One evening, Black Snake was loitering at the crossroads.
Suddenly, the sound of a rattle drum came from far away, its rolling beats drawing closer. A peddler approached with a carrying pole over his shoulder, laden with needles, thread, scraps of cloth, thimbles, scissors, and all manner of odds and ends.
He hurried up the mountain, then came back down.
Black Snake trotted eagerly over.
The peddler walked along shaking his rattle drum. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a little fellow following close beside him, eyes fixed on his wares.
He found a level spot, set his load down steadily, and asked with a chuckle.
"What would you like to buy, little one? Take a good look. I've got plenty of fine things."
Black Snake pointed to an old needle and some thread. After hearing the price, he fished a few copper coins from his pocket, counted them out one by one, and handed them to the peddler. Then he took the needle and thread and cupped his fists in farewell.
After watching the peddler disappear into the distance with his load, Black Snake skipped toward the little town. A new Holy King Hall had recently been built there.
Under cover of darkness, he climbed in through a window.
The hall was pitch-black, with only a few lamps and candles burning dimly. The Holy King Statue was draped in white cloth.
Black Snake pinched a corner of the cloth. It felt nice and soft. After measuring it out, he tore off two chi.
He climbed back out the window and happily returned to the mountain.
Finding the large rock where he hid his cloth bag, he bent down and pulled the bag out from underneath.
The coarse cloth could not withstand all that wear and tear.