Wang the Ninth: The Story of a Chinese Boy

CHAPTER XVIII

He showed infinite cunning in his advance.His sheltered life dropped from him like a discarded garment.Fortified by his long experience of vagabond days he displayed the cunning of the young animal that knows that older animals are stronger and more savage, and must be kept off by stealth and not by strength.

Keeping close to the deep shadow of the city wall, he watched carefully the ground in front of his feet so that he should not fall over sleeping men.In summer it was not rare for men to sleep along this sandy stretch where the camel caravans passed; and if there were soldiers posted here that was what they would certainly be doing.

South of him lay the broad city moat, a noisome antediluvian defence.This he knew he could not cross save by the stone bridges at the city gates, for it was full of a black terrible slime.Once in his childhood he had been nearly choked by falling into it, and he still cherished a wholesome dread of its nature.

He went on slowly thinking of all sorts of things as he stole forward.Down here, with the great barrier of the city wall cutting him off, the rifle-fire round the foreign quarter sounded faint—as if it were miles away.He seemed to have left far behind him all the troubles and the interests of many chequered days; what was real and absorbing to him was to keep tally of the outjutting buttresses, so that he might carefully hide himself before the stone bridge was reached.

Some hovels, built by beggars, loomed up unexpectedly after he had gone half-a-mile or so.He threw himself on the ground, and listened long and carefully before he advanced any further.He knew well that if there were soldiers about they would have certainly taken these shelters and driven the owners away.He lay so long and so still on the ground that he dozed a little; when he opened his eyes the waning moon was coming slowly and majestically over the horizon, making the obscurity of the mighty city wall seem more funereal than ever.

He watched the moon curiously and lazily as if it had some special message for him. In a stately manner it lifted itself higher and higher until it was far above the earthline. Now it threw over the scene a great silver light in which the hovels stood out like black islands.

Not a sound from them—not a movement.Reassured he scuttled forward until he was in their shadow.He was sure they were empty.There was no sound of breathing.Yet to be quite sure he did not stir for minutes.

How queer!As he crept on he saw in the moonlight beyond the hovels a single old beggar sleeping—a very old man with a white beard, who lay on his back, with his knees pulled up sharply, and one arm sticking up as if it did not belong to him.The figure fascinated the boy.He watched it for a long time.He was quite sure that any one sleeping here now must know perfectly where the soldiers were posted, and what sort of men they were—and their numbers, too.Yielding to an impulse he crawled right up to the sleeper and tapped on the arm which fell at once.

"Ta-ko (elder brother)" he said in an undertone, using a polite phrase of the people to be sure of a polite reception. "I have strayed far from my home and am hungry and frightened. I could manage a bowl of something warm if I knew where to get it."

No answer.

He tried again:

"Yeh-yeh (grandfather) can you not give me some comforting information about this neighbourhood?"

Still no answer.

"Tortoise!"he exclaimed, exchanging his politeness for an habitual insult in his irritation as he pulled at the man's sleeve."Old tortoise, you sleep deep out here in your rags under the city wall."

Then something prompted him to stop and gaze open-mouthed at the old man's bare chest and stomach.It had a big dark stain.He bent lower until his eyes were only a few inches away.Quite distinctly in the moonlight he could see the marks of the wound.

"Ssu-la—he is dead," the boy whispered in a hollow voice.

He was dead—evidently shot down by the soldiers. He had been killed in sight of his home.

Death in the East is no mystery: yet the boy shivered once or twice because he was so lonely.The vast barren space under the wall was tenanted only by this dead man and himself; and lurking somewhere near were the soldiers.

From far away came a peculiar grunt and snarl which was repeated again and again.The sound rose and hung on the night air, and now the boy rejoiced.

"Camels," he exclaimed aloud in his joy.There was a caravan of animals evidently camped just by the stone bridge, waiting like him for the dawn.At the first streak of daylight they would be off.It would be easy to join them.By mixing with the drivers he might escape notice.Now with the phlegm and patience of his race he sat down with his legs tucked under him prepared to wait for dawn.

Several times he became so drowsy that he heeled over, waking himself up completely with the shock of falling to the ground.But he was determined to remain awake cost what it might to his resolution. There would be a bare few minutes when dawn came to carry out his plan: if he missed the first coming of daylight it would be too late and the camels would be gone.

Calculating by the moon, at three o'clock he began to creep forward on his hands and knees.He might be mistaken for a dog, he thought, if any one were watching.He managed it so well that in the gentle night breeze he smelt the camels long before he could make out a single one of them.Then listening carefully as he approached, he could hear the murmur of the camel-drivers' voices.Already they were awake since it was their habit to start in the dark.But now they would not move until clear daylight for fear of the soldiers.

Dawn at last and from near the rings of kneeling camels wreaths of smoke.The drivers were evidently boiling tea for themselves, purposely delaying their departure until it was safe.

Now clear daylight.The boy by working along under the city wall was only fifty yards away, sheltered by a high bank of sand.He sat down with his back to the brickwork watching for the start.

The well-remembered snarling commenced.Jerking roughly at the nose-rings the drivers were raising the camels to their feet.Now they stood in a great shaggy herd and with their clumsy bells clanking, they started off.Quickly yet quietly he raced after them until he was near the last string: for it is the custom of the country to tie seven to a group which is led by one man.He gave a swift glance up at the empty baskets, and saw some sweet-potato vine hanging down.They were fruits-camels, he was sure.He knew the road they would take out of the city.It was just right for him.

Round the great belly of brick—the curtain of the city gate—the camels progressed.There was the stone bridge right in front of them; and on it were gaudy soldiers' flags.The caravan had come to a dead halt.The boy peering round the camels' hairy legs could see that there was an altercation with some guards.One camel-driver was down on his knees kowtowing humbly.There was a long pause during which the boy's heart was in his mouth.Would they be allowed to proceed?At last, the long train commenced swaying forward once more: they had been given the right to leave the city.

The leading files were already passing across the stone bridge when the boy saw that the soldiers stopped and interrogated each man leading his string of seven animals.If they did that to the men what would they not do to him?

In a flash he made up his mind to a desperate move.There was some long green creeper, in which the fruit had been packed, still hanging to the empty baskets on the last camel's back.The boy plucked it rapidly down, edged up to the last camel's head and rapidly pushed it into the camel's mouth.The camel grunted its pleasure and commenced mashing the acid creeper.The boy gave it more.Having quieted it, he grasped the cord hanging from the baskets, and with a desperate leap managed to pull himself half-way up.Then holding on like grim death to the fur of the animal, with a swift wriggle he did an old trick: he threw himself upside down and got a foot round a hump.Hanging head down, and clawing at the animal's furry hide, he jerked his light weight completely up.Exhausted and deathly pale from the exertion, he lay at last safe between the humps.

The moment of ordeal had arrived.

He knew that there was nothing to fear from the driver of the last string.He was at least twenty yards ahead with seven swaying animals in between; and with his heart certainly quaking from fear of the soldiers.It was only these he had to fear.With his eyes feigning sleep he squinted out beneath his eyelashes rocking himself to and fro.Here they were in numbers, in their parti-coloured tunics and their rifles held menacingly, ready for any sort of violence, delighting in violence.The boy thought of the white-bearded beggar lying dead on the sands with the ants beginning already to crawl over him, and closed his eyes completely, as if he were really sleeping.

He heard their rough talk.He heard one man call attention to the last tortoise-egg on the last camel; but no one actually molested him.

Clankety-clank went the camels.The stone-bridge was far behind before he dared move even so much as an eyelash.Then at last he boldly looked behind. They were turning a corner—safe. Here the narrow street was absolutely deserted. No soldiers. He slipped to the ground like a flash and disappeared into a twisting lane.

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CHAPTER XIX

He knew this part of the outer city very accurately; for the great grain markets were here, and the farriers and the horse-doctors clustered thick where thousands of draft animals were daily at work in times of peace.In days gone by he had often come to have his master's ponies cupped or otherwise medicated by these men whose science was mainly a hoary tradition handed down from father to son, and who yet had a wonderful if empirical knowledge of all animals and their ailments.

He had greatly loved these excursions which had sometimes consumed the best part of a day.Violent discussions always accompanied every case which called for treatment; for the grooms considered that their reputations would be imperilled if they did not cavil at every diagnosis.Although they treated the aged horse-doctors with respect, they wished to show that they, too, had knowledge.Sallies of wit, which attracted half the idlers in the street, made these disputations memorable things: every one gave tongue to what was in them and the talk was endless.

How changed it had all become!There was not a soul abroad and of all the thousands of animals there was not a single team to be seen.Every door was closed, every caravanserai shuttered.Commerce had been frightened away, killed by the fear of bullets.On went the boy yawning and feeling hungry and tired and thirsty, and increasingly alarmed by the dead silence.There was not even a drop of water to drink—nothing.The very street watering-troughs were dry; all the buckets had been removed from the common wells.Not a drop of water for man or beast.What a condition!

The more he thought of it the more consumed he was by thirst.But as a horse in the desert infallibly makes for water, so now he made his made his way towards certain fields.He had often noted how melons grew in patches almost alongside the trading city, cut off from the roadway by low mud walls.A longing for the big, luscious water-melons, which he had not tasted that year, became so overwhelming that he could hardly wait. He ran on, thinking only of this one thing, no longer caring whether he was seen or not. At last he saw green ahead. There were the fields and the fruit gardens.

A dog ran and barked furiously at him as he boldly jumped over a low mud boundary wall, but he threw a clod of earth at it and drove it off.He ran through some buckwheat standing almost man-high, crushing down the growing grain and wondering whether this year they had forgotten to plant the melons.No—here were the melon-patches, great quantities of the succulent gourds lying ripe on the ground, each on its own little bed of straw.With the skill of the country-boy he picked out the biggest and ripest one there was; broke it open with two or three savage stamps of his foot; and then sat down indifferent to everything so as to enjoy it.

Oh, the good red fruit!He completely devoured the whole melon in less than fifteen minutes, eating right down to the rind and not wasting a particle.Then as he sat with his face and bared chest bathed in the juice, he wondered whether he could attempt another.Lazily reclining on the ground among the fragments of his feast, he debated the problem idly as he looked at his swollen paunch. But finally he made up his mind that he had eaten to the uttermost limit of man. Now reluctantly he rose to his feet and determined to resume his journey.

As he scrambled over the mud wall he suddenly remembered that he might have been seen by a watcher of crops; and for a full five minutes he studied every inch of the ground within eye-sight.Crouching down beside the mud wall he picked out each little watch-tower unerringly.Communities living wholly by agriculture, and knowing nothing else, invariably look upon their fields as something sacred.So it happened here that all over the land, as the grain and fruit ripen, watch-towers of matting and poles are run up by the agricultural population.With ancient matchlocks in their hands, which they sometimes discharge to warn off trespassers, men sit in these watching day and night.The boy knew these things as well as he knew the shape of his hands; for they were as much a part of his world as street lighting and railways and other manifold inventions are in the West.Where now were the watchers of crops?

There were apparently none.Overcome with curiosity, very deliberately he made his way to the nearest tower; walked right under it, and peered up.Empty!He passed a second; it was the same thing.When he found that all were deserted and that the standing grain and ripe fruit was looking after itself he shook his head dolefully.There was on his face the pessimism only possible in a race of cultivators four thousand years old.

"This is a bad business," he murmured aloud."The end has indeed come—"

Nothing that had occurred since he had been lowered down the city wall so depressed him.He felt completely abandoned.All the guarantees of life and order were gone.For if it were like this within the limits of the city administration, what must it not be in the open country....He thought of the many miles he had to traverse and his heart sank.

Still he walked on as quickly as he could.He had a certain goal to attain.He meant to attain it.Frowning to himself he went quicker and quicker.

A low broken gateway at last announced the end of the outer city and the spot where he would pass into the open country. But the splotch of colour he saw in the shadow of the gate halted him instantly and changed the currents of his thoughts. He forgot all about the fear which had driven a whole population into hiding. His own business had become urgent again.

He stood casting about for a plan to enable him to pass this last egress safely.He could think of nothing.He had indeed forgotten all about the outer city gate.It had not occurred to him that there would be soldiers here just as there were soldiers at every other vital point.

The low brick wall ahead of him was so eroded by wind and rain that he thought how easy it would be for him to climb it.Still in the broad daylight he dare not make the attempt with guards on the alert.

Walking very slowly, he approached the gateway until he could see who were the men there.They were cavalry.A number of saddled ponies were cropping the scanty grass whilst their riders lay asleep beside them.Still some men were awake, for there were the figures in the gateway.

For a long time he watched.Nobody was passing either in or out of the gateway: he did not know what subterfuge to adopt.Then, as he stood there, Heaven sent him assistance.He suddenly caught sight of a small country-boy, about his own size, with a basket of manure and a manure-rake beside him, asleep behind some bushes.It was instantly plain to him that the boy had followed the troopers for the droppings of their horses.Now he made up his mind, and he approached the boy on the point of his toes.The basket was easy enough to pick up; but the rake was placed securely under the sleeping boy's legs—to prevent just such a catastrophe as was about to occur.Wang the Ninth, with a skill which a long apprenticeship had given him, very gently and insinuatingly braced up the legs inch by inch, and then deftly and swiftly pulled away the rake from under the luckless sleeper who stirred uneasily but did not awake.Now with the stealth of the Indian Scout he tip-toed away.He knew that he was fully armed with a passport—that is if the other boy did not awake and give the alarm.

For a hundred yards or so he moved torn with anxiety.Then as no shouts came from behind, he gained confidence.With amazing effrontery as he approached the gateway he commenced singing lustily the "Song of the Wine-jug," as if the fresh morning had put music into his heart.Nonchalantly and easily, he walked up to the hobbled ponies, and manœuvred round their tails with his rake.Carefully he garnered up all their droppings, singing all the time.Now with the filled basket slung across his shoulder, he made his way into the gateway, searching for more manure as he walked, and even stopping to speak to a soldier.

"These horses are so poorly fed that they are hardly worth my trouble," he remarked coarsely enough, swinging the laden basket from one shoulder to the other.

The man cursed him for his insolence but he did not molest him.On he went quicker now.He scrambled up a high bank and made his way into the fields.Once hidden from sight he threw the basket and the rake where they could not be found. Then without a thought of the wretched youth he had robbed, and with nothing to encumber him, he began running as hard as he could.

He was free—utterly free.

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CHAPTER XX

Noon found him asleep in the fields of kaoliang, that giant millet growing twelve feet high which is so dense that one may become lost in its golden tangle.Utterly worn out, he had crept into this safe hiding-place, and amidst the drone of the countless insects he had dropped on his back, and lost consciousness—a small, unobserved creature on the face of a troubled earth.

Yet in spite of his fatigue his sleep was disturbed.Uneasy dreams made him thrash around and babble confused talk.He again lived through all his experiences of the night before and found no comfort in the success which had crowned his efforts.To escape from the great city in the manner he had done was a feat which should have brought him peace.Nevertheless as he slept he constantly heard his master's voice chiding him for not showing more haste.The voice was so clear that he understood perfectly everything that was said; and—strangest of all—the three mysterious words which every one had spoken at the last fateful interview, when he had been committed to this enterprise, sounded unendingly in his ears in a great undertone.

Perhaps it was the harsh grinding of the cicadas which brought back the message so insistently as he lay semi-conscious; for the cicadas were singing with all the might which is theirs in the summer months.Well—he had travelled far and braved many risks—was that not enough?No—for now his master stood immediately over him, a huge figure full of awe.His red beard bristled as he spoke with the force of his superior judgment; and as the boy watched thunderstruck, the red beard came nearer and nearer in a menacing way until at length he could feel the bristles sticking into his face....

With a startled cry he awoke and threw off some millet stalks which had fallen across him.Now he yawned and shook himself like a dog.He was fully awake but still a little frightened.The vividness of the apparition slowly disappeared like clouds driven along the skies by a high wind. As he sat up and tightened his belt he was suddenly overwhelmed by the great emptiness which oppressed his stomach.

"I haven't eaten for a whole day,—that is apart from the melon," he grumbled, looking down at his thin body, and scratching his arms and hands morosely."It is possible to die of starvation even with food growing around you."

Now he jumped up, and went rustling through the grain.In a land of poverty—where the struggle for existence is bitter and keen—not to eat is a confession of failure.

There were acres and acres of the same field; and as he threaded his way forward he cursed the owners for their greed in tilling so much land. But at length the great field ceased; and he came out suddenly on to a rutted roadway and saw in the distance a tumble-down little red building. It was a country shrine. He studied it critically for a long while, and then remembered, from the manner in which three trees grew beside it, having seen it before. It was about twenty li—seven miles counted in English—to the southeast of the capital. He had come twenty li since he had left the last city gate.

Reassured, he went up to the closed doors without further hesitation.

"Lao-ho-shang (old harmonious and esteemed one)," he loudly called, hammering with his fists on the rotting woodwork, "a foodless man is at your gateway. Distribute your goodness. Lao-ho-shang, lao-ho-shang, come to your door!"

He repeated his call more and more vigorously; and presently there was the sound of slow footsteps and the gate was cautiously unbarred.But it was only opened an inch or so by a priest who was neither old nor young, and who was clad in a garment of faded saffron edged with black.

The priest eyed him suspiciously for a long time and at last commenced this interrogatory:

"How far have you journeyed?"

"Many miles from the South, many miles indeed."

"And what is your purpose in journeying when all is unsettled?"

"I seek my relatives because my father is dead."

"Where are your relatives?"

"In the city—"

"And what is your name?"

The boy without hesitation continued to lie calmly in the way all his countrymen readily do—that is when they are pressed.

"I am called Liu—I am the second in the family—Liu Erh—I have walked a hundred miles to find my relatives.Food is what I need to soothe my hunger.A little hot food."

"Um,"—said the priest, "I, too, am short of food.For a fortnight I have received no alms, not one copper coin has been vouchsafed me.With trouble abroad how dare I venture out?And should I give away from my small store when I may shortly be in need myself?"

Wang the Ninth, because of his hunger, was becoming angry at this long discussion.Already he had measured his man: he knew him to be a coward and covetous as well.With a swift movement he thrust his foot in between the gate-post and the door so that the priest could not possibly close it again,—that is unless he threw him back and broke his foot.Now very roughly he used what was instantly effective—intimidation, based on a half-truth.

"Look here," he said, "I have waited patiently and answered all your questions and am very hungry.I have just passed soldiers.If you do not give me freely I shall go and find them and declare that you have silver buried in the Temple."

There was brief hesitation which may have lasted two seconds, but no more.Then the door swung wide open.

"Come in," said the priest sullenly.Asia is like that.By audacity a child may work his will over old and young alike.That is one of the unappreciated morals of the Bible.

Wang the Ninth, again victorious, loafed in with an expression of suppressed amusement on his face which would have done credit to an actor.Behind him the priest shut the door securely; then turned round and looked at him; muttered something under his breath; and finally led him to a room where his store of food was secreted under a broken bench.Together, in this companionship, neither speaking much, they prepared a meal of boiled millet, a little salted vegetable, a cup of tea.

Presently having eaten his fill, the marauder became loquacious.

"Your stock of food is indeed low," he remarked, examining everything and looking into the grain-bin several times."When you first spoke about shortage I doubted your story.If you wait a little I will fetch you something as repayment and prepare a bite for myself for later on."

Without further ado, he marched out through the gateway and down the roadway to where his sharp eyes half an hour before had noticed a patch of Indian corn.Calmly, as if it were his own property, he pulled off a great mass of corn cobs, only taking of the best.Then he stripped off his short cotton coat, loaded it up with the loot, and marched back with this fat bundle to the keeper of Buddha's shrine.

"Here," he said, "I have taken from an abundance that is neglected.If there is suspicion or accusation I bear the blame.Now I prepare my share."

With deft fingers he stripped off the husk from a dozen cobs, threw them into a pot of water, and boiled them over the small charcoal fire until beads of perspiration stood on his forehead.When he had satisfied himself that they were well-cooked, he heaved a sigh of relief and desisted. He had a couple of days' supply of food to the good, no matter what happened; for Indian corn is a good and strength-giving food.

"I can journey in peace," he remarked, "when the sun is a little lower and there is coolness in the air.Not soon will I commit the fault of journeying with no provision belt.A hundred miles is far to travel for the poor."

The priest talked a little but without much gusto.He was irritated by everything that had occurred since he had unbarred his doors; and after the manner of his race he was absorbed thinking about the way he could redress the balance in his favour.With his arms behind his back, master of the situation, Wang the Ninth began sauntering round the narrow courtyard of the little Temple, and lifting the heavy reed curtain over the doorway of the shrine he peered in.

"Who is your honourable Saint?"he inquired politely, looking at the square, clumsy, gilt figure.Then almost before he had finished asking the question he burst into a short laugh.His quick eyes had noticed something."Lao-ho-shang, have you noticed that an ear has dropped off?" He pointed to the left ear of Buddha's disciple which was indeed missing.

The priest became more nettled than ever.

"What would you?"he said."This locality is poor—and very miserly as well.Only on harvest-days do I receive alms in sufficiency for my welfare.As for renovation where shall I find funds?All the shrines for many miles lack repair, and some are even deserted by their keepers."

The devil in the boy leaped to the surface.With a rapid gesture his hand travelled to his belt, and with a flash he threw a bright silver coin on the matted floor as an offering.

"There," he said, "I have contributed."

The priest stood staring.

"Silver!"he exclaimed as if that had been the name of his God."You carry silver!"Now he bent down and picked up the coin which he examined carefully.

"Yes, silver," assented Wang the Ninth, "an undoubted piece of silver."

"How is it that you who lack food have money?" said the priest. His manner was full of suspicion.

The boy laughed easily.

"It is this way.Many in our locality were employed in the city before the trouble commenced and they have all fled back.They had money in their belts, and two who had known my father gave me small contributions to help me on my way.Had it not been for this friendly help I would indeed have fared badly."

"Um," said the priest, "and how many such coins have you with you?"

Wang the Ninth took several steps backwards so that if needs be he could run for it.There was a note in the priest's voice that he did not like.He was quite capable of trying to rob him.Already he regretted his indiscretion.

"How many coins? Ho—ho, I am a bad hand at calculating." He took a few more steps backward. "Are you discontented with my generosity? —well, I cannot help it." With a swift movement he bent down and picked up the bundle of corn which he had made. "The day is waning, I cannot waste more time. Lao-hoshang, I am about to leave you."And with this lightly and quickly he sprang away and then through the narrow door on to the roadway.

The priest followed him.On his face there was a sharp struggle.Had he been able to do so, he would have rushed at him.But the chances of success were poor having in view his feebleness and the boy's agility.So sullenly he watched Wang the Ninth walk away looking over his shoulder as he went, and beginning the song, "Every priest is only a thief with a shaven pate," which is known to every urchin in the land.

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CHAPTER XXI

In the cool of the evening he walked on steadily hour after hour thinking of the priest, and sometimes wondering why he met no soldiers.He began to believe that things would not be so hard as he had pictured them.Here at least was no trace of battle or tumult.

The long July day faded slowly away and still he walked.Now that the capital was far behind him, occasionally there were village people to be seen tending their fields: yet it was plain that they watched the roads and feared every movement on them.Still the mere presence of people reassured him.Immediate danger there could be none: otherwise not a human being would he have seen.Even the lack of travellers could be easily explained.How could people travel when there were no conveyances for hire?Every mule or horse was certainly hidden away as a measure of precaution, soldiers always seizing these first.

Still, in spite of his growing confidence, whenever he saw a village marked out like an island in the midst of the cultivation by the dense groves of trees,—he wasted many minutes walking far around so as to avoid all danger.He greatly feared to go into them, and see the red cloth and the mystic signs on the lintels which proclaimed adhesion to the dread cult.Once, when he was thinking of these things, he came right upon a man lying half-asleep on a grassy bank—which so startled him that he ran into the fields and hid for many minutes before he dared resume his journey.What he feared most was detention—being seized and held indefinitely for his working-value if for no other reason.Knowing his own people to the bottom of their hearts, he realized how easily such enslavements could be carried out—particularly in troubled times.A week's time lost might spell ruination.At all costs he must avoid being made a slave.

Meanwhile he travelled on.Guided by the marvellous sense of direction which the Chinese possess in common with savage races, he bore steadily towards the southeast where his goal lay.No twists or turns confused him; after the longest detour he recovered the exact direction as if a compass were set before him, never faltering or pausing an instant, but always hastening on at the same quick gait.

At last it was so dark that he could no longer see and reluctantly he stopped.Sitting cross-legged he opened his bundle of Indian corn and with a sigh of relief commenced munching the golden grain.He ate half his store before his hunger was appeased; and then he drew out from his tunic two peaches that he had stolen from an orchard on the way.As for drink, an hour before he had taken the precaution to draw water from an irrigating-well in a cabbage patch and he had drunk so deeply that he was no longer troubled by thirst.

Now he sat in the night, feeling satisfied by his frugal repast, and listening to the sounds.Far in the distance village-dogs were barking monotonously after their wont, and he idly tried to calculate how distant they might be.Were they barking at some person or merely baying an evening salute?He could not guess and soon he listened to them no more.

Presently some birds on a tree near by attracted his attention and he turned.They were fluttering uneasily as if something were disturbing them.Without a sound he stole under the tree and listened like a trapper.His keen eyes and his animal knowledge presently told him what had taken place; and he gave a grunt of disdain.It was a very usual occurrence—a bat trying to invade a crows' preserve where there was rotting food stored.With a sudden screech the invader was even now flying away, beaten off by the fear of sharp bills and sharper claws.

Once again he seated himself on the grassy bank.He half-regretted now that he had not ventured into the village where the dogs were barking.It was, however, too late to move—he would have to pass the night where he was—all alone where the fire-devils might trouble him.There were sure to be fire-devils abroad; for although the nearest habitations were a mile away, the square of pine-trees, whose tops he could just make out against the horizon, meant a family burial-ground and the fire-devils would chase backwards and forwards between them and the village.

As he thought of that he hummed to himself quite loudly to keep the spirits off.He would not have minded the solitude so much if it had not been for them; he really detested the fire-devils.There was an old man he knew who was so bothered by them that he dare not walk abroad after dark.It is true that they belonged to a harmless breed and were very different from malignant spirits.They only bothered people by trying to open doors and windows at night so as to bring in fire.Perhaps they would not molest him in the open.Lying down flat on his back mechanically he thrashed around with a stout branch he had picked up to show that he was on the alert.But, presently being tired from his long exertions, the branch moved more and more slowly, and finally slipped to the ground where it lay forgotten.The child-man slept!

Later he awoke with a start.The waning moon had crept into the sky and was already creeping out of it again.With his empirical knowledge of lunar movements he knew that dawn was still far off: yet he sat up uneasily and took a cast at the eastern horizon, picking up the guiding stars like a sailor. Then he looked at the tops of the pine-trees. He could sleep in peace. There was no possibility of light for a long while. As he was in unknown country, it was quite useless starting in the dark; for he might blunder into danger at the first turn.

Now he yawned, and as he lay down he began calculating how far he had travelled. He added and subtracted in his head by a peculiar method until he finally produced a total which he was convinced was correct. He was at least sixty li—twenty miles—from the capital, which was one quarter of the journey, always supposing he must travel the whole distance.One quarter of the distance, that was good.Idly, as he sat up, he struck at a buzzing insect and sniffed the smell of dampness; but he was still tired and soon he sank back again on to the broad earth's hard bosom.

The next time when he awoke it was broad daylight.Full of consternation he jumped up.The sun was well over the horizon line, and hot beams were striking him on the face.Hastily he kicked on his shoes, picked up his bundle and his branch, and started off.

The village of barking dogs grew up on his left, and as he saw a long country-cart draw out of it he was sorely tempted to go into it and buy a cup of tea.But with admirable resolution he resisted the temptation, and trudged steadily on licking his parched lips.At all costs he must not be stopped here—when he had covered just one quarter of the way.

Presently providence willed that he should come to a little stream.He lay on his stomach and drank deep gulps of the refreshing water with thankfulness in his heart.Then, when his thirst was satisfied, he ducked his face in it two or three times, leaving it to dry in the warm air as he walked quickly on.

Twice during the morning he robbed orchards of their fruit, once having to run hard because he was chased by women and boys who cursed him bitterly.But by midday all his Indian corn was gone and he was hungry again.A little disconsolately he lay down to rest, taking off his shoes and his cloth socks, and examining his feet which were chafed, in spite of their hardness, by his steady march.

Now he calculated anew.He was sure he had added forty-five li to the sum total; that made a hundred and five in all. By night he should pass the half-way point if he hastened. Then with luck two days more should see his journey over. Very seriously, he picked up a tiny twig and felt in his ear to see if the message was still packed tight. Yes.

At three o'clock in spite of the sun's heat he started again.Soon his face was streaming with perspiration and though he stripped off his tunic and walked naked to the waist the water ran down his little brown body in streams. It was so hot that he looked suspiciously at the skies, picking out the signs with a frown; for this was a complication he had not reckoned with.There would be a thunderous downpour within a few hours—a downpour such as only tropical lands know, which puts the water on the roads many feet deep....

In his anxiety he broke suddenly into a jog-trot: it would be quite impossible for him to pass the night in the open in such circumstances.He must somehow seek a safe place.

The sun was sinking fast and the black cloud-masses were piling thick when to his surprise to the west, with the sun throwing it into bold relief—a long earth embankment grew up.

"T'u ch'eng(a walled city)," he exclaimed, wondering where he had got to.Very slowly and suspiciously he went on, watching for people and trying to make out some indication of a gateway.But there was no one about, and no gateway to be discerned.Moreover, the long earth embankment was covered with grass.

As he came right under it, he paused to listen like a hunter in the desert.Not a sound.He stopped and picked up pebbles at which he looked with amazement.All the ground under the rampart was littered with them.What did this mean?Very carefully he scrambled up the incline and peered over with his mouth open.There were fields on the other side just as there were fields on this side.Then a pile of half-burnt timber struck his eyes, and he burst into a laugh at his foolishness.

"The railway!"he exclaimed.

It was even so—he had swerved farther to the North than he had allowed for.This was the destroyed railway—along which the foreign army had advanced.It had been completely destroyed so that there could be no possibility of its ever being used again.

This evidence of the ruthless war which had come and gone made him stand there mute.He was so absorbed that for a number of minutes he did not move, searching with his eyes in every direction for friend or foe.A terrific peal of thunder brought him to, however; and since there was nothing for it, he broke into a jog-trot along the embankment.

A big drop of rain smote him in the face and he went still faster.It would not take long now before the rain came in streams. Vivid blinding flashes of lightning now lit up the piling clouds, and the thunder commenced.There would be ropes of water soon—enough to drown a man.

The embankment was rough under his feet and covered with debris, but he feared to leave it.One foot was bleeding from a sharp piece of iron that had gone clean through his cloth shoe; but he scarcely felt the pain and soon the rain washed it clean.On he ran, bedraggled and beginning to feel cold, but with his indomitable pluck still strong in him.Through the mist of water he saw a thing rise up: it was a tiny brick-house. He was too ignorant of railways to know that it was a linesman's house—or all that remained of.... For him it represented a haven of refuge—if the roof were still intact. He ran on falling several times in his haste and almost blinded by the rain which came down in sheets of water, and deafened by the roar of thunder which was now unending....

At last!

He tumbled through the doorway exhausted and panting.Here was a roof to shelter him.Two men who had taken refuge there, called loudly in their alarm at his sudden apparition.But all he could do was to gasp that he, too, had been surprised by the storm and had come for refuge.Then he flung himself on the ground and lay like an exhausted dog, panting as if his heart would break.

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CHAPTER XXII

Presently he felt better and began to take stock of the two other intruders.Though he was as bedraggled and as tired as if he had been ducked in a stream, his wits did not desert him, nor was his caution relaxed.

So far as he could see, they were mere villagers surprised by the storm.He looked keenly to see some trace of the red girdle, or any of the dread insignia which had brought convulsions to the land—but there was nothing more menacing in each man's belt than a sickle.

"Ai-ya," he exclaimed, purposely pretending to shiver from the cold and wet, and screwing up his ugly intelligent face as he studied them."Certainly it is a piece of ill-luck to be caught by such weather.What an amount of water!If I had only shown caution I should have stopped an hour ago.Still fortune favoured me when I caught sight of this roof.Without it, it would be hard to say what would have happened."

The two men grunted but made no other audible response.

Conversation was indeed difficult.Peals of thunder rang out incessantly and the blinding lightning only served to show the torrential downpour which was fast converting the country into a lake.In the oncoming darkness the narrow brick hut seemed gloomy and uninviting; and the sullenness of the two men, crouching as far from the gaping doorway as possible, added to the disheartening nature of the hour.

"I am on my way to rejoin my uncle," resumed the boy still plucky as ever, and determined to profit by this opportunity to acquire information. "I have travelled nearly a hundred li but I lost my way when the storm came on. What is the nearest village?"

"Langfang," said one of the two abruptly.

"Langfang," he echoed, starting up in his excitement in spite of his fatigue.Then, fearful that he had acted his part badly by betraying unaccountable emotion, he sank back again in his semi-recumbent position against the wall.

Langfang....

He had reached the very spot where the foreign army had been a month before—where a great battle had taken place.His master had described to him how urgent messages had come from here—four in the space of two days—declaring that the army was advancing as fast as possible—fighting as it advanced and repairing the railway which was being attacked and destroyed by countless levies.But after those messages, there had been a great silence which had lasted so long that a consuming fear had come.Had all been massacred?No one knew, no one had been able to discover the slightest hint as to what had happened.That was why he was here; that was why he had been sent out as a folorn hope.

As he thought these thoughts he stole nearer the gaping doorway in spite of the splashing rain which blew in in great gusts.Now he pretended to be closely studying the prospect.He must find out something further.

"It is lifting a bit to the west," he exclaimed, pointing with a hand to a spot where the inky blackness was indeed giving way to light."If the wind comes there will be a chance of its ceasing. I estimate the worst is over—the lightning and thunder are certainly less." —He turned. "Tell me: was there not fighting here last month? It was so rumoured in our locality?"

The man nearest him answered.He seemed to speak reluctantly as of matters which he wished to forget.

"It is so. The foreign devils came along the railway as far as the station which is six li from here. For two days in our village we heard the firing which continued without ceasing even during the night. Some of our people saw the foreign soldiers on this embankment extending many li, with big guns on the trains.It was said that they were sailors from ships.But great numbers of our regiments surrounded them, and in the end all were killed."

"All were killed—none were left?"cried the boy.

"Who knows!"rejoined the man sullenly as if this talk was increasingly distasteful to him."So we were told.It was not our business.Some, who ventured near afterwards, picked up weapons in the fields and many cartridges. There were cartridges scattered for many li,—baskets and baskets of them were gathered."

"But the dead—what of the dead?"

The man made an angry gesture.

"How could we know?Men armed with swords were camped everywhere and we were afraid.There were men without number.They destroyed the railway; and in the end every piece of iron and timber was carried away so that it could never be restored."

The boy's eyes never moved from the man's face.It was difficult to say whether he believed him or not.

"And now—where is the fighting now—have all the devils been driven into the sea?"

"We have no knowledge," rejoined the other gloomily."Only we know that everywhere there is still danger.Men in our village were taken forcibly to drive wagons for our soldiers.At any moment it is said the soldiers may return."

The boy pretended to whimper:

"Ai-ya," he exclaimed again. "I must travel sixty li further to find my uncle. It is doubly dangerous for me since I do not even know the road to Yangtsun." (He named a point twenty miles farther on.)

"Yangtsun—that was safe yesterday.Two of our men returned, having made their escape from the transport service.They declared that all the soldiers had gone."

"But where—in what direction?"

"It is not known," said the man curtly because the question revived his fears."It was enough for our fellows to be set free—they did not stop to inquire what their captors might be doing."

The boy suddenly sat down with his knees drawn up against his chest in a characteristic attitude which signified excitement which he wished to conceal.He was not as cold as he had been because he was so greatly excited.His cotton clothing was indeed beginning to dry from the heat of his body; and as he now stripped off his shoes and cloth socks he felt almost comfortable in spite of his hunger.

"These are frightening days," he exclaimed sententiously."Truly one hears enough every hour to make one fear to live."

Now he sorted all he had heard out on a system based on an intimate knowledge of his fellow-countrymen's methods in the face of clamant danger.Probably these men, after their kind, had fled far from their village into the back country on the first inkling of trouble—they had certainly disappeared as soon as the first shots had been fired in the battle they had described.What they had related was mere hearsay which had become greatly exaggerated with the passage of time.It was certain, of course, that the foreign army had retreated; otherwise the railway would never have been so completely destroyed.But he did not believe that all had been killed.That would mean that he would only find emptiness at the end of his journey.It had been rumoured that all foreign ships had been sunk or set fire to so as to remove all possibility of flight and to secure the death of all foreign men and women.Still he did not believe that any of these things had really happened.They had been tried perhaps.That was it—tried.Experience had taught him that the foreigners were far-seeing.They would never have allowed themselves to be trapped like that.

A sudden movement roused him from this brown study.In his fatigue he had nearly dozed off.Both the men had risen and were now standing at the doorway, calculating aloud their chances of getting home.The rain had certainly greatly slackened, and although it was still coming down heavily the worst was manifestly over.But in half-an-hour it would be completely dark: it was now or never for these two.

They suddenly made up their minds.Stripping themselves naked to the waist and rolling up their loose trousers to their thighs, they stepped out with a gruff word of farewell.

Once more the boy was left to his own devices.

The moment they were gone he peered into the corner where they had been sitting.Yes—they had been grass-cutting.Two large bundles of grass were stacked in the corner.Without compunction, he tore off the sweet-potato vine which bound the bundles; distributed the grass comfortably on the ground and then plunged luxuriously into it.He knew that they would not return until the morrow and by that time he would be far away. The steady fall of the rain and the warmth of the grass soon lulled him to sleep, and in spite of his hunger, he slept with that deepness which only comes to those who toil.

When he finally awoke, the stillness and clearness of the night made him creep to the doorway and look out. It had entirely stopped raining, and every cloud had vanished. The waning moon, lower than ever in the horizon, shed a pale light over the water-logged country out of which peered the tall kaoliang in ominous black patches. As far as the eye could see it was like that; and as he stood and looked he knew that had it not been for the embankment he would have been as good as lost. It might be days before it was dry enough to travel more than short distances at a time on the roads. The sunken roads had become mere water-courses; and as for the mud in the fields that would be enough to defy the stoutest resolution.

He drew a deep breath.Certainly this was an undertaking such as he had never dreamed of.Yet he was not disheartened.He tightened his belt to lessen the gnawings of hunger and poked his fingers into his ribs which were sticking out of his thin body in a queer way.For the second time since he had started he had gone for nearly a day without food.Yet with the curious eastern passivity, which can bear anything so long as it is a mere question of patience, he waited tranquilly until the first ray of dawn before he moved.

It came at last, at about four in the morning.Grasping his staff and his little bundle he started stumblingly along the embankment which ran as straight as an arrow to the sea.He knew that he must meet people very soon; for this being the only possible road, men from the villages would inevitably gravitate towards it.

It was hardly full daylight when he reached what remained of the nearest station.This was Langfang.The buildings had been burnt, and here and there were great gaps in the walls as from shell-fire.But it was not that which set him running: it was a long spiral of grey smoke rising from a lean-to of matting and boards which had been put up against one of the brick walls.Somebody was cooking—food was in sight....

He loosened a string of cash in his belt as he ran, forgetting everything in the immense desire to eat which overcame him. A woman appeared at the door of the lean-to. She was of the poorest class, with dishevelled hair and of slatternly appearance; but behind her was a man with a bowl in his hand.

"Ta-ko (elder brother)!" he exclaimed in the manner of the people. "I have not eaten since I lost my way yesterday morning. I have yet money for a meal. Give me to eat."

He handed over his diminutive holed coins as though they were all he had in the world.The woman took them and counted them carefully before she was satisfied.Then a bowl of little millet and a trifle of salted cabbage was set before him; and he ate as though he had never eaten before.

"I will have another," he said instantly, tendering the emptied bowl.

"What," cried the woman, "you would eat all our store for one small tiao of money?"

Disdainfully he took more of the small coins from his belt and placed them in her hand.

"Give me as much as I can eat and I will pay at the rate demanded."

This time two rough flour-cakes were added to the bowl of millet for the price; and when he had finished he was given a cup of poor tea.

"The money is exhausted," said the woman when he tried to get more.But now his spirits had risen and his defiant manner had returned.

"See here," he exclaimed, taking out and ringing on a stone one of the small silver coins which the master had given him to show that it was not base metal."I have a good coin and as I must reach Yangtsun this evening to find my uncle I will purchase enough to carry me there."

"Silver!"exclaimed the woman in the same covetous tones the priest had used."You carry silver!"

The coin passed from the hand of the man to the hand of the woman and then back again twice before a bargain was struck.But finally it was agreed that for the price he could take the sixteen small and very rough flour-cakes that were ready.

He ate four of them as he stood there, and stowed away the others, talking to the couple with his mouth full all the while.And when the woman's back was turned he nearly emptied the coarse earthen tea-pot which she had prepared for the delectation of her man, feeling now that matters had been equalized. Then he scrambled up the embankment and hastened on.

The sun rose and he sweated just as the night before he had shivered.Presently he overtook a party of men with heavy saddlebags on their shoulders who said that they were bound for Yangtsun.His heart leaped within him as he heard that and without further ado he attached himself to them.They were all timid and frightened, but they said that there was nothing for it but to push on since their business demanded it.Also they were too much concerned about themselves and the dangers they might encounter to ask him a single question—excepting the inevitable one as to whether he had seen soldiers.

"It is said all of them have left Yangtsun," they repeated again and again to him, apparently to reassure themselves."Otherwise we should have never started.For ten days we have been waiting in a village and now that the rains have closed the roads we decided to risk the journey along the railway. Several have done it safely already."

"You were wise, you were wise," agreed the boy, "I, too, have been forced to travel owing to death in our family.I go to find my uncle who is employed in a wine factory."

"So small and yet not alarmed," commented one wonderingly.

"What would you," rejoined the boy, "when a house is on fire even the timid must act."

This sententious remark, which he had often heard his seniors use, and which his ready memory had stored for use, so favourably impressed the three that presently when they rested they invited him to share their food.His prodigious appetite amused them—he ate everything that was offered down to the last crumb.But when one produced a leather bottle and a little pewter wine-cup and offered him a drink, his caution returned.He knew well from experience that drowsiness would rapidly come if he indulged himself.

"I am unable to use wine," he said in the set phrase of the native teetotaller.

"We trust that your uncle will reward you," they remarked approvingly.

"I am only a clumsy fellow unable to read and entirely untrained," he answered in the way which modesty and good manners demanded.

It was late afternoon before they saw the town of Yangtsun loom up in front of them.It was easy to make out, as a long low city wall flanked it.Several others had joined the party and the conversation was general, each trying to pick up something from his fellows which would reassure him.

"It is said that our soldiers are massed, less than twenty li from here, and that there is the remnants of a foreign army who have taken refuge in an arsenal opposed to them," said the latest arrival.

"Is that supposition true, do you think?"asked the boy in an undertone of the three men with the saddlebags.

"We fear so," they said in the same undertone, "for the seaport is closed to all.Our business is there and many bales of our wool are involved.Our plan is to remain in hiding in Yangtsun until it is possible to move.One way or another the fighting is sure to go. Then, by some path, we may be able to reach the seaport which we must do to save our interests from ruin."

The boy nodded.

"The soldiers are the only problem.If we avoid them all is well.There may be a way known in this town."

Now he determined to remain attached to this trio—for the time being at least—telling them when necessary that he was unable to find his uncle because he had fled.

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CHAPTER XXIII

He worked ceaselessly in his head at a plan of action as they cautiously approached the township, which had once been a place of importance but had now fallen into the greatest decay.He wished to be fully provided with subterfuges against all possible contingencies.He had a deep feeling of excitement—the conviction that the great test of his ability was slowly coming nearer.For now there were but twenty miles of the journey left, and at any moment it might become imperative for him to risk everything in a quick forward rush.His intelligent eyes were here, there, and everywhere.

The others were likewise very much on the qui viveThey talked incessantly of all possible perils, commiserating with one another at being abroad in such times as these.Each step forward seemed to be taken more reluctantly than the last.Now that they were face to face with real danger, they had every wish to turn back.

A few hundred yards from the broken mud wall of the township the whole party halted as by a common impulse, wondering aloud what they should do.Then, very deliberately, they approached some country folks who had stood watching them from the distance, half-hidden behind some trees.With friendly calls and waving hands they marched up, hoping that they would hear something reassuring.

Nevertheless these people could tell them very little.They declared, however, that the reports that all the soldiers had gone for good were not quite true.Small detachments were constantly arriving and disappearing, every man in the provincial militia being mustered out to fight the foreign invader.Only that morning a body of infantry had passed this way, but whether they were still in the township they had not heard.As for the foreign devils, they had not been driven into the sea.On the contrary they had become stronger.They held all the country round the seaport, and it was said that many thousands more were pouring in.In any case fighting would continue for a long time.The foreign army was determined to march on the capital. It was not known whether the provincial troops could entirely stop them. There were disagreements among the commanders already; and shots had been exchanged.

This news was so surprising to the three wool-dealers, that they sat down on a fallen tree-trunk and began talking to one another in deep undertones.The boy muttered angrily to himself at the stupidity of these peasants.He suspected that the wool-dealers were concerting a new plan whereby they might slip away round the contending armies and reach their destination by a totally new route.Their one and only interest was their stock of wool.They had already mentioned the feasibility of making a great detour to the south to gain the coast.Then, by embarking on a junk a hundred miles or so away, they could safely reach the harbour without seeing a single soldier.This would be no doubt wise for them, but for him it would mean a delay of many days—a disastrous delay.The boy cursed them under his breath for their cowardice and wondered whether he should not leave them at once.On the other hand, if he went on alone he would be stripped of protection.Masked by their presence, no one could suspect him of being a secret messenger.

"And is there security here?"inquired one of the dealers at last terminating this confidential discussion.

The peasants shook their heads.

"How is it possible to talk of security, when we fear at any moment the resumption of fighting? As it is, until the kaoliang is cut there will be no protection from the robber-bands who lurk in the tall grain far and wide, following close on the heels of the soldiers."

"Robber bands!"cried the wool-dealers despairingly, starting up with fear.

"Yes," chorussed the peasants."Here the bands have made so much in ransoms that they can afford to rest a while from their labours—everything has been taken from us, all our poor savings.But the country to the southeast is not yet clear.We have just heard of a man at Ko-chuan who has been carried off and held for a big sum, the ransom even including firearms. Such is the audacity of these brigands that they force their victims to send their families into the towns to buy their weapons.We ourselves were watching your honourable selves approaching, fearing some wile or stratagem; for often does it happen that these men ply their trade in the guise of innocent travellers."

The oldest of the three wool-dealers, who had grey hair and a face mottled from over-indulgence in wine, gave voice to his fears openly and unashamedly.But Wang the Ninth smiled to himself, greatly relieved.Now he knew that these three would never dare to go to the southeast to reach the coast.

"This is indeed a country without administration!The people are oppressed by dangers from within and without and it is impossible to know where to flee for safety.And the Sword Society, have we them also to expect?"Although the old wool-dealer ended the phrase indignantly, he used a polite term for fear that there might be adherents listening.

"They are those also inside the walls—" rejoined one of the countrymen, pointing to the township."But at the beginning of the trouble the soldiers fired on them for failing to make good their promise that they were invulnerable and could instantly defeat the foreign devils. They are not highly valued here."

"We are saved from one ceremony," rejoined the dealer irately."Six times have I kowtowed in the dust since the Sword Society was established."

"The day is not early," interrupted Wang the Ninth, anxious to make retreat impossible."We have learnt all there is to learn.Those who intend to proceed had better delay no longer since night will soon fall."

He had been squatting motionless on his buttocks—tracing designs in the mud with his staff whilst his quick eyes looked slily from one speaker to another.Now he rose and picked his way forward through the morass which lay ahead of them, plunging and sliding in the mud and often pausing to take breath.The heavy rain had reduced this low-lying ground to a veritable quagmire, making progress very difficult even for one as unburdened as he was.As for the unfortunate wool-dealers, laden with their heavy saddlebags, they had not gone far before their cries of distress became hearty and real.They were so badly mired that it was necessary for the others to lend a hand in dragging them out.

At last they gained the tumble-down gate of the township, splashed to the shoulders and panting and sweating.Errant dogs barked at them; but the shuttered and miserable aspect of the main street showed that the place had been totally deserted by the inhabitants.

The eldest wool-dealer was now quite exhausted and raised his voice in loud, piteous complaints.

"I should have never undertaken this journey," he exclaimed, stopping short to wipe the perspiration from his lined face."From early morning have I had great misgivings which have oppressed me.Ruin is better than such travels."

"Tso—let us proceed," said Wang the Ninth stoutly, aiming a blow at a barking cur which ran off yelping."We shall find a sleeping-place somehow.In any case it is too late to turn back, for whither should we go?"

He walked on briskly, peering keenly in every direction, and not at all alarmed, for he knew that no one would hurt a boy when there were men with saddlebags accompanying him.

The township had indeed been picked clean by looters—that was amply clear from the ruined appearance of every shop front.The robbers had vied with the soldiers, and what was left had been rejected by both.But at last they reached a big caravansary that in times of peace catered to the cart-trade; and there sitting at a broken table in the central yard was a single servant eating his evening meal as if nothing had happened.The man declared that he had been left by his master with the promise of a great reward if he saved the premises from fire; but as for food or lodging there was nothing to be had.

A great parleying ensued; and finally in return for hard cash hidden food was produced. When Wang the Ninth had eaten his share he felt extraordinarily drowsy. Going into the first rough room he could find, he stretched himself on the raised brick k'ang and fell instantly asleep.

The talk about robbers, however, made him dream bad dreams and he saw whole hosts of evil men who conspired to torture him.Yet through it all—in spite of his alarm—he always seemed to see his master, and to hear the same strange foreign words which had urged him forward before. Once in the night he awoke with a cry, fearing for his life, and peered out. Then he saw through the broken paper windows the three wool-dealers still sitting in the courtyard drinking wine from their leather bottles and babbling their fears. The shadows from the waning moon made them look queer and strange; they were like men submerged. Half their bodies was hidden in darkness, and only when they lifted their arms to drink could he trace them clearly. The inn-servant, who had been included in this jollification, was asleep with his head on the table. His loud breathing was punctuated by groans as though the wine he had drunk was torturing him. Silently the boy crept back to his rough couch and slept once more.

When morning came he went out down the street to see whatever there was to see; but he met no one or saw no signs of life, excepting a miserable beggar who disappeared at once and whom he had no wish to follow.On returning to the inn he waited until the wool-dealers were awake; and then gave them a long account of his observations.

"It's a bad business.Everything has been taken, not a mule, not an animal, not a pig, not a chicken is to be found.There's a few beggars—that is all.My uncle, whom I came to find, has fled with the rest and all my journeying has proved fruitless."

"Then what will you do?"they inquired.

"I have no plan," he rejoined, making his face look very glum."I must take things as I find them."

But soon afterwards, when he found the eldest wool-dealer alone, he made this proposition to him:

"My money is exhausted, so only for my food will I travel with you, finding the road and giving you early warning of danger.It will be well for you to have such a one as me, since I am fleet off foot and not timid by nature."

"We shall see, we shall see," rejoined the old man testily."The cost is unimportant, but first must we wait here to discover the nature of the road ahead of us."

All that day was spent in fitful debate.The inn-servant, who declared he was of this district, for a handsome bribe undertook to find out from villagers the state of the road towards the next township which was ten miles off.But Wang the Ninth, who followed him stealthily, found that he went nowhere, only sitting down for a long time on a block of stone in a back street where he was well hidden; and finally returning to say that there was no trace of soldiers and that all was quiet within a great radius.Wang the Ninth began to suspect that he was in league with the robbers, and that was why he dared to remain in a place where there were hardly a dozen souls.But these suspicions he kept to himself for he was forming his plan.

That night he explained it privately to the eldest wool-dealer, drawing lines on the ground to show his meaning.He said:

"I have discovered that the river to the sea is only a few li distant from here, and that all the country is so badly flooded that if we cross the stream we can go by boat through the marshes for a long way. Then we can reach a point only a few li distant from the harbour. There will be no soldiers about, for what would soldiers be doing in marshes? As for the inn-servant he is a rascal. It would be well to leave here before he attempts some dangerous game."

The wool-dealer was so impressed by this common-sense that he called the others, and after much discussion it was finally settled that the next day they would make the attempt.

At dawn they started, creeping out of the inn very carefully so as to give no hint of their departure to the inn-servant who lay soundly asleep.They were out of the township very soon, seeing only two people who ran and hid the moment they caught sight of them.Now hastening due south they made for the river.

The sandy roads had greatly dried during the time they had delayed in the town; and now it was possible to keep to the paths which led from village to village.A couple of hours from the township they fell in with some men who were travelling in the same direction; and after these had heard where they had passed two nights they congratulated them on their escape.

"It is known that all the people in that district are in league with the brigands," explained one stout fellow who carried a staff tipped with iron and who had a big roll of bedding on his shoulder. "It can only be that the inn-drawer was waiting for his band to return before killing and robbing you."

It was Wang the Ninth's hour of triumph.

"Is not that what I declared?"he cried."Lucky have we been to escape.From the manner in which the fellow answered my questions I knew suspicion attached to him."

"This tu-ti(apprentice) is worthy of his wage," said the eldest wool-dealer approvingly."Certain it is that his abilities are not small."

On they went discussing their plans with the newcomers and picking up what news there was.Long before noon they caught sight of a sail, which was quite unexpected since the river was entirely hidden.Wang the Ninth ran on fleetly ahead.But when he caught sight of the bright red and blue tunics and the black turbans on the boat, he ran into the tall grain and signed violently with his hands to the others to hide.They, too, dropped out of sight like marionettes.

From out of the kaoliang the boy now peered, his brown face hardly distinguishable from the soil. Now he worked his way forward like a scout.

The boat sailed on and presently there was a sharp crack from a rifle.Gaining in courage he crept into the reeds on the very edge of the river so that he could see.

The soldiers were firing violently now one after the other.The boy's quick mind instantly jumped to the right conclusion.Being powerless to navigate a boat properly, they were pursuing and shooting at the boatmen who had fled.

Suddenly the vessel grounded a few hundred yards away.Wang the Ninth saw the soldiers, furious with rage, leap one by one from the boat and scramble on shore.The sound of firing became fainter, showing that the pursuit was leading them far away.

It was now or never.Fairly crazy with excitement he ran back to the wool-dealers who lay tremblingly awaiting the upshot.

"Now is the time for us," he cried."There is not a soul left.Let us seize the boat and cross to the south bank.Then we are safe."

He did not wait for a reply: he ran on ahead.The wool-dealers and the two men they had met followed cautiously a good many yards behind, doubting his words yet hoping that they were true.But when they saw him reach the boat and signal that all was clear, they ran too; and in a hurried clumsy manner got on board and by their united efforts pushed the boat off, towards the south shore.

---

CHAPTER XXIV

The river was less than a hundred yards wide here, and the five men and the boy had enough skill to get the boat across with rapidity.The big man with the iron-pronged stick, seizing an oar, rowed frantically.One of the wool-dealers aided him by poling with desperation until the water became too deep.And as a little breeze filled the hoisted sail, they swung on to the opposite shore at a point far lower down than they had embarked.

It was this circumstance which saved their lives.For Wang the Ninth, sitting astride of the tiller, and turning back constantly to look suddenly gave a great leap and was out of the boat before there was time to realize what he was doing.

"Lai-la, lai-la (they have come)!" he screamed as he tumbled across the mud with the agility of a frog. He had seen a glint of red in the reeds on the opposite shore—just a glint—but that was enough.

The others, being less nimble, crawled out using the sail as a screen. Then, trembling violently, all of them disappeared quickly enough into the reeds which grew rank and high. Distant voices shouting curses were audible as they went; but the rifles they feared did not speak. The soldiers were running along the opposite bank fairly mad with rage; it was evident that they knew the country and were holding their fire until they could be certain of their quarry.

The fugitives had not gone twenty yards before they discovered that the great clumps of reeds were no real protection; for the ground was so marshy that the only safe road was the tracking-path beside the river.Already they were surrounded by mud and water.The soldiers counted on their certain reappearance when they would begin their shooting.

It was the big fellow with the iron-pronged stick who explained this to them all in a guttural whisper, when they reached the end of the solid ground and stood in an irresolute group.Some wild-fowl rising almost from under their feet with a screech startled them all so badly that they turned deadly pale.

"A pretty dilemma!"exclaimed one of the wool-merchants in a hoarse whisper."We cannot advance; we dare not retreat.And if we remain here too long, in the end the soldiers will find another boat to carry them across and exact vengeance, or perhaps fire chance shots, hoping to bring us down.Far better had we never moved."

But Wang the Ninth was not idle.He had stripped off his shoes and his trousers and had commenced wading in a new direction.Soon he was lost to sight, even his splashing becoming inaudible.But after a long wait he reappeared, forcing his way through the reeds from a different direction.

"I have found a bank of dry land.How far it extends I have not learnt, but if all follow it may be that we can reach safety."

There was nothing to do but to imitate his example, and soon all were splashing through the mud and water to where he awaited them.A half-submerged bank of earth, which may have been a forgotten dyke, stretched away through the reeds, and although it soon narrowed down to a path just broad enough to walk on, it led them far away from the river—straight to the south.

Their spirits rose so rapidly as they progressed that now they began to talk almost gaily.

"It is a reed-cutters' path, that is absolutely certain," asserted Wang the Ninth."Soon we must reach a village, for this is an important trade and I know well how this business is carried on."

"This boy is right," agreed the man with the iron-pronged stick."Certainly he is right: there is already smoke from some chimney."

It was even as he said.Soon from out of the dense reeds they heard the sound of cries and a scurrying of feet.

"Shui—(who is that)?"a voice called threateningly.

"We are travellers—we require to be shown the road," they called, one after the other, keeping up a perpetual chorus for fear of what would happen if they remained silent.

Rounding the last clump of reeds they saw a village of mud huts.In front of a small open space, on which were piled masses of dried reeds, stood a big fellow stripped to the waist with a formidable jingal in his hand; and at his side were some barking dogs. He was evidently prepared for the worst.

His expression slowly changed as they came in view.The appearance of the wool-dealers, heavily laden with their saddlebags and greatly exhausted by their efforts, was certainly eminently peaceful; and now as their chorus of explanations redoubled, a new-found courage displayed itself in his roughness.

"What talk of seeking a road is this!"he exclaimed angrily."This is a small poor village surrounded by water, where we risk starvation from year to year and where there is nothing for others."

They answered him in a storm of talk speaking so much of soldiers that fear returned to him.

"If they pursue you it is best for you to proceed quickly," he rejoined, not listening to them."Here are women and children who cannot be imperilled."

"But the road, the road," they cried."We cannot fail to pay you your stipulated price."

At the mention of money the reed-cutter rubbed his face with one horny hand.

"Those who ask aid must make it worth while," he declared ambiguously."I was left here by our folk to protect the households.If I go who is there to insure safety?"

A long and animated argument commenced; and as it progressed, slowly and cautiously the denizens of the village approached—slatternly women in torn blue clothing with babies in their arms, and half-grown girls, and small boys, all the offspring of a mating carried on as in primeval forests, and now stricken with fear.

At length the price was settled, and the reed-cutter led them to where a small flat-bottomed boat was concealed in the reeds.This it was necessary to carry a considerable distance; but finally it was launched where there was a clear water-passage.It was just big enough to embark them all; and with the reed-cutter poling them, they slowly travelled away from the scene of the day's adventure.

The sun was already low when the man stopped and pointed to a spot a few hundred yards away.

"There will I take you," he said."Farther I cannot go. From there a good road leads to the seaport which is distant some eighty li."

"Eighty li," they cried in alarm. "This morning when we started we were but sixty li off."

"But you have travelled far to the southeast. This is the southeastern road. In any case it is eighty li."

They paid the price agreed upon and started off without further discussion.Although Wang the Ninth had chattered all the way in the boat now he had nothing to say.

He was thinking—thinking of what the villagers had said two days ago about the country to the southeast.This was the robber country.He did not dare to give voice to his suspicions because that might bring the whole party to a halt.

A mile or two further on a small green snake slid across the road and disappeared into the undergrowth.

"A snake crosses the road," he cried."There will be heavy weather soon."

A few hundred yards farther on a second snake crossed the road going so rapidly and viciously that it was almost impossible to follow with the eyes.

The boy opened his mouth but closed it without speaking. Two snakes—what did two snakes mean? It was something unlucky he had once heard; but he never thought that it might simply come from the undergrowth being disturbed by hidden feet. He was trying to think of the explanation—he knew there was an explanation—when the warning was made clear. A half-a-dozen men, with hideous painted masks over their faces, leaped out of the growing grain and fired from their hips. Crack, crack, crack went the shots. Wang the Ninth, stricken with alarm, threw himself instinctively on the ground, and wriggled into the kaoliang amidst the cries and groans of the others who never left the road.

He was alone once more—in the growing grain—perhaps twenty miles from his destination.

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CHAPTER XXV

He spent a horrible night.Fear gained him completely, and he sobbed to himself for many hours as he wandered in the blackness of the fields.

He did not know whether his companions had been killed or whether they had been merely robbed and left on the roadside; but their despairing cries sounded in his ears unendingly, and he seemed to hear the vicious whistle of the bullets and to feel their wounds.A great compassion for the old wool-dealer who had been kind to him wrung his heart so acutely that several times he cried aloud.He sat down only to start up again—expecting to see phantom shapes, tormented with the fear that the wool-dealers' distressed spirits would for ever haunt him.Not until day was dawning did he care to lie down and even then he knew no sleep.

He tried to calculate how many days had passed since he had left the capital—was it six, seven or eight?And he was still wrestling with the problem, still attempting to thrust himself through obstacles which he did not understand. Sometimes he wondered why he had attempted this task. It was too big for a boy; yet he had been told that that was just the reason why he might succeed. He wondered why he did not give it up: he was not bound to go on. No one could possibly know what he did. Now he remembered how the inn-servant, when he was paid for a certain service, merely went and sat down in a lonely spot. Then, when he thought that thought anger gained him. His doggedness and his loyalty were aroused. He was not a mean fellow like that inn-servant. He would not turn back or surrender.

He must have dozed during these hours of dawn; for he awoke to find himself shivering under a fine rain which dripped through the grain and covered his face with dew.Rousing himself, he sat up and began munching some flour-cakes he still had with him.Now he made a vow that that very day he would push through and encounter his destiny cost what it might.Tightening his belt he started off.

As he scrambled through the fields he became gradually aware of a low thunder on the horizon. The sound puzzled him for the rain had stopped and the sun had come out from behind the clouds and it was fair weather and very hot. And yet as he walked this thunder increased—not slowly but very rapidly. At length he paused to listen.

"Shen-mo(what is it)," he exclaimed aloud in his perplexity, impelled to talk to relieve himself, and wondering whether the tiny paper wad in one ear was spoiling his hearing.

Then at last he struck his hands together and babbled madly in his excitement.

"Ta-p'ao(big guns)," he shouted."They are coming, they are coming!"

He ran now until he was completely out of breath, changing his run to a fast walk and then back to a trot as soon as he could.

In this frantic way he covered several miles, his face beaded with perspiration.The air was shaking with the concussions now and his excitement was so great that he trembled from head to foot.He knew it was the foreign army exploding in wrath at finding its path barred: he pictured to himself the rival soldiery struggling together....

He ran on directly towards the growing sounds.He was on the main road now and the dry alkali soil, being unsuitable for any kind of cultivation, opened up in great vistas of space.

At length he saw the river again and on it boats, many boats, loaded with people, crossing from one bank to the other.

He made his way towards them pantingly.Almost before he knew it, he had met a crowd of men, women, children, all crying and talking together, driven in front of the rising storm like wild animals before a prairie-fire.The deserted countryside was giving up its victims: every hiding-place was being emptied by this approaching human storm.

He did not stop to ask questions: he ran on towards the river.The boats were going backwards and forwards steadily and quickly, the boatmen working like madmen to save the mass of women and children.

He waded into the water and jumped on one boat that was just pushing off to go back for more people, with a story about his mother who had been left behind; but the boatmen never so much as glanced at him.Once near the opposite shore he jumped knee-deep into the water, to avoid the oncoming rush of people, not caring what had happened as long as he got through.

In the village above the river there was not a soul—every living thing had fled.But the long deserted street seemed garlanded with coming events.The air was pulsating with sound.He could hear the rattle of musketry, very fast and hard.He clambered up a high bank and found that he overlooked a gaunt plain.It was alive with tiny little figures running in many directions.For long he waited to know who they were, but presently there was a big jet of smoke and flame and the sound of an angry explosion which floated across to him slowly and reluctantly.The foreign army was throwing shell on to the plain: the running men were his fellow-countrymen fleeing from the menace of their wrath.

But where was the foreign army—where?

He began running along towards the edge of the plain.Very soon he tumbled over two men in red and blue tunics, with dishevelled queues, who were splotched with blood, lying on the ground as if they were held down by an iron hand. As he ran he could hear their voices wailing "Chiu-ming, chiu-ming (save our lives)"; but he never paused.

Now he was well on to the plain.All the running men had disappeared.A few motionless dots showed where some others had fallen but apart from that all was bare.The hidden army must have eyes that could see; for the guns had ceased magically and the musketry rattle too.A great emptiness filled heaven and earth and his fear grew so that once again his knees shook.

He fell on his knees.

On his knees he waited and then he saw.Men on horses had suddenly appeared riding fast with long lances in their hands, streaming on to the plain in irregular streams. From a very great distance he saw that their faces were black, for their brown turbans showed that and also their hands and arms. The foreign army had devils in league with them—all the tales of his childhood came back to him.

And yet he did not move—he made no movement save to kowtow for mercy with his head.But when the black horsemen caught sight of him, they lowered their lances and rode at him playfully, accepting his surrender by reining in and doing him no hurt. Then it was that he was inspired and began repeating incessantly, with great explanatory waves of the hands back to where he had come from, "he will go," pronouncing the remembered words in the native way, Hei wei ko, which made them a strangely changed English.

The troopers, vastly puzzled, clustered round him, talking fast to one another in an unknown language.They suspected something of the truth but were not sure.India looked at China with inquiring eyes.

He stood up.

"Hei wei ko" he repeated more and more insistently, waving back with his hand to where he had come from and pointing at them insistently to show that he sought their aid.Then, with a swift movement, he took a thorn he had threaded unto his tunic out and sat again on the ground and picked at his ear, very carefully, slowly forcing out the tiny ball of tissue-paper.

The mob of horsemen watched him breathlessly.East watched East and wondered whether it was a miracle since miracles are known by word of mouth to all as well as found in books. But when he had the tiny ball of tissue-paper in the hollow of his hand, and spread it out and showed them the English writing on it, they gave a great shout of understanding. Almost before he knew it one horseman had spurred his horse alongside him and shifting his lance, had slung him up behind him with a single powerful swing. Now they called to him and told him with signs to hold on tightly. With the boy clasping him round the waist, the horseman began galloping back in a mad gallop.

Beyond the edge of the gaunt plain, through the growing grain, columns of the foreign army were marching—many men, white men as well as black men in such an array as the boy had never seen before.There were thick columns of them, raising choking dust as they marched.The horseman galloped on calling something as he passed and causing all eyes to turn.He made straight for a mounted group preceded by a man with a small flag.Wang the Ninth knew that they were important men for the oldest had white hair.There, reining in abruptly the trooper began his story, pointing to the boy who had slipped to the ground, and who was gazing at them all as if in a dream.

Then the oldest one, who had quite white hair, called to him and when he had received the tiny piece of paper, he read it and passed it to the others with much talk, finally putting his hand into his pocket and giving the boy a gold coin.

Wang the Ninth took it with an awe-struck expression.He had never seen gold before; he fingered it with eyes round with surprise.He had heard that it was worth twenty or thirty times the value of silver.

And before he had recovered from this, and while the others were passing the paper from hand to hand, a foreigner, who could speak his language appeared and commenced questioning him and writing down his answers.Every one listened as if they could not hear enough.All the adventures he had passed through he recounted, speaking quickly and volubly, the foreigner who spoke his language translating.Later he told him that it had been reported for many days that all the foreigners in the capital had been killed, and that therefore his message had lifted a great load from their hearts.For although they were now advancing as fast as possible a great army in a hostile country could only advance slowly.

Presently he was given food and water, and he walked alongside the horse of the great general into the village many eyes watching him, the news having passed far and wide that he was the messenger who had at last arrived, having done a great feat although he was but a small boy.

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CHAPTER XXVI

So it went on for several days with the dust of the marching army thick round him.He began to distinguish the many nationalities in this great throng, and to realize that there were large differences which at first he had not understood.He found that all these men, whom his fellow-countrymen lumped together indiscriminately in the opprobrious epithet of devils, marched separately.There were stories of open disagreements which reached him in whispers from the native carriers and carters who had been impressed into their service and who were marching with the baggage.

"They do not speak the same language," he heard declared again and again."Sometimes we must rise in the middle of the night and start suddenly because the others have gone ahead, breaking their word.Thus there is confusion and counter-orders, and we do not know how it will end."

To all this he nodded his head wisely and replied:—

"It is always like that.I, who have served them for a year and more, know well.The most violent lead this way—the others follow obediently.There is not long discussion as with us, each point being duly considered.With them it is the quick plan that is found most desirable."

All the carriers were closely guarded because many of them had tried to escape.They lived in constant fear of battles, believing that all of them would be killed.Whenever there was the sound of distant firing they became concerned saying "Now our fate will soon be decided."In this manner did the army march on.

On the fourth day Wang the Ninth was called before the great general by the foreigner who spoke his language; and he went a little reluctantly because he feared what was coming.There was a large gathering of officers in many different uniforms, all talking earnestly together under the trees because of the heat.He knew from the drawings and plans that passed from hand to hand that it had to do with him—for that was the way it had happened when his master had sent him on this journey.

He waited patiently his eyes following every movement and trying to guess what it was about.The old general, when he had finished discussing something, turned to the foreigner who spoke his language and handed him a piece of paper with writing on it, of a bigger size than the one he had brought.Wang the Ninth had hoped that this might not come.Now he was sure that this was the answer to the message he had carried, and that he would have to go.

The interpreter turned to him and made this long speech:

"Our Governing General bids me tell you that he has sent many messages during the past weeks but it is evident from the paper you carried that none have reached their destination.Thus of all who have been despatched you are the only one who has been successful.Whether the others accepted the charge for the money payment with no intention of forcing their way through, or whether they were captured, we do not know.But the loss of messages has occasioned military danger and therefore plans have been changed: for in our messages we told how we would advance and now it is necessary to change our plans. Our general hopes that you will not refuse to go back as speedily as you came, since our people in the capital may lose heart and be overpowered unless they know that we shall soon arrive."

The boy fumbled with his hands.

"By good fortune I reached you," he said at length, "but it is not certain whether this good fortune will take me back.That I can travel quicker than the army is not to be believed."Thus he spoke hoping to be relieved of this duty.

The interpreter was very gentle with him because he was demanding a great sacrifice.He explained every point carefully.

"It is true the army is now advancing fast," he declared."But there are many tens of thousands of men belonging to many nations and it is necessary for each nation to be consulted.Some are ready to proceed more quickly than the others and it may be some ten days before we stand in front of the walls of the capital.Then there is the fighting to be considered.This may greatly delay us.It is true we have so far triumphed easily.But the future is ever uncertain with an army.You, who are fleet of foot may easily cover the distance, in three days."

"It is not so easy," said the boy now frowning hard."Eight days did I waste in overcoming obstacles to reach you.Now although the distance is less all the roads are watched and full of soldiers.Much will I do for my master; but should I now be captured there will be no mercy for me and I shall die the slow death."

"Listen," rejoined the young man."We know that careful watch is being kept, and that the enemy has many scouts and spies even marching with us.But for all this we have a plan.We will send you by horse to the northwest with some horsemen.I myself will go too—so that you can approach the capital by an unaccustomed road where there will be less danger.Already have we found that only the direct roads are fortified: twenty miles to the north the country is undisturbed and unguarded.This our horsemen have reported to us."

He continued explaining.For many minutes he talked, showing each point and how easy it would be; but all the time that he was talking Wang the Ninth was frowning because fear had gained him.

"If it must be, it must be," he said, consenting at length, with reluctance in his manner."My master shall not say that I failed him.But I am afraid—great fear has gained me."

The young man laughed.

"That is not true fear.That is but hesitation and doubt.Who will face danger willingly and not hesitate if by another way there is safety?But now it is a question of great moment.All ask your help."

The boy flushed.

"I shall go," he said abruptly.

Now the general came to him, and patted him on the shoulder as he stood there and spoke in his own language commending him, so the interpreter declared, and great pride filled him.Yet afterwards forebodings returned to him; and he sat down in the fields with the message which had been given him in his belt, and his eyes looking into the distance.

That afternoon the young man rode for many miles with him up behind a trooper and with other horsemen accompanying them.They went at a gallop far to the north.Only when the sunlight was gone did they set him down on a rutted road that coiled away to the southwest. Quite near now were hills and mountains.

"From here it is exactly 120 li—forty miles—to the nearest Gate of the capital," declared the young man in his fluent vernacular."It would be possible in a single day to walk thither.But allow five days, then one extra day to make your way through the city to the foreign quarter."He unslung a big bag of blue cloth."Here is sufficient to eat—here is food for six days so that you need ask no one for assistance."

The boy took the package.There was a set expression on his face.

"I am ready," he said abruptly."For two hours I shall travel.Then I must rest.At dawn I start again.If I have good fortune tomorrow I shall reach the city."

He scrambled on to the side-path running along the edge of the fields of millet, and was soon lost to view.

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CHAPTER XXVII

This time his emotions were different from what they had been on his first lonely journey.Then the whole world had been spread before him like some feast, and his flight through danger had possessed a sacrificial quality.The freedom after the days of confinement with the sound of dropping rifle-fire ever in his ears, had given life a new zest.The experience had been wonderful.The fascination of coming upon the overwhelming army had been like a dream from a theatre.Now, however, the feast was over.He had exhausted everything.He knew what was before him, just as he knew what was behind him.

Yet even in such circumstances his sense of duty held him to his pledge.The Chinese are like that, doing exactly what they undertake to do, in spite of some misconceptions which have lately grown up.He travelled until it was night—slept in the fields—rose at the first streak of dawn and pushed on with stubborn energy until he was exhausted. Rubbing his tired legs, he wondered whether he dared enter a village to find out exactly where he was.

The country had become strange to him for he had travelled northwards along the curve of a vast semi-circle.Very close towards the west the mountains and foot-hills of the Mongolian Passes now frowned down on him, the barren land looking purple in the sunlight which poured over the mountain brim.Twice he had seen trains of camels pass slowly along as if all the world were at peace.But warned by their clanking bells, each time he had hid himself until they were far away.Several times, too, during that day he had also seen low clouds of dust hanging in the air above roadways; but even his expert eyes could not tell at such distances whether the dust signified flocks of sheep or cavalcades of bellicose horsemen.

He had had too many narrow escapes to wish to risk anything more.He was wandering between the fringes of two rival armies and the prospect was uninviting.He feared potential enemies; there were potential enemies everywhere; and as he sat and rested he shook his head. It was the thought that he was doing what the other messengers had failed to do which was the most disconcerting thing to him.

Why had the others not done what they had undertaken to do?All the time that he rested this thought recurred to him with ever greater force.Perhaps there was some secret reason; they knew something he did not know.Suspicion began to gain him; for suspicion is the twin-brother of fear and the twain can never be long separated.

He had been weak to accept—he ought to have refused.There were plenty of his fellow-countrymen with the advancing army who could have been ordered to do the same work.To go one way was all right—it had been right for him to obey his master and go for succour.But to come back: to do the thing twice—no....

He looked to the right—he looked to the left; and angrily he rose and hitched his trousers higher and tightened his belt.The sun had gone down behind the mountains now, and the perspiration which had covered his body had fully dried.Two hours more and it would be pitch-dark again—long shadows were even now creeping into the mountain hollows and making them seem blue-black.

He began to feel lonely at the prospect of another night in the fields.

Yet he started off, wondering how he would dare to go through the gates of the capital on the morrow.For the capital was not more than a dozen miles away; it could not be more than that.Soon he would be able to see the outline of the city walls.

Onward he went now passing patches growing Indian corn; for the soil had become too arid for anything else to grow.There was no one about in the fields since the harvest was still far off; and this loneliness preyed on him more and more.

Onward and onward he went in the oncoming dusk.Then, just below the shoulder of the hill which he was rounding, he saw something which did not belong to the landscape.Presently he made out quite clearly a little knot of people.They seemed to him to be standing motionless, as if something chained them to the spot—as if something had caused them to become inanimate.That at once attracted his attention.

Cautiously he approached, keeping near a large patch of Indian corn into which he could run if there were any indications of hostility.But nobody turned, nobody paid the slightest attention to him.Fifteen or twenty people were standing there in a circle gazing at something fixedly.

He approached so noiselessly that only when he was a short distance away was his presence noticed.Then his small, slight person caused a commotion and several commenced to run away.Only when they saw that it was only a boy did their strange panic subside.

It was necessary for him to push his way past the people to see.With his eyes wide open from emotion he suddenly understood what it was.

"Ai-ai-ai!" he exclaimed several times loudly and involuntarily.

A man had been buried alive in the earth up to his neck and the ground stamped in round his head.He was quite dead now.His head, which lolled to one side, and his glassy eyes showed that; the anguish had long passed.A little piece of paper, with one big character written in black on it, was stuck on a millet-stalk beside him.

For a full minute the boy gazed silently as the others were doing, awe-struck and yet utterly fascinated.For death is like that in the East; it seems to fascinate the people because of its unutterable finality.

"What is it—what does the writing say?"he inquired at last in a hoarse whisper, nudging the man next to him.

The man turned:

"The soldiers caught this one carrying a written message from the foreign devils and they buried him thus so that he might die."

Very pale, the boy waited before he spoke again.

"Has he been here long?"he inquired at last.

"Five days.Only this morning did the soldiers leave, being sure that he was dead."

Then silence fell on the group again.Several generations had passed since this old Tartar torture had been seen, although the tradition of it still lived and was known to all.

The boy remained there after all had gone without a movement or a remark, pretending that he was absorbed by the spectacle.Then, when he was quite sure that he was alone, with a furious gesture he pulled up the little stick decorated with the cruel character, and broke it to pieces.Now falling on his knees, he began heaping the earth over the dead man's head.He worked quickly with his naked hands which were hurt and bruised by the stony soil, but soon he had made a little mound which obliterated the hideous sight.If he had been asked why he had done this he could not have said.But it soothed him and somehow seemed a loyal and profitable action.Then, with fear in his heart he hastened off, running swiftly in spite of the darkness.

As he ran he thought.It was the written message, of course, which had betrayed the man.He had not been cunning enough.Wang the Ninth, with a sudden movement, pulled out the piece of paper he was carrying in his belt.It was too big to do anything else with it.Rolling it up tightly he suddenly thrust it into his mouth, and swallowed it down with a gulp.

He sat down after that with his legs wide apart, wondering whether it would kill him.In a country where suicide by the method of swallowing is common, his fear was not strange.He was not afraid of death—what he feared was the pain, the long delay.Mechanically he rubbed his chest, and presently all discomfort passed.

"It has gone done," he exclaimed, rising and taking a few steps.Then he thought of something else, and sat down once more.Taking off one of his shoes he opened the lining and hid the gold coin which had been given him.Now comforted he made his way to some trees and curled himself up under them until there should be daylight once more.

Daylight soon came, for he was dog-tired and slept a dreamless sleep.He rose yawningly and listened for a long time to the early morning twittering of the young sparrows.Then, he felt the lining of his shoe to assure himself of the safety of his precious piece of gold.Presently, in a very leisurely manner he started off, for he did not wish to approach the city until the busy midday hours.As he passed over a piece of high ground, in the distance the familiar grey walls made a rim of black on the horizon, clearly marked by the great gate-towers. The sun coming up over from behind intensified the outline. It was like a city rising out of the desert, and the sight so fascinated him that for a long time he stood motionless gazing at it.

He was back again....

At length he sat down and ate heartily of his supply of food which was not yet exhausted.Then, going into a vegetable-garden, he begged a drink of water from an old man who was working over some cabbages and raising water by winding up buckets from a shallow well.From him he learnt that it had been quite quiet in this district for many days.There had been no soldiers or marauders.

"It is said, however, that the foreign devils are coming," concluded the old man."Although victories are reported against them it is said that they continue to advance.It is even said that they are determined to enter the capital.Where do you go?"

"I must enter the city," remarked the boy."It is family affairs which force me to travel.Otherwise I would run far and hide."

The old man shook his head and bent down again over his cabbages.

"Some run in one direction and some in another," he declared in a rambling way."But I being old stay to meet my fate.As for the city who can tell.The Sword Society has been wholly suppressed, it is said; yet our soldiery are every whit as bad."

They talked in this strain for many minutes only mentioning the outward and visible things in the manner of people who labour; and presently the boy tramped away down the dusty road.

He wondered whether there was any firing now; he wondered whether he would find things in the foreign quarter as he had left them.He had been gone only fourteen days—it would be fourteen days exactly when night fell.

It seemed to be quite peaceful.Not a sound from big guns.Once, as he thought of it, a great chill struck into his heart.Supposing the resistance had been overcome....It seemed impossible.For the rumours of that would have reached everywhere with lightning speed; the old man with the cabbages would have known everything about it.

He was not very far off from the walls now—not more than three or four miles.He could see the end of one of the suburbs beyond the walls: he picked out the landmarks unerringly.

He headed for that direction.

In the afternoon he reached the suburb. He strolled into it casually trying to attach himself to some one as a protection but finding no one about. It was baking hot: there was no breeze at all. That was why some triangular banners escaped his attention, since their folds hung so limp that there was nothing of their colouring to be seen. But his eye caught the blue tents before it was too late; and he murmured ying-pan (a camp) to himself and lay down as if to sleep.

He crawled back for a long time until the blue tents were mixed with the landscape.Then he began walking again.

He must make another detour, bearing due north.

By nightfall he suddenly realized that he was on the long road leading to his own gateway—the gateway of his youth—the city gate round which he had so long played.

"Ai-ya!" he exclaimed full of emotion, thinking of how his father had died and how his life had been changed by that.Then he remembered the old soothsayer's prediction.

..."Keng-tzu, the twenty-sixth year of the emperor."It had come just as had been foreordained: the old man had read the signs correctly.Everything from over the water had influenced him; unaccustomed things had come his way.

The gates were closed now.He knew it was too late to attempt to enter.Now an idea entered his head, a fantastic idea but one which he was determined to execute.Without haste he left the street of his youth; cut through half-forgotten shortcuts; and at length reached the Wall where he had smuggled wine with the wine smugglers years before.

The next morning he scaled the city wall with less confidence than he used to possess, and he noticed the fact.So instead of making the perilous descent, he crept to the nearest ramp and made his way down without danger since all the guard-houses were now deserted.

He drew a deep breath.He was at last in the city again—about four miles from his destination.

In the city there was dead quiet.

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CHAPTER XXVIII

It was too early for there to be much movement in the streets; yet his expert ragamuffin eyes picked up signs which comforted him.He saw wheelbarrows full of country produce moving slowly under cover of the city wall, and there were vendors laden with empty baskets going to the markets to replenish their stocks.

He was on perfectly familiar ground.Cautiously he approached a roadway leading to one of the northern gates.It was his intention to board, if possible, one of the passenger-carts plying between the northern and southern limits of the city, and by mixing himself among city folks to mask his identity.He had already thrown away his staff the night before.Now he rolled up the blue bundle which had contained his food and dropped it.Then he took the few small silver coins he had and hid them in a crevice in the city wall, which he marked carefully so that he could one day recover his property—if he survived.

He had one small string of holed copper coins left—just enough for a purchase or two and for his fare on the passenger-cart.Now having done everything which his fertile brain could suggest he hastened on, swinging his arms carelessly.

The fact that his tongue moistened his lips continually was the only sign of excitement he disclosed.His eyes, which were blood-shot from over-exposure in the sun, betrayed nothing at all.They were alert but not over-anxious.They looked out of his strong ugly face firmly and full of resolution, as if the world were an easy place to conquer.

Half-a-mile farther on he met a tattered fellow with a small basket under his arm who was selling miserable-looking plums. He bought some more for the sake of the companionship and for the conversation which he might have than for anything else.But the man knew very little save that it was dangerous everywhere in the city, and that poverty was the only sure buckler.There had been very heavy firing the day before: the foreign devils were still alive and shooting back he asserted.He also declared that there was a church full of them not more than a mile or so away who had had the audacity to blow up a whole camp of soldiers it, was said.

"It is more and more dangerous," grumbled the man."As for your finding a seat in any passenger-cart, that is not to be thought of.None with money dare to move.How should carts ply for the moneyless!"

"Then I must walk," said the boy, "I go to find my relatives near the Hata gate."

He moved on—very deliberately.

A few shops of the poorer variety had now taken down their shutters.He noticed that the coffin-shops were open.But there were few people about, and even the main streets had a solemn and deserted appearance.Fortunately there were no soldiers—the plum-seller had said that they were being all drawn out of the city to meet some coming attack.

At length he passed under the shadow of the great Drum Tower which is right in the middle of the city and stands at the four cross roads.Here were soldiers.There were many of them aloft in this ancient work, standing in a line and gazing towards the south.

He hastened on, not daring to linger or to inquire what it might be.

Presently the distant monotonous detonation of rifles fell on his ear.Firing was evidently going on as usual: the foreign quarter was being besieged in the same way.Perhaps the soldiers had wind of some development and were watching for it.

It took him the best part of an hour to reach a point where in the dim distance he could see the Hata Gate.Now as he looked there was a flash, and later a long rumbling detonation which mixed with the cracking of rifles.They were firing cannon from this elevated point: that was what the soldiers on the Drum Tower were watching.

People were walking here, forced out of doors to get their daily supply of food.All wore hunted expressions, and the oldest clothes.He knew from this that the soldiers robbed those who were decently attired.

Later a hiss in the air made him start, and then a spent bullet kicked up the dust a few yards in front of him.It was getting dangerous, yes; very dangerous as he approached the battleground of the city.

Now he kept close to the line of shops as the others were doing.But there were fewer and fewer people abroad the further south he went; and presently he saw a dense encampment of blue tents.

This must be a headquarters—there were ever so many soldiers about and camp-suttlers were coming and going with loads of food.

Quickly he went down a side street and tried to work his way round.But when he came out again on the main thoroughfare there in front of him was another encampment—this time a camp built of matting.

He ground his teeth impotently—these tortoises were everywhere....

One of the soldiers came suddenly and caught him by the neck whilst he was gazing at them and forced him to carry a heavy load of kindling-wood.He undertook the task willingly as it gave him an excuse to linger.But his satisfaction was short-lived; for he had hardly set down the load when another soldier armed with a rifle struck him brutally with the butt and told him to be off.

The blow raised in him deep hatred.With the jeers echoing in his ears long after they had ceased, he made his way sullenly down the back-streets.

It was the rage in his heart which was his undoing.For once again he came out on the main thoroughfare and stood gazing in the direction of the foreign quarter which was less than half a mile away, a half-mile of loopholed houses and hidden barricades which he was powerless to traverse.This murderous warfare had given the locality a ruined look.Weeds and grass had sprung everywhere; close to him there was a patch of rank weeks almost as tall as a man.

The monotonous cracking of rifles sounded occasionally in the distance, but the cannon on the gateway had become silent.For the morning was advancing and the first energy of the day had evaporated.

He stood there, with his back against a shuttered shop, wondering how he should manage to force his way through that half-mile.He became convinced that this was the wrong road to take; there were too many houses and too many traps. He began moving off. But as he did so he fell in with some soldiers who were wandering listlessly about, seeking pickings in the looted shops.

They cried to him asking him what he was doing.He answered insolently that he, too, was seeking what he could; and after that they captured him.Tying his hands behind him, they struck at him until he wept; and then to humiliate him they tore off his coat and shoes.

One man took the shoes jeeringly and held them up, and said to the others that he would hurl them where they would be lost.But as he did so, his attention was attracted by something.He stopped talking; pushed his fingers in the lining of one shoe; and, after a short pause, pulled out the gold coin which had been so carefully hidden.

"Gold," he cried excitedly as he scrutinized it and rubbed it, "a piece of foreign-gold!"

They cross-examined the boy and beat him again after that, but he would confess nothing about foreigners.He said he had looted the piece of foreign money from a man who must have stolen it. Then they took him up to their Commander, who was the commander on the great gateway with the cannon, and said that they had caught a spy; for this must surely be a spy since he could give no clear account of himself. They detailed the manner of their capture with a wealth of detail—adding details that were not true—and the Commander told them to do as they pleased with him. So they tied him there in front of their barricade, bareheaded and barechested, up there on the city wall, where the foreigners' bullets would surely find him, they told him, when their fire opened on the gun-position as it did every night.

---

The foreigners found him like that that very night when they executed their unexpected sortie in the dark against the guns that had been posted at the gateway and had annoyed them for several days.By a miracle he was not bayonetted.Providence protected him to the end.He was half carried, half-led by the sortie-party down to the foreign quarter, a great excitement filling them.For there were those who could speak to him in his own language, and they speedily knew who he was since he talked vociferously and unendingly, telling all he had suffered. As in dream he saw his red-bearded master emerge out of the darkness and come towards him with loud exclamations and great strides. But to him he merely said respectfully: "Your Honour, I have returned; but the message the great army gave me is inside me because it was too dangerous to carry and I swallowed it, and by your blessing I shall now die a natural death."

THE END

Transcriber's note:

Changed speakly to speaking