Held by Chinese Brigands. Gilson Charles
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On the second day of their visit, whilst his uncle and the American were occupied in inspecting the temple, Frank Armitage ascended a steep bridle-path which crossed the mountains at a narrow pass. To the north he found his view obstructed by another and even more rugged range of mountains. Anxious to gain a more commanding position, the boy left the bridle-path and climbed, on hands and knees, the steep face of the adjacent peak.
It took him the greater part of an hour to gain the top, but there he found his efforts rewarded by a view that reminded him of many scenes pictured by Gustave Doré, illustrating Don Quixote or Paradise Lost-pictures that had fascinated and frightened him as a child.
Immediately before him was a second valley, at right angles to the one dividing the parallel ranges, resembling a huge, deep sword-cut in the barren, savage hills. This valley narrowed as it rose to a higher altitude, and finally became lost in mountain mist. There were few trees upon the steep, glistening slopes, and such as were to be seen were stunted and deformed. There were no roads or paths; no sign of life or civilisation. The sun itself appeared to have been shut out for ever from this stretch of desolation.
Frank turned and looked towards the south. In this direction were green trees, green fields-a plain, rich, fertile, well-watered and thickly populated. It was almost impossible to believe that a narrow watershed could divide landscapes so different that they might have been scenes from different planets. He glanced again at the dark sinister valley; and as he did so he caught a glimpse of something red, moving slowly across the spur that formed the angle of the two valleys immediately below.
He could not at first make out what this could be, for the moving object almost at once disappeared behind a hillock. When it appeared again, however, it was in mid-valley; and he recognised a party of men dressed in scarlet coats, who were marching in close formation, making in the direction of the pass across the range.
Frank knelt down behind a boulder and watched with interest, and not without apprehension, the approaching figures. A natural instinct warned him that it would not be wise to show himself. There was something in the forbidding nature of the valley itself that warned him that its sole occupants were not likely to be men whom one could trust.
They climbed the bridle-path, gaining at last the pass whence Frank himself had ascended to the hill-top. They were now easy to distinguish. The party numbered about thirty. They were brown-skinned Chinese, evidently mountain-born; all were armed with scythe-like spears or long, curved knives, and one or two carried pistols in their belts. All wore scarlet coats, some of which were bright and new, others being so faded that they were a kind of dirty pink. At the head of the party marched a little shrivelled man, whose scarlet coat was trimmed with gold. Frank Armitage did not know it-though within eight hours he was to learn the truth-but this was the redoubtable Cheong-Chau himself-the brigand chief who plundered the southern provinces from the Nan-ling Mountains to the sea.
As they passed, swinging on their way, these men sang a low, wailing chant that might have been a funeral dirge, but which was, in fact, a pirate song of blood and lust and murder. At the rear of the party was an old man, seated upon the back of a short-necked Mongolian pony. This was Men-Ching, who had ridden post-haste from the city of Canton, bringing greetings to Cheong-Chau from Ah Wu, who kept an opium den in the vicinity of the Mohammedan mosque.
Men-Ching had seen Yung How in the city of Wu-chau, and had there heard news of the ancient Taoist temple upon the southern slopes of the mountains. And Cheong-Chau had shaken off the sleep of opium and, gathering his men, had issued from the town of Pinglo, and had marched by night into the mountains, the sovereignty of which he shared with the eagles and the kites.
CHAPTER V-HOW CHEONG-CHAU STRUCK AT DEAD OF NIGHT
It was late by the time Frank returned to the temple, where he found his uncle and Mr Waldron engaged in an animated discussion upon the subject of the untapped resources of China. The boy had taken some time to climb down the mountain-side. Having no wish to fall into the hands of the scarlet-coated band who had descended into the valley to the south, he had given the bridle-path a wide berth, with the result that he had been obliged to go down upon all fours, and descend stealthily foot by foot.
He lost no time in relating to his uncle all that he had seen. The judge was somewhat surprised, but he did not show any signs of being nervous.
"I trust they didn't see you, Frank?" he asked.
"I have no doubt as to that," replied the boy. "I remained hidden all the time. Besides, they were immediately below me, and I should have noticed if any man had looked up."
The judge shrugged his shoulders.
"All's well that ends well," said he. "Nevertheless we may consider ourselves lucky. There can be no question that the party you saw was one of the brigand bands that are said to infest these mountains. We are far from civilisation. We could expect neither mercy nor consideration if we fell into the hands of such desperate rascals."
"Judge," said Mr Waldron, "it looks as if I may have a use for my six-shooter after all."
"I don't think so," said the judge. "Frank was wise enough not to show himself, and the men went down into the valley. There is no reason why they should know anything about our presence in the neighbourhood."
It was then that Yung How appeared, silently, from the midst of the deep shadows beneath the temple ruins. He moved stealthily and with something of the supple grace of a cat.
"Master," said he, "dinner is served."
"Thank you," said the judge. But Yung How remained, his features calm and expressionless, a table-napkin thrown over his left forearm, after the manner of waiters all the world across.
"Guess," said Mr Waldron, "I shall sleep with my gun ready loaded."
"That is no more than a wise precaution," said the judge, "and we should be well advised to post a sentry. We could divide the night into three watches of three hours each. Frank, as the youngest, shall take the first watch, from nine to twelve; I myself propose to take the middle watch, from twelve to three-unless you, Mr Waldron, would prefer it?"
"As you like, Judge," replied the American. "Early morning suits me well enough. In the old days in Texas, six days out of seven I was in the saddle before sunrise."
"Master," repeated Yung How, "dinner is served."
The judge whipped round upon his servant. "What are you doing here?" he demanded. "You have announced dinner already. We are all hungry enough not to forget it."
"Very good dinner," said Yung How, lapsing into pidgin-English, and without moving a muscle of his face. "Hot soup, all belong one piece tin; number one fish, all belong river; two piece chicken and top-side apricots, all belong tin, all same soup."
"And a very good dinner too," said the judge. "The sooner we get to work the better."
They dined by the light of a Chinese lantern suspended from one of the branches of an almond-tree, beneath the temple wall, where they were sheltered from the cool evening breeze that was blowing from the west. The thin mountain air, after the insufferable, humid atmosphere of the river valley, had served to give them a healthy appetite. The soup was half cold, the chickens were very tough, and the West River fish tasted horribly of mud; for all that, hungry men, encamped in a wilderness many miles from the nearest outpost of civilisation, will regard such fare as delicacies. They ate with a relish everything that Yung How placed before them, and washed down their meal with