This he did again and again, emptying them into the mortar each time, until it was quite full and held gems enough to make Pei-Hang the richest man in China.
And this was just what he wanted to be, for the yellow-faced mandarin was only the richest man in Chang-ngan, and he knew that the richest man in China would have much the greater chance of winning Yun-Ying.
"Well, what next?" cried the eight Genii, when he had finished. "Will you take it on your shoulder or on your head?"
"I will just carry it under my arm," replied Pei-Hang.
He took out his little box, threw one of the red seeds on top of the gems, and in a moment the tremendous pestle and mortar shrank into one of ordinary size.
Pei-Hang put the pestle in his pocket, and took up the mortar carefully, because he did not wish to lose any of the precious stones. Then he bowed low to the Genii, thanked them, and said good-by.
This time they did not laugh, but each of them roared with rage. They dared
