I waited for the voice to speak again. I could hear the sound of my watch teking. I tried to guess the time. but it was useless, I tried to remember if I had nadvertently hit the floor of the house, or its walls or su This might have made the house spirits angry. If they were angry. I might have to sacrifice a pig. How much did a pig cost? “Tupho.” How much I missed the sound of Tupho’s voice, of his Tena, how much I wanted him to be there to banish the silence. “Tupho.” I tried to calm myself down, I sharpened my eyes. I pictured Tupho, and remembered him singing, clearly and carelessly, one fine afternoon at the edge of a beautiful valley, near the Mae Jon Luang Highland Agricultural Experiment Station. Then, slowly, the dream I’d had about Mpala began to come back to me. Hmm A very nice dream. Yes, a very memorable dream. I dreamt that I’d knocked at her house, and she had come down to meet me. “Moala” I whispered, delighted. She smiled sweetly I noticed the halo sumounding the moon, making it look like the face of the Buddha. smiling down over the breadth of Doi Inthanon. “Mpala,” I whispered to her beneath the house, my heart beating fast