"THE UPROAR WAS TREMENDOUS."
That day passed wearily away, but there were a couple more visits from
the jailers, who looked at the prisoner curiously before going back.
At the second visit they brought more rice and water--nothing more--and
to all Stan's questions about Wing, the mandarin, and the merchant to
whom he had sent a message, there was nothing but a dull, stolid,
exasperating stare, and then once more he was left.
Twice over there was the cracking and tearing sound as if the monkey was
working away at the wood, but with darkness all was silent within the
gate-tower. Plenty of sounds arose from outside, but the prison was
evidently right at the back, and the trampling and voices heard from
time to time seemed far away.
That night sleep was long in coming, for Stan had much thinking to do,
and he carefully examined his prison while the monkey clung to the bars
asleep. As far as he could make out, there was not much prospect of
escape. By working hard Stan felt that he could perhaps have succeeded
in getting through into the monkey's partition, but nothing would
apparently be gained by that, and he sank into a moody fit, full of
discontent at his ill-fortune, wishing that he had refused to come up
the country, and that he had stayed with father and uncle; ending by
working himself up into a low, despondent state, from which he was
released by sleep.
Three days dragged their slow course along without change. Plenty of
soldiers came in with the jailers to stare at him, and from time to time
parties of men and women were admitted to the narrow yard, where they
divided themselves between staring at him and the monkey, till the lad
grew at times half-maddened.
"Oh," he groaned to himself, "the miserable, conceited brutes! To be
treated like a curiosity! I believe they look upon me as no better than
that monkey. Well," he added mockingly, "it's only fair. I don't look
upon them as being as good. Poor wretch! How every one teases and
ill-uses it! I wish he'd do one of the miserable cowardly wretches some
harm."
But as time went on in a horribly monotonous state of imprisonment, Stan
noted that, in spite of the way in which the soldiery prodded and struck
at the poor beast with their spear-shafts, it seemed less vicious. When
he and the monkey were free from interruption, its great delight was to
come to the bars of the cage and thrust out its long, thin arm, while if
Stan would take its hand it was perfectly still and happy.
What it was doing up by the top of the bamboos Stan could not make out,
but from the beautifully white, sharp state of its two great rows of
teeth, the lad came to the conclusion that it was following the example
of carnivorous animals and sharpening and cleaning them upon the
woodwork; but after that hurried visit from the men when Stan first
heard the cracking and splintering noise, they came no more save at
regular times, when they made sure that he was safe, and treated all his
attempts to make himself understood as if he were some lower-class
animal kept for show.
And during the next two days this seemed to be more and more the case,
for the soldiers kept on ushering in common-looking country-people, till
at one time the yard was nearly full of gaping spectators, for whose
delectation the monkey would be sent bounding about its cage, flying up
the bars in front to avoid the shaft of some spear thrust in brutally,
but, in spite of rapid strokes, rarely striking it. For the active
little creature made prodigious leaps, or swung itself from side to side
by its long, thin, muscular arms; and as often as not it scrambled up
the partition bamboos to take refuge in the corner farthest from the
front, to hold on in full view of Stan, keeping itself in position close
to the roof by clinging with both arms round a couple of the bamboos,
its head being thrust away in the extreme angle.
There it would stick, well out of reach of the soldier who played
showman, till the spectators were turned out of the yard, when it would
suddenly snatch its head out of its nook, turning it sharply to look
down and listen, keeping quite motionless and on the _qui vive_ to hide
itself ostrich fashion if there was another sound; but if not, it would
hold on by the two bamboos with all four hands and shake them savagely,
making them rattle again, snarling and chattering savagely at its
fellow-prisoner, and snapping its sharp ivory trap-jaws as if to show
how it would bite if it had a chance, before uttering its favourite cry,
_tchack_!
"Poor old chap!" Stan always said. "I should like to see you get loose
among them."
No sooner had he spoken than the quaint-looking little creature loosened
its hold slightly and slid down the two bars, to squat at the bottom and
thrust one hand into Stan's compartment, reaching in as far as possible
for it to be taken, when it held on tightly, drooping its head as if
enjoying the sympathy shown for it. But not for long. Suddenly drawing
its hand back, it began to trot like a dog about its cage, to keep on
picking up, examining, and smelling the scraps of food and fruit that
had been thrown in by the people, stopping to eat some tempting piece,
before scrambling up the bars again to the corner nearest the front,
where the cracking and tearing noise went on again in the part of the
cage beyond the reach of Stan's eyes.
There had been more visitors than usual, with a fresh jailer to play the
part of showman, and while some of the people stood gaping stupidly at
Stan, the monkey was hunted about till those who watched it were tired,
when it took refuge out of reach, refusing to come down.
Upon this the party shifted their attention to Stan, joining the rest in
their miserably stupid, gaping stare, which exasperated the lad into
imitating the monkey's tactics and turning his back in the far corner,
but of course on the floor.
Instead of doing good, Stan found it result in harm, for a most
irritating form of annoyance began, the people beginning to take aim and
pelt him with oranges, bananas, and pieces of bread-cake; all of which
the prisoner, who was simmering with wrath, ignored, declining to make a
spectacle of himself, and remaining quite motionless till he felt a
heavy dig in his back.
This made him turn sharply, to find that his fresh custodian was
reaching in as far as he could, holding his spear by the extreme end of
the shaft, and poking at him with his cheek close against the bars and
one hand extended to the full extent of his arm.
"Beast!" growled Stan, with a jerk forward, as he flung out his arm; and
the next moment, as much to his own surprise as to that of his jailer,
he had caught hold of the spear-head and jerked the weapon out of the
man's hand.
The little crowd uttered a yell of delight and excitement, while the
soldier burst forth into a torrent of bad--Chinese--language, leaping
about, shaking his fist at the prisoner, and evidently threatening what
he would do if the spear was not handed back on the instant.
But this last affront had made Stan regularly boil over, and a fresh
yell came in chorus from the crowd as they saw him swing the spear round
to make a thrust at the owner, who shrieked aloud as he darted back,
while the swift drawing of the spear-shaft across the bamboos made every
one in the yard utter a yell of dismay and begin tumbling one over the
other to reach the yard door; an example followed by the gallant
warrior, whose speed was hastened, and who began thumping the backs of
those who hindered, when Stan thrust the spear out between the front
bars and gave him a few digs in the back.
The uproar was tremendous, and increased by the excitement of the
monkey, who, upon seeing his friend armed with the instrument used for
torturing him, began to bound about, leaping at and shaking the bars,
and chattering savagely, till the last of the occupants of the yard had
escaped by the door, which was banged to.
Then, seeing that Stan had drawn in the spear again to stand upon his
guard, the monkey stopped short too, watching him, and, like his
companion, gazing hard at the inner door, beyond which there was a
fierce buzz of voices, the shuffling of feet, and other sounds which
announced the coming of more soldiers to disarm the prisoner. But Stan
felt in no humour for being disarmed. There was something invigorating
in feeling possessed of a weapon, and at the first indications of the
prison door being opened he stepped back, drove the head with a thud
into the wood, snatched it back, and then, after a step to the rear, he
brought the stout elastic shaft across the door with an echoing bang,
which had the double effect of silencing and putting to flight the
braves in the passage and making the monkey shriek, chatter, and rattle
the bars in a way that helped the retreat.
"Hah!" ejaculated Stan as he stood with the spear-head lowered ready to
make a thrust at the first man who appeared. "Let them come. I don't
care now."
This was a fact, for the lad had grown reckless, and determined to
attack, extra nerved as he was by the thought that if he made a bold
charge with the spear the Chinese soldiers would turn tail, and if he
followed them up he might in the confusion escape.
But he neither charged nor escaped, for the simple reason that the door
was not unfastened; and after waiting for some time Stan came to the
conclusion that the Chinese braves would not attack, but would probably
try to starve him into a state of submission--thoughts which became
strengthened later on.
After waiting some time, watching the inner door alternately with that
which opened out of the yard, Stan turned to speak to the monkey.
"Hullo, Tchack! Did I frighten you?" he said.
But there was no reply, and no fellow-prisoner in sight, the poor beast
being so much alarmed by seeing the torturing spear in the hands of its
friend that it had climbed up the bars into its favourite place out of
sight, and declined to be coaxed down.
The time went on, and no one returned to the yard, or even ventured, as
far as Stan could make out, into the passage; so that the afternoon and
evening were passed with the prisoner in the novel position of guard,
playing sentry, and waiting for the next jailer to attack.