“Simmonds and I were constantly out after tigers, and the people in all

the villages within twenty miles knew that we were always ready to pay

for early information. This tiger had been doing great damage, and had

carried off about thirty men, women, and children. So great was the

fear of him, indeed, that the people in the neighborhood he frequented

scarcely dared stir out of doors, except in parties of five or six. We

had had several hunts after him, but, like all man eaters, he was old

and awfully crafty; and although we got several snap shots at him, he

had always managed to save his skin.

“In a quarter of an hour after the receipt of the message Charley

Simmonds and I were on the back of an elephant which was our joint

property; our shikaree, a capital fellow, was on foot beside us, and

with the native trotting on ahead as guide we went off at the best pace

of old Begaum, for that was the elephant's name. The village was fifteen

miles away, but we got there soon after daybreak, and were received with

delight by the population. In half an hour the hunt was organized; all

the male population turned out as beaters, with sticks, guns, tom-toms,

and other instruments for making a noise.

“The trail was not difficult to find. A broad path, with occasional

smears of blood, showed where he had dragged his victim through the long

grass to a cluster of trees a couple of hundred yards from the village.

“We scarcely expected to find him there, but the villagers held back,

while we went forward with cocked rifles. We found, however, nothing

but a few bones and a quantity of blood. The tiger had made off at the

approach of daylight into the jungle, which was about two miles distant.

We traced him easily enough, and found that he had entered a large

ravine, from which several smaller ones branched off.

“It was an awkward place, as it was next to impossible to surround it

with the number of people at our command. We posted them at last all

along the upper ground, and told them to make up in noise what they

wanted in numbers. At last all was ready, and we gave the signal.

However, I am not telling you a hunting story, and need only say that we

could neither find nor disturb him. In vain we pushed Begaum through the

thickest of the jungle which clothed the sides and bottom of the ravine,

while the men shouted, beat their tom-toms, and showered imprecations

against the tiger himself and his ancestors up to the remotest

generations.

“The day was tremendously hot, and, after three hours' march, we gave

it up for a time, and lay down in the shade, while the shikarees made a

long examination of the ground all round the hillside, to be sure that

he had not left the ravine. They came back with the news that no traces

could be discovered, and that, beyond a doubt, he was still there. A

tiger will crouch up in an exceedingly small clump of grass or bush,

and will sometimes almost allow himself to be trodden on before moving.

However, we determined to have one more search, and if that should prove

unsuccessful, to send off to Jubbalpore for some more of the men to come

out with elephants, while we kept up a circle of fires, and of noises of

all descriptions, so as to keep him a prisoner until the arrival of the

reinforcements. Our next search was no more successful than our first

had been; and having, as we imagined, examined every clump and crevice

in which he could have been concealed, we had just reached the upper end

of the ravine, when we heard a tremendous roar, followed by a perfect

babel of yells and screams from the natives.

“The outburst came from the mouth of the ravine, and we felt at once

that he had escaped. We hurried back to find, as we had expected, that

the tiger was gone. He had burst out suddenly from his hiding place, had

seized a native, torn him horribly, and had made across the open plain.

“This was terribly provoking, but we had nothing to do but follow him.

This was easy enough, and we traced him to a detached patch of wood

and jungle, two miles distant. This wood was four or five hundred yards

across, and the exclamations of the people at once told us that it was

the one in which stood the ruined temple of the fakir of whom I have

been telling you. I forgot to say that as the tiger broke out one of the

village shikarees had fired at and, he declared, wounded him.

“It was already getting late in the afternoon, and it was hopeless to

attempt to beat the jungle that night. We therefore sent off a runner

with a note to the colonel, asking him to send the work elephants, and

to allow a party of volunteers to march over at night, to help surround

the jungle when we commenced beating it in the morning.

“We based our request upon the fact that the tiger was a notorious man

eater, and had been doing immense damage. We then had a talk with our

shikaree, sent a man off to bring provisions for the people out with us,

and then set them to work cutting dry sticks and grass to make a circle

of fires.

“We both felt much uneasiness respecting the fakir, who might be seized

at any moment by the enraged tiger. The natives would not allow that

there was any cause for fear, as the tiger would not dare to touch so

holy a man. Our belief in the respect of the tiger for sanctity was by

no means strong, and we determined to go in and warn him of the presence

of the brute in the wood. It was a mission which we could not intrust

to anyone else, for no native would have entered the jungle for untold

gold; so we mounted the Begaum again, and started. The path leading

towards the temple was pretty wide, and as we went along almost

noiselessly, for the elephant was too well trained to tread upon fallen

sticks, it was just possible we might come upon the tiger suddenly, so

we kept our rifles in readiness in our hands.

“Presently we came in sight of the ruins. No one was at first visible;

but at that very moment the fakir came out from the temple. He could not

see or hear us, for we were rather behind him and still among the trees,

but at once proceeded in a high voice to break into a singsong prayer.

He had not said two words before his voice was drowned in a terrific

roar, and in an instant the tiger had sprung upon him, struck him to the

ground, seized him as a cat would a mouse, and started off with him at

a trot. The brute evidently had not detected our presence, for he came

right towards us. We halted the Begaum, and, with our fingers on the

triggers, awaited the favorable moment. He was a hundred yards from

us when he struck down his victim; he was not more than fifty when

he caught sight of us. He stopped for an instant in surprise. Charley

muttered, 'Both barrels, Harley,' and as the beast turned to plunge into

the jungle, and so showed us his side, we sent four bullets crashing

into him, and he rolled over lifeless.

“We went up to the spot, made the Begaum give him a kick, to be sure

that he was dead, and then got down to examine the unfortunate fakir.

The tiger had seized him by the shoulder, which was terribly torn, and

the bone broken. He was still perfectly conscious.

“We at once fired three shots, our usual signal that the tiger was dead,

and in a few minutes were surrounded by the villagers, who hardly knew

whether to be delighted at the death of their enemy, or to grieve over

the injury to the fakir. We proposed taking the latter to our hospital

at Jubbalpore, but this he positively refused to listen to. However, we

finally persuaded him to allow his arm to be set and the wounds dressed

in the first place by our regimental surgeon, after which he could go to

one of the native villages and have his arm dressed in accordance with

his own notions. A litter was soon improvised, and away we went to

Jubbalpore, which we reached about eight in the evening.

“The fakir refused to enter the hospital, so we brought out a couple

of trestles, laid the litter upon them, and the surgeon set his arm and

dressed his wounds by torchlight, when he was lifted into a dhoolie, and

his bearers again prepared to start for the village.

“Hitherto he had only spoken a few words; but he now briefly expressed

his deep gratitude to Simmonds and myself. We told him that we would

ride over to see him shortly, and hoped to find him getting on rapidly.

Another minute and he was gone.

“It happened that we had three or four fellows away on leave or on staff

duty, and several others laid up with fever just about this time, so

that the duty fell very heavily upon the rest of us, and it was over a

month before we had time to ride over to see the fakir.

“We had heard he was going on well; but we were surprised, on reaching

the village, to find that he had already returned to his old abode in

the jungle. However, we had made up our minds to see him, especially as

we had agreed that we would endeavor to persuade him to do a prediction

for us; so we turned our horses' heads towards the jungle. We found the

fakir sitting on a rock in front of the temple, just where he had been

seized by the tiger. He rose as we rode up.

“'I knew that you would come today, sahibs, and was joyful in the

thought of seeing those who have preserved my life.'

“'We are glad to see you looking pretty strong again, though your arm is

still in a sling,' I said, for Simmonds was not strong in Hindustani.

“'How did you know that we were coming?' I asked, when we had tied up

our horses.

“'Siva has given to his servant to know many things,' he said quietly.

“'Did you know beforehand that the tiger was going to seize you?' I

asked.

“'I knew that a great danger threatened, and that Siva would not let me

die before my time had come.'

“'Could you see into our future?' I asked.

“The fakir hesitated, looked at me for a moment earnestly to see if I

was speaking in mockery, and then said:

“'The sahibs do not believe in the power of Siva or of his servants..

They call his messengers imposters, and scoff at them when they speak of

the events of the future.'

“'No indeed,' I said. 'My friend and I have no idea of scoffing. We have

heard of so many of your predictions coming true, that we are really

anxious that you should tell us something of the future.'

“The fakir nodded his head, went into the temple, and returned in

a minute or two with two small pipes used by the natives for opium

smoking, and a brazier of burning charcoal. The pipes were already

charged. He made signs to us to sit down, and took his place in front

of us. Then he began singing in a low voice, rocking himself to and fro,

and waving a staff which he held in his hand. Gradually his voice rose,

and his gesticulations and actions became more violent. So far as I

could make out, it was a prayer to Siva that he would give some glimpse

of the future which might benefit the sahibs who had saved the life of

his servant. Presently he darted forward, gave us each a pipe, took

two pieces of red hot charcoal from the brazier in his fingers, without

seeming to know that they were warm, and placed them in the pipes; then

he recommenced his singing and gesticulations.

“A glance at Charley, to see if, like myself, he was ready to carry the

thing through, and then I put the pipe to my lips. I felt at once that

it was opium, of which I had before made experiment, but mixed with some

other substance, which was, I imagine, hasheesh, a preparation of hemp.

A few puffs, and I felt a drowsiness creeping over me. I saw, as through

a mist, the fakir swaying himself backwards and forwards, his arms

waving and his face distorted. Another minute, and the pipe slipped from

my fingers, and I fell back insensible.

“How long I lay there I do not know. I woke with a strange and not

unpleasant sensation, and presently became conscious that the fakir was

gently pressing, with a sort of shampooing action, my temples and head.

When he saw that I opened my eyes he left me, and performed the same

process upon Charley. In a few minutes he rose from his stooping

position, waved his hand in token of adieu, and walked slowly back into

the temple.

“As he disappeared I sat up; Charley did the same.

“We stared at each other for a minute without speaking, and then Charley

said:

“'This is a rum go, and no mistake, old man.'

“'You're right, Charley. My opinion is, we've made fools of ourselves.

Let's be off out of this.'

“We staggered to our feet, for we both felt like drunken men, made our

way to our horses, poured a mussuk of water over our heads, took a

drink of brandy from our flasks, and then, feeling more like ourselves,

mounted and rode out of the jungle.

“'Well, Harley, if the glimpse of futurity which I had is true, all I

can say is that it was extremely unpleasant.'

“'That was just my case, Charley.'

“'My dream, or whatever you like to call it, was about a mutiny of the

men.'

“'You don't say so, Charley; so was mine. This is monstrously strange,

to say the least of it. However, you tell your story first, and then I

will tell mine.'

“'It was very short,' Charley said. 'We were at mess--not in our present

mess room--we were dining with the fellows of some other regiment.

Suddenly, without any warning, the windows were filled with a crowd of

Sepoys, who opened fire right and left into us. Half the fellows were

shot down at once; the rest of us made a rush to our swords just as the

niggers came swarming into the room. There was a desperate fight for a

moment. I remember that Subadar Piran--one of the best native officers

in the regiment, by the way--made a rush at me, and I shot him through

the head with a revolver. At the same moment a ball hit me, and down I

went. At the moment a Sepoy fell dead across me, hiding me partly from

sight. The fight lasted a minute or two longer. I fancy a few fellows

escaped, for I heard shots outside. Then the place became quiet. In

another minute I heard a crackling, and saw that the devils had set the

mess room on fire. One of our men, who was lying close by me, got up

and crawled to the window, but he was shot down the moment he showed

himself. I was hesitating whether to do the same or to lie still and be

smothered, when suddenly I rolled the dead Sepoy off, crawled into

the anteroom half suffocated by smoke, raised the lid of a very heavy

trapdoor, and stumbled down some steps into a place, half storehouse

half cellar, under the mess room. How I knew about it being there I

don't know. The trap closed over my head with a bang. That is all I

remember.'

“'Well, Charley, curiously enough my dream was also about an

extraordinary escape from danger, lasting, like yours, only a minute

or two. The first thing I remember--there seems to have been some thing

before, but what, I don't know--I was on horseback, holding a very

pretty but awfully pale girl in front of me. We were pursued by a whole

troop of Sepoy cavalry, who were firing pistol shots at us. We were not

more than seventy or eighty yards in front, and they were gaining fast,

just as I rode into a large deserted temple. In the center was a huge

stone figure. I jumped off my horse with the lady, and as I did so she

said, 'blow out my brains, Edward; don't let me fall into their hands.'

“Instead of answering, I hurried her round behind the idol, pushed

against one of the leaves of a flower in the carving, and the stone

swung back, and showed a hole just large enough to get through, with

a stone staircase inside the body of the idol, made, no doubt, for the

priest to go up and give responses through the mouth. I hurried the girl

through, crept in after her, and closed the stone, just as our pursuers

came clattering into the courtyard. That is all I remember.'

“'Well, it is monstrously rum,' Charley said after a pause. 'Did you

understand what the old fellow was singing about before he gave us the

pipes?'

“'Yes; I caught the general drift. It was an entreaty to Siva to give us

some glimpse of futurity which might benefit us.'

“We lit our cheroots and rode for some miles at a brisk canter without

remark. When we were within a short distance of home we reined up.

“'I feel ever so much better,' Charley said. 'We have got that opium out

of our heads now. How do you account for it all, Harley?'

“'I account for it in this way, Charley. The opium naturally had the

effect of making us both dream, and as we took similar doses of the same

mixture, under similar circumstances, it is scarcely extraordinary that

it should have effected the same portion of the brain, and caused a

certain similarity in our dreams. In all nightmares something terrible

happens, or is on the point of happening; and so it was here. Not

unnaturally in both our cases our thoughts turned to soldiers. If you

remember, there was a talk at mess some little time since as to what

would happen in the extremely unlikely event of the Sepoys mutinying in

a body. I have no doubt that was the foundation of both our dreams. It

is all natural enough when we come to think it over calmly. I think,

by the way, we had better agree to say nothing at all about it in the

regiment.'

“'I should think not,' Charley said. 'We should never hear the end of

it; they would chaff us out of our lives.'

“We kept our secret, and came at last to laugh over it heartily when we

were together. Then the subject dropped, and by the end of a year had as

much escaped our minds as any other dream would have done. Three months

after the affair the regiment was ordered down to Allahabad, and the

change of place no doubt helped to erase all memory of the dream. Four

years after we had left Jubbalpore we went to Beerapore. The time is

very marked in my memory, because, the very week we arrived there, your

aunt, then Miss Gardiner, came out from England, to her father, our

colonel. The instant I saw her I was impressed with the idea that I knew

her intimately. I recollected her face, her figure, and the very tone

of her voice, but wherever I had met her I could not conceive. Upon the

occasion of my first introduction to her I could not help telling her

that I was convinced that we had met, and asking her if she did not

remember it. No, she did not remember, but very likely she might have

done so, and she suggested the names of several people at whose houses

we might have met. I did not know any of them. Presently she asked how

long I had been out in India?

“'Six years,' I said.

“'And how old, Mr. Harley,' she said, 'do you take me to be?'

“I saw in one instant my stupidity, and was stammering out an apology,

when she went on:

“'I am very little over eighteen, Mr. Harley, although I evidently look

ever so many years older; but papa can certify to my age; so I was only

twelve when you left England.'

“I tried in vain to clear matters up. Your aunt would insist that I

took her to be forty, and the fun that my blunder made rather drew us

together, and gave me a start over the other fellows at the station,

half of whom fell straightway in love with her. Some months went on, and

when the mutiny broke out we were engaged to be married. It is a proof

of how completely the opium dreams had passed out of the minds of both

Simmonds and myself, that even when rumors of general disaffection among

the Sepoys began to be current, they never once recurred to us; and even

when the news of the actual mutiny reached us we were just as confident

as were the others of the fidelity of our own regiment. It was the old

story, foolish confidence and black treachery. As at very many other

stations, the mutiny broke out when we were at mess. Our regiment was

dining with the 34th Bengalees. Suddenly, just as dinner was over, the

window was opened, and a tremendous fire poured in. Four or five men

fell dead at once, and the poor colonel, who was next to me, was shot

right through the head. Everyone rushed to his sword and drew his

pistol--for we had been ordered to carry pistols as part of our uniform.

I was next to Charley Simmonds as the Sepoys of both regiments, headed

by Subadar Piran, poured in at the windows.

“'I have it now,' Charley said; 'it is the scene I dreamed.'

“As he spoke he fired his revolver at the subadar, who fell dead in his

tracks.

“A Sepoy close by leveled his musket and fired. Charley fell, and the

fellow rushed forward to bayonet him. As he did so I sent a bullet

through his head, and he fell across Charley. It was a wild fight for a

minute or two, and then a few of us made a sudden rush together, cut our

way through the mutineers, and darted through an open window on to

the parade. There were shouts, shots, and screams from the officers'

bungalows, and in several places flames were already rising. What became

of the other men I knew not; I made as hard as I could tear for the

colonel's bungalow. Suddenly I came upon a sowar sitting on his horse

watching the rising flames. Before he saw me I was on him, and ran him

through. I leapt on his horse and galloped down to Gardiner's compound.

I saw lots of Sepoys in and around the bungalow, all engaged in looting.

I dashed into the compound.

“'May! May!' I shouted. 'Where are you?'

“I had scarcely spoken before a dark figure rushed out of a clump of

bushes close by with a scream of delight.

“In an instant she was on the horse before me, and, shooting down a

couple of fellows who made a rush at my reins, I dashed out again. Stray

shots were fired after us. But fortunately the Sepoys were all busy

looting, most of them had laid down their muskets, and no one really

took up the pursuit. I turned off from the parade ground, dashed down

between the hedges of two compounds, and in another minute we were in

the open country.

“Fortunately, the cavalry were all down looting their own lines, or we

must have been overtaken at once. May happily had fainted as I lifted

her on to my horse--happily, because the fearful screams that we heard

from the various bungalows almost drove me mad, and would probably have

killed her, for the poor ladies were all her intimate friends.

“I rode on for some hours, till I felt quite safe from any immediate

pursuit, and then we halted in the shelter of a clump of trees.

“By this time I had heard May's story. She had felt uneasy at being

alone, but had laughed at herself for being so, until upon her speaking

to one of the servants he had answered in a tone of gross insolence,

which had astonished her. She at once guessed that there was danger,

and the moment that she was alone caught up a large, dark carriage rug,

wrapped it round her so as to conceal her white dress, and stole out

into the veranda. The night was dark, and scarcely had she left the

house than she heard a burst of firing across at the mess house. She at

once ran in among the bushes and crouched there, as she heard the rush

of men into the room she had just left. She heard them searching for

her, but they were looking for a white dress, and her dark rug saved

her. What she must have suffered in the five minutes between the firing

of the first shots and my arrival, she only knows. May had spoken but

very little since we started. I believe that she was certain that her

father was dead, although I had given an evasive answer when she asked

me; and her terrible sense of loss, added to the horror of that time

of suspense in the garden, had completely stunned her. We waited in the

tope until the afternoon, and then set out again.

“We had gone but a short distance when we saw a body of the rebel

cavalry in pursuit. They had no doubt been scouring the country

generally, and the discovery was accidental. For a short time we

kept away from them, but this could not be for long, as our horse was

carrying double. I made for a sort of ruin I saw at the foot of a

hill half a mile away. I did so with no idea of the possibility of

concealment. My intention was simply to get my back to a rock and to

sell my life as dearly as I could, keeping the last two barrels of the

revolver for ourselves. Certainly no remembrance of my dream influenced

me in any way, and in the wild whirl of excitement I had not given a

second thought to Charley Simmonds' exclamation. As we rode up to the

ruins only a hundred yards ahead of us, May said:

“'Blow out my brains, Edward; don't let me fall alive into their hands.'

“A shock of remembrance shot across me. The chase, her pale face, the

words, the temple--all my dream rushed into my mind.

“'We are saved,' I cried, to her amazement, as we rode into the

courtyard, in whose center a great figure was sitting.

“I leapt from the horse, snatched the mussuk of water from the saddle,

and then hurried May round the idol, between which and the rock behind

there was but just room to get along.

“Not a doubt entered my mind but that I should find the spring as I had

dreamed. Sure enough there was the carving, fresh upon my memory as if I

had seen it but the day before. I placed my hand on the leaflet without

hesitation, a solid stone moved back, I hurried my amazed companion in,

and shut to the stone. I found, and shot to a massive bolt, evidently

placed to prevent the door being opened by accident or design when

anyone was in the idol.

“At first it seemed quite dark, but a faint light streamed in from

above; we made our way up the stairs, and found that the light came

through a number of small holes pierced in the upper part of the head,

and through still smaller holes lower down, not much larger than a good

sized knitting needle could pass through. These holes, we afterwards

found, were in the ornaments round the idol's neck. The holes enlarged

inside, and enabled us to have a view all round.

“The mutineers were furious at our disappearance, and for hours searched

about. Then, saying that we must be hidden somewhere, and that they

would wait till we came out, they proceeded to bivouac in the courtyard

of the temple.

“We passed four terrible days, but on the morning of the fifth a scout

came in to tell the rebels that a column of British troops marching on

Delhi would pass close by the temple. They therefore hastily mounted and

galloped off.

“Three quarters of an hour later we were safe among our own people. A

fortnight afterwards your aunt and I were married. It was no time for

ceremony then; there were no means of sending her away; no place where

she could have waited until the time for her mourning for her father was

over. So we were married quietly by one of the chaplains of the troops,

and, as your storybooks say, have lived very happily ever after.”

“And how about Mr. Simmonds, uncle? Did he get safe off too?”

“Yes, his dream came as vividly to his mind as mine had done. He crawled

to the place where he knew the trapdoor would be, and got into the

cellar. Fortunately for him there were plenty of eatables there, and he

lived there in concealment for a fortnight. After that he crawled out,

and found the mutineers had marched for Delhi. He went through a lot,

but at last joined us before that city. We often talked over our dreams

together, and there was no question that we owed our lives to them. Even

then we did not talk much to other people about them, for there would

have been a lot of talk, and inquiry, and questions, and you know

fellows hate that sort of thing. So we held our tongues. Poor Charley's

silence was sealed a year later at Lucknow, for on the advance with Lord

Clyde he was killed.

“And now, boys and girls, you must run off to bed. Five minutes more and

it will be Christmas Day.

“So you see, Frank, that although I don't believe in ghosts, I have yet

met with a circumstance which I cannot account for.”

“It is very curious anyhow, uncle, and beats ghost stories into fits.”

“I like it better, certainly,” one of the girls said, “for we can go to

bed without being afraid of dreaming about it.”

“Well, you must not talk any more now. Off to bed, off to bed,” Colonel

Harley said, “or I shall get into terrible disgrace with your fathers

and mothers, who have been looking very gravely at me for the last three

quarters of an hour.”

WHITE FACED DICK: A STORY OF PINE TREE GULCH

How Pine Tree Gulch got its name no one knew, for in the early days

every ravine and hillside was thickly covered with pines. It may be that

a tree of exceptional size caught the eye of the first explorer, that

he camped under it, and named the place in its honor; or, maybe, some

fallen giant lay in the bottom and hindered the work of the first

prospectors. At any rate, Pine Tree Gulch it was, and the name was as

good as any other. The pine trees were gone now. Cut up for firing,

or for the erection of huts, or the construction of sluices, but the

hillside was ragged with their stumps.

The principal camp was at the mouth of the Gulch, where the little

stream, which scarce afforded water sufficient for the cradles in the

dry season, but which was a rushing torrent in winter, joined the Yuba.

The best ground was at the junction of the streams, and lay, indeed, in

the Yuba Valley rather than in the Gulch. At first most gold had been

found higher up, but there was here comparatively little depth down to

the bedrock, and as the ground became exhausted the miners moved down

towards the mouth of the Gulch. They were doing well, as a whole, how

well no one knew, for miners are chary of giving information as to what

they are making; still, it was certain they were doing well, for the

bars were doing a roaring trade, and the storekeepers never refused

credit--a proof in itself that the prospects were good.

The flat at the mouth of the Gulch was a busy scene, every foot was good

paying stuff, for in the eddy, where the torrents in winter rushed down

into the Yuba, the gold had settled down and lay thick among the gravel.

But most of the parties were sinking, and it was a long way down to the

bedrock; for the hills on both sides sloped steeply, and the Yuba must

here at one time have rushed through a narrow gorge, until, in some

wild freak, it brought down millions of tons of gravel, and resumed its

course seventy feet above its former level.

A quarter of a mile higher up a ledge of rock ran across the valley, and

over it in the old time the Yuba had poured in a cascade seventy feet

deep into the ravine. But the rock now was level with the gravel, only

showing its jagged points here and there above it. This ledge had been

invaluable to the diggers: without it they could only have sunk their

shafts with the greatest difficulty, for the gravel would have been full

of water, and even with the greatest pains in puddling and timber work

the pumps would scarcely have sufficed to keep it down as it rose in the

bottom of the shafts. But the miners had made common cause together, and

giving each so many ounces of gold or so many days' work had erected a

dam thirty feet high along the ledge of rock, and had cut a channel for

the Yuba along the lower slopes of the valley. Of course, when the rain

set in, as everybody knew, the dam would go, and the river diggings must

be abandoned till the water subsided and a fresh dam was made; but there

were two months before them yet, and everyone hoped to be down to the

bedrock before the water interrupted their work.

The hillside, both in the Yuba Valley and for some distance along Pine

Tree Gulch, was dotted by shanties and tents; the former constructed for

the most part of logs roughly squared, the walls being some three feet

in height, on which the sharp sloping roof was placed, thatched in the

first place with boughs, and made all snug, perhaps, with an old sail

stretched over all. The camp was quiet enough during the day. The few

women were away with their washing at the pools, a quarter of a mile up

the Gulch, and the only persons to be seen about were the men told off

for cooking for their respective parties.

But in the evening the camp was lively. Groups of men in red shirts

and corded trousers tied at the knee, in high boots, sat round blazing

fires, and talked of their prospects or discussed the news of the

luck at other camps. The sound of music came from two or three plank

erections which rose conspicuously above the huts of the diggers, and

were bright externally with the glories of white and colored paints. To

and from these men were always sauntering, and it needed not the clink

of glasses and the sound of music to tell that they were the bars of the

camp.

Here, standing at the counter, or seated at numerous small tables, men

were drinking villainous liquor, smoking and talking, and paying but

scant attention to the strains of the fiddle or the accordion, save

when some well known air was played, when all would join in a boisterous

chorus. Some were always passing in or out of a door which led into a

room behind. Here there was comparative quiet, for men were gambling,

and gambling high.

Going backwards and forwards with liquors into the gambling room of the

Imperial Saloon, which stood just where Pine Tree Gulch opened into Yuba

Valley, was a lad, whose appearance had earned for him the name of White

Faced Dick.

White Faced Dick was not one of those who had done well at Pine Tree

Gulch; he had come across the plains with his father, who had died

when halfway over, and Dick had been thrown on the world to shift

for himself. Nature had not intended him for the work, for he was a

delicate, timid lad; what spirits he originally had having been years

before beaten out of him by a brutal father. So far, indeed, Dick was

the better rather than the worse for the event which had left him an

orphan.

They had been traveling with a large party for mutual security against

Indians and Mormons, and so long as the journey lasted Dick had got

on fairly well. He was always ready to do odd jobs, and as the draught

cattle were growing weaker and weaker, and every pound of weight was of

importance, no one grudged him his rations in return for his services;

but when the company began to descend the slopes of the Sierra Nevada

they began to break up, going off by twos and threes to the diggings of

which they heard such glowing accounts. Some, however, kept straight on

to Sacramento, determining there to obtain news as to the doings at all

the different places, and then to choose that which seemed to them to

offer the surest prospects of success.

Dick proceeded with them to the town, and there found himself alone. His

companions were absorbed in the busy rush of population, and each had

so much to provide and arrange for, that none gave a thought to the

solitary boy. However, at that time no one who had a pair of hands,

however feeble, to work need starve in Sacramento, and for some weeks

Dick hung around the town doing odd jobs, and then having saved a few

dollars, determined to try his luck at the diggings, and started on foot

with a shovel on his shoulders and a few days' provisions slung across

it.

Arrived at his destination, the lad soon discovered that gold digging

was hard work for brawny and seasoned men, and after a few feeble

attempts in spots abandoned as worthless he gave up the effort, and

again began to drift; and even in Pine Tree Gulch it was not difficult

to get a living. At first he tried rocking cradles, but the work was

far harder than it appeared. He was standing ankle deep in water from

morning till night, and his cheeks grew paler, and his strength, instead

of increasing, seemed to fade away. Still, there were jobs within his

strength. He could keep a fire alight and watch a cooking pot, he could

carry up buckets of water or wash a flannel shirt, and so he struggled

on, until at last some kind hearted man suggested to him that he should

try to get a place at the new saloon which was about to be opened.

“You are not fit for this work, young 'un, and you ought to be at home

with your mother; if you like I will go up with you this evening to

Jeffries. I knew him down on the flats, and I dare say he will take you

on. I don't say as a saloon is a good place for a boy, still you will

always get your bellyful of victuals and a dry place to sleep in, if

it's only under a table. What do you say?”

Dick thankfully accepted the offer, and on Red George's recommendation

was that evening engaged. His work was not hard now, for till the miners

knocked off there was little doing in the saloon; a few men would come

in for a drink at dinnertime, but it was not until the lamps were lit

that business began in earnest, and then for four or five hours Dick was

busy.

A rougher or healthier lad would not have minded the work, but to Dick

it was torture; every nerve in his body thrilled whenever rough miners

cursed him for not carrying out their orders more quickly, or for

bringing them the wrong liquors, which, as his brain was in a whirl

with the noise, the shouting, and the multiplicity of orders, happened

frequently. He might have fared worse had not Red George always stood

his friend, and Red George was an authority in Pine Tree Gulch--powerful

in frame, reckless in bearing and temper, he had been in a score of

fights and had come off them, if not unscathed, at least victorious. He

was notoriously a lucky digger, but his earnings went as fast as they

were made, and he was always ready to open his belt and give a bountiful

pinch of dust to any mate down on his luck.

One evening Dick was more helpless and confused than usual. The saloon

was full, and he had been shouted at and badgered and cursed until he

scarcely knew what he was doing. High play was going on in the saloon,

and a good many men were clustered round the table, Red George was

having a run of luck, and there was a big pile of gold dust on the table

before him. One of the gamblers who was losing had ordered old rye,

and instead of bringing it to him, Dick brought a tumbler of hot liquor

which someone else had called for. With an oath the man took it up and

threw it in his face.

“You cowardly hound!” Red George exclaimed. “Are you man enough to do

that to a man?”

“You bet,” the gambler, who was a new arrival at Pine Tree Gulch,

replied; and picking up an empty glass, he hurled it at Red George. The

bystanders sprang aside, and in a moment the two men were facing

each other with outstretched pistols. The two reports rung out

simultaneously: Red George sat down unconcernedly with a streak of blood

flowing down his face, where the bullet had cut a furrow in his cheek;

the stranger fell back with a bullet hole in the center of his forehead.

The body was carried outside, and the play continued as if no

interruption had taken place. They were accustomed to such occurrences

in Pine Tree Gulch, and the piece of ground at the top of the hill, that

had been set aside as a burial place, was already dotted thickly with

graves, filled in almost every instance by men who had died, in the

local phraseology, “with their boots on.”

Neither then nor afterwards did Red George allude to the subject to

Dick, whose life after this signal instance of his championship was

easier than it had hitherto been, for there were few in Pine Tree Gulch

who cared to excite Red George's anger; and strangers going to the

place were sure to receive a friendly warning that it was best for their

health to keep their tempers over any shortcomings on the part of White

Faced Dick.

Grateful as he was for Red George's interference on his behalf, Dick

felt the circumstance which had ensued more than anyone else in the

camp. With others it was the subject of five minutes' talk, but Dick

could not get out of his head the thought of the dead man's face as he

fell back. He had seen many such frays before, but he was too full of

his own troubles for them to make much impression upon him. But in the

present case he felt as if he himself was responsible for the death of

the gambler; if he had not blundered this would not have happened.

He wondered whether the dead man had a wife and children, and, if so,

were they expecting his return? Would they ever hear where he had died,

and how?

But this feeling, which, tired out as he was when the time came for

closing the bar, often prevented him from sleeping for hours, in no way

lessened his gratitude and devotion towards Red George, and he felt that

he could die willingly if his life would benefit his champion. Sometimes

he thought, too, that his life would not be much to give, for, in spite

of shelter and food, the cough which he had caught while working in the

water still clung to him, and as his employer said to him angrily one

day:

“Your victuals don't do you no good, Dick; you get thinner and thinner,

and folks will think as I starve you. Darned if you aint a disgrace to

the establishment.”

The wind was whistling down the gorges, and the clouds hung among the

pine woods which still clothed the upper slopes of the hills, and the

diggers, as they turned out one morning, looked up apprehensively.

“But it could not be,” they assured each other. Everyone knew that the

rains were not due for another month yet; it could only be a passing

shower if it rained at all.

But as the morning went on, men came in from camps higher up the river,

and reports were current that it had been raining for the last two days

among the upper hills; while those who took the trouble to walk across

to the new channel could see for themselves at noon that it was filled

very nigh to the brim, the water rushing along with thick and turbid

current. But those who repeated the rumors, or who reported that the

channel was full, were summarily put down. Men would not believe that

such a calamity as a flood and the destruction of all their season's

work could be impending. There had been some showers, no doubt, as there

had often been before, but it was ridiculous to talk of anything like

rain a month before its time. Still, in spite of these assertions, there

was uneasiness at Pine Tree Gulch, and men looked at the driving clouds

above and shook their heads before they went down to the shafts to work

after dinner.

When the last customer had left and the bar was closed, Dick had nothing

to do till evening, and he wandered outside and sat down on a stump, at

first looking at the work going on in the valley, then so absorbed in

his own thoughts that he noticed nothing, not even the driving mist

which presently set in. He was calculating that he had, with his savings

from his wages and what had been given him by the miners, laid by eighty

dollars. When he got another hundred and twenty he would go; he would

make his way down to San Francisco, and then by ship to Panama and up

to New York, and then west again to the village where he was born. There

would be people there who would know him, and who would give him work

for his mother's sake. He did not care what it was; anything would be

better than this. Then his thoughts came back to Pine Tree Gulch, and he

started to his feet. Could he be mistaken? Were his eyes deceiving him?

No; among the stones and boulders of the old bed of the Yuba there was

the gleam of water, and even as he watched it he could see it widening

out. He started to run down the hill to give the alarm, but before he

was halfway he paused, for there were loud shouts, and a scene of bustle

and confusion instantly arose.

The cradles were deserted, and the men working on the surface loaded

themselves with their tools and made for the high ground, while those at

the windlasses worked their hardest to draw up their comrades below. A

man coming down from above stopped close to Dick, with a low cry, and

stood gazing with a white scared face. Dick had worked with him; he was

one of the company to which Red George belonged.

“What is it, Saunders?”

“My God! they are lost!” the man replied. “I was at the windlass when

they shouted up to me to go up and fetch them a bottle of rum. They had

just struck it rich, and wanted a drink on the strength of it.”

Dick understood at once. Red George and his mates were still in the

bottom of the shaft, ignorant of the danger which was threatening them.

“Come on,” he cried; “we shall be in time yet,” and at the top of his

speed dashed down the hill, followed by Saunders.

“What is it, what is it?” asked parties of men mounting the hill.

“Red George's gang are still below.”

Dick's eyes were fixed on the water. There was a broad band now of

yellow with a white edge down the center of the stony flat, and it

was widening with terrible rapidity. It was scarce ten yards from the

windlass at the top of Red George's shaft when Dick, followed closely by

Saunders, reached it.

“Come up, mates; quick, for your lives! The river is rising; you will be

flooded out directly. Everyone else has gone!”

As he spoke he pulled at the rope by which the bucket was hanging, and

the handles of the windlass flew round rapidly as it descended. When it

had run out Dick and he grasped the handles.

“All right below?”

An answering call came up, and the two began their work, throwing their

whole strength into it. Quickly as the windlass revolved it seemed

an endless time to Dick before the bucket came up, and the first man

stepped out. It was not Red George. Dick had hardly expected it would

be. Red George would be sure to see his two mates up before him, and the

man uttered a cry of alarm as he saw the water, now within a few feet of

the mouth of the shaft.

It was a torrent now, for not only was it coming through the dam, but

it was rushing down in cascades from the new channel. Without a word the

miner placed himself facing Dick, and the moment the bucket was again

down, the three grasped the handles. But quickly as they worked, the

edge of the water was within a few inches of the shaft when the next

man reached the surface; but again the bucket descended before the rope

tightened. However, the water had begun to run over the lip--at first,

in a mere trickle, and then, almost instantaneously, in a cascade, which

grew larger and larger.

The bucket was halfway up when a sound like thunder was heard, the

ground seemed to tremble under their feet, and then at the turn of the

valley above, a great wave of yellow water, crested with foam, was seen

tearing along at the speed of a race horse.

“The dam has burst!” Saunders shouted. “Run for your lives, or we are

all lost!”

The three men dropped the handles and ran at full speed towards the

shore, while loud shouts to Dick to follow came from the crowd of men

standing on the slope. But the boy grasped the handles, and with lips

tightly closed, still toiled on. Slowly the bucket ascended, for Red

George was a heavy man; then suddenly the weight slackened, and the

handle went round faster. The shaft was filling, the water had reached

the bucket, and had risen to Red George's neck, so that his weight was

no longer on the rope. So fast did the water pour in, that it was not

half a minute before the bucket reached the surface, and Red George

sprang out. There was but time for one exclamation, and then the great

wave struck them. Red George was whirled like a straw in the current;

but he was a strong swimmer, and at a point where the valley widened

out, half a mile lower, he struggled to shore.

Two days later the news reached Pine Tree Gulch that a boy's body had

been washed ashore twenty miles down, and ten men, headed by Red George,

went and brought it solemnly back to Pine Tree Gulch. There among the

stumps of pine trees a grave was dug, and there, in the presence of the

whole camp, White Faced Dick was laid to rest.

Pine Tree Gulch is a solitude now, the trees are growing again, and

none would dream that it was once a busy scene of industry; but if the

traveler searches among the pine trees he will find a stone with the

words:

“Here lies White Faced Dick, who died to save Red George. 'What can a

man do more than give his life for a friend?'”

The text was the suggestion of an ex-clergyman working as a miner in

Pine Tree Gulch.

Red George worked no more at the diggings, but, after seeing the stone

laid in its place, went east, and with what little money came to him

when the common fund of the company was divided after the flood on the

Yuba, bought a small farm, and settled down there; but to the end of

his life he was never weary of telling those who would listen to it the

story of Pine Tree Gulch.

A BRUSH WITH THE CHINESE

It was early in December that H. M. S. Perseus was cruising off

the mouth of the Canton River. War had been declared with China in

consequence of her continued evasions of the treaty she had made with

us, and it was expected that a strong naval force would soon gather to

bring her to reason. In the meantime the ships on the station had a

busy time of it, chasing the enemy's junks when they ventured to show

themselves beyond the reach of the guns of their forts, and occasionally

having a brush with the piratical boats which took advantage of the

general confusion to plunder friend as well as foe.

The Perseus had that afternoon chased two government junks up a creek.

The sun had already set when they took refuge there, and the captain did

not care to send his boats after them in the dark, as many of the creeks

ran up for miles into the flat country; and as they not unfrequently

had many arms or branches, the boats might, in the dark, miss the junk

altogether. Orders were issued that four boats should be ready for

starting at daybreak the next morning. The Perseus anchored off the

mouth of the creek, and two boats were ordered to row backwards and

forwards off its mouth all night to insure that the enemy did not slip

out in the darkness.

Jack Fothergill, the senior midshipman, was commanding the gig, and two

of the other midshipmen were going in the pinnace and launch, commanded

respectively by the first lieutenant and the master. The three other

midshipmen of the Perseus were loud in their lamentations that they were

not to take share in the fun.

“You can't all go, you know,” Fothergill said, “and it's no use making a

row about it; the captain has been very good to let three of us go.”

“It's all very well for you, Jack,” Percy Adcock, the youngest of the

lads, replied, “because you are one of those chosen; and it is not so

hard for Simmons and Linthorpe, because they went the other day in the

boat that chased those junks under shelter of the guns of their battery,

but I haven't had a chance for ever so long.”

“What fun was there in chasing the junks?” Simmons said. “We never got

near the brutes till they were close to their battery, and then just as

the first shot came singing from their guns, and we thought that we were

going to have some excitement, the first lieutenant sung out 'Easy all,'

and there was nothing for it but to turn round and to row for the ship,

and a nice hot row it was--two hours and a half in a broiling sun. Of

course I am not blaming Oliphant, for the captain's orders were strict

that we were not to try to cut the junks out if they got under the guns

of any of their batteries. Still it was horribly annoying, and I do

think the captain might have remembered what beastly luck we had last

time, and given us a chance tomorrow.”

“It is clear we could not all go,” Fothergill said, “and naturally

enough the captain chose the three seniors. Besides, if you did have bad

luck last time, you had your chance, and I don't suppose we shall have

anything more exciting now; these fellows always set fire to their junks

and row for the shore directly they see us, after firing a shot or two

wildly in our direction.”

“Well, Jack, if you don't expect any fun,” Simmons replied, “perhaps you

wouldn't mind telling the first lieutenant you do not care for going,

and that I am very anxious to take your place. Perhaps he will be good

enough to allow me to relieve you.”

“A likely thing that!” Fothergill laughed. “No, Tom, I am sorry you are

not going, but you must make the best of it till another chance comes.”

“Don't you think, Jack,” Percy Adcock said to his senior in a coaxing

tone later on, “you could manage to smuggle me into the boat with you?”

“Not I, Percy. Suppose you got hurt, what would the captain say then?

And firing as wildly as the Chinese do, a shot is just as likely to hit

your little carcass as to lodge in one of the sailors. No, you must just

make the best of it, Percy, and I promise you that next time there is

a boat expedition, if you are not put in, I will say a good word to the

first luff for you.”

“That promise is better than nothing,” the boy said; “but I would a deal

rather go this time and take my chance next.”

“But you see you can't, Percy, and there's no use talking any more about

it. I really do not expect there will be any fighting. Two junks would

hardly make any opposition to the boats of the ship, and I expect we

shall be back by nine o'clock with the news that they were well on fire

before we came up.”

Percy Adcock, however, was determined, if possible, to go. He was a

favorite among the men, and when he spoke to the bow oar of the gig

the latter promised to do anything he could to aid him to carry out his

wishes.

“We are to start at daybreak, Tom, so that it will be quite dark when

the boats are lowered. I will creep into the gig before that and hide

myself as well as I can under your thwart, and all you have got to do

is to take no notice of me. When the boat is lowered I think they will

hardly make me out from the deck, especially as you will be standing up

in the bow holding on with the boat hook till the rest get on board.”

“Well, sir, I will do my best; but if you are caught you must not let

out that I knew anything about it.”

“I won't do that,” Percy said. “I don't think there is much chance of my

being noticed until we get on board the junks, and then they won't know

which boat I came off in, and the first lieutenant will be too busy to

blow me up. Of course I shall get it when I am on board again, but I

don't mind that so that I see the fun. Besides, I want to send home some

things to my sister, and she will like them all the better if I can tell

her I captured them on board some junks we seized and burnt.”

The next morning the crews mustered before daybreak. Percy had already

taken his place under the bow thwart of the gig. The davits were swung

overboard, and two men took their places in her as she was lowered down

by the falls. As soon as she touched the water the rest of the crew

clambered down by the ladder and took their places; then Fothergill took

his seat in the stern, and the boat pushed off and lay a few lengths

away from the ship until the heavier boats put off. As soon as they were

under way Percy crawled out from his hiding place and placed himself

in the bow, where he was sheltered by the body of the oarsmen from

Fothergill's sight. Day was just breaking now, but it was still dark on

the water, and the boat rowed very slowly until it became lighter. Percy

could just make out the shores of the creek on both sides; they were

but two or three feet above the level of the water, and were evidently

submerged at high tide. The creek was about a hundred yards wide, and

the lad could not see far ahead, for it was full of sharp windings

and turnings. Here and there branches joined it, but the boats were

evidently following the main channel. After another half hour's rowing

the first lieutenant suddenly gave the order “Easy all,” and the men,

looking over their shoulders, saw a village a quarter of a mile ahead,

with the two junks they had chased the night before lying in front of

it. Almost at the same moment a sudden uproar was heard--drums were

beaten and gongs sounded.

“They are on the lookout for us,” the first lieutenant said. “Mr. Mason,

do you keep with me and attack the junk highest up the river; Mr. Bellew

and Mr. Fothergill, do you take the one lower down. Row on, men.” The

oars all touched the water together and the four boats leaped forward.

In a minute a scattering fire of gingals and matchlocks was opened from

the junks and the bullets pattered on the water round the boats. Percy

was kneeling up in the bow now. As they passed a branch channel three or

four hundred yards from the village, he started and leaped to his feet.

“There are four or five junks in that passage, Fothergill; they are

poling out.”

The first lieutenant heard the words.

“Row on, men; let us finish with these craft ahead before the others get

out. This must be that piratical village we have heard about, Mr. Mason,

as lying up one of these creeks; that accounts for those two junks not

going higher up. I was surprised at seeing them here, for they might

guess that we should try to get them this morning. Evidently they

calculated on catching us in a trap.”

Percy was delighted at finding that, in the excitement caused by his

news, the first lieutenant had forgotten to take any notice of his

being there without orders, and he returned a defiant nod to the threat

conveyed by Fothergill shaking his fist at him. As they neared the junks

the fire of those on board redoubled, and was aided by that of many

villagers gathered on the bank of the creek. Suddenly from a bank of

rushes four cannons were fired. A ball struck the pinnace, smashing in

her side. The other boats gathered hastily round and took her crew on

board, and then dashed at the junks, which were but a hundred yards

distant. The valor of the Chinese evaporated as they saw the boats

approaching, and scores of them leaped overboard and swam for shore.

In another minute the boats were alongside and the crews scrambling up

the sides of the junks. A few Chinamen only attempted to oppose them.

These were speedily overcome, and the British had now time to look

round, and saw that six junks crowded with men had issued from the side

creek and were making towards them.

“Let the boats tow astern,” the lieutenant ordered. “We should have to

run the gantlet of that battery on shore if we were to attack them, and

might lose another boat before we reached their side. We will fight them

here.”

The junks approached, those on board firing their guns, yelling and

shouting, while the drums and gongs were furiously beaten.

“They will find themselves mistaken, Percy, if they think they are going

to frighten us with all that row,” Fothergill said. “You young rascal,

how did you get on board the boat without being seen? The captain will

be sure to suspect I had a hand in concealing you.”

The tars were now at work firing the gingals attached to the bulwarks

and the matchlocks with which the deck was strewn, at the approaching

junks. As they took steady aim, leaning their pieces on the bulwarks,

they did considerable execution among the Chinamen crowded on board the

junks, while the shot of the Chinese, for the most part, whistled far

overhead; but the guns of the shore battery, which had now slewed round

to bear upon them, opened with a better aim, and several shots came

crashing into the sides of the two captured junks.

“Get ready to board, lads!” Lieutenant Oliphant shouted. “Don't wait for

them to board you, but the moment they come alongside lash their rigging

to ours and spring on board them.”

The leading junk was now about twenty yards away, and presently grated

alongside. Half a dozen sailors at once sprang into her rigging with

ropes, and after lashing the junks together leaped down upon her deck,

where Fothergill was leading the gig's crew and some of those rescued

from the pinnace, while Mr. Bellew, with another party, had boarded her

at the stern. Several of the Chinese fought stoutly, but the greater

part lost heart at seeing themselves attacked by the “white devils,”

instead of, as they expected, overwhelming them by their superior

numbers. Many began at once to jump overboard, and after two or three

minutes' sharp fighting the rest either followed their example or were

beaten below.

Fothergill looked round. The other junk had been attacked by two of the

enemy, one on each side, and the little body of sailors were gathered in

her waist, and were defending themselves against an overwhelming number

of the enemy. The other three piratical junks had been carried somewhat

up the creek by the tide that was sweeping inward, and could not for the

moment take part in the fight.

“Mr. Oliphant is hard pressed, sir.” He asked the master: “Shall we take

to the boats?”

“That will be the best plan,” Mr. Bellew replied.

“Quick, lads, get the boats alongside and tumble in; there is not a

moment to be lost.”

The crew at once sprang to the boats and rowed to the other junk, which

was but some thirty yards away.

The Chinese, absorbed in their contest with the crew of the pinnace, did

not perceive the newcomers until they gained the deck, and with a

shout fell furiously upon them. In their surprise and consternation the

pirates did not pause to note that they were still five to one superior

in number, but made a precipitate rush for their own vessels. The

English at once took the offensive. The first lieutenant with his party

boarded one, while the newcomers leaped on to the deck of the other. The

panic which had seized the Chinese was so complete that they attempted

no resistance whatever, but sprang overboard in great numbers and swam

to the shore, which was but twenty yards away, and in three minutes the

English were in undisputed possession of both vessels.

“Back again, Mr. Fothergill, or you will lose the craft you captured,”

Lieutenant Oliphant said; “they have already cut her free.”

The Chinese, indeed, who had been beaten below by the boarding party,

had soon perceived the sudden departure of their captors, and gaining

the deck again had cut the lashings which fastened them to the other

junk, and were proceeding to hoist their sails. They were too late,

however. Almost before the craft had way on her Fothergill and his crew

were alongside. The Chinese did not wait for the attack, but at once

sprang overboard and made for the shore. The other three junks, seeing

the capture of their comrades, had already hoisted their sails and were

making up the creek. Fothergill dropped an anchor, left four of his men

in charge, and rowed back to Mr. Oliphant.

“What shall we do next, sir?”

“We will give those fellows on shore a lesson, and silence their

battery. Two men have been killed since you left. We must let the other

junks go for the present. Four of my men were killed and eleven wounded

before Mr. Bellew and you came to our assistance. The Chinese were

fighting pluckily up to that time, and it would have gone very hard with

us if you had not been at hand; the beggars will fight when they think

they have got it all their own way. But before we land we will set fire

to the five junks we have taken. Do you return and see that the two

astern are well lighted, Mr. Fothergill; Mr. Mason will see to these

three. When you have done your work take to your boat and lay off till I

join you; keep the junks between you and the shore, to protect you from

the fire of the rascals.”

“I cannot come with you, I suppose, Fothergill?” Percy Adcock said, as

the midshipman was about to descend into his boat again.

“Yes, come along, Percy. It doesn't matter what you do now. The captain

will be so pleased when he hears that we have captured and burnt five

junks, that you will get off with a very light wigging, I imagine.”

“That's just what I was thinking, Jack. Has it not been fun?”

“You wouldn't have thought it fun if you had got one of those matchlock

balls in your body. There are a good many of our poor fellows just at

the present moment who do not see anything funny in the affair at all.

Here we are; clamber up.”

The crew soon set to work under Fothergill's orders. The sails were cut

off the masts and thrown down into the hold; bamboos, of which there

were an abundance down there, were heaped over them, a barrel of oil was

poured over the mass, and the fire then applied.

“That will do, lads. Now take to your boats and let's make a bonfire of

the other junk.”

In ten minutes both vessels were a sheet of flame, and the boat was

lying a short distance from them waiting for further operations. The

inhabitants of the village, furious at the failure of the plan which had

been laid for the destruction of the “white devils,” kept up a constant

fusillade, which, however, did no harm, for the gig was completely

sheltered by the burning junks close to her from their missiles.

“There go the others!” Percy exclaimed after a minute or two, as three

columns of smoke arose simultaneously from the other junks, and the

sailors were seen dropping into their boats alongside.

The killed and wounded were placed in the other gig with four sailors

in charge. They were directed to keep under shelter of the junks until

rejoined by the pinnace and Fothergill's gig, after these had done their

work on shore.

When all was ready the first lieutenant raised his hand as a signal, and

the two boats dashed between the burning junks and rowed for the shore.

Such of the natives as had their weapons charged fired a hasty volley,

and then, as the sailors leapt from their boats, took to their heels.

“Mr. Fothergill, take your party into the village and set fire to the

houses; shoot down every man you see. This place is a nest of pirates. I

will capture that battery and then join you.”

Fothergill and his sailors at once entered the village. The men had

already fled; the women were turned out of the houses, and these

were immediately set on fire. The tars regarded the whole affair as a

glorious joke, and raced from house to house, making a hasty search in

each for concealed valuables before setting it on fire. In a short time

the whole village was in a blaze.

“There is a house there, standing in that little grove a hundred yards

away,” Percy said.

“It looks like a temple,” Fothergill replied. “However, we will have a

look at it.” And calling two sailors to accompany him, he started at a

run towards it, Percy keeping by his side.

“It is a temple,” Fothergill said when they approached it. “Still, we

will have a look at it, but we won't burn it; it will be as well to

respect the religion, even of a set of piratical scoundrels like these.”

At the head of his men he rushed in at the entrance. There was a blaze

of fire as half a dozen muskets were discharged in their faces. One of

the sailors dropped dead, and before the others had time to realize what

had happened they were beaten to the ground by a storm of blows from

swords and other weapons.

A heavy blow crashed down on Percy's head, and he fell insensible even

before he realized what had occurred.

When he recovered, his first sensation was that of a vague wonder as to

what had happened to him. He seemed to be in darkness and unable to move

hand or foot. He was compressed in some way that he could not at first

understand, and was being bumped and jolted in an extraordinary manner.

It was some little time before he could understand the situation. He

first remembered the fight with the junks, then he recalled the

landing and burning the village; then, as his brain cleared, came the

recollection of his start with Fothergill for the temple among the

trees, his arrival there, and a loud report and flash of fire.

“I must have been knocked down and stunned,” he said to himself, “and

I suppose I am a prisoner now to these brutes, and one of them must be

carrying me on his back.”

Yes, he could understand it all now. His hands and his feet were tied,

ropes were passed round his body in every direction, and he was fastened

back to back upon the shoulders of a Chinaman. Percy remembered the

tales he had heard of the imprisonment and torture of those who fell

into the hands of the Chinese, and he bitterly regretted that he had not

been killed instead of stunned in the surprise of the temple.

“It would have been just the same feeling,” he said to himself, “and

there would have been an end of it. Now there is no saying what is going

to happen. I wonder whether Jack was killed, and the sailors.”

Presently there was a jabber of voices; the motion ceased. Percy could

feel that the cords were being unwound, and he was dropped on to his

feet; then the cloth was removed from his head, and he could look

around.

A dozen Chinese, armed with matchlocks and bristling with swords and

daggers, stood around, and among them, bound like himself and gagged by

a piece of bamboo forced lengthways across his mouth and kept there

with a string going round the back of the head, stood Fothergill. He was

bleeding from several cuts in the head. Percy's heart gave a bound of

joy at finding that he was not alone; then he tried to feel sorry that

Jack had not escaped, but failed to do so, although he told himself that

his comrade's presence would not in any way alleviate the fate which

was certain to befall him. Still the thought of companionship, even in

wretchedness, and perhaps a vague hope that Jack, with his energy and

spirit, might contrive some way for their escape, cheered him up.

As Percy, too, was gagged, no word could be exchanged by the midshipmen,

but they nodded to each other. They were now put side by side and made

to walk in the center of their captors. On the way they passed through

several villages, whose inhabitants poured out to gaze at the captives,

but the men in charge of them were evidently not disposed to delay,

as they passed through without a stop. At last they halted before two

cottages standing by themselves, thrust the prisoners into a small room,

removed their gags, and left them entirely to themselves.

“Well, Percy, my boy, so they caught you too? I am awfully sorry. It

was my fault for going with only two men into that temple, but as the

village had been deserted and scarcely a man was found there, it never

entered my mind that there might be a party in the temple.”

“Of course not, Jack; it was a surprise altogether. I don't know

anything about it, for I was knocked down, I suppose, just as we went

in, and the first thing I knew about it was that I was being carried on

the back of one of those fellows. I thought it was awful at first, but I

don't seem to mind so much now you are with me.”

“It is a comfort to have someone to speak to,” Jack said, “yet I wish

you were not here, Percy; I can't do you any good, and I shall never

cease blaming myself for having brought you into this scrape. I don't

know much more about the affair than you do. The guns were fired so

close to us that my face was scorched with one of them, and almost at

the same instant I got a lick across my cheek with a sword. I had just

time to hit at one of them, and then almost at the same moment I got two

or three other blows, and down I went; they threw themselves on the

top of me and tied and gagged me in no time. Then I was tied to a long

bamboo, and two fellows put the ends on their shoulders and went off

with me through the fields. Of course I was face downwards, and did not

know you were with us till they stopped and loosed me from the bamboo

and set me on my feet.”

“But what are they going to do with us, do you think, Jack?”

“I should say they are going to take us to Canton and claim a reward for

our capture, and there I suppose they will cut off our heads or saw us

in two, or put us to some other unpleasant kind of death. I expect they

are discussing it now; do you hear what a jabber they are kicking up?”

Voices were indeed heard raised in angry altercation in the next room.

After a time the din subsided and the conversation appeared to take a

more amiable turn.

“I suppose they have settled it as far as they are concerned,” Jack

said; “anyhow, you may be quite sure they mean to make something out of

us. If they hadn't they would have finished us at once, for they must

have been furious at the destruction of their junks and village. As to

the idea that mercy has anything to do with it, we may as well put it

out of our minds. The Chinaman, at the best of times, has no feeling of

pity in his nature, and after their defeat it is certain they would have

killed us at once had they not hoped to do better by us. If they had

been Indians I should have said they had carried us off to enjoy the

satisfaction of torturing us, but I don't suppose it is that with them.”

“Do you think there is any chance of our getting away?” Percy asked,

after a pause.

“I should say not the least in the world, Percy. My hands are fastened

so tight now that the ropes seem cutting into my wrists, and after they

had set me on my feet and cut the cords of my legs I could scarcely

stand at first, my feet were so numbed by the pressure. However, we must

keep up our pluck. Possibly they may keep us at Canton for a bit, and

if they do the squadron may arrive and fight its way past the forts and

take the city before they have quite made up their minds as to what kind

of death will be most appropriate to the occasion. I wonder what they

are doing now? They seem to be chopping sticks.”

“I wish they would give us some water,” Percy said. “I am frightfully

thirsty.”

“And so am I, Percy; there is one comfort, they won't let us die of

thirst, they could get no satisfaction out of our deaths now.”

Two hours later some of the Chinese re-entered the room and led the

captives outside, and the lads then saw what was the meaning of the

noise they had heard. A cage had been manufactured of strong bamboos. It

was about four and a half feet long, four feet wide, and less than three

feet high; above it was fastened two long bamboos. Two or three of the

bars of the cage had been left open.

“My goodness! they never intend to put us in there,” Percy exclaimed.

“That they do,” Jack said. “They are going to carry us the rest of the

way.”

The cords which bound the prisoners' hands were now cut, and they were

motioned to crawl into the cage. This they did; the bars were then put

in their places and securely lashed. Four men went to the ends of the

poles and lifted the cage upon their shoulders; two others took their

places beside it, and one man, apparently the leader of the party,

walked on ahead; the rest remained behind.

“I never quite realized what a fowl felt in a coop before,” Jack said,

“but if its sensations are at all like mine they must be decidedly

unpleasant. It isn't high enough to sit upright in, it is nothing like

long enough to lie down, and as to getting out one might as well think

of flying. Do you know, Percy, I don't think they mean taking us to

Canton at all. I did not think of it before, but from the direction of

the sun I feel sure that we cannot have been going that way. What they

are up to I can't imagine.”

In an hour they came to a large village. Here the cage was set down and

the villagers closed round. They were, however, kept a short distance

from the cage by the men in charge of it. Then a wooden platter was

placed on the ground, and persons throwing a few copper coins into this

were allowed to come near the cage.

“They are making a show of us!” Fothergill exclaimed. “That's what they

are up to, you see if it isn't; they are going to travel up country to

show the 'white devils' whom their valor has captured.”

This was, indeed, the purpose of the pirates. At that time Europeans

seldom ventured beyond the limits assigned to them in the two or three

towns where they were permitted to trade, and few, indeed, of the

country people had ever obtained a sight of the white barbarians of

whose doings they had so frequently heard. Consequently a small crowd

soon gathered round the cage, eyeing the captives with the same interest

they would have felt as to unknown and dangerous beasts; they laughed

and joked, passed remarks upon them, and even poked them with sticks.

Fothergill, furious at this treatment, caught one of the sticks, and

wrenching it from the hands of the Chinaman tried to strike at him

through the bars, a proceeding which excited shouts of laughter from the

bystanders.

“I think, Jack,” Percy said, “it will be best to try and keep our

tempers and not to seem to mind what they do to us, then if they find

they can't get any fun out of us they will soon leave us alone.”

“Of course, that's the best plan,” Fothergill agreed, “but it's not so

easy to follow. That fellow very nearly poked out my eye with his stick,

and no one's going to stand that if he can help it.”

It was some hours before the curiosity of the village was satisfied.

When all had paid who were likely to do so, the guards broke up their

circle, and leaving two of their number at the cage to see that no

actual harm was caused to their prisoners, the rest went off to a

refreshment house. The place of the elders was now taken by the boys

and children of the village, who crowded round the cage, prodded the

prisoners with sticks, and, putting their hands through the bars, pulled

their ears and hair. This amusement, however, was brought to an abrupt

conclusion by Fothergill suddenly seizing the wrist of a big boy and

pulling his arm through the cage until his face was against the bars;

then he proceeded to punch him until the guard, coming to his rescue,

poked Fothergill with his stick until he released his hold.

The punishment of their comrade excited neither anger nor resentment

among the other boys, who yelled with delight at his discomfiture,

but it made them more careful in approaching the cage, and though they

continued to poke the prisoners with sticks they did not venture again

to thrust a hand through the bars. At sunset the guards again came

round, lifted the cage and carried it into a shed. A platter of dirty

rice and a jug of water were put into the cage; two of the men lighted

their long pipes and sat down on guard beside it, and, the doors being

closed, the captives were left in peace.

“If this sort of thing is to go on, as I suppose it is,” Fothergill

said, “the sooner they cut off our heads the better.”

“It is very bad, Jack. I am sore all over with those probes from their

sharp sticks.”

“I don't care for the pain, Percy, so much as the humiliation of the

thing. To be stared at and poked at as if we were wild beasts by these

curs, when with half a dozen of our men we could send a hundred of them

scampering, I feel as if I could choke with rage.”

“You had better try and eat some of this rice, Jack. It is beastly, but

I dare say we shall get no more until tomorrow night, and we must keep

up our strength if we can. At any rate, the water is not bad, that's a

comfort.”

“No thanks to them,” Jack growled. “If there had been any bad water in

the neighborhood they would have given it to us.”

For two weeks the sufferings of the prisoners continued. Their captors

avoided towns where the authorities would probably at once have taken

the prisoners out of their hands. No one would have recognized the

two captives as the midshipmen of the Perseus; their clothes were in

rags--torn to pieces by the thrusts of the sharp pointed bamboos, to

which they had daily been subjected--the bad food, the cramped position,

and the misery which they suffered had worn both lads to skeletons;

their hair was matted with filth, their faces begrimed with dirt. Percy

was so weak that he felt he could not stand. Fothergill, being three

years older, was less exhausted, but he knew that he, too, could not

support his sufferings for many days longer. Their bodies were covered

with sores, and try as they would they were able to catch only a few

minutes' sleep at a time so much did the bamboo bars hurt their wasted

limbs.

They seldom exchanged a word during the daytime, suffering in silence

the persecutions to which they were exposed, but at night they talked

over their homes and friends in England, and their comrades on board

ship, seldom saying a word as to their present position. They were now

in a hilly country, but had not the least idea of the direction in which

it lay from Canton or its distance from the coast.

One evening Jack said to his companion, “I think it's nearly all over

now, Percy. The last two days we have made longer journeys, and have not

stopped at any of the smaller villages we passed through. I fancy our

guards must see that we can't last much longer, and are taking us down

to some town to hand us over to the authorities and get their reward for

us.”

“I hope it is so, Jack; the sooner the better. Not that it makes much

difference now to me, for I do not think I can stand many more days of

it.”

“I am afraid I am tougher than you, Percy, and shall take longer to

kill, so I hope with all my heart that I may be right, and that they may

be going to give us up to the authorities.”

The next evening they stopped at a large place, and were subjected to

the usual persecution; this, however, was now less prolonged than during

the early days of their captivity, for they had now no longer strength

or spirits to resent their treatment, and as no fun was to be obtained

from passive victims, even the village boys soon ceased to find any

amusement in tormenting them.

When most of their visitors had left them, an elderly Chinaman

approached the side of the cage. He spoke to their guard and looked at

them attentively for some minutes, then he said in pigeon English, “You

officer men?”

“Yes!” Jack exclaimed, starting at the sound of the English words, the

first they had heard spoken since their captivity. “Yes, we are officers

of the Perseus.”

“Me speeke English velly well,” the Chinaman said; “me pilot man many

years on Canton River. How you get here?”

“We were attacking some piratical junks, and landed to destroy the

village where the people were firing on us. We entered a place full of

pirates, and were knocked down and taken prisoners and carried away up

the country; that is six weeks ago, and you see what we are now.”

“Pirate men velly bad,” the Chinaman said; “plunder many junk on river

and kill crew. Me muchee hate them.”

“Can you do anything for us?” Jack asked. “You will be well rewarded if

you could manage to get us free.”

The man shook his head.

“Me no see what can do, me stranger here; come to stay with wifey;

people no do what me ask them. English ships attack Canton, much fight

and take town, people all hate English. Bad country dis. People in one

village fight against another. Velly bad men here.”

“How far is Canton away?” Jack asked. “Could you not send down to tell

the English we are here?”

“Fourteen days' journey off,” the man said; “no see how can do

anything.”

“Well,” Jack said, “when you get back again to Canton let our people

know what has been the end of us; we shall not last much longer.”

“All light,” the man said; “will see what me can do. Muchee think

tonight!”

And after saying a few words to the guards, who had been regarding this

conversation with an air of surprise, the Chinaman retired.

The guards had for some time abandoned the precaution of sitting up at

night by the cage, convinced that their captives had no longer strength

to attempt to break through its fastenings or to drag themselves many

yards away if they could do so. They therefore left it standing in the

open, and, wrapping themselves in their thickly wadded coats, for the

nights were cold, lay down by the side of the cage.

The coolness of the nights had, indeed, assisted to keep the two

prisoners alive. During the day the sun was excessively hot, and the

crowd of visitors round the cage impeded the circulation of the air and

added to their sufferings. It was true that the cold at night frequently

prevented them from sleeping, but it acted as a tonic and braced them

up.

“What did he mean about the villages attacking each other?” Percy asked.

“I have heard,” Jack replied, “that in some parts of China things are

very much the same as they used to be in the highlands of Scotland.

There is no law or order. The different villages are like clans, and

wage war on each other. Sometimes the government sends a number of

troops, who put the thing down for a time, chop off a good many heads,

and then march away, and the whole work begins again as soon as their

backs are turned.”

That night the uneasy slumber of the lads was disturbed by a sudden

firing; shouts and yells were heard, and the firing redoubled. “The

village is attacked,” Jack said. “I noticed that, like some other places

we have come into lately, there is a strong earthen wall round it, with

gates. Well, there is one comfort--it does not make much difference to

us which side wins.”

The guards at the first alarm leaped to their feet, caught up their

matchlocks, and ran to aid in the defense of the wall. Two minutes later

a man ran up to the cage.

“All lightee,” he said; “just what me hopee.”

With his knife he cut the tough withes that held the bamboos in their

places, and pulled out three of the bars.

“Come along,” he said; “no time to lose.”

Jack scrambled out, but in trying to stand upright gave a sharp

exclamation of pain. Percy crawled out more slowly; he tried to stand

up, but could not. The Chinaman caught him up and threw him on his

shoulder.

“Come along quickee,” he said to Jack; “if takee village, kill evely

one.” He set off at a run. Jack followed as fast as he could, groaning

at every step from the pain the movement caused to his bruised body.

They went to the side of the village opposite to that at which the

attack was going on. They met no one on the way, the inhabitants having

all rushed to the other side to repel the attack. They stopped at a

small gate in the wall, the Chinaman drew back the bolts and opened it,

and they passed out into the country. For an hour they kept on. By the

end of that time Jack could scarcely drag his limbs along. The Chinaman

halted at length in a clump of trees surrounded by a thick undergrowth.

“Allee safee here,” he said, “no searchee so far; here food,” and he

produced from a wallet a cold chicken and some boiled rice, and unslung

from his shoulder a gourd filled with cold tea.

“Me go back now, see what happen. Tomollow nightee come again--bringee

more food.” And without another word went off at a rapid pace.

Jack moistened his lips with the tea, and then turned to his companion.

Percy had not spoken a word since he had been released from the cage,

and had been insensible during the greater part of his journey. Jack

poured some cold tea between his lips.

“Cheer up, Percy, old boy, we are free now, and with luck and that good

fellow's help we will work our way down to Canton yet.”

“I shall never get down there; you may,” Percy said feebly.

“Oh, nonsense, you will pick up strength like a steam engine now. Here,

let me prop you against this tree. That's better. Now drink a drop

of this tea; it's like nectar after that filthy water we have been

drinking. Now you will feel better. Now you must try and eat a little

of this chicken and rice. Oh, nonsense, you have got to do it. I am not

going to let you give way when our trouble is just over. Think of your

people at home, Percy, and make an effort for their sakes. Good Heavens!

now I think of it, it must be Christmas morning. We were caught on the

2d and we have been just twenty-two days on show. I am sure that it

must be past twelve o'clock, and it is Christmas Day. It is a good omen,

Percy. This food isn't like roast beef and plum pudding, but it's not to

be despised. I can tell you. Come, fire away, that's a good fellow.”

Percy made an effort and ate a few mouthfuls of rice and chicken, then

he took another draught of tea, and lay down, and was almost immediately

asleep.

Jack ate his food slowly and contentedly till he finished half

the supply, then he, too, lay down, and after a short but hearty

thanksgiving for his escape from a slow and lingering death, he too,

fell off to sleep. The sun was rising when he woke, being aroused by a

slight movement on the part of Percy; he opened his eyes and sat up.

“Well, Percy, how do you feel this morning?” he asked cheerily.

“I feel too weak to move,” Percy replied languidly.

“Oh, you will be all right when you have sat up and eaten breakfast,”

Jack said. “Here you are; here is a wing for you, and this rice is as

white as snow, and the tea is first rate. I thought last night after I

lay down that I heard a murmur of water, so after we have had breakfast

I will look about and see if I can find it. We should feel like new men

after a wash. You look awful, and I am sure I am just as bad.”

The thought of a wash inspirited Percy far more than that of eating,

and he sat up and made a great effort to do justice to breakfast. He

succeeded much better than he had done the night before, and Jack,

although he pretended to grumble, was satisfied with his companion's

progress, and finished off the rest of the food. Then he set out to

search for water. He had not very far to go; a tiny stream, two feet

wide and several inches deep, ran through the wood from the higher

ground. After throwing himself down and taking a drink, he hurried back

to Percy.

“It is all right, Percy, I have found it. We can wash to our hearts'

content; think of that, lad.”

Percy could hardly stand, but he made an effort, and Jack half carried

him to the streamlet. There the lads spent two hours. First they bathed

their heads and hands, and then, stripping, lay down in the stream and

allowed it to flow over them, then they rubbed themselves with handfuls

of leaves dipped in the water, and when they at last put on their rags

again felt like new men. Percy was able to walk back to the spot they

had quitted with the assistance only of Jack's arm. The latter, feeling

that his breakfast had by no means appeased his hunger, now started for

a search through the wood, and presently returned to Percy laden with

nuts and berries.

“The nuts are sure to be all right; I expect the berries are too. I have

certainly seen some like them in native markets, and I think it will be

quite safe to risk it.”

The rest of the day was spent in picking nuts and eating them. Then they

sat down and waited for the arrival of their friend. He came two hours

after nightfall with a wallet stored with provisions, and told them that

he had regained the village unobserved. The attack had been repulsed,

but with severe loss to the defenders as well as the assailants; two

of their guards had been among the killed. The others had made a great

clamor over the escape of the prisoners, and had made a close search

throughout the village and immediately round it, for they were convinced

that their captives had not had the strength to go any distance.

He thought, however, that although they had professed the greatest

indignation, and had offered many threats as to the vengeance that

government would take upon the village, one of whose inhabitants, at

least, must have aided in the evasion of the prisoners, they would not

trouble themselves any further in the matter. They had already reaped a

rich harvest from the exhibition, and would divide among themselves the

share of their late comrades; nor was it at all improbable that if they

were to report the matter to the authorities they would themselves

get into serious trouble for not having handed over the prisoners

immediately after their capture.

For a fortnight the pilot nursed and fed the two midshipmen. He had

already provided them with native clothes, so that if by chance any

villagers should catch sight of them they would not recognize them as

the escaped white men. At the end of that time both the lads had almost

recovered from the effects of their sufferings. Jack, indeed, had picked

up from the first, but Percy for some days continued so weak and ill

that Jack had feared that he was going to have an attack of fever of

some kind. His companion's cheery and hopeful chat did as much good for

Percy as the nourishing food with which their friend supplied them, and

at the end of the fortnight he declared that he felt sufficiently strong

to attempt to make his way down to the coast.

The pilot acted as their guide. When they inquired about his wife, he

told them carelessly that she would remain with her kinsfolk, and would

travel on to Canton and join him there when she found an opportunity.

The journey was accomplished at night, by very short stages at first,

but by increasing distances as Percy gained strength. During the daytime

the lads lay hid in woods or jungles, while their companion went into

the village and purchased food. They struck the river many miles above

Canton, and the pilot, going down first to a village on its banks,

bargained for a boat to take him and two women down to the city.

The lads went on board at night and took their places in the little

cabin formed of bamboos and covered with mats in the stern of the boat,

and remained thus sheltered not only from the view of people in boats

passing up or down the stream, but from the eyes of their own boatmen.

After two days' journey down the river without incident, they arrived

off Canton, where the British fleet was still lying while negotiations

for peace were being carried on with the authorities at Pekin. Peeping

out between the mats, the lads caught sight of the English warships,

and, knowing that there was now no danger, they dashed out of the cabin,

to the surprise of the native boatmen, and shouted and waved their arms

to the distant ships.

In ten minutes they were alongside the Perseus, when they were hailed as

if restored from the dead. The pilot was very handsomely rewarded by the

English authorities for his kindness to the prisoners, and was highly

satisfied with the result of his proceedings, which more than doubled

the little capital with which he had retired from business. Jack

Fothergill and Percy Adcock declare that they have never since eaten

chicken without thinking of their Christmas fare on the morning of their

escape from the hands of the Chinese pirates.

THE END.