favour. Once more he regained his health, once more he began his
preparations.

Yet all the time he was about his work his heart was heavy, for he felt
that he would soon journey into the dark forest, the region of the great
yellow spring, the place from which no pilgrim ever returns. Ko-ai, too,
felt more than ever that her father was in the presence of a great
danger.

"Surely," she said one day to her mother, "a raven must have flown over
his head. He is like the proverb of the blind man on the blind horse
coming at midnight to a deep ditch. Oh, how can he cross over?"

Willingly would this dutiful daughter have done anything to save her
loved one. Night and day she racked her brains for some plan, but all to
no avail.

On the day before the third casting, as Ko-ai was sitting in front of
her brass mirror braiding her long black hair, suddenly a little bird
flew in at the window and perched upon her head. Immediately the
startled maiden seemed to hear a voice as if some good fairy were
whispering in her ear:

"Do not hesitate. You must go and consult the famous juggler who even
now is visiting the city. Sell your jade-stones and other jewels, for
this man of wisdom will not listen unless his attention is attracted
by huge sums of money."

The feathered messenger flew out of her room, but Ko-ai had heard enough
to make her happy. She despatched a trusted servant to sell her jade and