"TCHACK! TCHACK!"
"They'll give me some tea," thought Stan as, with head throbbing so that
he could not hold it up, he sank down in the place to which he had been
led, too much exhausted by all he had gone through to do more than
glance round and see that it was literally a cage, whose floor and bars
were of thick bamboos, opening upon a kind of yard from which came a
sickening odour.
That was all he could note in the gloom, feeling only too glad to sink
down against one side, which also seemed to be formed of bars. Then his
eyes closed and he fell into a kind of stupor, in which the whole of the
day's adventures passed before him, from the earliest start till he
staggered into his prison and heard the door banged to and fastened
behind him. There it all was again, seeming to be beaten into his head
with some great mallet with sickening reiteration, till sleep came after
burning hours of misery, and the beating upon his brain ceased in
oblivion.
Mingled with the thump, thump, thump, thump, as of his troubles being
driven into his head so that he should never forget them, he had some
consciousness of a door opening and a great red paper lantern appearing
through the wall, shining like the moon seen through a thick fog.
Then there was a bang as of some heavy pot being placed on the floor,
followed by another which splashed over his hand. Some one seemed to be
speaking to him in a hoarse, deep, guttural voice, followed by a surly
grunt; but he could not rouse himself sufficiently to answer what seemed
in his dream-like state to be questions in the Chinese tongue; while
directly after there was a tremendously loud rattling, such as might
have been produced by a great staff being drawn over bars. Then further
rattling, with shouts as if some one yelled the syllables "Ho, yo fi
yup, yup, yup!" close by his head, with the effect of producing other
sounds full of rage, snarling, squeaking, and squealing, while _bang!
bang! bang_!--it was as if some great cat, a tiger or leopard, were
bounding heavily about its cage.
Then came the rattling as of the great staff being drawn across the bars
again, a grunt or two, the banging of the heavy door, and silence.
It was to Stan as if he had been roused out of his trance-like sleep to
hear all this, as the great, ruddy, moon-like lantern burned more hotly
into his eyes; and then all was closed in darkness, silence, and
oblivion once more.
_Cock-a-doodle-doo--oo--oo_!
A long-drawn crow, hoarse and croaky as ever cochin-china fowl uttered
after heavily flapping its wings, and Stan was back in Old England,
dull, aching, stupidly drowsy, and in a confused way feeling that he was
by a farmyard with the window open.
But his eyelids did not part, and those of his brain seemed to be quite
dark still, for he had not the most remote conception of anything more.
And so he lay in a hutched-up, awkward position, with the back of his
head against some upright bamboos, without stirring. It was almost
dark, but the cool grey of the coming morning was filtering down into a
vile, close yard, and spreading slowly in through the bars of a great
cage, divided in two by the uprights against which the lad had sunk; and
as slowly as the light stole into the great cage, so stole in the
prisoner's power to think.
At last it began to seem--it can be called nothing else--that something
was fidgeting his hair about. At first there was a gentle touch or two
as if it were parted, and then something tickled close up to the crown,
and Stan gave his head a twitch, but he did not open his eyes.
The tickling sensation ceased, however, and he was slowly sinking back
into oblivion, when the fidgeting and tickling began again, making him
jerk his head.
Again the fidgeting feeling passed off, and he was nearly unconscious
once more, when he was aroused, and this time he opened his eyes
wonderingly, to grasp some notion of there being a softly diffused and
faint light gradually coming down in a sloping way through thick bars;
and then there was the tickling, and the stirring of his hair.
Wakefulness and reason were slowly asserting themselves now, making the
lad turn his head slightly on one side and try to look up.
He did so in a dreamy kind of belief that he was somewhere in a place
with a huge spider, one far bigger than he had ever imagined before;
that it was hanging from the ceiling; that it kept on lowering its legs
till they were near enough to touch his head; and that then it began to
softly stir his hair.
So Stan, after screwing his head sideways, raised one eye to the fullest
extent and looked wonderingly up for that great spider. But he did not
see it, for the simple reason that the spider was not there.
But he saw something else, which brought his full senses back in an
instant, making him utter a hoarse cry, and, scrambling up, bound right
across to the other side of the great bamboo cage into which he had been
thrust.
It was sufficiently startling, and must have had a similar effect upon
one older and sturdier than he.
For as he brought his eye to bear, there, just above his scalp, was
suspended what at the first glance through the dim light seemed to be
the head and neck of a large snake, softly dancing up and down before
descending to touch his hair. But that was only his first idea, for the
second glance was sufficient to make him grasp the fact that it was no
snake, but a long, thin-fingered hand with quivering, pliable fingers,
smooth below but hairy at the back, and at the end of a very long, thin,
hairy arm which had been thrust between two upright bamboos.
It was only momentary, for as Stan uttered his hoarse cry the hand
darted out of sight as rapidly as if it had been made of india-rubber,
to be followed by the sound of a bump as if its owner had made a bound
across the part of the divided cage in which Stan now stood with every
nerve quivering, and his brain actively at work bringing back the
incidents of the previous day.
"Another prisoner," thought Stan, and he shuddered with horror, for
slight as was the glance he had obtained, it was enough to raise up
plenty of horrors. The hand and arm were frightfully attenuated, and he
felt that if this were a fellow-prisoner, the poor creature must have
suffered the most terrible starvation to bring him to such a state. He
was a prisoner too, and so horrible were his feelings for the next few
moments that the confusion and semi-delirium of the previous night
threatened to return.
But after he had rested, his thoughts grew calmer again in the silence
and the soft grey light.
He was a prisoner, but an English prisoner, he felt, and the Chinese
guard would not dare to injure him.
He gazed rather wildly at the place from which he had leaped, to see
upright bamboos very close together, but with space enough between for a
very thin hand and arm to be thrust through; and now the disposition to
speak to one who must, whoever he was, be a fellow-sufferer came
uppermost.
But he did not speak; his thoughts took another direction, and he
mastered his position.
He was, in fact, in a great cage--such a one as might have been used by
a keeper of wild beasts for the dwelling of some animal.
The floor was, as before stated, composed of bamboo bars similar to
those which formed the front; and as the light broadened slightly, Stan
could just make out that there was a light wall only a few feet away,
and that the wall was continued upward some ten or a dozen feet.
Turning his eyes to the spot from which he had leaped, Stan swept the
open division again, noting the while that all was perfectly still. But
he could see nothing, till all at once he fancied that he detected the
tip of one of the thin fingers again; but at the slightest movement he
made, the finger, if it had been there, was withdrawn.
It was impossible to help a shuddering sensation creeping through him,
for there was something strangely uncanny about that hand seen in the
dim twilight; and the thought of being so close a fellow-prisoner of so
weird a personage grew more and more repellent as the utter silence
continued.
But there was one satisfactory thing to make matters more bearable, and
that was the fact that the light was steadily increasing; and as, after
trying hard to penetrate the mysterious screen, Stan once more looked
about his prison, and above all examined the doorway through which he
had been thrust, he caught sight of two clumsy-looking pots, which,
though the produce of the land which gave us porcelain, were of such
rough, coarse earthenware that it would have been considered too rough
for flower-pots at home.
But the prisoner's throat felt parched and his lips hot and cracked,
while a rapid inspection proved to him that one of the vessels contained
water.
It was no time for being nice. Obeying the natural craving, Stan sank
upon his knees, raised the pot with both hands, and the next minute he
was drinking deeply of the cool, grateful fluid, which trickled down
with a sensation that was delightful, and he had drunk long and deeply
before the questioning thought came:
"Is it clean?"
He set the pot down again close to the wall, and shuddered slightly, for
the dank, cool morning air was distinctly tainted with a horrible odour
which he believed came from the yard.
Putting all suggestive thoughts from him, he turned his attention to the
other pot, and saw that a couple of sticks rose above one side; and to
test whether his surmise was correct, he took them both in hand, raised
them towards the faint light, and found that he had judged rightly, for
he brought up a lump of boiled rice adhering to the chopsticks, which he
dropped suddenly on hearing a faint noise to his left.
There was no doubt about the cause; for there, looking more weird and
strange than at first, was the limb which had first startled him, with
the long, thin hand outstretched, and the fingers twitching in a most
unmistakable fashion.
A sense of relief came over Stan now, for he saw at once that this was
not the half-mummified hand of some starving prisoner, but that of a
large ape; and without hesitation the lad stooped down again, seized the
chopsticks, and scooping up with them as much of the wet rice as would
stay on, he stepped across to the extended hand, which closed round the
food on the instant and disappeared between the bars.
_Tchack_! came in a low, quick utterance, followed by other sounds which
plainly indicated what was becoming of the rice.
"I can't eat that stuff," thought Stan; and visions of one of his
customary breakfasts floated before his eyes, in company with wondering
ideas about how long it would be before any one came and he would have
an opportunity to appeal or order the man to put him in communication
with some one in authority.
"It's out of ignorance," he said to himself. "They dare not keep me
here."
_Tchack_! came again, this time in quite a cheerful tone, and Stan's
thoughts were again diverted. His face crinkled into a smile, for he
felt that this was a fellow-prisoner with whom he could make friends at
once; and without hesitation he dug out some more rice with the
chopsticks, and dabbed the lump into the once more extended hand.
"Is it good, old chap?" he said in a friendly tone; and for response
came:
_Tchacker_!
"Monkey pidgin--eh?" said Stan as the hand disappeared, leaving some wet
grains sticking to the bamboo bars, a fact which resulted in another
hand appearing on the prisoner's side and the attenuated fingers
cleaning off every grain with wonderful celerity before it disappeared.
"Let's see what you're like," said Stan, putting his face to the bars,
to find that there was light enough now to show him a similar division
to his own, with a dumpy, solidly built monkey squatting down on the far
side, nursing the handful of rice against its broad chest, and picking
it up rapidly grain by grain.
As Stan looked through, the creature raised its head, which seemed
joined without neck to its chest, and displayed a pair of keen-looking,
very human eyes, peering at him from beneath their straight, overhanging
brows; and as they twinkled brightly, there was a third flash from a
double set of very white teeth, which were displayed in a grin.
Then the eating went on as if there were not a moment to lose, till Stan
fell back half-startled, for as the last white grain disappeared behind
the thin, tightly drawn lips, the animal rose upon a pair of short,
crooked legs, sprang at the bars, to hold on with its feet, and once
more a long, thin, spidery arm and hand came through.
"Hungry--eh?" said Stan, half-annoyed with himself for his display of
dread.
_Tchack_! was the reply, and the fingers curved upward in so suggestive
a way that Stan raised the pot and poured into the palm as much as it
would hold.
In went the hand again, and Stan stood holding the pot against his
breast, listening to the sound made by the monkey eating.
The natural result was that the odour given off by the wet rice rose to
the prisoner's nostrils; and it was not enticing, for it was not unlike
that of wet clay. But the holder knew that it was rice, and that it was
eatable, though unappetising, and it awakened in him a feeling of
longing consequent upon its being many hours since he had touched food;
so, taking up some of the sticky grains on one of the chopsticks, he
raised it to his lips, with the result that they curled slightly in
disgust.
But nature was hungry, and not to be disappointed from any
fastidiousness displayed by a pair of lips, nor yet by the disgust of a
tongue. It was only the first step that cost, and after making an
attempt to eat, Stan went on, to find that the mess, though anything but
nice, was satisfying; and he was busy at the second suggestion of a
mouthful when he had to draw back sharply, for like a flash the weird
hand darted out, grabbed the edge of the pot, and tugged it towards the
bars.
But Stan's arm was round the vessel, and his withdrawal carried it away
out of the animal's reach.
"Manners!" cried Stan; and he was at once attacked by what seemed to be
meant for a volley of reproaches, in tones which somehow seemed familiar
and connected with the troubles of the past night, especially as they
were accompanied by sounds caused by the animal bounding backwards and
forwards, hurling itself from the division bars to those which faced the
yard, till _bang! bang! bang_! came a tremendous beating against the
door, followed by one angry roar of Chinese adjurations.
_Wow_! came in a piteous tone from beyond the bars, as the noise outside
ceased; and directly after the hand was thrust out, palm upwards, and
the fingers twitching.
Stan paid no heed for a few moments, but stood waiting for the door to
be opened, ready to attack his jailer, whoever he might be, with such
Chinese as he knew; but all remained silent, and a feeling of angry
indignation swept over the lad, enraged now as the knowledge of his
position flashed through him.
"Insolent brutes!" he said half-aloud. "I'm a foreign devil, am I? And
I'm to be shut up in the next cage to a great monkey, am I? What do you
mean? To make a show of me? Oh, it's unbearable!"
_Tchack_!
"You think so too, do you?" cried Stan aloud.
_Tchacker_!
"You think it's worse? Well done. You're a wiser monkey than I
thought, then. There, old chap--fellow-prisoner--you shan't find me a
bad friend. Here, peg away!" And half-laughing the while--a laugh full
of mocking indignation--Stan thrust the pot down close to the bars. In
an instant one long arm was holding it tight against them like a band of
bone and muscle, and the other was working to and from it like an
animated spoon.
"Poor brute!" said Stan softly, and he raised one hand with extended
index-finger to touch the hook-like arm.
_Ur-r-r-r-r_! came in a savage, malicious snarl, and the free hand came
down spang upon his wrist, seizing it with startling violence, and
snatching it towards the bars, against which it struck heavily.
There was a momentary struggle, during which in imagination the lad saw
his fingers being crushed between two trap-like jaws, and then he was
free.
"Why, you savage beast!" he cried fiercely.
_Tchack_! said the monkey; and the hand was going and coming calmly
enough now, and almost without a sound.
"Humph!" grunted Stan. "My fault, I suppose. Thought I was going to
take away its food;" and he stood rubbing his wrist gently where it had
been bruised against the bamboo bar, and watched the monkey's hands till
the last grain had been cleared out of the pot, which was released and
allowed to fall over upon its side.
"Finished?" said Stan, good-humouredly now, for the pain had passed
away.
_Tchack_!
The sound--cry, ejaculation, whatever it may be called--was evidently a
reply, and as it was uttered the hand came out towards the prisoner once
more.
"Why, you hungry brute!" said Stan. "No more. All gone," he cried; and
he stooped down to take away the pot.
It was incautiously done, and in an instant the animal's fingers had
closed round his hand tightly. For the moment Stan was about to obey
his natural instinct and tear his hand away, but it struck him that the
grasp was not meant inimically, and that even if it were he must be the
stronger of the two, and could prevent his strange adversary from
dragging his arm sufficiently through the bars to make use of its teeth.
So he stood fast, and found that, in place of tearing hard and trying
to drag the hand it had secured through the bars, it was contenting
itself with pressing the hand firmly and nestling its own fingers within
his grasp, as if the sensation were satisfactory and it enjoyed the
proximity of a companion.
"Want to be friends?" said the lad quietly.
_Snar-r-r-r-r_! went the animal savagely, snatching its hand away, and
with one bound leaping to the other side of its cage.
The reason was made plain the next moment. Its hearing was the keener,
and it first heard approaching footsteps.
The next minute great bars were being rattled down from the door, which
was thrown open, and three rough-looking Chinese soldiers entered; the
first going straight to the barred division and drawing the shaft of his
spear cleverly along the bamboos before thrusting the butt through and
making prods and savage thrusts with it at the wretched monkey, which
shrieked and chattered and bounded about, with noise and turmoil which
brought back vividly now the strange sounds Stan seemed to have dreamed
in the confused and feverish wanderings of the night.