CHAPTER II

In the morning the unaccustomed roar and noise of the city gate woke up

the sleeping child. No comforting father's voice, however, answered its

first stirrings and cries; so after a while the philosophic instinct of

the race asserted itself and the boy lay quiet, his astonished eyes

taking in everything around him.

In the small bare room there was no living thing save a cat of

nondescript colour sitting on a box and licking its paws. The broken

paper depending from the lattice-work of the windows, however, flapped

to and fro cheerfully and briskly; and the rising sun which was peeping

through the gaps in the paper seemed ready to invade the whole room. In

one corner were the two baskets and the litter of blacksmith's tools

which had travelled so far. Close by was a huge primitive musket and a

belt stuffed full of the formidable cartridges of a forgotten period.

But the wheelbarrow had vanished and so had the father.

Staring blankly at all this--particularly at the colossal firearm--the

child finally half-rolled and half-tumbled to the earthen floor from the

low _k'ang_ on which it had been put to sleep the night before and began

tottering towards the door.

This it managed to open. Then very fearfully it peeped out as if it had

opened a veritable Pandora's box.

Instead of trouble, however, the child saw outside a bare waste, and

beyond many people and many carts passing endlessly along a raised

roadway on which were also posted all sorts of vendors loudly calling

their wares. The rumble and clatter of the carts, and the cries of the

vendors never ceased: they seemed a veritable brook of life which went

on for ever. Enchanted by this animation little Wang remained

stockstill, wondering what would happen next. Curiosity consumed him: he

observed every detail with powers of observation only given to the

exceptional. There was nothing that escaped his quick, tireless black

eyes. What a wonderful world he had been brought to!

Presently an old man carrying a portable kitchen on a pole stopped

quite close by; and depositing his paraphernalia started advertising

what he had for sale in a thin raucous voice, putting one finger into an

ear as he called so as to sense the quality of his tune from the

vibrations. Children and women came slowly out of neighbouring houses;

then, after a pause, one or two decided to eat and edged up to the old

man with money in their hands.

Little Wang, nothing loth, cautiously joined them. He was so small that

he stood there for a long time totally unobserved, looking at each

disappearing mouthful with envious eyes, and wondering what he should do

to be fed like these lucky ones. Presently the old man, having finished

his work, turned to him.

"And you?" he inquired in a matter-of-fact way, treating the child as if

he were a grown-up.

"I, too, am hungry," announced little Wang gravely.

At this everybody laughed spontaneously as if something very witty had

been said; but the child only stood there frowning, showing traces of

the resolute character which so quickly developed by not flinching at an

inch.

"You are hungry!" echoed the old man quizzically, "well, well--that is

as it should be. When one is small it is always so: only with age does

the appetite lessen. And where is the money your mother gave you that I

may feed you?"

Little Wang shook his head.

"I have no money and no mother," he replied. Then gaining courage he

added brusquely. "But give me to eat?"

He held out a hand, watching the vendor narrowly.

"Oh, oh," laughed the old man, "you would eat free! Things are indeed

coming to a pass when I who am poor beyond estimate am forced to feed

all who come near me.... Still here--" With a flourish of his big copper

ladle he dipped very deeply into his cauldron, as if generous feelings

possessed him, bringing out notwithstanding the smallest possible amount

of his hot mess by means of a quick turn of the handle. Then he partly

filled a small coarse bowl, passing it to the child with the manner of

the tradesman. Long experience had taught him that the farthing owed him

would come back to him soon enough,--with much interest.

"Well, is it good?" he remarked approvingly when the sturdy child had

swallowed down every drop with wolfish rapidity. "I see you could eat

more. But I must have my money first. I, too, live from day to day." He

turned to the others. "Whose child is this?"

A woman with a baby in her arms edged up:

"A man arrived, so I have heard, in the middle of the night and found a

place to sleep with one of the militia. He had a child in a basket, it

was also said. This must be him."

The small boy stood there crossly twisting his fingers because he was

still hungry, and also because he hated being the object of such

attentions. Everybody was looking at him now with curiosity, wondering

at his independence and his lack of fear and asking questions.

Quickly he answered, hating to tell anything and concealing much.

Presently, bending down on the ground, he began playing with some little

stones, not paying any further attention to the scene around him. The

other children observed his antics with curious eyes: this ugly, strong,

tiny boy, who had appeared during the night and who seemed to belong to

nobody, strangely fascinated them.

After a long interval one of them approached him, and a little timidly

offered him a piece of flour-cake. Little Wang took it without a word of

thanks and bolted it down like a savage young thing, resuming his

playing as soon as he had finished.--Then another, not to be outdone,

gave him a little from his little bowl of congee, and squatting down

beside him tried to talk to him in small baby words. The women and the

old man drifted away, but all the children remained and were joined by

others, who imitated what the newcomer was doing. Little Wang was making

a regular pattern on the ground with his stones, working out a design

from something he had once seen and not forgotten, so absorbed that he

paid no attention to anything else.

The others continued to imitate him--disputing who should have the place

next to him. Little Wang, by reason of that mysterious quality which

sets one man over others, was already beginning to assert his leadership

which he soon made legendary in the neighbourhood.

Wang the Ninth: The Story of a Chinese Boy · 第 2 / 28 章