Held by Chinese Brigands. Gilson Charles

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pannikins of crystal-clear water from the mountain spring that flowed past the temple.

      After dinner the judge lighted his pipe, and Mr Hennessy K. Waldron one of his choice Manila cheroots. They talked of many things, but above all of China, of its immensity and mystery, its wealth, vitality, and future. And then the judge and Mr Waldron spread their blankets and laid them down to sleep.

      There is no life in the world to compare with that which is lived in the open air. A moss-grown bank supplied a bed as comfortable as any spring mattress. The wind, gently stirring the leaves of the trees, the distant croaking of the frogs, and the singing of the crickets, combined to form a sort of lullaby that soothed and enticed the wayfarers to slumber. There was no moon that night; but in a sky unbroken by a single cloud, a gorgeous canopy of stars illumined a scene that might have made a fitting setting for a fairy-tale.

      Frank Armitage selected his sentry-post at the foot of a great tree immediately before the temple steps. Hence he was able to obtain a fair view both of the bivouac and the mountain slope to the south. Knowing, however, that it would be wise not to neglect the northern side of the temple, he decided to patrol the entire building at least once every quarter of an hour. Armed with Mr Waldron's revolver, he kept well in the shade, knowing that a good sentry is one who observes without himself being seen.

      An hour passed and then another hour, without the occurrence of anything unusual. The judge and Mr Waldron were both sound asleep, the latter snoring loudly. Yung How and his companion lay in the shadow of the temple wall: the former curled up in his blankets, the coolie lying flat upon his back, his mouth wide open, dreaming, perhaps, that he was back in the Chinese quarter of Hong-Kong, where lived his wife and seven children, all of whom he supported upon the astonishing sum-expressed in English coinage-of nineteen shillings a month.

      Frank, as he went his rounds, frequently paused to listen. The frogs and the crickets continued their uproar. The wind murmured in the trees; once or twice he could hear wild-duck flying high in the night sky towards the north, towards the great marshes of the Yangtsi and the Yellow River. But no other sound disturbed the silence of the night.

      In course of time he came to consider the utmost vigilance unnecessary. He began to interest himself in trivial things. Mr Waldron had ceased to snore and Yung How was engaged in a kind of duet with the coolie. They snored alternately, the one on a deeper note than the other. Frank paused upon one of his rounds and stood for a moment looking down upon the two sleeping Chinese, thinking how vastly different from himself they were. Then he passed on upon his way, conscious that as the hour grew later the air was becoming colder. On that account, it was advisable to keep moving. He walked round the front of the temple, across the great stone steps leading to the entrance, and found himself on the farther side of the ruined, rambling building. There, in the deep shadow of a tall, gabled gateway, he stopped quite suddenly, thinking that he had heard a twig snap underfoot.

      He was so sure of this that almost at once he became aware that his heart was beating rapidly. He held the revolver in his hand, gripping the handle tightly. The starlight enabled him to see a considerable distance, except where the shadows were deep under the temple wall itself and beneath the trees.

      At his right hand was a massive stone pillar that supported the roof of the gateway. He stood stock-still, listening; and then, close to him, he heard a sound that might have been the wind, but which, on the other hand, might have been the heavy breathing of a man. As quick as thought, he stepped behind the pillar, and at once, quite suddenly, and yet without noise or violence, his revolver was taken from his hand.

      For the fraction of a second he was too astonished to cry out. He took a quick step backward, which brought him into the starlight, and at that moment both his wrists were grasped, and he beheld before him a face, sinister, fierce, and yet expressionless. It was the face of Yung How, his uncle's servant.

      He let out a shout, a loud cry for help-a shout that was stifled in a second. Someone had seized him from behind. The palm of a hand was placed so tightly upon his mouth that he found it difficult to breathe.

      For a moment he endeavoured to struggle, but soon realised the uselessness of an attempt to extricate himself by physical force. He had been seized by at least three men; and almost before he had time to recover from his surprise, he was thrown violently upon the ground, his hands bound behind his back, and a gag thrust between his teeth.

      He lay quite motionless, wondering what had happened, and what would happen next. Men were talking in whispers in harsh Cantonese voices, but too softly for him to catch the meaning of their words.

      He was bidden rise. He hesitated a moment, and was then lifted bodily to be dumped down upon his feet. He found himself confronted by a Chinaman who was small in stature, the skin of whose face was wrinkled and weather-beaten. This man wore a scarlet coat, richly embroidered with gold thread that glittered in the starlight. He came quite close to Frank, and peered into the boy's face, grinning from ear to ear, showing dirty, fang-like teeth-teeth that resembled those of a dog.

      The boy turned away in disgust, and looked straight into the face of Yung How. Yung How neither smiled nor lowered his eyes. He appeared to be neither delighted nor ashamed. His features were expressionless; his eyes looked straight into Frank's. Behind Yung How stood some twenty men, all dressed in scarlet coats. Frank took them in at a glance, and the thought flashed across his mind that it would be difficult to select from the party the one who appeared the greatest villain, whose countenance was the most hideous and repulsive. They were Cantonese of the coolie class, high of cheek-bone, with low, receding foreheads, and cruel, snake-like eyes.

      The man who was wearing the gold embroidered coat turned and walked rapidly towards the temple steps, ordering the others to follow him. Frank was led forward, a great raw-boned Chinaman on either side of him, each of whom grasped him tightly by an arm. He was made to ascend the steps, and was brought to a halt in the shadow of the porchway of the temple.

      Hence he could look down upon the sheltered glade where he and his friends had been encamped for two days. In the starlight he could see the figures of his uncle and Mr Waldron, both of whom were still fast asleep.

      So far, all that had happened had come to pass so rapidly that Frank had not had time to feel alarmed. But now, when he beheld his uncle-as he had every reason to believe-in the greatest danger, he was filled with apprehension. He made a lurch forward as if he would escape-for his feet had not been bound-but he was at once roughly thrown back by the men who guarded him, one of whom struck him a violent blow in the face.

      At that moment it was as if the boy was incapable of feeling physical pain or moral indignation. He was filled with remorse. He had been given a position of responsibility and trust-and he had failed pitifully. And now, perhaps his uncle's life was in danger.

      He was obliged to remain an impotent and conscience-stricken spectator of the scene that followed. He could neither cry out nor hasten to the assistance of his friends. He saw both his uncle and Mr Waldron seized whilst they were sound asleep, handled roughly by savage, lawless men; gagged and bound, and then led into the great hall of the temple.

      As soon as they were all inside, about a dozen torches were lit, and these were planted upright between the stone flags that paved the floor; so that they resembled as many candles, illuminating that fantastic, mediæval chamber.

      Indeed, it is almost impossible to imagine a scene more weird and dream-like. The three captives in the centre of the hall; the evil-looking, criminal faces of the brigands, made to look even more alarming and sinister by the flickering light of the torches; and around that great, dingy room, the implacable, sedate, inevitable figures of the Chinese gods and goddesses, over whom presided the huge Buddha, seated cross-legged upon a stone plinth, immediately opposite the entrance.

      Frank Armitage caught his uncle's eye. He tried his utmost to convey in a glance the remorse

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