Hills of Han 32

Hills of Han 32

“I know.”

 

“Oh, you do!”

 

“Yes. You will do as I say. You are never to communicate with her

again.”

 

Brachey thought. “I’ll say this: I’ll undertake not to. If I can’t

endure it, I’ll tell you first.”

 

“You can endure it.”

 

“But you don’t understand! It’s a terrible thing! Do you think I wanted

to come out here? I meant not to. But I couldn’t stand it. I came. Is

it nothing that I told her of my marriage with the deliberate purpose of

frightening her away? But she is afraid of nothing.”

 

“No--she is not afraid.”

 

“I tell you, I’ve been torn all to pieces. Good God, if I hadn’t been,

and if you weren’t her father, do you think I’d have stood here to-night

and let you say these things to me! Oh, you would beat me; likely enough

you’d kill me; but that’s nothing. That would be easy--except for Betty.”

 

“I have no time for heroics,” said Doane. “Have I your promise that you

will leave in the morning, without a word to her?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“I am going to Hung Chan. There are more important issues now than your

life or mine. I shall be back to-morrow night and shall know then if you

have failed to keep your word.”

 

“I shan’t fail.”

 

“Very well! A word more. You are not to stop at Ping Yang on your way

cut.”

 

“Oh?”

 

“For a night only. Then go on. Go out of the province. Go back to the

coast. Is that understood?”

 

Brachey inclined his head.

 

“I have your promise?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Very well. Good night, sir.”

 

“Good night.”

 

Doane turned to the door. But then he hesitated, turned, hesitated

again, finally came straight over and thrust out his hand.

 

Brachey, to his own amazement, took it.

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER XIV--DILEMMA

 

 

1

 

WHEN DOANE had gone Brachey called John and ordered a mule litter for

eight n the morning. John found ont of the soldiers among the lounging

group by the gate. The soldier slipped out.

 

Brachey busied himself until midnight in packing his bags. He felt that

he couldn’t sleep; most of the later night was spent in alternately

walking the floor and trying to read. Before dawn the lamp burned out;

and he lay down in his clothes and for a few hours dreamed wildly.

 

At eight the spike-studded gates swung open and an Oriental cavalcade

filed into the court. There was the litter, like a sedan chair but much

larger, swung on poles between two mules; the sides covered with red

cloth, the small swinging doors in blue; bells jingling about the necks

of the mules. There were five or six other mules and asses, each hearing

a wooden pack-saddle. There was a shaggy Manchurian pony for Brachey

to ride in clear weather. Three muleteers, two men and a boy, marched

beside the animals; hardy ragged fellows, already, or perhaps always,

caked with dirt.

 

At once the usual confusion and noise began. Men of the inn crowded

about to help pack the boxes and bags of food and water and clothing on

the saddles. The mules plunged and kicked. A rope broke and had to be

elaborately repaired. The four soldiers brought out their white ponies,

saddled them, slung their carbines over their shoulders; they were

handsome men, not so ragged, in faded blue uniforms of baggy Chinese

cut, blue half-leggings, blue turbans. Into the litter went Brachey’s

mattress and pillow. He tossed in after them camera, note-book, and _The

Bible in Spain;_ then mounted his savage little pony, which for a moment

plunged about among the pack animals, starting the confusion anew.

 

The cook mounted one of the pack-saddles, perching himself high on a

bale, his feet on the neck of the mule. John was about to mount another,

when the leading soldier handed him a letter which he brought at once to

his master.

 

Brachey with bounding pulse looked at the envelope. But the address,

“Mister J. Brachey, Esquire,” was not in Betty’s brisk little hand.

 

He tore it open, and read as follows:

 

“My Dear Sir--Taking Time touch and go by the forelock it becomes

privileged duty to advise you to wit:

 

“So-called Lookers and Western soldiers of that ilk have attacked

mission college Hung Chan with crop up outcome that these unpleasant

fellow’s go the limit in violence. By telegraph officer of devotion to

His Excellency this morning very early passes the tip that that mission

college stands longer not a whit upon earth.

 

“Looker soldiers acting under thumb of man mentioned during our little

chin-chin of yesterday forenoon plan within twenty-four hours advance

on T’ain-an-fu cutting off city from Eastern access and then resting on

oars, jolly well taking their time to destroy mission here and secondary

Christians, making clean job of it.

 

“Officer of devotion reports further of old reprobate plan that larger

army has become nearly ready to march full tilt and devil take the

hindmost on Ping Yang engineer compound fort and lay axe to root of it.

Railroad and bridges and all works of white hands will go way of wrack

and ruin except telegraph, that being offspring of Imperial Government.

 

“And now, my dear sir, as Ping Yang is place of some strength and come

on if you dare, I would respectfully recommend that you engage at once

in forlorn hope and make journey post haste to Ping Yang, as we sit on

kegs of gun powder with ground slipping out from under us as hour-glass

runs.

 

“Regretting in great heaviness and sadness of heart that civilization

sees no longer light of day in Hansi Province, I beg to remain, my Dear

Sir,

 

“Yours most respectfully,

 

“Po Sui-an.

 

“P. S. In my busy as bee excitement I have neglected to kill two birds

with one stone, and inform you that Rev. Doane of this city met death

bravely at 3 a.m. to-day at Hung Chan Northern Gate.

 

“Po.”

 

The cavalcade was ready now in line. At the head two soldiers sat their

ponies. The gay litter came next, bells jingling as the mules stirred.

Behind the litter stood the pack animals, with John and the cook mounted

precariously on the first two. The other two soldiers brought up the

rear. The muleteers stood lazily by, waiting.... Brachey slipped Mr.

Po’s letter into a pocket and gazed up at the smoke that curled lazily

from the chimney of the innkeeper’s house. The pony, restless to be

off, plunged a little; Brachey quieted him without so much as looking

down.... After a brief time he lowered his eyes. A little girl with

normal feet was trudging round and round the millstones, laboriously

grinding out a double handful of flour; a skinny old woman, in trousers,

her feet mere stumps, hobbled across the court with a stew pan, not

so much as looking up at the caravan or at the haughty white stranger;

ragged men moved about among the animals behind the manger. The huge

gates had been swung open by coolies, who stood against them; outside

was the narrow, deep-rutted roadway, with shops beyond.... Finally,

brows knit as if he were at once hurt and puzzled, face white, Brachey

took in the caravan--the calmly waiting soldiers, the muleteers, the

grotesquely mounted cook and interpreter, the large, boxlike vehicle

suspended in its richly dingy colors between two mules--and then, with

tightly compressed lips and a settling frown, he rode out into the

street ahead of the soldiers.

 

With a lively jingle of bells and creakings from the litter as it swayed

into motion, the others followed. One of the soldiers promptly came up

alongside Brachey; their two ponies nearly filled the street, crowding

passers-by into doorways.

 

Brachey led the way out through the Northern Gate to the mission

compound. Here he dismounted, handed his reins to a muleteer, and

entered the gate house.

 

[Illustration: 0247]

 

2

 

Old Sun Shao-i hurried from his chair and barred the inner door.

Regarding this white man he had orders from Mrs. Boatwright. Brachey,

however, brushed him carelessly aside and went on into the court.

 

It was the sort of thing, this walking coolly in, where he was not

wanted, that he did well. He really cared nothing what they thought.

He distrusted profoundly Mrs. Boatwright’s judgment, and did not even

consider sending in his name or a note. The hour had come for meeting

her face to fare and by force of will defeating her. There was no time

now for indulgence in personal eccentricities on the part of any of

these few white persons set off in a vast, threatening world of yellow

folk.

 

Within the spacious courtyard the sunlight lay in glowing patches on

the red tile. Through open windows came the fresh school-room voices of

girls. At the steps of a small building at his right stood or lounged

a group of Chinese men and old women and children--Brachey had

learned that only by occasional chance is a personable young or even

middle-aged.