Held by Chinese Brigands

He spoke of such atrocities as if they were nothing. He was so calm about it all that the judge looked at him, wondering whether he was one of the few really brave men in the world, or whether he was entirely devoid of imagination. In any case, Mr Waldron withdrew his claim to be allowed to undertake the adventure; and the choice fell upon Frank.

Once this all-important question was settled, it was obvious that there was nothing to be gained-indeed, there was much to lose-by putting off Frank's departure. The sooner he was away the better, though they did not then realise the supreme importance of time, the alarming fact that the lives both of Sir Thomas and Mr Waldron were to hang upon the thin thread of a few seconds.

It was decided that Frank should endeavour to make his escape from the cave that night. It was in the act of passing the sentries, posted at the entrance, that the bulk of his danger would lie. Once the boy succeeded in getting away from the cave, his absence would probably not be discovered until the following morning. He would, in that case, have several hours' start of any pursuers whom Cheong-Chau might think fit to send after him.

Frank had already considered the contingency of making a dash for liberty. He had, so far as he had been able to do so from the interior of the cave, studied the lie of the land. He had noticed that the sentries were not particularly vigilant and that they were armed with old-fashioned, out-of-date fire-arms which they possibly knew not how to use. One of these was a Martini-Henry carbine, and Frank had on one occasion seen a Chinese trying in vain to lower the lever, which was so rusted on to the lock that it was quite certain that the breech could never be opened.

Immediately before the entrance to the cave was the huge boulder, or rock, which has already been described. On either side of this rock a sentry was always posted. But these men did not necessarily face the cave. Indeed, as often as not, they looked the other way, interesting themselves in the wide panorama extended before them. None the less, since the two passages on either side of the boulder were very narrow, one could never hope to pass without being seen. Escape that way, therefore, was impossible without a struggle, which meant that the alarm would be given and a party would immediately start in pursuit of the fugitive.

This was what Frank most wanted to avoid. He knew that his attempt was doomed to failure if he did not succeed in getting well away. He therefore examined the rock itself, and saw at once that it would be quite easy to climb to the top of it. Since he could not pass roundthis obstacle he would have to go over it. On the other side, as he knew, was the steep mountain slope descending hundreds of feet to the bed of the valley. Whether he could climb down the slope at all, much less do so silently, so as not to be overheard by the sentries, was another question. He was resolved, however, to take the risk. It was clear that there was no other alternative. It was a perilous business, but he must make the best of it, trusting to Providence, as well as his own agility and presence of mind.

CHAPTER IX-OF THE HOSPITALITY OF THE TEA-GROWER

They waited until nearly midnight, when Cheong-Chau and his ruffians were sound asleep, and only the sentries awake. That day, both Sir Thomas and Mr Waldron had eaten no food since the morning meal, so that Frank might not set forth upon his journey unprovided. He would certainly not be able to procure anything to eat in the desolate mountain region, though with his intimate knowledge of the Chinese language the boy should not experience any difficulty in procuring rice, millet, or even fish, in the valley of the main river.

The most precarious part of the whole business, however, was to escape unseen from the cave. In this, neither of the older men could render the slightest assistance to the boy, who would have to rely solely upon his own initiative. All three lay down upon their straw mattresses, and pretended to sleep, breathing heavily and even snoring, in order to arouse no suspicion on the part of the two sentries. They had purposely allowed the fire to burn down quite low, so that there was only an exceedingly dim and somewhat fitful light in the cave.

Choosing a moment about an hour after the sentries had been relieved, Frank Armitage rose stealthily upon his hands and knees, and slowly began to crawl towards the entrance to the cave. Neither his uncle nor Mr Waldron moved. The latter continued to snore.

Frank approached the entrance from an angle, whence he peered cautiously round the corner. He was surprised, and somewhat dismayed, by the exceeding brightness of the night. The sky was wonderfully clear; a full, round moon illumined the rugged mountain ridges, making them appear so white that they might have been snow-clad, whereas the valleys seemed by contrast to be buried in the deepest shadow. By reason of the firelight in the cave, the brightness of the moon, attended by a solitary and gorgeous planet, had not been noticeable from within.

The light, however, enabled Frank to take stock of the sentry who was on the same side of the boulder as himself. He was able to observe the man at his leisure, since he himself was in the shade.

The man was evidently wide awake, for he was moving his arms backwards and forwards with a kind of rocking gesture. His back was turned. He sat cross-legged upon the ground, upon a plaited mat of straw, surveying the magnificent scene that extended before him. Perhaps, despite his brutal features, and low, receding forehead, there was at least a spark of sensibility, a small power to appreciate the beautiful in nature and the most wonderful works of God, in the untutored mind of this Chinese robber and cut-throat. At any rate, he seemed in a kind of ecstasy, for he was talking softly to himself.

Frank silently crawled across the entrance. And there was the other man, walking slowly to and fro, stamping his feet from time to time, as if he suffered from the cold. Clearly, it would be madness to attempt to escape until this fellow had settled down. He was far too wide awake.

The boy lay flat upon his face, in a position not exposed to the moonlight. Here he was sure he could not be seen, whereas he was well able to observe the walking sentry.

Five minutes elapsed, ten, a quarter of an hour. Frank was becoming anxious. Perhaps the man never would sit down; perhaps he did not intend to relax his vigilance until another came to relieve him of his duties.

Even as the thought crossed the boy's mind, the man stopped, yawned loudly, and then, seating himself upon the ground with his back resting against the great central rock, produced an opium pipe and proceeded to roll a pill.

Frank's heart was in his mouth. He knew that the moment of his great ordeal had come. The man had played into his hands; for not only was the opium bound to make him drowsy, but he had planted himself in the very situation that gave the boy his best opportunity. Frank intended to climb over the central boulder, and had already satisfied himself that the ascent would be a matter of no difficulty at all.

What lay beyond was another question. He had never had any means of ascertaining whether or not he would be able to climb down the other side of the rock, much less make the descent of the slope. He who is over-cautious will, however, accomplish nothing. The traveller who considers the pitfalls in his way and the many dangers that lurk upon the highroad makes little or no progress, and as often as not fails to arrive at his destination. He who would gain all must risk all; he who will risk nothing gains nothing-or, at least, does not deserve to do so.

Frank glanced back into the cave. By the dim light of the fire he was able to see that both his uncle and Mr Waldron were stretched at full length upon their mattresses, looking up. No doubt each was unable to bear the continued suspense, the silence that had endured so long, but must take one last look at him who carried with him the fortunes of all three.

The boy glided into the shadow of the rock. There he paused a moment, waiting breathlessly to learn whether or not he had been observed whilst he was crossing the narrow strip of moonlight. A minute passed, and as nothing happened Frank knew that he was still safe.

Then, very slowly, he began to climb. He had taken off his boots, and these were suspended by means of the laces around his neck. He was careful not to make the slightest sound; he was fearful almost to breathe. He knew that the whole enterprise was in jeopardy, that at any moment a loose stone might fall from the rock, thus attracting the attention of the sentries.

He succeeded in gaining the top, and there lay flat upon his face. Knowing that the utmost caution was of far more importance than haste, he did not move for some time. Then, slowly lifting his head, he took in his surroundings.

The sentry on the right had not shifted his position. He still rocked his arms and sat staring straight at the moon. The man on the left was invisible to Frank, being immediately under the rock. He had probably smoked his pipe of opium, and was now in that semi-dazed, self-satisfied condition that invariably follows an administration of the drug. The boy wormed himself forward, until he had gained the furthermost edge of the rock, which was flat-topped, like a table. Thence he was able to see into the second cave, where Cheong-Chau and his men were fast asleep, lying close as dogs around the dying embers of a great charcoal fire.

When Frank peered over the edge of the rock, in order to decide upon the most suitable means of descent, his heart for a moment failed him. It was as if he was gazing down into one of the uttermost pits of Hades.

The cliff appeared to be perpendicular, which the boy knew was not the case. Moreover, it seemed to descend to eternity, to fade away into a great expanse of darkness that was like the sea. It occurred to him that if by any chance he slipped and fell, his body would be dashed to atoms thousands of feet below.

Then fortunately he had the strength of mind to remember that imagination makes cowards of us all. It was no affair of his what lay at the bottom of the valley; his immediate business was to descend from the top of the rock, and he had therefore best confine his attention to the few square yards in front of him.

Immediately he did so he saw that he was confronted by a proposition by no means difficult of solution. To descend was easy enough. In the face of the rock was a narrow cleft down which it would be quite easy to climb. Without hesitating an instant, he lowered himself, and in a few seconds found himself at the base of the rock, where he again paused and listened.

He was so close to the man whom he had seen light the opium pipe that he could actually hear him breathing. Neither, however, could see the other, since the sharp corner of the rock intervened. However, the situation was so dangerous that Frank was resolved to have no more of it than he need; and almost at once he began to descend on all fours the steep face of the cliff.

He realised that in the first ten yards or so his greatest danger lay. He could not tell for certain whether or not he was within sight of either of the men. He could but take the only possible precaution. Lying almost flat upon his face, he slid, very slowly indeed, at about what seemed to him a snail's pace, down the smooth, rocky slope.

In three minutes he knew that he was out of immediate danger. He had escaped. Moreover, no alarm had been given.

Two courses now lay open to him: he might continue to descend until he eventually reached the bottom of the valley, or he might work his way along the cliff, parallel to the bridle-path above, until, having gained comparative safety, he could ascend to the higher level and then follow the road to the south.

He wisely selected the latter alternative, since he knew not whether the slope was accessible lower down. Besides, it might so happen that there was neither path nor road in the valley.

Owing to the steepness of the slope, he could not stand upright, nor was there any need to do so. He could progress, if not with comfort, at least at a very tolerable pace, on all fours.

He had traversed in this way a distance that, was probably about a quarter of a mile, when he deemed that it would be safe to ascend to the path above by means of which he and his fellow-captives had been conducted to the cave. This he gained without difficulty, it being easier to mount the slope than to progress transversely across it.

Once upon the bridle-path he found the moonlight of the greatest possible assistance; for having put on his boots he was able to set forward running, knowing full well that every step lengthened the distance between himself and those who he knew would certainly, sooner or later, set forth in pursuit.

It would be wearisome to describe in detail Frank Armitage's adventurous journey across the mountains. Sunrise found him still upon the road, alternately walking and running, hurrying forward for life itself.

The fact that for three whole days he saw not a single soul speaks for itself in regard to the desolation of this wilderness. On the morning of the fourth day he found himself in the midst of the foot-hills, with a clear view before him of the fertile valley of the West River. By then he had consumed all the provisions he had brought with him from the cave. He was, indeed, almost famishing, and felt tempted to take almost any risk to procure something to eat. That afternoon he encountered several peasants, who all regarded him with undisguised curiosity. Knowing that Cheong-Chau was sure to have despatched a party in pursuit, and realising the supreme importance of time, he considered that it would be advisable to ask one of the inhabitants of the country the shortest route to the nearest main tributary of the river.

He selected his man with care, and after a considerable amount of hesitation, addressed himself to a little thin, prosperous-looking Chinaman of the middle class whom he overtook upon the narrow mule-track he had followed for several miles.

On being interrogated, the Chinaman was not a little surprised, though he was far too well-bred and polite to say so. He was surprised at two things: first, he had never expected to meet with a European in such an out-of-the-way corner of the province; secondly, he was amazed that the young Englishman should address him so fluently in his own language.

"You have travelled far?" he asked.

"From Hong-Kong," answered Frank.

"That is a long way."

"It is of the greatest importance," said Frank, "that I return without delay."

"Many days' journey is before you," said the Chinese. "I should be greatly honoured if you would deign to accept such hospitality as my miserable self is in a position to offer. I am a tea-grower," he continued. "My house is not far from here. I should be deeply gratified if you would eat rice under my dilapidated roof."

It immediately occurred to Frank that the tea-grower might be able to assist him in more ways than one. He readily accepted the man's offer in the manner duly approved by Chinese etiquette and custom.

"Such a despicable, beggarly foreigner as myself," said he, "would be inexpressibly delighted to partake, in your palatial residence, of such nourishing and delicious provender as, I am sure, it is the custom of yourself and your honoured family to consume."

The Chinaman smiled.

"You speak our language to perfection," he remarked. "Few foreigners are able to do so. But what is even more extraordinary to me is that you appear to be acquainted with our forms of ceremony. As a general rule, the European cannot speak to you for five minutes without being guilty of a dozen breaches of etiquette, defying every canon of good behaviour."

"You see," said Frank, "I have lived in China for many years."