Held by Chinese Brigands Part 12

The boy's heart was in his mouth. He could scarcely hope that he would not be discovered. He could not make his escape without being seen nor was he in a position to offer resistance. And if he was discovered, he had every reason to believe that Cheong-Chau would kill him.

These were the thoughts that pa.s.sed rapidly through his mind. He lay motionless, fearing to breathe, his eyes fixed upon the crouched, gliding forms of Cheong-Chau and his companions. And then the boy was discovered. The man called Tong caught sight of him and raised his revolver to fire. At the moment Tong pressed the trigger, Frank struck the weapon upward, so that the bullet flew wide through the branches of the trees.

Knowing that he would be shot if he remained at arm's-length or attempted to run away, the boy closed at once with his adversary. Flinging himself into Tong's arms, he endeavoured to seize the man by the throat; but almost immediately he was overpowered by the three of them, and found himself pinned to the ground and once again a prisoner.

Chin Yen peered into the boy's face.

"This is not Ling!" he exclaimed.

Cheong-Chau came out with a brutal oath.

"No," said he. "This is not the tiger; it is the foreign devil who has twice slipped through my fingers."

Frank Armitage closed his eyes and caught his lower lip between his teeth.

CHAPTER XXV.

--AND HOW CHEONG-CHAU VANISHED ALTOGETHER.

There is little doubt that Cheong-Chau would have killed the boy then and there had he not been alive to the fact that he himself stood in immediate danger of a sudden onslaught from Ling, who lay in hiding somewhere amidst the shadows of the wood.

It was now almost dark. It was scarce possible to see across the glade. Cheong-Chau turned to Tong--the man who had endeavoured to kill the boy.

"You were a fool to fire," said he. "How so?"

"You have betrayed our whereabouts to the tiger. He cannot be far away."

"Let us keep together," whispered Chin Yen. "It will be as much as the three of us can do to overpower him."

It was quite plain to Frank that the three brigands stood in mortal fear of the mighty Honanese. They had not forgotten their experience in the opium den, when Ling had accounted for four of them in less than a minute. They knew their opponent, and they were well aware that he was the last man in the world to beat a hasty retreat. Indeed, Ling had deliberately attacked them, charging blindly like an infuriated beast into the darkness of the wood.

For the time being they could give little attention to the boy. They remained for a few minutes perfectly still, holding their revolvers in their hands, keeping a sharp look-out in all directions.

And then the mighty Ling descended into their very midst. Small wonder that they had not discovered him, for the man had climbed up a tree, and had for the last four or five minutes been seated upon a branch, immediately above their heads, listening to every word that was said. They had looked to the right and to the left; their sharp eyes had pierced the dark shadows beneath the underwoods and the crumbled ruins of the ancient temple; but never for a moment had any one of them dreamed of looking upward.

Like a thunderbolt, Ling descended to the ground. His great weight fell upon Chin Yen. The man let out a loud cry, prompted by acute and sudden pain. Then he lay upon the ground, groaning and writhing with a broken arm.

Ling himself staggered, and with difficulty maintained his balance. Indeed, he only succeeded in doing so by laying hands upon the terrified Tong.

The man had no time to fire. He was s.n.a.t.c.hed from off the ground. He endeavoured to struggle, but his efforts were hopeless. His revolver was wrenched from his hand and thrown far across the glade. Then he himself was hurled after it, thrown away like a half-filled sack. In his descent his head struck the side of one of the fallen images, and he lay upon the ground, motionless and stunned.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "HE HIMSELF WAS HURLED AFTER IT."]

In the meantime, Cheong-Chau had made the most of the only chance he was ever likely to have. He had fired at Ling at almost point-blank range. Frank, who still lay upon the ground, heard a loud groan issue from the lips of Ling, and a moment after he was just able to perceive the dark blood flowing slowly from the man's side and staining his long silken robe.

Cheong-Chau, thinking that he had done his work, turned with the intention of seeking safety in flight. He was caught by the pigtail, and jerked backward, as a boy might flick a top. A moment after he found himself held by the great hands of Ling, gripped by both forearms, so that he felt as if he were wedged in a mighty vice.

Fear took strong hold upon him. He knew, no doubt, that his last hour had come. He shrieked in pain and in terror, calling upon his followers to hasten to his help. But Tong lay senseless, and Chin Yen had already gathered himself together and taken to his heels like one possessed.

Let it be said for Cheong-Chau that he made no plea for mercy. On the contrary, he reviled his adversary, making use of a string of Chinese oaths to which the boy was a stranger. And then he kicked, his legs being the only part of him which was free. The more violently he kicked and struggled, the greater became the pressure upon his arms; until at last he was obliged to desist, lest his very bones should be broken. Suddenly he became limp from exhaustion and despair.

"Have you done?" asked Ling. His voice was deep and very low, and there was in it something of a tremor that made it plain to Frank that the man suffered considerable pain.

Cheong-Chau made no answer.

"Listen," said Ling. "Last night, had I wished, I might have killed you. I did not do so. The more fool I! And now, you have shot me. I am wounded, perhaps mortally--I cannot say."

"We are old enemies," said Cheong-Chau.

Ling laughed. In his laugh there was something of his old boisterous manner; but at the same time, it was manifest from his voice that he was already weak from loss of blood.

"The wolf," said he, "was never an enemy of the tiger, nor can the rat be the foe of the dog. You, Cheong-Chau, are vermin. I would lose all pride in myself, in my strength and dignity, if I killed you otherwise than with my hands."

A shudder ran through the thin frame of the brigand chief. He had lived a life of crime; he had sinned, time and again, against the G.o.ds and his fellow-men, but he was no coward; he had always known that, sooner or later, he must die a violent death.

He had thought that fate would bring him to the dreadful Potter's Yard, the public and official place of execution in the city of Canton. The inevitable conclusion of the West River pirate is the block. So Cheong-Chau was prepared to die.

"You will not torture me?" he asked.

"I would," said Ling, "if I meted out to you the fate you have more than once prepared for others. But I am no such fiend. Moreover, I have no time to spare. I go down-stream to-night on your own junk, with the ransom money that you thought was yours. I go where tide and current take me--perhaps to live for the remainder of my days upon the fatness of the earth; perhaps to find my way amidst the stars in search of the Unknowable."

"What do you mean?" asked the other.

"I mean that--for all I know--the sands of life are running out. The blood issues from my wound. It may be that the breath of life goes with it. And now, you die, by what strength remains in me."

Frank Armitage was not able to see how it was done--indeed, he turned away, and covered his eyes with a hand. It seems that Cheong-Chau was taken by the throat and that either he was strangled or his neck was broken. At any rate, it was all done in silence. The lifeless body of the man was allowed to fall to the ground, and then Ling turned to the boy.

"Are you safe?" he asked.

Frank rose to his feet, but did not answer. Ling placed a hand upon his shoulder. The boy felt that he was called upon to sustain much of the man's great weight.

"You must help me," said Ling. "I am hurt badly. You must help me--back to the junk."

Together they left the wood and came out into the starlight. The moon was already risen. It was crescent-shaped and very thin. Ling was breathing heavily.

"In two days," said he, "it will be a new moon, but I do not think I shall behold it. There is something to be said for the creed of the Mohammedans, who hold the belief that the lives of us all, down to the most insignificant details, are written in an unalterable Book of Fate. I wonder," said he. "I wonder."

They walked slowly upon the river bank, Ling still leaning upon his young companion. Presently they came to the boat, which they had hidden amongst the rushes. Ling seated himself in the bows, and as he did so he groaned again. Frank, placing himself in the stern, took hold of the little oar.

"Come," said Ling, "row me to the junk."

CHAPTER XXVI.

--OF GREED OF GOLD.

When they reached the junk, Ling was not able to ascend by means of the rope up which he had swarmed so easily before. Frank went on deck, and finding a rope ladder, lowered it over the side of the s.h.i.+p.

By means of this Ling climbed to the deck, whence he descended to the cabin below, where the paraffin lamp was still burning brightly.

He asked Frank to procure for him a bucket of river water; and whilst the boy was absent, the man took off his coat and the thin under-vest that he wore. The bullet had pa.s.sed under his ribs, on the left side of his body. The wound, which was still bleeding profusely, was a great, ugly rent. When Frank returned with water he was at once shocked and astonished to observe the expression upon the man's face.

His features were pinched and drawn and haggard. The agony he suffered had caused deep lines to appear upon his forehead and about his mouth, and his eyes seemed to have sunk into his head. Beyond doubt, any other man would have fainted; but Ling was possessed of something of the vitality of a cat. He was able to speak with difficulty, yet his mind was perfectly clear. a.s.sisted by the boy, he washed and dressed his wound.

He had evidently small regard for antiseptics, for in place of lint and iodoform, he utilised ordinary s.h.i.+p's tow, which he held in place by means of a silk sash tied tightly round his waist. Then he ordered Frank to search the s.h.i.+p for opium.

The boy found a bowl of the treacle-like substance upon a table in the cabin. This he brought to Ling, together with an opium pipe and a spirit-lamp.

The man smiled, at the same time thanking the boy for his kindness.

"I am too far gone to smoke," said he. "I desire to be released from pain."

At that, he dipped his hand into the bowl and proceeded to eat the contents. The boy stood by, amazed. He knew enough of the potency of the drug to believe that Ling had swallowed enough to kill himself. He knew nothing, however, of the man's capacity for consuming poisonous doses of morphine.

In a few minutes the drug began to work. His eyes, which had become dull, grew brighter; the wrinkles slowly vanished from his face. When he spoke, his voice was stronger.

"You may think," said he to Frank, "that the tables are turned, that you are now master of the situation. It may have occurred to you that you have but to go into the other room to release your European friends, and then it will be an easy thing to overpower a wounded man. I a.s.sure you, that is not the case."

"I had no such thought," said Frank.

Ling smiled again, regarding the boy even kindly--if such an expression may be used in regard to a man whose face was like that of a hawk.

"You are my friend," said he. "I know not why I like you. I think, because you are brave. I am not fool enough to believe for a moment that you love me; but I am sure that you have always realised that I am a just man, whereas Cheong-Chau was no better than a fiend. I would have you to understand--lest I be forced to harm you--that, wounded as I am, I am still master of this s.h.i.+p and master of you. My strength is going rapidly from me, as the tide goes down upon the margin of the sea, or as the sun sets when the day draws to its close. But I can still shoot, and if you play me false I shall kill you. Whilst the breath of life is within me, you will be wise to obey my orders."

He got to his feet, and walking more briskly than before, ascended to the upper deck, followed by Frank. There they hoisted the sail, and going to the forepart of the s.h.i.+p, hauled up the anchor. A minute later, the junk was sailing slowly down the river in the starlight, Ling holding the tiller.

With a skill that proved that he had spent a portion of his life upon the sea, he steered the junk into the narrow creek which had been entered by the launch. There Ling, a.s.sisted by Frank, lowered a gangway, conducting from the deck to the sh.o.r.e. The sail had been hauled down and the s.h.i.+p secured by hawsers made fast to the trunks of trees that grew upon the edge of the water.

Frank Armitage is never likely to forget that tragic night, its grim work and pitiful conclusion. He was led by Ling to the Glade of Children's Tears--so named, perhaps, because, in a barbarous age, the murdered infants had been buried there, and the temple erected so that men might pray to the heathen G.o.ds of China for those young souls who had pa.s.sed so soon into the Celestial Kingdom.

The faint, cold light of the dying moon here and there pierced the branches of the trees, so that it was possible to distinguish the old moss-clad ruins, the great fallen images, and the lifeless body of the man whose very name had once spread terror from the Nan-ling Mountains to the sea. There was no sign of Tong; the man had evidently recovered consciousness and taken to his heels.

Frank stood by, a mute and wondering spectator of the fruitless efforts of the wounded giant. The air was heavy with the scent of the blossom which was on the trees; no sound disturbed the silence save the heavy breathing of Ling, becoming shorter and shorter as he worked, and the ceaseless was.h.i.+ng of the water against the river bank.

Ling walked to the centre of the glade. His gait was steady, though his stride shorter than usual. He stood at his full height; and had he not once or twice carried a hand to his left side, the boy might have forgotten that the man suffered grievous pain and was weak from loss of blood.

He stood for a moment, thinking. It may have been that then he prayed to the G.o.d he wors.h.i.+pped, the G.o.d of Confucius and Mencius and the sages of all China: the Eternal Spirit of the Universe, the Incomprehensible Wisdom of the world.

Then he pa.s.sed on to the great stone, which, not without difficulty, he rolled from its place. That done, he descended into the vault below, where he struck a match, lighting a candle he had brought with him from the junk.

Frank, looking down, beheld a subterranean chamber, about five yards by six in area, and not more than six feet deep--for Ling's head and shoulders protruded above the level of the ground. And in this vault were sacks, to the number of twenty, each of which was filled with a thousand Mexican dollars.

Now a thousand silver dollars are no mean weight; and yet Ling unaided, and in spite of his fast-failing strength, lifted the sacks one after another and placed them upon the ground above.

Then he himself came forth from the vault, and stood for a moment holding his left side, with the pale moonlight full upon his face. It was the face of death itself.

The man's features were more drawn and haggard-looking even than before. It may have been the moonlight that caused his countenance to appear snow-white. He breathed like one who is spent from running; his great chest heaved, and Frank perceived that his wound had opened again, and the red blood was even then staining his clothes. Towards this man--of whom, throughout all the adventures through which he had pa.s.sed, he had stood in the greatest dread--the boy now experienced feelings of infinite commiseration.

"Let me help you?" he asked.

And Ling laughed aloud--a laugh that sounded forced and hollow, in which there was more of irony than mirth. He pointed to one of the bags.

"Lift that up," said he.

Frank attempted to do so, but found that he had not the strength.

"You must go back to the junk," said he. "I give you my word of honour I will be true to you. I will attend to your wound. I will do all I can to help you."

"You do not know me," answered Ling. "I never give in. I go through with that which I have begun. And besides, there is no time to lose. I feel sure that Yung How has not wasted his time. If I delay I may be captured."

"If you do not rest," cried Frank, "you will kill yourself."

Ling was silent a moment. Then he snapped his fingers. "And what does that matter?" he asked. "What difference does it make to you--or, for the matter of that, to me? Death is nothing. We are only put into the world to die."

At that he lifted one of the bags upon his shoulder, and set forward in the direction of the place where the junk was moored.

CHAPTER XXVII.

--HOW LING DRIFTED TO THE STARS.

Ling staggered under the weight of his burden. For all that, he gained the junk, where he threw the sack into an open hatchway in the forepart of the s.h.i.+p.

He then returned to the glade, and by a great effort lifted a second sack upon his shoulder. In all, he made the journey twenty times; and on each occasion his gait was more unsteady, his breathing shorter and faster. It appeared to Frank, who watched him, that the man diminished in stature; his shoulders became round--when he had once been so upright--and he walked like an old man, with bent knees and hollowed chest.

He was not able to complete his final journey without a rest. Half-way between the glade and the junk, he threw down the last sack upon the ground, and seating himself upon it, placed his head between his hands and came out with a great sob that was pitiful to hear. He needed his last ounce of strength to steady himself to walk the narrow gangway. No sooner had he reached the deck of the junk than the sack fell from his hands, and he himself collapsed. His knees gave way from under him, and he lay for several minutes quite motionless, curled up like a great dog that sleeps.