The Monk is here, but where am I?

A stupid yamun underling was once taking a rascally Buddhist monk to a prison. As he started with his prisoner, he was afraid of forgetting his things and his errand, so he began mumbling, ‘Bundle, umbrella, cangue, warrant, monk, and myself. At every two or three steps he repeated the list, until the monk, seeing the sort of man he had to deal with, treated him at an inn on the way until he was so drunk that he wanted to sit down by the wayside and sleep. When he had gone off, the monk took off his cangue, shaved the man’s head, put the wooden collar upon him, and fled. On coming to, the man exclaimed, ‘Let me wait until I have counted everything. Let me see. Bundle and umbrella are here. ‘ Then feeling his neck, he cried, ‘ And the cangue, too; and here beside me is the warrant.’ Then half-scared, ‘ Hai ya! I don’t see the monk, ‘ but rubbing his itching pate, he gleefully added, ‘The monk is still here. But where am I? Bundle, umbrella, cangue, warrant, monk, but where am I?

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