In the cool of the evening he walked on steadily hour after hour
thinking of the priest, and sometimes wondering why he met no soldiers.
He began to believe that things would not be so hard as he had pictured
them. Here at least was no trace of battle or tumult.
The long July day faded slowly away and still he walked. Now that the
capital was far behind him, occasionally there were village people to be
seen tending their fields: yet it was plain that they watched the roads
and feared every movement on them. Still the mere presence of people
reassured him. Immediate danger there could be none: otherwise not a
human being would he have seen. Even the lack of travellers could be
easily explained. How could people travel when there were no conveyances
for hire? Every mule or horse was certainly hidden away as a measure of
precaution, soldiers always seizing these first.
Still, in spite of his growing confidence, whenever he saw a village
marked out like an island in the midst of the cultivation by the dense
groves of trees,--he wasted many minutes walking far around so as to
avoid all danger. He greatly feared to go into them, and see the red
cloth and the mystic signs on the lintels which proclaimed adhesion to
the dread cult. Once, when he was thinking of these things, he came
right upon a man lying half-asleep on a grassy bank--which so startled
him that he ran into the fields and hid for many minutes before he dared
resume his journey. What he feared most was detention--being seized and
held indefinitely for his working-value if for no other reason. Knowing
his own people to the bottom of their hearts, he realized how easily
such enslavements could be carried out--particularly in troubled times.
A week's time lost might spell ruination. At all costs he must avoid
being made a slave.
Meanwhile he travelled on. Guided by the marvellous sense of direction
which the Chinese possess in common with savage races, he bore steadily
towards the southeast where his goal lay. No twists or turns confused
him; after the longest detour he recovered the exact direction as if a
compass were set before him, never faltering or pausing an instant, but
always hastening on at the same quick gait.
At last it was so dark that he could no longer see and reluctantly he
stopped. Sitting cross-legged he opened his bundle of Indian corn and
with a sigh of relief commenced munching the golden grain. He ate half
his store before his hunger was appeased; and then he drew out from his
tunic two peaches that he had stolen from an orchard on the way. As for
drink, an hour before he had taken the precaution to draw water from an
irrigating-well in a cabbage patch and he had drunk so deeply that he
was no longer troubled by thirst.
Now he sat in the night, feeling satisfied by his frugal repast, and
listening to the sounds. Far in the distance village-dogs were barking
monotonously after their wont, and he idly tried to calculate how
distant they might be. Were they barking at some person or merely baying
an evening salute? He could not guess and soon he listened to them no
more.
Presently some birds on a tree near by attracted his attention and he
turned. They were fluttering uneasily as if something were disturbing
them. Without a sound he stole under the tree and listened like a
trapper. His keen eyes and his animal knowledge presently told him what
had taken place; and he gave a grunt of disdain. It was a very usual
occurrence--a bat trying to invade a crows' preserve where there was
rotting food stored. With a sudden screech the invader was even now
flying away, beaten off by the fear of sharp bills and sharper claws.
Once again he seated himself on the grassy bank. He half-regretted now
that he had not ventured into the village where the dogs were barking.
It was, however, too late to move--he would have to pass the night where
he was--all alone where the fire-devils might trouble him. There were
sure to be fire-devils abroad; for although the nearest habitations were
a mile away, the square of pine-trees, whose tops he could just make out
against the horizon, meant a family burial-ground and the fire-devils
would chase backwards and forwards between them and the village.
As he thought of that he hummed to himself quite loudly to keep the
spirits off. He would not have minded the solitude so much if it had not
been for them; he really detested the fire-devils. There was an old man
he knew who was so bothered by them that he dare not walk abroad after
dark. It is true that they belonged to a harmless breed and were very
different from malignant spirits. They only bothered people by trying to
open doors and windows at night so as to bring in fire. Perhaps they
would not molest him in the open. Lying down flat on his back
mechanically he thrashed around with a stout branch he had picked up to
show that he was on the alert. But, presently being tired from his long
exertions, the branch moved more and more slowly, and finally slipped to
the ground where it lay forgotten. The child-man slept!
Later he awoke with a start. The waning moon had crept into the sky and
was already creeping out of it again. With his empirical knowledge of
lunar movements he knew that dawn was still far off: yet he sat up
uneasily and took a cast at the eastern horizon, picking up the guiding
stars like a sailor. Then he looked at the tops of the pine-trees. He
could sleep in peace. There was no possibility of light for a long
while. As he was in unknown country, it was quite useless starting in
the dark; for he might blunder into danger at the first turn.
Now he yawned, and as he lay down he began calculating how far he had
travelled. He added and subtracted in his head by a peculiar method
until he finally produced a total which he was convinced was correct. He
was at least sixty _li_--twenty miles--from the capital, which was one
quarter of the journey, always supposing he must travel the whole
distance. One quarter of the distance, that was good. Idly, as he sat
up, he struck at a buzzing insect and sniffed the smell of dampness; but
he was still tired and soon he sank back again on to the broad earth's
hard bosom.
The next time when he awoke it was broad daylight. Full of consternation
he jumped up. The sun was well over the horizon line, and hot beams were
striking him on the face. Hastily he kicked on his shoes, picked up his
bundle and his branch, and started off.
The village of barking dogs grew up on his left, and as he saw a long
country-cart draw out of it he was sorely tempted to go into it and buy
a cup of tea. But with admirable resolution he resisted the temptation,
and trudged steadily on licking his parched lips. At all costs he must
not be stopped here--when he had covered just one quarter of the way.
Presently providence willed that he should come to a little stream. He
lay on his stomach and drank deep gulps of the refreshing water with
thankfulness in his heart. Then, when his thirst was satisfied, he
ducked his face in it two or three times, leaving it to dry in the warm
air as he walked quickly on.
Twice during the morning he robbed orchards of their fruit, once having
to run hard because he was chased by women and boys who cursed him
bitterly. But by midday all his Indian corn was gone and he was hungry
again. A little disconsolately he lay down to rest, taking off his shoes
and his cloth socks, and examining his feet which were chafed, in spite
of their hardness, by his steady march.
Now he calculated anew. He was sure he had added forty-five _li_ to the
sum total; that made a hundred and five in all. By night he should pass
the half-way point if he hastened. Then with luck two days more should
see his journey over. Very seriously, he picked up a tiny twig and felt
in his ear to see if the message was still packed tight. Yes.
At three o'clock in spite of the sun's heat he started again. Soon his
face was streaming with perspiration and though he stripped off his
tunic and walked naked to the waist the water ran down his little brown
body in streams. It was so hot that he looked suspiciously at the skies,
picking out the signs with a frown; for this was a complication he had
not reckoned with. There would be a thunderous downpour within a few
hours--a downpour such as only tropical lands know, which puts the water
on the roads many feet deep....
In his anxiety he broke suddenly into a jog-trot: it would be quite
impossible for him to pass the night in the open in such circumstances.
He must somehow seek a safe place.
The sun was sinking fast and the black cloud-masses were piling thick
when to his surprise to the west, with the sun throwing it into bold
relief--a long earth embankment grew up.
"_T'u ch'eng_(a walled city)," he exclaimed, wondering where he had got
to. Very slowly and suspiciously he went on, watching for people and
trying to make out some indication of a gateway. But there was no one
about, and no gateway to be discerned. Moreover, the long earth
embankment was covered with grass.
As he came right under it, he paused to listen like a hunter in the
desert. Not a sound. He stopped and picked up pebbles at which he looked
with amazement. All the ground under the rampart was littered with them.
What did this mean? Very carefully he scrambled up the incline and
peered over with his mouth open. There were fields on the other side
just as there were fields on this side. Then a pile of half-burnt timber
struck his eyes, and he burst into a laugh at his foolishness.
"The railway!" he exclaimed.
It was even so--he had swerved farther to the North than he had allowed
for. This was the destroyed railway--along which the foreign army had
advanced. It had been completely destroyed so that there could be no
possibility of its ever being used again.
This evidence of the ruthless war which had come and gone made him stand
there mute. He was so absorbed that for a number of minutes he did not
move, searching with his eyes in every direction for friend or foe. A
terrific peal of thunder brought him to, however; and since there was
nothing for it, he broke into a jog-trot along the embankment.
A big drop of rain smote him in the face and he went still faster. It
would not take long now before the rain came in streams. Vivid blinding
flashes of lightning now lit up the piling clouds, and the thunder
commenced. There would be ropes of water soon--enough to drown a man.
The embankment was rough under his feet and covered with debris, but he
feared to leave it. One foot was bleeding from a sharp piece of iron
that had gone clean through his cloth shoe; but he scarcely felt the
pain and soon the rain washed it clean. On he ran, bedraggled and
beginning to feel cold, but with his indomitable pluck still strong in
him. Through the mist of water he saw a thing rise up: it was a tiny
brick-house. He was too ignorant of railways to know that it was a
linesman's house--or all that remained of.... For him it represented a
haven of refuge--if the roof were still intact. He ran on falling
several times in his haste and almost blinded by the rain which came
down in sheets of water, and deafened by the roar of thunder which was
now unending....
At last!
He tumbled through the doorway exhausted and panting. Here was a roof to
shelter him. Two men who had taken refuge there, called loudly in their
alarm at his sudden apparition. But all he could do was to gasp that he,
too, had been surprised by the storm and had come for refuge. Then he
flung himself on the ground and lay like an exhausted dog, panting as if
his heart would break.