"In the city--"

"And what is your name?"

The boy without hesitation continued to lie calmly in the way all his countrymen readily do--that is when they are pressed.

"I am called Liu--I am the second in the family--Liu Erh--I have walked a hundred miles to find my relatives. Food is what I need to soothe my hunger. A little hot food."

"Um,"--said the priest, "I, too, am short of food. For a fortnight I have received no alms, not one copper coin has been vouchsafed me. With trouble abroad how dare I venture out? And should I give away from my small store when I may shortly be in need myself?"

w.a.n.g the Ninth, because of his hunger, was becoming angry at this long discussion. Already he had measured his man: he knew him to be a coward and covetous as well. With a swift movement he thrust his foot in between the gate-post and the door so that the priest could not possibly close it again,--that is unless he threw him back and broke his foot.

Now very roughly he used what was instantly effective--intimidation, based on a half-truth.

"Look here," he said, "I have waited patiently and answered all your questions and am very hungry. I have just pa.s.sed soldiers. If you do not give me freely I shall go and find them and declare that you have silver buried in the Temple."

There was brief hesitation which may have lasted two seconds, but no more. Then the door swung wide open.

"Come in," said the priest sullenly. Asia is like that. By audacity a child may work his will over old and young alike. That is one of the unappreciated morals of the Bible.

w.a.n.g the Ninth, again victorious, loafed in with an expression of suppressed amus.e.m.e.nt on his face which would have done credit to an actor. Behind him the priest shut the door securely; then turned round and looked at him; muttered something under his breath; and finally led him to a room where his store of food was secreted under a broken bench.

Together, in this companionship, neither speaking much, they prepared a meal of boiled millet, a little salted vegetable, a cup of tea.

Presently having eaten his fill, the marauder became loquacious.

"Your stock of food is indeed low," he remarked, examining everything and looking into the grain-bin several times. "When you first spoke about shortage I doubted your story. If you wait a little I will fetch you something as repayment and prepare a bite for myself for later on."

Without further ado, he marched out through the gateway and down the roadway to where his sharp eyes half an hour before had noticed a patch of Indian corn. Calmly, as if it were his own property, he pulled off a great ma.s.s of corn cobs, only taking of the best. Then he stripped off his short cotton coat, loaded it up with the loot, and marched back with this fat bundle to the keeper of Buddha's shrine.

"Here," he said, "I have taken from an abundance that is neglected. If there is suspicion or accusation I bear the blame. Now I prepare my share."

With deft fingers he stripped off the husk from a dozen cobs, threw them into a pot of water, and boiled them over the small charcoal fire until beads of perspiration stood on his forehead. When he had satisfied himself that they were well-cooked, he heaved a sigh of relief and desisted. He had a couple of days' supply of food to the good, no matter what happened; for Indian corn is a good and strength-giving food.

"I can journey in peace," he remarked, "when the sun is a little lower and there is coolness in the air. Not soon will I commit the fault of journeying with no provision belt. A hundred miles is far to travel for the poor."

The priest talked a little but without much gusto. He was irritated by everything that had occurred since he had unbarred his doors; and after the manner of his race he was absorbed thinking about the way he could redress the balance in his favour. With his arms behind his back, master of the situation, w.a.n.g the Ninth began sauntering round the narrow courtyard of the little Temple, and lifting the heavy reed curtain over the doorway of the shrine he peered in.

"Who is your honourable Saint?" he inquired politely, looking at the square, clumsy, gilt figure. Then almost before he had finished asking the question he burst into a short laugh. His quick eyes had noticed something. "_Lao-ho-shang_, have you noticed that an ear has dropped off?" He pointed to the left ear of Buddha's disciple which was indeed missing.

The priest became more nettled than ever.

"What would you?" he said. "This locality is poor--and very miserly as well. Only on harvest-days do I receive alms in sufficiency for my welfare. As for renovation where shall I find funds? All the shrines for many miles lack repair, and some are even deserted by their keepers."

The devil in the boy leaped to the surface. With a rapid gesture his hand travelled to his belt, and with a flash he threw a bright silver coin on the matted floor as an offering.

"There," he said, "I have contributed."

The priest stood staring.

"Silver!" he exclaimed as if that had been the name of his G.o.d. "You carry silver!" Now he bent down and picked up the coin which he examined carefully.

"Yes, silver," a.s.sented w.a.n.g the Ninth, "an undoubted piece of silver."

"How is it that you who lack food have money?" said the priest. His manner was full of suspicion.

The boy laughed easily.

"It is this way. Many in our locality were employed in the city before the trouble commenced and they have all fled back. They had money in their belts, and two who had known my father gave me small contributions to help me on my way. Had it not been for this friendly help I would indeed have fared badly."

"Um," said the priest, "and how many such coins have you with you?"

w.a.n.g the Ninth took several steps backwards so that if needs be he could run for it. There was a note in the priest's voice that he did not like.

He was quite capable of trying to rob him. Already he regretted his indiscretion.

"How many coins? Ho--ho, I am a bad hand at calculating." He took a few more steps backward. "Are you discontented with my generosity?--well, I cannot help it." With a swift movement he bent down and picked up the bundle of corn which he had made. "The day is waning, I cannot waste more time. _Lao-ho__shang_, I am about to leave you." And with this lightly and quickly he sprang away and then through the narrow door on to the roadway.

The priest followed him. On his face there was a sharp struggle. Had he been able to do so, he would have rushed at him. But the chances of success were poor having in view his feebleness and the boy's agility.

So sullenly he watched w.a.n.g the Ninth walk away looking over his shoulder as he went, and beginning the song, "Every priest is only a thief with a shaven pate," which is known to every urchin in the land.

CHAPTER XXI

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 rea.s.sured 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 gra.s.sy 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 compa.s.s 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 gra.s.sy 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 pa.s.s 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.