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　　" I asked.

　　"Adults with no sense of morality will suffer in the future."

　　"Can any of this be prevented

　　"

　　"The diseases caused by water, if caught in time, aren”t serious. Otherwise they”ll cause death within three, five or nine days."

　　"Will I be affected

　　"

　　"No, because you appreciate the virtues of your elders. I”ll give you the formula for the cure. If you hear that any of these diseases have appeared, go quickly to help."

　　I asked him, "Can”t you tell them the cure yourself

　　"

　　"I could," he said, "but it wouldn”t do any good. You have to make the medicine yourself. Take tamarind fruits, remove the shells and soak them in a salt solution. Then pour off the water and give it to the diseased people — or have them drink the brine from pickled garlic. The disease will go away — but you have to make the medicine yourself." He went on to say that his name was Sancicco Devaputta.

　　This happened in 1956.

　　After we left Phaa Bing Range and had gone to stay in a nearby township, the people there came with a strange story to tell. The night before, a cloud of mist had passed through a tobacco field, and the leaves of the tobacco plants had all fallen off. Another time, I heard that in Thoen district, Lampang province, villagers had drunk rain water the color of tea, and more than ten of them had died. Both of these stories seemed uncanny because they were in line with my dream.

　　After that we went on to Wang Saphung district and then climbed the great Phuu Kradyng Plateau, after spending a night at the foot of the plateau. Altogether there were five of us, two boys and three monks. We climbed the plateau, reaching the edge of the top at about 7 p.m. From there the walk to our campsite was a little more than three miles. The air on the plateau was chilly, and the whole area was covered with pines. As soon as we reached the top, it rained, so we all looked for places to stay. I spotted a pine log that had fallen into a patch of tall grass and so I climbed up to lie on the log. The others had run off to find shelter elsewhere. That night there was both wind and rain, which meant that I didn”t get any sleep all night long.

　　At dawn we came out looking for one another, and then searched for a place to stay. We found a small cave with a fine rock ledge and a tiny well filled with rainwater from the night before. There we stayed in solitude.

　　The plateau was a great broad plain, seven kilometers square. Once you were up there, you felt as if you were on level ground. The whole plateau was covered with pines and tall grasses — but with no other kinds of trees, although there were many kinds of trees on the lower slopes. This, I would gather, was because the top of the plateau was solid rock. You could tell from the fallen pines: Their roots had crept along the crevices in the rock.

　　This was a really restful, quiet place to stay. Every day at 5 p.m. when it didn”t rain, we”d get together to sit in meditation on the rock ledge. I”d think to myself, "I don”t want to return to the world of human beings. I”d like to live on in the woods and the wilds like this. If possible, I”d like to attain supranatural powers or, if I don”t attain them, may I die within seven days, entering nibbana on the seventh. Otherwise, may the deities take me off to live in solitude, far from the congregating spots of humanity for at least three years." Every time I”d start thinking like this, though, the rain would start to fall, and we”d have to go back into the cave.

　　One of the other monks with us, named Phra Palat Sri, had never gone out into the wilds before. All along the way he had talked like a salesman, which had me annoyed. In other words, he liked to talk about worldly matters. Whenever we reached a village that looked poor, he”d bring out his "Lopburi has…

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