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.
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.
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.
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