x
216Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡKotmkoZl2q
216Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡRV0TuUurhM
216Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡS6nRCzSV6Y
216Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡzQh6WU5XTK
A tall lanky adolescent, Robinson was at work sweeping out one of the smaller rooms of the temple. He raised his straw broom to knock away a spiderweb with crisscrossed a ceiling corner.
"Let me share with you the intricacies of that cobweb," said Grand Master Kang, who was dusting nearby. "It is not just an ordinary creation. It is made of silken thread so fine that even the slightest breath could cause it to vanish into thin air."
Robinson, stretching, swept the web away.
"Just like people find solace and security within their homes, even though there may be dangers lurking outside," continued the priest, "spiders also have their safe havens. To them, their webs are not only a place of refuge but also a means of survival."
"To me, though, it is only a cobweb."
Plucking a feather from the duster in his hand, Grand Master Kang held it near his lips. He blew gently out. "Imagine for a moment that you're holding a feather in your hand, light and delicate. Now picture a gentle breeze passing by." He released the feather, which spun down to the floor. "It doesn't take much for that feather to start dancing in its wake."
Robinson watched it. "The feather, being much weaker than the wind, can do nothing else."
The priest watched the young man, smiling. "Now, I find myself wondering... Is this also the way of men?"
"There are strong," answered young Robinson, "and there are weak."
"Behold this wooden board," said Master Kang, leading Robinson to a board bound horizontally between two poles. "It may seem solid and unyielding, but appearances can be deceiving."
"Surely the board is stronger, grand master."
The priest inclined his head towards his pupil in a faint bow. "I need you to strike the board with your arm as if you were attacking it." He continued, "Imagine that board is a formidable enemy standing in your way. You're a brave warrior, ready to defend yourself and those you care about."
Robinson obeyed, looking rather startled when the board broke in two. "You see?" said Grand Master Kang after the two pieces slapped the floor. "The board, resisting, does not endure."
Robinson asked, "Can the weaker be the stronger?"
"Life is like a stream, constantly flowing and changing. Just as a man floats effortlessly downstream, embracing the current's gentle guidance, he finds harmony and ease in his journey. But," the priest continued, "when that same man turns to fight against the current, struggling to swim upstream against the relentless force of resistance, he exhausts himself in both body and mind. It is in those moments of resistance that we lose our true purpose."
"How do we find it again?" asked the young Robinson.
"To be truly one with the world," Grand Master Kang explained gently, "you must find your true path and follow it faithfully. Just as the mighty Han knows its course without question or doubt, so too must you seek your course without question or doubt."
216Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡyt1WoxAekA
216Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡwzS0RoonIE
216Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡD0eAYiNeHM
216Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡGimrQOCsjV
216Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡclF4RekrpO
Shaking his head, Robinson told Morrison, "My friend, what a hard path you have chosen."
Morisson would not look directly at Robinson. He handed the rifle over to Sergeant Crawford. "You take care o' 'im now," he said. "I'm headin' outta here." He took a few steps toward the table, reaching for the sack of gold.
"Wait! Morisson!"
The big man turned, scowling. The rifle was pointing at him. "You gonna doublecross....?"
"I give you my word. You're free to go."
Morisson took another step toward the bag of nuggets. "But not with that," said Crawford.
"Yew promised.....!"
"I'm giving you your life. Be satisfied," said Crawford. "I'll tell them I had to kill you. Don't make me do it for real."
"Dang yew!" bellowed Morisson. "It's my gold!"
"No, I've decided it's my payment for twenty years of tracking down varmints like you," Crawford said. "Now you start running before I change my mind."
"Th' gol' is mine!" the big man re-emphasized. He looked Robinson in the eye for the first time. "Tell 'im, Robinson. Tell 'im that part o' th' gol' is rightful mine!"
To the sergeant, Robinson said, "He may die out there alone."
"And he'll die for sure by hanging if I take him back. I'm giving him a chance I never gave anyone else," said Sergeant Crawford, making an impatient gesture with the rifle.
"He cannot run. He is still weak," said Robinson. "There may be more Indians yet to face, other dangers. Mr. Morisson must rest here for at least....."
"No more talk!" Crawford, keeping the Springfield on Morisson, circled backward to the table. "You, Robinson, you're coming back with me. Morisson, if you're going to go, go right now." He reached out one hand and picked up the sack of gold.
"Dang it, no! It's all mine!"
"Don't press your luck," warned Crawford.
Morisson roared in anger. He threw himself towards Sergeant Crawford, a huge hand clutching the rifle barrel.
At the same moment, Robinson's foot flashed up and kicked into Crawford's knee.
The sergeant cried out, staggering back.
Morisson kept barreling towards him.
The rifle went off.
The slug grazed Morisson's side, but he still kept going. He grabbed the rifle, twisted it away from Crawford, and sent it spinning toward the shack's ceiling.
The weapon cracked against the raw boards, fell, and bounced against Morisson's neck.
An instant later Morisson, realizing he'd been shot a moment before, clutched at himself. An expression of surprise spread across his face. He stumbled, his knees digging into the earthen floor. "I'm hurt bad!" he shouted. "I'm hurt bad all o'er again. Aw, dang it, I...." His huge body jerked, then huddled in on itself.
Crawford hit the far wall, regained his balance, and went diving toward the doorway. He held the pouch of gold pressed against his chest. His elbow whacked the door jamb as he weaved outside.
Robinson watched him run, heard him mount his horse, and ride away. He did not attempt to follow the sergeant.
Kneeling beside Morisson, Robinson said, "Easy now, my friend."216Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡVnawhd9pXm
