I seem to be the leader of a small group of young people. An odd looking fellow walks past us and makes some sort of remark. A few moments later four or five bandits approach us and blaze away with pistols. I yell "No!" But I am shot in the face. It is a mortal wound, and yet I do not die. Instead, I feel a huge hollow gash where the left side of my face has been blown away. I am on a wooden raft in a lake. A huge black man and I are fighting. We each have long bamboo fishing poles. His idea is to snag me with a hook. We use the poles as if we were adept Tai Chi push-sword players. We are both extremely good at directing and slipping touches. Then, without trying, I land a blow to his head and he tumbles into the water. He has lost ungracefully in front of a small group of people that have gathered on the banks to watch. Later on I ask his whereabouts, as he is the father of a ..... [page missing]