyes.”
    â€œSo have many of my people,” he said.
    She shuddered. “Ah, I have heard that foreigners are like wild beasts!”
    â€œMy father was not,” Clem replied, “and my mother was very gentle. You would have liked her.”
    â€œDid she speak our tongue?”
    â€œYes,” Clem said, and found that he could not tell more of his mother.
    â€œAi-ya,” the old woman sighed. “There is too much evil everywhere.”
    â€œGrandmother,” Clem began again.
    â€œI like to hear you call me so,” the old woman said. “I shall never have a grandson, since my sons are dead.”
    â€œWill you help me?” Clem asked.
    â€œSurely will I,” she replied.
    And so he told her his plan and she listened, nodding. “A half-blind old woman leading a blind grandson,” she repeated.
    â€œWe can go to the village inn there and sleep under a roof. I have slept every night in the canes, and two nights it rained.”
    â€œI have some money,” she said, fumbling in her waist.
    â€œI also,” Clem said. “Let us spend mine first.”
    â€œNo, mine.”
    â€œBut mine, Grandmother, because when I get to my own country it will be no use to me.”
    She was diverted by this. “How can money be no use?”
    â€œWe have a different coin,” he replied.
    They began to walk again and planned as they went. Far from being stupid as he had thought her, she was shrewd and planned as well as he did. All her life she had been the wife of a small poor man compelled to evade the country police and tax gatherers and she knew how to seem what she was not and to hide what she was.
    An hour later Clem was walking down the village street with her, his eyes shut, holding in his hand one end of a stick the other end of which she held. She led the way to the inn on the