When Ping Wang returned, he locked the door and signed to his friends to
come and sit in the middle of the room.
'I have bought some offerings for us to make to the ghosts,' he said,
and produced from his pocket a handful of pieces of coloured paper.
'It doesn't look very satisfying food,' Charlie remarked, 'but I dare
say that it is good enough for ghosts.'
'This is not food,' Ping Wang replied--and, as he spoke, he took from
the heap several round pieces of paper--'it is money. Our ghosts,
according to the belief of our wise men, lead a life, in some invisible
world, which is very much like what they lived here; but, as they don't
appear to have a mint, we offer them money--this money. To-night we
shall have the pleasure of burning those pieces of round paper, which my
countrymen believe pass in the form of money into the ghosts' possession
as they disappear from our sight. We will not, however, confine our
gifts to money. Here are houses, carts, wheelbarrows, horses, and suits
of clothes, all made of paper, to be burnt. The ghosts, my countrymen
think, will find them very useful.'
Ping Wang was now in the humour for talking, and held his friends
interested nearly the whole of the afternoon. Just before darkness came
on they had some tea, and then paid the landlord and departed.
The people by now were flocking, or had already gone, to that part of
the town where the feast was to be given, and consequently the Pages and
Ping Wang found the track round the ten-foot wall of Chin Choo's house
almost deserted. For this they were very thankful indeed, as it gave
them a better opportunity for examining the wall.
'This will be the place,' Ping Wang said when they had gone about
half-way round the wall. He pointed to several holes in it just large
enough to insert the toes or fingers.
After taking note of the surroundings so that they would be able to find
the spot again, they continued their journey until they reached the
place from which they had started.
'Now for the feast,' Ping Wang said, quietly, and they started off in
the direction of the ghosts' feast. It was a merry, jovial crowd they
joined. Most of the people were carrying provisions as well as offerings
for the ghosts, and Ping Wang, not wishing that he and his friends
should be conspicuous, purchased three legs of pork. Then they walked on
again, but, before long, came to a large and excited crowd gathered
round a poster on the outside wall of a joss-house or temple. Ping Wang,
leaving the Pages in a dark corner, hurried forward to read the placard,
and, to his horror, found that his fears were realised. It was an
anti-foreign poster, and the following is what he read:--
'We publicly announce that the foreigners who entered our Middle Kingdom
many years ago have made plans to seize our territory. They ignore the
teachings of Confucius, and have already taught the people their false
religion, and have practised their sorceries upon them. Now the
right-minded and superior men of our land are boiling with rage at the
harm which the foreigners have done, and are determined to kill them.
Every foreigner must be killed, and every house, shop, and church which
they inhabit must be destroyed. Any one who shelters a foreigner will be
killed, and all converts to the foreign religion who do not recant
immediately will be executed. Kill the foreigners who are hoping to
seize our country and introduce their barbarian customs! Kill the men
who have made friends with them! Kill the foreigners! Kill the
foreigners!'
Ping Wang turned away. He knew that the placard would have the desired
effect of rousing the people to a state of frenzy. Already hundreds of
people were shouting, 'Kill the foreigners!'
The cry was, by this time, familiar to Charlie and Fred, and there was
no need for them to ask Ping Wang what was printed on the poster.
By a slight movement of his head, Ping Wang signed to the Pages to
follow him. He walked a few yards down the crowded street, fearing every
moment that his friends would be detected by the mob and killed before
his eyes, and then turned into a narrow lane, dark and almost deserted.
The people had evidently flocked into the main road. He sighed with
thankfulness, and, having glanced round and seen that the Pages were
following, he quickened his speed. It was some years since he had
traversed the bye-streets of his native town, but they were not changed
to any great extent, and he had no difficulty in finding his way. He led
his friends through street after street--gloomy and squalid places, but
happily deserted by the residents. At last they came into a main road
which led to the town-gates; not the ones at which they had entered
early that morning, but those on the other side. He could see them in
the distance. They were open, and he was tempted to lead his friends
straight out into the country, and away from the danger which threatened
them. At any rate, it seemed to him that he would be doing an unfriendly
action if he did not tell them that escape was still easy.
'There are the gates,' he said in an undertone. 'Shall we go out and
hurry off to Barton?'
'No,' Charlie said, firmly; 'not until we have got your treasure.'
'But do you know what was on that poster?'
'We have a very good idea, I fancy. An order to kill all foreigners, was
it not?'
'Yes. Shall we escape?'
'No. Hurry on to Chin Choo's.'
Ping Wang again led them through narrow, dirty streets until they caught
sight of Chin Choo's house. When they were about fifty yards from it,
they saw the gates thrown open and the mandarin's palanquin borne out.
From the shouts of the man with the whip who ran ahead of it, they knew
that Chin Choo was inside.
'That is good,' Ping Wang whispered. 'Now that Chin Choo is out, the
servants will start gambling and smoking opium. We need not fear being
disturbed by them.'
In less than five minutes they arrived at the spot where they had
decided to start their undertaking. They looked up and down the road,
and, seeing no one about, Ping Wang climbed the wall.
'It is very easy,' he said, when he reached the top; 'the drop on the
other side is only about six feet.'
He disappeared into Chin Choo's grounds and Fred at once scaled the
wall. Charlie was about to follow him, and had already climbed five or
six feet from the ground, when he heard some one approaching, and,
before he was able to decide whether to jump down or continue climbing,
his left foot was seized and tugged so viciously that he came down with
a rush on top of his assailant.
In an instant he was on his feet again, ready to defend himself from any
further attack. Looking down at the person on whom he had fallen, he saw
to his astonishment that it was the cart-woman who had caused him so
much annoyance before.
She lay glaring at Charlie, speechless and panting. But he had barely
recognised her when he heard a shout of 'Foreigners!' and looking round
saw the woman's husband running at him. He jumped quickly aside, and to
defend himself snatched up one of the legs of pork, which had been left
on the ground.
He rushed at the Chinaman, who, being a great coward, immediately turned
about and fled. But Charlie was upon him in a moment, and with the leg
of pork dealt him a blow on the back of the head, which sent him
sprawling on the ground. A knife fell from his hand and Charlie at once
seized it. The woman, seeing what had befallen her husband, scrambled to
her feet and toddled to him shouting, 'Foreigners!' as she went. To
prevent her being heard Fred clapped his hand over her mouth, and, in
spite of her biting it, kept it there.
Meanwhile Ping Wang and Fred had scrambled back, hearing the noise. They
joined Charlie, and between them managed to tie the Chinaman's pigtail
round the woman's neck, so that neither could move without difficulty.
'Now let us leave them,' Ping Wang said, and they started running. But
before they had gone many yards they heard the Chinaman and his wife
shouting frantically, 'Foreigners! Kill the foreigners!'
Their shouts were heard by others, also, and a man rushed forward to
stop them, but Charlie raised his knife threateningly and the fellow
ran. Nevertheless, he too shouted 'Foreigners!' and, gathering together
some friends, started in pursuit. At every few yards others joined in
the chase.
'Where are you going to take us?' Charlie asked of Ping Wang, after
glancing back at the mob pursuing them.
'To the gates,' Ping Wang answered. 'This is our way.'
They turned into one of the narrow streets which they had traversed
earlier in the evening, and, as they ran at full speed along it, here
and there men came out of their houses to see what the noise meant. They
heard the shouts of 'Foreigners!' but the average Chinaman has a great
respect for his skin, and consequently not one of the men who saw the
Pages and Ping Wang rush by attempted to stop them.
'I'm done up,' Ping Wang gasped before long; 'our only chance is to
hide.'
The next street was a short one, and the Pages were surprised after what
Ping Wang had said about being tired to see him sprint along it. They
followed close on his heels, and when he stopped at the end of it, they
did the same. Instead of crossing the wide road which faced them, Ping
Wang turned to the right, and after walking quickly for about thirty
yards made another turn to the right which brought them into a narrow
street running parallel with the one down which they had sprinted. There
was no one visible; all the residents were evidently at the feast. Ping
Wang stopped at the second house and pressed his hand against the door,
which opened. He peeped into the place, and, seeing no one, entered
stealthily, the Pages following quickly and equally cautiously. As soon
as they were in, Ping Wang shot the bolt of the door. It was a dark and
dirty room in which the fugitives found themselves, and by the faint
light of a lantern they could see that it was a poverty-stricken place.
(_Continued on page 374._)
[Illustration: "Charlie snatched up one of the legs of pork."]
[Illustration: "He steered his balloon round the Eiffel Tower."]
CRUISERS IN THE CLOUDS.
XI.--MODERN AERONAUTS AND THEIR AIR-SHIPS.
At an electrical exhibition held at Paris in 1881, most of the sightseers
were very interested in a little model balloon which had been made by
two famous balloonists, Messrs. Gaston and Albert Tissandier. It was
quite unlike any balloon ever seen before. The silk bag for containing
the gas was long and pointed at either end, and floated horizontally in
the air, so that at a little distance it was not unlike a fish without a
tail, though a sheet of canvas, shaped like a fish's tail, was placed
beneath the balloon at the rear end to be used as a rudder. Suspended by
a number of slender ropes, which met under the centre of the gas-bag,
were the car for the sailors and a small electric engine for driving a
powerful screw, the wings of which striking against the air would propel
the 'ship' at the rate of some nine feet a second. The baby balloon may
be said to have set the example for all modern air-ships, though others
something like it had been built before. Two years later Messrs. Tissandier
made a large copy of their model, and ascended on October 8th, 1883. As
the screw succeeded in driving the balloon forward at a greater speed
than that at which the wind was blowing, they were able to steer a
course, just as the steamboats on the St. Lawrence River are able to
shoot the rapids in safety by putting on full steam and over-racing the
current. Messrs. Tissandier repeated their experiment in November, 1883,
and actually drove their balloon against the wind for a short distance.
As night overtook them while on this triumphant journey they did not
attempt to return by balloon to Paris, but descended in the country two
hours after leaving the capital.
Such was the first successful effort to steer a balloon, and it was not
long before many aeronauts were following in their steps. In 1884 the
air-ship 'France,' with Captains Krebs and Renard on board, was watched
by a large crowd as it sailed from Meudon, near Paris, and after a
wonderful flight came back against the wind to the place from which it
started. Five more similar voyages were made, and in each the 'France'
showed great obedience to the rudder and sail. But all these experiments
were very expensive, and involved great danger. It was found, moreover,
that the machinery necessary for driving the screw could not be made
light enough to be really suitable. Thus there was not much heard about
steerable balloons until some years later, when M. Santos Dumont began
his cruises--and many strange adventures he has had.
Instead of the electric engine used by the Tissandiers, he employed the
small petrol engine out of a motor tricycle. With this he started on
his aerial voyages. But before we follow him we must look at his ship
for a moment. From each end of the long balloon he allows a cord to
hang, supporting a small weight. These are to enable him to alter his
course upward or downward. If he wishes to travel upwards, he pulls into
the car, by means of a thin cord, the weight which is hanging in front.
This, of course, allows the head of the balloon to rise, at the same
time changing the angle of the screw in the rear so that it drives the
balloon upward. When he pulls the rear weight into the car, the reverse
takes place. The car, the engine, and the screw are all suspended from
the silk envelope by piano wires, so that it looks, from the ground, as
though M. Santos Dumont were moving about in a spider's web.
On one of the first cruises the balloon behaved very well while floating
at a great height, but when he descended into denser atmosphere, the gas
contracted in the long thin bag, and he saw with horror that it was
doubling up 'like a pocket-knife.' This made some of the cords so much
tighter than others that at any moment they might cut through the silk
and send him to the earth like a stone. Yet it was no use throwing out
ballast, though to rise into thinner atmosphere might have put the
balloon right again. 'I _must_ descend sooner or later,' thought the
aeronaut, 'so why not now?'
Beneath him lay a grassy stretch of country on which a number of boys
were flying their kites. As he rapidly drew nearer, M. Santos Dumont,
leaning from his basket, called to them to seize the guide-rope, which
had already reached the ground, and _run with it as fast as they could
against the wind_. The boys were sharp-witted, and obeyed at once. The
speed of the descent was checked by the rush of wind, and the voyager
landed in safety.
Misadventures of this sort have only increased the keenness with which
M. Santos Dumont pursues his studies. The principal triumph he has yet
secured was won some three years ago, when he steered his balloon round
the Eiffel Tower and back to the starting-point. It only meant a
distance of some fourteen miles in all, but it carried him to fame and
honour in half an hour, and the Government of his native country
(Brazil) had a gold medal struck to commemorate the event. Never before
had the power of navigating the skies been proved so thoroughly. But it
was not accomplished without several unsuccessful attempts. On one
occasion the engine stopped when the winning-post was only a few yards
away. Another time, the balloon lost gas through a faulty valve, and
some of the suspension wires slackened so much that they caught in the
whirling screw, which was beating itself into shreds. The traveller
instantly stopped the engine, and found himself the next moment drifting
dangerously near to the Eiffel Tower. It was safer under the
circumstances to let the ship sink, and a few minutes later, like a
vessel being driven on the rocks, the aeronaut's car crashed against the
roof of a large hotel, the framework of the air-ship lodging itself at
last over a deep courtyard, with its occupant in mid-air. From this
perilous position he was rescued by a party of firemen. In each of
these misadventures M. Santos Dumont reads some lesson for the
improvement of his ships, so that the day _may_ come when he will be
able to show us an aerial vessel in which even timid people might travel
without anxiety.
THE SLATE'S STORY.
Said the Pencil to the Slate,
'We've been strangers, sir, of late,
And 'tis many weeks, I fancy, since we met;
There was surely something wrong
To have parted us so long;
But _if_ I've heard the reason, I forget.'
Then the Slate looked blank, and said,
With a voice of pain and dread,
'Ah, yes! for days we've both been in disgrace,
For Master Johnny Scott
Shunned the lesson he had got,
And used us both to draw a funny face.'
'Now, of course, I needn't say
That such deeds will never pay--
A fact which Johnny realises now--
For the picture that he drew,
With a sunny smile or two,
Was rubbed out with a frown upon his brow.
'And the teacher said that day
We should both be put away
Till Johnny understood his duty plain,
And _that_ he now has done,
For I hear his laugh of fun:
The cloud has passed, and--here we are again!'
PUZZLERS FOR WISE HEADS.
16.--ANAGRAMS: NAMES OF FAMOUS MONARCHS.
1. A deer next; lag at her.
2. Real name C. H.
3. Quiz! he bet an eel.
4. A racer! Shut in foes.
5. I. E. into tan tear me.
6. Part coal E.
C. J. B.
[_Answer on page 395._]
ANSWER TO PUZZLE ON PAGE 339.
15.--W a l t e R
O A
L i n n e T
V I
E r m e l O
R C
H a w a i I
A N
M e d u s A
P T
T a h i t I
O O
N o r m a N
Right post--Wolverhampton.
Left post--Ratiocination.
Round 1. Walter.
Round 2. Linnet.
Round 3. Ermelo.
Round 4. Hawaii.
Round 5. Medusa.
Round 6. Tahiti.
Round 7. Norman.
PRESENCE OF MIND.
A general had been very unfortunate in a battle, and his defeat so
preyed on his mind that he lost his reason. He had to be kept confined
in a room in his own house, and an attendant was always near to wait
upon him, and to prevent him from doing harm. One day, an officer who
had been paying him a friendly visit happened to leave his sword and
scabbard in the general's room. As soon as the officer had gone, the
general seized the sword. Then he rushed at the man who attended him,
saying, 'Now I can cut off your head.' The attendant answered, 'Oh, sir,
anybody can cut off one head; it would be a stroke more worthy of you to
cut off two. Wait a moment till I go for another.' To this the general
consented, and the man quickly made his escape from the room. Needless
to say, he returned with help and overcame the madman; he owed his life
to his ready presence of mind in this strange peril.
ANIMAL MAKESHIFTS.
True Anecdotes.
V.--FRIENDS IN NEED.
The goodwill shown by one animal to another in time of need is an
example to us all. Very lowly creatures are able to understand, and are
ready to help each other like brothers, with no other motive than their
comrade's need, and no other reward than the power to relieve it.
There is a kind of beetle which makes a ball or pellet of manure, in the
middle of which it places its egg. This it rolls towards a hole
previously dug, and drops it in. One of these beetles was seen painfully
toiling to roll its little ball out of a cart-rut, into which it had
tumbled; he was trying with all his tiny might, but all in vain. After
pushing it up the side a great many times, the ball rolling back again,
he went off to a manure-heap close by, and came back with two other
beetles, his neighbours. All three set to work shoulder to shoulder, and
between them shoved the ball out of the rut. Having done as they would
be done by, the assistants then returned to their own business.
Sir Frederick Doyle, while watching some wasps eating plums on his
trees, knocked one down without killing it. The wasp fell into a large
spider's web below. To his surprise a fellow-wasp instantly flew down to
the rescue. He poised himself close to the spider's web, whirling his
wings till they looked like glittering rainbows, so fast that their
shape could not be seen. This was to prevent them from being caught in
the sticky web, and all the time he was striking deft and rapid blows at
the threads that held his friend fast. At length he cut him out, but the
poor rescued insect fell down to die upon the ground. The observer adds:
'I was so much struck with this proof of a heart as well as a brain in
the case of wasps that I not only spared the "V.C." wasp who rescued his
friend, but also the rest of the troop, and left the plums to their
fate.'
The weasel, that terrible foe to rabbits and rats, is not famous for
good temper, yet a pretty tale is told of one of them. A gentleman was
riding home, when his horse trod on a weasel, which was unable to get
out of the way in time. The poor little animal's spine seemed to be
hurt, and it could not move its hind legs. Presently another weasel came
out of the hedge by the roadside, and went up to the injured one. After
carefully inspecting it, the second weasel picked up the first and
carried it to the side of the road, out of the way of the traffic, where
he gently laid it down.
[Illustration: "All three set to work shoulder to shoulder."]
Wild elephants seem unable to bear the sight of suffering friends
without an attempt to save them, and in particular the wild herds of
these noble beasts love and protect their leaders. When pressed by
hunters, they place him in the midst and crowd in front of him, eager to
save his life at the expense of their own. Professor Romanes gives an
instance of a fine 'tusker' which, when badly wounded, was promptly
surrounded by his companions. They supported him between their
shoulders, and actually succeeded in covering his retreat to the forest.
Birds are very generous towards each other in these ways, particularly
such as live in communities together. If one rook of a colony gets into
trouble, all the rest are worried about him directly. A great mob of
rooks, living in trees near the river Irwell, were seen chasing each
other playfully on the wing, dancing idly with joy and pleasure at the
coming spring, when one of them accidentally knocked against another,
and fell into the river below. In an instant a chorus of distress was
raised; the birds hovered over their friend, as he struggled in the
water, with cries of sorrow and alarm, and seemed to be giving him
advice in some fashion of their own. At any rate, urged by their voices,
he sprang into the air, and by one strong effort managed to reach a
point of rock. The shouts of joy at his safety echoed far and wide.
[Illustration: "The robin came back with a worm."]
Much tenderness is shown by grown-up birds to helpless orphans in need
of their aid. A redbreast was mentioned lately in _Science Gossip_ as
doing a deed of kindness towards a young starling one bitterly cold
morning. The starling had left the nest, and was sitting frightened and
shivering in a cellar, whither it had crept, too weak and hungry to fly.
In vain kindly human hands offered it bread; it refused all food, till a
little hungry robin came down on his daily visit to the house and spied
the baby-bird, sitting on one leg, calling his absent mother. Off he
went, and soon came darting back with a worm, which was gratefully
accepted. When the beggar-bird had been fed, both flew away. Seagulls
have been seen assisting a wounded comrade over the wave, and a crane,
seeing one of its fellows shot, placed itself under the sufferer in such
a way as to prevent his falling to the ground; then, weighted as he was,
he bore him away beyond gun-shot.
In sickness, too, not only monkeys, dogs, cats, and the higher animals,
but the lowest also, as well as birds, show good feeling. On a salt lake
in Utah lived an old and completely blind pelican, which was very fat,
'and must,' says Darwin, 'have been well fed for a long while by his
companions.' Crows feed their blind friends, and so do rats, and a case
is on record of a barn-door cock who did the same thing. These and
similar facts, which could be multiplied by thousands, prove how
beautiful a spirit is that which our great Creator breathed into even
the humblest of His creatures, and how worthy, for His sake, they are of
our reverence and regard.
EDITH CARRINGTON.
[Illustration: "They stumbled along, supporting the stranger as best
they could."]
IN THE SNOW.
'Step out, Jack! There's a mile yet before we get to the station.'
'Yes; and a mile in this snow counts for three!' answered Jack. 'But we
have nearly an hour for it. We shall catch the train right enough; but
it is a heavy snow-storm, and no mistake!' And then the two young
fellows plodded resolutely on.
It was Christmas Eve, and they were on their way to catch the mail-train
to town, and were looking forward to a right merry time with their
people at home. But somehow to-day everything seemed against them. First
of all, they were detained beyond time at the bank, in which they both
were clerks, and so missed the last train to town from their little
branch station. There was just time, however, for them to catch a train
on the main line, but to do this they had to take a short cut through
Lord Ravensmere's woods, and the thick snow having covered the paths,
they lost their way several times, and this, of course, delayed them
again.
However, the walk was nearly over; the station lamps could be seen
twinkling in the valley below, and the young fellows were hurrying on,
when they heard a faint cry, 'Help! help!' coming seemingly from the
wood alongside.
They stopped, and listened. Again came the cry, 'Help! By the big oak!'
Both made a dash for the oak. It was but a few paces off; and there,
almost hidden in the deep snow, lay a young fellow of about their own
age.
'I'm Lord Ravensmere's son. Take me up to the Castle, if you can,' he
said, feebly. 'I'm done!' And, having said this, he fainted away, and
lay like dead on the snowy path.
'The Castle! That's a mile off. He will freeze to death if we leave him
here and go for help,' said Jack, the elder of the two lads.
'We must carry him. We can do it between us,' said Ralph; 'but--I say,
old fellow, we shall miss our train, and have to return to those dreary
lodgings of ours for Christmas!'
Jack nodded, and then, without another word, the two lads lifted the
unconscious youth, and somehow, with interlaced hands to form a seat,
they stumbled along that snowy mile to the Castle, supporting the
stranger between them as best they could.
By the time they had reached the Lodge, both Jack and Ralph were
thoroughly exhausted with their exertions; but here help was at hand.
The Earl himself was there, and with him quite a band of grooms and
keepers, all about to start in different directions, to look for the
young heir.
The old man's gratitude to the young clerks was simply unbounded. He
insisted on their spending the night at the Castle, and here, dressed in
some of the young heir's suits, they sat down to what Jack afterwards
described as a Lord Mayor's banquet; and, later on, in the drawing-room,
Lady Ravensmere herself, with tears in her eyes, thanked them warmly for
saving her son, and told them they should never forget what they had
done.
The Earl himself drove the lads to the station next morning, so they did
not miss the Christmas dinner with their friends, after all.
AFLOAT ON THE DOGGER BANK.
A Story of Adventure on the North Sea and in China.
(_Continued from page 367._)