CHAPTER XXIV

The river was less than a hundred yards wide here, and the five men and

the boy had enough skill to get the boat across with rapidity. The big

man with the iron-pronged stick, seizing an oar, rowed frantically. One

of the wool-dealers aided him by poling with desperation until the water

became too deep. And as a little breeze filled the hoisted sail, they

swung on to the opposite shore at a point far lower down than they had

embarked.

It was this circumstance which saved their lives. For Wang the Ninth,

sitting astride of the tiller, and turning back constantly to look

suddenly gave a great leap and was out of the boat before there was time

to realize what he was doing.

"_Lai-la, lai-la_ (they have come)!" he screamed as he tumbled across

the mud with the agility of a frog. He had seen a glint of red in the

reeds on the opposite shore--just a glint--but that was enough.

The others, being less nimble, crawled out using the sail as a screen.

Then, trembling violently, all of them disappeared quickly enough into

the reeds which grew rank and high. Distant voices shouting curses were

audible as they went; but the rifles they feared did not speak. The

soldiers were running along the opposite bank fairly mad with rage; it

was evident that they knew the country and were holding their fire until

they could be certain of their quarry.

The fugitives had not gone twenty yards before they discovered that the

great clumps of reeds were no real protection; for the ground was so

marshy that the only safe road was the tracking-path beside the river.

Already they were surrounded by mud and water. The soldiers counted on

their certain reappearance when they would begin their shooting.

It was the big fellow with the iron-pronged stick who explained this to

them all in a guttural whisper, when they reached the end of the solid

ground and stood in an irresolute group. Some wild-fowl rising almost

from under their feet with a screech startled them all so badly that

they turned deadly pale.

"A pretty dilemma!" exclaimed one of the wool-merchants in a hoarse

whisper. "We cannot advance; we dare not retreat. And if we remain here

too long, in the end the soldiers will find another boat to carry them

across and exact vengeance, or perhaps fire chance shots, hoping to

bring us down. Far better had we never moved."

But Wang the Ninth was not idle. He had stripped off his shoes and his

trousers and had commenced wading in a new direction. Soon he was lost

to sight, even his splashing becoming inaudible. But after a long wait

he reappeared, forcing his way through the reeds from a different

direction.

"I have found a bank of dry land. How far it extends I have not learnt,

but if all follow it may be that we can reach safety."

There was nothing to do but to imitate his example, and soon all were

splashing through the mud and water to where he awaited them. A

half-submerged bank of earth, which may have been a forgotten dyke,

stretched away through the reeds, and although it soon narrowed down to

a path just broad enough to walk on, it led them far away from the

river--straight to the south.

Their spirits rose so rapidly as they progressed that now they began to

talk almost gaily.

"It is a reed-cutters' path, that is absolutely certain," asserted Wang

the Ninth. "Soon we must reach a village, for this is an important trade

and I know well how this business is carried on."

"This boy is right," agreed the man with the iron-pronged stick.

"Certainly he is right: there is already smoke from some chimney."

It was even as he said. Soon from out of the dense reeds they heard the

sound of cries and a scurrying of feet.

"_Shui_--(who is that)?" a voice called threateningly.

"We are travellers--we require to be shown the road," they called, one

after the other, keeping up a perpetual chorus for fear of what would

happen if they remained silent.

Rounding the last clump of reeds they saw a village of mud huts. In

front of a small open space, on which were piled masses of dried reeds,

stood a big fellow stripped to the waist with a formidable jingal in his

hand; and at his side were some barking dogs. He was evidently prepared

for the worst.

His expression slowly changed as they came in view. The appearance of

the wool-dealers, heavily laden with their saddlebags and greatly

exhausted by their efforts, was certainly eminently peaceful; and now as

their chorus of explanations redoubled, a new-found courage displayed

itself in his roughness.

"What talk of seeking a road is this!" he exclaimed angrily. "This is a

small poor village surrounded by water, where we risk starvation from

year to year and where there is nothing for others."

They answered him in a storm of talk speaking so much of soldiers that

fear returned to him.

"If they pursue you it is best for you to proceed quickly," he rejoined,

not listening to them. "Here are women and children who cannot be

imperilled."

"But the road, the road," they cried. "We cannot fail to pay you your

stipulated price."

At the mention of money the reed-cutter rubbed his face with one horny

hand.

"Those who ask aid must make it worth while," he declared ambiguously.

"I was left here by our folk to protect the households. If I go who is

there to insure safety?"

A long and animated argument commenced; and as it progressed, slowly and

cautiously the denizens of the village approached--slatternly women in

torn blue clothing with babies in their arms, and half-grown girls, and

small boys, all the offspring of a mating carried on as in primeval

forests, and now stricken with fear.

At length the price was settled, and the reed-cutter led them to where a

small flat-bottomed boat was concealed in the reeds. This it was

necessary to carry a considerable distance; but finally it was launched

where there was a clear water-passage. It was just big enough to embark

them all; and with the reed-cutter poling them, they slowly travelled

away from the scene of the day's adventure.

The sun was already low when the man stopped and pointed to a spot a few

hundred yards away.

"There will I take you," he said. "Farther I cannot go. From there a

good road leads to the seaport which is distant some eighty _li_."

"Eighty _li_," they cried in alarm. "This morning when we started we

were but sixty _li_ off."

"But you have travelled far to the southeast. This is the southeastern

road. In any case it is eighty _li_."

They paid the price agreed upon and started off without further

discussion. Although Wang the Ninth had chattered all the way in the

boat now he had nothing to say.

He was thinking--thinking of what the villagers had said two days ago

about the country to the southeast. This was the robber country. He did

not dare to give voice to his suspicions because that might bring the

whole party to a halt.

A mile or two further on a small green snake slid across the road and

disappeared into the undergrowth.

"A snake crosses the road," he cried. "There will be heavy weather

soon."

A few hundred yards farther on a second snake crossed the road going so

rapidly and viciously that it was almost impossible to follow with the

eyes.

The boy opened his mouth but closed it without speaking. Two

snakes--what did two snakes mean? It was something unlucky he had once

heard; but he never thought that it might simply come from the

undergrowth being disturbed by hidden feet. He was trying to think of

the explanation--he knew there was an explanation--when the warning was

made clear. A half-a-dozen men, with hideous painted masks over their

faces, leaped out of the growing grain and fired from their hips. Crack,

crack, crack went the shots. Wang the Ninth, stricken with alarm, threw

himself instinctively on the ground, and wriggled into the _kaoliang_

amidst the cries and groans of the others who never left the road.

He was alone once more--in the growing grain--perhaps twenty miles from

his destination.

Wang the Ninth: The Story of a Chinese Boy · 第 24 / 28 章