Held by Chinese Brigands

Frank had no alternative but to obey the instructions of this extraordinary ruffian. Indeed, he was powerless as a mouse in the jaws of a cat. He was ordered to straighten himself, to remain in a position perfectly upright and rigid, and then he was lifted high above the man's head until he was within easy reach of one of the rafters. Swinging himself on to this, he gained the man-hole which had been pointed out to him, and a moment after he found himself upon the roof.

Thence-as Ling had predicted-he was able to look down upon the numerous wharves and jetties along the bank of the river. The moon was sinking low, but it was so magnified by refraction on account of the moisture in the atmosphere that the boy was able to see quite clearly, not only the various junks, wupans and sampans that lay anchored along the shore, but also the whole extent of the bund itself.

A party of coolies was already at work, and in several places there were signs of life on board the ships. Frank, looking down through the man-hole through which he had passed, could see the mighty Ling, who had taken a book from his pocket and was reading aloud by means of the candlelight. He was reading the Analects of Confucius, a volume that is admitted to contain some of the purest ethical reasoning in the world. The man read aloud in a deep voice that sounded to Frank like a roll of far distant thunder. He was obviously fully conscious of the literary and philosophic beauty of the famous maxims.

As for Frank, his thoughts were purely material. He could not think why this singular and terrible man should be so anxious to find Men-Ching. He knew, however, that it was essential that he himself should get into touch with Cheong-Chau's second-in-command. Personally, he was not in the least inclined to render assistance to Ling. But he could not deny the fact, even to himself, that he feared the man more than he had ever feared anyone before-even the giants and ogres of which, as a child, he had been wont to dream. He knew that his life was at stake, that Ling would not hesitate to kill him if, through any fault of his, Men-Ching managed to escape.

There could be no doubt that Men-Ching was at that moment in the town, probably in one of the numerous opium dens which are to be found in every Chinese city. Frank had gleaned that information, and somehow or other Ling was equally well informed. It was also certain that some time that morning Men-Ching would embark and proceed upon his journey to Canton. Frank, therefore, kept a sharp look-out for the man, but it was only fear of Ling that impelled him to do so.

About half-an-hour before sunrise, when the first signs of daybreak were visible in the east, Men-Ching and his companion were among the first people to arrive upon the wharf. They went straight to a wupanthat was moored at a distance of about two hundred yards from the door which Ling had broken from its hinges. There Men-Ching called out in a loud voice in order to awaken the owner of the boat, who was asleep under the awning. Frank had no doubt that he had found the right man, for he recognised his voice, and besides the light was sufficient to enable him to identify the old man's scarlet coat.

The boy looked down through the man-hole into the great loft below. Ling was still reading, though the candle had almost burned out.

"He is on the wharf," cried Frank. "He is about to go on board. The fisherman is preparing to hoist his sail."

On the instant, Ling closed his book and, springing to his feet, hastened to the head of the step-ladder that led to the room below. He did not trouble himself in the least about Frank, who was left upon the roof. By no means content to remain an inactive spectator of what was to follow, the boy descended rapidly to the rafter, and thence dropped to the floor, stinging his feet severely. A few seconds later he was swarming down the ladder, hastening after Ling, who had already gained the bund.

Men-Ching had just boarded the boat, when for the first time he caught sight of the mighty Ling, who charged down upon him like an infuriated tiger. Frank was in time to see the expression of absolute horror and dismay which was stamped upon every feature of the old man's face. At the sight of Ling, Men-Ching's jaw dropped and his eyes opened wide, and seemed in danger of springing from his head.

"Make haste!" he shrieked. "If I fall into that man's hands, everything is lost!"

With feverish hands the old man uncoiled the rope that secured the bows of the wupan to a wooden bollard. He succeeded in doing this in the nick of time, for when he was in the very act of pushing the boat clear of the wharf by means of a long boathook, Ling gained the shore and snatched the boathook from his hand.

In the meantime Men-Ching's companion, who had accompanied him throughout his journey from the cave, had seized an oar, with which he propelled the boat clear of the clustered shipping. By that time the fisherman who owned the wupan had hoisted his sail, which, filling immediately with the strong west wind, carried the boat down-stream at a considerable velocity.

Ling was like a raging beast. Stamping with his feet, he filled the air with the most terrible Chinese oaths-and there is no language in the world richer in expletives than the dialect of Southern China. The man's rage lasted no more than a moment. Determined not to allow Men-Ching to get out of sight, he looked about him for some method of following in pursuit. His eyes fell immediately upon a small sailingsampan, with a long oar fastened to the stern which did duty as a rudder.

"That will serve my purpose," he exclaimed, and then, lifting his great voice to the full extent of his lungs, he shouted after the wupan.

"Men-Ching," he cried, "you can never hope to evade me. Go north to beyond the Great Wall, or south to Singapore, and the mighty Ling shall follow."

Then, turning, he beheld Frank Armitage at his elbow.

"And you shall come with me," he roared. "There must be two of us to manage the boat."

He bundled the boy, neck and crop, into the sampan, and a few minutes later they were flying down-stream in pursuit of the wupan, upon the broad waters of the great West River that flows through the mammoth city of Canton.

CHAPTER XIII-HOW FRANK WAS CAUGHT IN THE TOILS

Throughout the greater part of the morning the pursuit continued without the sampan gaining upon the larger boat. Indeed, when they had sailed a few miles towards the east it became apparent to Ling that they were losing ground, that the distance between the two boats was gradually becoming greater.

The man was infuriated. He stood at his great height in the bows of the sampan from time to time, shaking his fist at the scarlet coat of Men-Ching, who was plainly visible upon the deck of the river-junk. After a time, however, Ling's wrath subsided; and seating himself, he confined his attention to the management of the sail. Frank, who was in the stern of the boat, had received orders to steer.

Ling shrugged his great shoulders and came out with a kind of grunt.

"He shall not escape me," said he, talking aloud to himself. "The old fool would be wiser to haul down the sail of the wupan and throw himself upon my mercy."

Frank, summoning to his aid all his moral courage, decided to question the man outright, taking the bull by the horns.

"Why do you want this man Men-Ching?" he asked.

Ling looked up, lifting his black eyebrows, and then chuckled.

"Men-Ching carries upon his person certain letters," said he. "I would have you to know that those letters are worth thousands of dollars."

Frank Armitage was so much astonished that it was some moments before he could recover his presence of mind. How was this man, of all people, in possession of such information? Ling was certainly not a member of Cheong-Chau's brigand band. It was only a week before that Men-Ching had been entrusted with the letters-indeed, he had not been given possession of them until immediately after they were written. The whole thing was a mystery that Frank was in no position to solve.

Sitting amidships in the boat, the man continued to chuckle.

"I will find him in Canton," said he. "He is certain to go to the house of Ah Wu. There I will find him. I will take possession of those letters. A score of men could not prevent me. If Men-Ching hands them over quietly all will be well. If he resists, I cannot say what will happen." And Ling shrugged his shoulders.

Frank was dismayed. It took him some time to realise the extreme gravity of the situation. There was something in the aspect of the boisterous Honanese giant, seated immediately before him, that made the boy feel quite sure that Ling seldom failed in any enterprise he undertook. The man was at once clever, strong and unscrupulous. He meant to obtain those letters, and Frank felt quite sure that he would not fail to do so.

That brought the boy face to face with the fact that the lives of his uncle and Mr Waldron were in the greatest danger. Ling no doubt intended to appropriate the ransom, thus foiling Cheong-Chau. In these circumstances, there could be but little doubt that the brigand chief, robbed of what he already regarded as his own property, would put both his captives to death out of sheer fiendish spite.

Frank could not for the life of him think what course he should take. His brain was in a whirl. In the end he decided that at any cost he must escape from Ling the moment they arrived at Canton, where he hoped to gain an interview with the British consul.

Throughout the remainder of the journey the boy's thoughts ran continuously upon the mystery in which he found himself enveloped. He could not explain it, and after a time he gave up attempting to do so. He neither knew who Ling was nor how the man had such intimate knowledge of Cheong-Chau's affairs. He regretted bitterly that he had rendered Ling such valuable assistance. He was, however, determined never to do so again, and during the pursuit down the river he even went so far as to hold the sampan back by means of the oar with which he was supposed to be steering. All the time he was doing so his heart was beating rapidly, since he dared not think what would happen to him if Ling discovered his deception.

When they reached the great city of Canton it was still early in the morning. Ling hauled down the sail and himself took charge of the stern oar, by means of which he propelled the boat into the narrow creek that separates the main part of the city from the island of Shamien. Running into the bank alongside a sea-going junk, he ordered Frank to step ashore. The boy did so, determined to avail himself of his first chance to escape. In such narrow, close-packed streets as those of the great southern city, he thought he would have many opportunities of giving Ling the slip. He did not expect any difficulty in getting away, since he had no reason to believe that Ling required his services any longer.

Frank-as the saying goes-had counted his chickens before they were hatched. They had not progressed thirty yards along one of the main streets of the city before Frank dived down a side street, brushed past a party of coolies, and then turned into a still smaller street to the right. There he found a ricksha. Jumping into this, he ordered the ricksha coolie to go ahead as fast as he could. The man had picked up the shafts, and was about to set forward, when Frank was seized by the scruff of the neck and lifted bodily from the seat. He was then thrown so violently to the ground that one of his knees was cut and his elbows badly bruised.

Gathering himself together, he looked up, and found himself at the feet of Ling.

"Do you take me for a fool?" roared the man. "Why have you run away?"

"I did not think," answered the boy, somewhat weakly, "that you needed me any longer."

"No more I do," said Ling. "But you know too much about me. When I have run Men-Ching to ground, and emptied the old rascal's pockets, then you are free to go where you like. For the present you remain with me."

He bent down, and seizing the boy by a wrist, dragged him to his feet. Then he set off walking briskly through the narrow streets, dragging the boy after him like a dog on a leash and roughly thrusting aside everyone who got in his way.

In about ten minutes they found themselves in the neighbourhood of the Mohammedan Mosque. Having crossed the main street that runs parallel to the river, Ling turned into a by-street, and thence into the blind alley, at the termination of which was Ah Wu's opium den.

He kicked open the door with his foot and thrust the boy inside. Frank found himself standing before the embroidered curtains that were suspended across the entrance of the smoking-room. Ling lifted his great voice in a kind of shout, mingling his words with triumphant laughter.

"Ah Wu," he cried, "give welcome to a visitor who loves you. There is one here whom it will rejoice your heart to see. Come forth, old fox, and greet the mighty Ling!"

Having delivered himself thus dramatically, he flung the curtains aside, and stepped into the opium den, dragging Frank with him.

Ah Wu, as fat and crafty-looking as ever, stood in the centre of the lower room in front of the stairs that led to the balcony above.

He was holding in his hand a blue china bowl filled with samshu. And so dismayed was he when he set eyes upon his gigantic guest that the bowl fell from his hand and smashed to atoms on the floor.

"Ling!" he gasped.

"The same," roared Ling. "And this time I come not to debate and argue, to exchange words with liars. I come for Men-Ching. I have reason to believe that he is here."