"It is a small monastery," cried Me Dain, as they approached, "some rich man has been winning merit since I was last this way. Stay a moment, sahibs; I will enter and see that all is safe." He flung the leading-reins to Buck and darted forward. In a few moments he reappeared, and cried out, "There is no one here but a wounded villager, sahibs. Come on, we shall be safe from the dacoits' guns in this new, strong house." The party entered through a door formed of strong teak slabs, and Me Dain closed it behind them. They now found themselves in a large, wide apartment, formed of the whole ground floor of the building, from which wooden stairs led to upper rooms. At the foot of the stairs was huddled a fine-looking old man, whose rich silken kilt and jacket of delicate muslin showed that he was a person of consequence. He had received a severe cut from a _dah_ on the left shoulder, and while Me Dain skilfully bound up the wound, he talked with the old man and learned the story of the affair. It proved to be the outcome of a blood-feud, one of those savage vendettas so common among the hill-tribes of Burmah. A band of Kachin dacoits had raided near the village some six months before, and three of the dacoits had been cut off and killed by the villagers. Now, in revenge, a strong troop of the savage mountain banditti had fallen upon the village, burning, slaying, plundering without mercy. The old man had fled for refuge to the monastery, his own monastery, for he had built it to house a party of Burmese monks. "I am Kyaung-Taga Pah, 'Builder of a Monastery Pah,'" he declared proudly, and Me Dain bowed before him in much respect. It is the great ambition of a wealthy Burman to show his piety by building a pagoda or a monastery, and when he has done so, he is always saluted by his fellows as "Builder of a Monastery," or "Builder of a Pagoda," titles held in very high regard. This was the meaning of Me Dain's phrase about some rich man winning merit, for it is considered that such good works meet with the deep approval of the gods. When "The Builder of a Monastery," Pah, had finished his story, Buck inquired where the monks were, for, as a rule, such holy men are safe even in blood-feuds. The old Burman replied that they were absent at present. There was a great festival at a large village three days' journey away, and the monks had gone to attend it. Jim had stayed at the door, keeping watch and ward. "We're in for a little blood-feud, too," he remarked. "They're dottin' about pretty lively at the edge of the jungle." Jack ran across to him and saw a large number of little figures in blue flitting through the trees; now and again he caught a flash of steel as some naked _dah_ glittered in the rays of the sinking sun. Buck had come too, and was looking over his comrade's shoulders. "Say, we shall have to flip our guns a bit before we drive those blood-thirsty little ferrets away," he remarked.