Chapter 2

CHAPTER IVRIVER PIRATESOne day Errington had occasion to go some sixty or seventy miles up river, to look after a consignment of goods which had been wrecked in one of the native junks. He had some reason to suspect that the wreck had not been merely an accident. There was a good deal of unrest in that part of the country. Various cases of piracy had been reported both up and down the river, and in Reinhardt's absence Errington thought he had better run up himself, see that the cargo was safe, and make a few inquiries into the state of affairs generally.Burroughs and he had devoted much of their spare time to their flying boat, which they were determined should thoroughly deserve the name by the time they visited Shanghai again. The journey offered an opportunity of testing it over a longer distance and in deeper water than hitherto, so Burroughs was nothing loath to accept his friend's invitation to accompany him, and took a day off for the purpose. They employed the vessel as a hydroplane on the way up, being reluctant to run any risks until Errington's business had been attended to.On arriving at the scene of the wreck, Errington found that to all appearance this had been purely accidental. He arranged for the salvage of the goods, and the forwarding of them in another junk, and then set off in the early afternoon on the return journey.It was a brilliant day, with very little wind; and having no further anxieties on the score of business, they felt free to experiment with the vessel in the air. They had no doubt of the power of the motor to generate sufficient speed to lift the hydroplane from the surface; their only concern was the stability of it when flying. Opening out the planes, which lay folded close to the vessel, like the wings of a dragonfly, when not required for aerial use, they fixed the collapsible stays and switched their motor on to the air tractor at the bows. The vessel was already planing under the stern propeller; she now rose from the water and sailed along for some time within a few feet of the surface. Then, tempted by the apparently favourable conditions, they rose gradually to a greater height, and felt very well pleased with their success.Unluckily, however, they came suddenly upon an air pocket, caused no doubt by the difference between the temperature of the air above the banks and that of the cooler air above the river. The machine dropped with a rapidity that took them both by surprise, for as yet they were not very expert airmen. It plunged heavily into the water. They had provided themselves with air-bags, so that the immersion lasted only a few seconds; but the ignition of the engine was stopped, and they found themselves in the unfortunate position of being unable to use the vessel now even as a hydroplane.With some difficulty they managed, with the help of their Chinese engineer, to get the machine to the bank. Recognizing the awkwardness of their situation if they should find themselves overtaken by night so far from home, they set to work energetically to overhaul the engine. It was a long time before they could make it work again. Meanwhile dusk was drawing on, and they were at least fifty miles from Sui-Fu. When at last they were satisfied that the engine would work well enough to propel them through the water, they knew that it would be quite dark before they reached home.They pressed on with all the speed of which the engine was capable, keeping well out in the broad river in order to avoid the masses of reeds that fringed the banks. The sky grew darker and darker, though there was a little more light on the water than over the surrounding country. Suddenly their attention was attracted by a continuous whistling, evidently from the siren of a steamer some distance down stream. They felt some curiosity as to the reason of so prolonged a noise; but they had already learnt that in China people do such inconceivable things at such unusual times, looked at from the Western standpoint, that their interest was not seriously engaged."Some old buffer of a Chinaman amusing himself, I suppose," said Errington. "They seem to like to hear how much row they can kick up."They were travelling at the rate of about twenty-five knots, and the whistling grew louder moment by moment. As they steered somewhat nearer to the bank, to take a short cut round a bend, they suddenly came in sight of a small steamer about three hundred yards ahead of them. It was now so nearly dark that the vessel was not very clearly distinguishable.Almost as soon as they caught sight of it, the scream of the siren suddenly ceased; but immediately they became aware of a shrill babel of voices--cries and shouts in the high tones that Chinamen invariably employ. And as they drew swiftly nearer, they perceived that the vessel was surrounded by a number of sampans, the low punt-like boats used by the lightermen of the ports, and also by the pirates who infested the river.A moment later they recognized the steamer. There were few vessels of the kind in these high reaches of the Yang-tse-kiang, and they had lived long enough at Sui-Fu to be able easily to distinguish them."It's Ting's vessel," said Errington.Scarcely had he spoken when two or three pistol shots rang out. There was not a doubt that the steamer was being attacked. Burroughs, at the wheel, steered straight for it. Errington snatched up his revolver, but an uneasy suspicion suggesting itself to him, he snapped it, and found that its immersion had rendered it useless.Only a few seconds had passed since they had first caught sight of the steamer. Unarmed as they were, they meant to take a hand in behalf of Mr. Ting. Each seized a heavy spanner from their tool chest, and Burroughs, telling the engineer to tie the machine to the steamer's stern rail, shut off the engine and drove the hydroplane among the sampans, sinking two of them by the impact.Then seizing the stern rail, the two lads drew themselves up, and vaulted on deck. There was no one at the wheel, but a crowd of struggling forms was to be seen scrambling up the narrow gangways to the bridge, where there or four men were striving desperately to force the assailants back. At a glance Errington saw that the men on the bridge were the officers and crew of the vessel, and shouting to Burroughs to take the port gangway, he himself made a dash towards the starboard one, and fell upon the rear of the crowd.The darkness, the excitement, the noise of the fight, had prevented the attackers from discovering the approach of the hydroplane, so that the sudden onslaught of the two white men, wielding heavy iron tools with the vigour of sturdy youth, took them completely by surprise. Both Errington and Burroughs were very "fit" through much exercise, and three or four of the crowd at each gangway had gone down under their vigorous blows before those in front became aware of their danger. When they turned and found that their new opponents numbered only two, they rushed upon them with yells of rage. But they had now to reckon with the men on the bridge, who instantly took advantage of the diversion, and springing down the gangways, threw themselves upon what was now the rear of their assailants.But for this rapid movement, the fight would have gone badly for the Englishmen. One or two pistols were snapped at them, and they had already received several gashes from the ugly knives of the pirates. But it was evident from what happened now that the men on the bridge had been husbanding their ammunition. Shots fell thick among the pirates huddled on the gangways and the deck adjacent. One slightly built Chinaman, his pigtail streaming behind him, flung himself down from the bridge towards the spot where Burroughs, half stunned by a blow from a burly ruffian, had been beaten to the deck. This little man carried a knife in each hand, and used these weapons with such demoniacal fury that in a second or two he cleared the space between him and the fallen Englishman.The sudden turning of the tables took all the spirit out of the pirates, who, though they were still three to one, sprang overboard on both sides of the vessel, and swimming to their sampans, scuttled away like rats shoreward."A velly good fight," said Mr. Ting, wiping his knives and raising Burroughs from the deck. "No bones bloken?""It's nothing," said Burroughs. "I got a whack over the head that made me see stars. Jolly glad you came to the rescue, sir, or there wouldn't have been much left of me.""Hai! I think it is all vice vessa. Without you and Pierce, where should I be? You got a whack, Pierce?""Oh, a baker's dozen or so, but I've had worse at rugger," said Errington coming up. "No: hang it! they've cut me, I see; we don't use knives in our scrums. What's it all about, Mr. Ting?""As you see, these pilate hogs attacked me. I was going back after doing a little business--plomised myself I would dine with you. But let us see who these pigs are."[image]A BRUSH WITH RIVER PIRATESHis crew had already thrown overboard two dead bodies, and collected several wounded at the foot of the gangway. A lamp was lighted, and one of the prisoners, whose head bore plain marks of contact with Errington's spanner, was recognized by Mr. Ting's engineer as a notorious bandit and pirate named Su Fing."The blessings of Heaven descend upon the just," murmured Mr. Ting. "This man is the worst water-lat of the liver. He is plotected by one of the seclet societies that are the cuss of this countly, and all the mandalins and plefects and likin[#] officers are aflaid of him, and hate him as much. Suppose we take him to the yamen and accuse him befo' the mandalin, he would be aflaid to pass sentence upon him. Why? Because he would be killed dead by the assassins of the seclet society. No: we will take him to the Consular Court at Sui-Fu; there we shall have justice. Of course his punishment will not be so heavy as if he was condemned by a mandalin. Then he would have his head cut off, or stand in the cage, after a beating with the bamboo or the leather. The consuls do not punish thus. But when you cannot get the moon, a cheese is velly acceptable: that is what we will do."[#] Customs house.The pirate captain and his wounded men were conveyed on the steamer to Sui-Fu, and Mr. Ting accompanied the boys to the consul's court to see the matter through. The consul declared, however, that since the crime had been committed against a Chinaman, he as an Englishman had no jurisdiction, and the prisoners had to be brought before the local mandarin. The result was as Mr. Ting had foreseen. The evidence was so clear that it was impossible, even for a Chinese magistrate, to decide in favour of the pirates. He condemned them all to be beaten on the cheeks with the leather, and then to stand tiptoe in the cage, with their heads held up at the top so that they could get no ease from the intolerable pain. But the administrators of the beating laid their strokes on very lightly, and the custodians of the cages left the fastenings conveniently loose, so that within a few hours the men were at large. They remained quiet for a few weeks, while their wounds healed: then it was evident, from reports brought down the river, that they were at their old trade again."A nice country this is," said Errington in disgust. "We'll take care in future, old man, to keep our revolvers dry."CHAPTER VDIVIDED WAYSWith the coming of winter the two Englishmen found fewer opportunities of employing their leisure time. They both paid short visits to Shanghai, but could not long be spared from their branches. The intense cold made hydroplaning or flying a pastime of doubtful pleasure, and they had to fall back on their own resources, or on the recreations afforded by the European society of the town.Burroughs did not care for what he called "racketing." He was fond of reading, and preferred an evening with his books to social functions. He joined Errington in games of draughts, chess or dominoes; but these sedentary amusements had few attractions for the more active and restless member of the chummery, who could not find in reading, either, a substitute for his usual recreations. Occasionally they went out shooting together: the reed-beds of the river abounded in wild fowl; but the country was becoming more and more disturbed; the unrest which is always fermenting in out-of-the-way parts of China broke out in riots and other disorders; and one day they received a polite request from the viceroy of the province to keep within the precincts of the settlement. The viceroy had a nervous dread lest they should come to some harm, and their Government cause trouble, which would result possibly in his dismissal from office and the consequent loss of opportunities of enriching himself, or even, if the matter were very serious, in the loss of his buttons. As peaceable traders they had no option but to comply as gracefully as possible with this request: though if they had had no business interests to consider, they would have been prepared to take the risk of the attacks to which small parties of Europeans are frequently exposed in the remoter provinces, especially during periods of popular excitement.The result of this enforced idleness on Errington was that he fell more readily than he might otherwise have done to the temptation of Reinhardt's card-parties, which became during the winter a nightly institution. Reinhardt was now seldom absent, and with one or two other Germans in the settlement he spent the long evenings over cards. Errington would sometimes rise from his seat in the little sitting-room he shared with Burroughs, pace the floor restlessly, then, with a glance at his companion engrossed in a book, slip out, more or less shamefacedly at first, but afterwards with scanter offers to justify himself, and make his way to Reinhardt's bungalow, where he was always assured of a warm welcome.It was unfortunate that he should find himself possessed of an unusual aptitude for cards: still more unfortunate that for a time he had the luck that proverbially attends beginners. The card-players played for stakes, and as the season advanced, the amount of the stakes, as so frequently happens, advanced too. Errington never deliberately intended to play high, but he was almost insensibly led on by the example of the older men; and having begun, he lacked the firmness to withdraw, and shrank from appearing less of a sportsman than the others.As was only to be expected, the luck presently turned against him, and one night, after long play, he found himself not only stripped of all his money, but in debt to Reinhardt. This position was irksome to a high-spirited temperament. The idea of owing money to his superior was unendurable, and after a restless night, during which he slept little, he resolved to borrow from his chum enough to clear him."Got a few dollars to spare, old chap?" he said with an assumed light-heartedness at breakfast.Burroughs flushed, and cast his eyes upon his plate: an onlooker would have thought from his manner that he was the culprit. He knew very well what was coming, and felt instinctively what Errington had suffered inwardly before he could have brought himself to this point."You can have what you like, Pidge--in reason, of course.""Thanks. I could do with twenty or thirty dollars just now. Sorry to trouble you.""Oh, hang it, man, don't talk such rot. What's mine's yours any time you like."Errington pocketed the money hastily, and spoke of something else. His discomfort was so obvious that Burroughs hoped he would drop the card-playing forthwith. Until the monthly cheque for his salary arrived, indeed, Errington absented himself from Reinhardt's parties. He repaid Burroughs at once, and for a week or two never went out in the evening. But then the old restlessness crept upon him; once more he joined the jolly party; then not an evening passed without his leaving the chummery as soon as it was dark, not to return until long past midnight. His losses became more serious, and he played again in an attempt to retrieve them, only to plunge deeper still.One morning, with pale face and stammering lips, quite unlike his wonted self, he asked Burroughs for the loan of a hundred dollars."All right, old man," said his friend, determinedly cheerful, "but aren't you going the pace rather?""What do you mean?" demanded Errington hotly, his old resentment at restraint flaming forth."Well, it's no affair of mine, of course, but it's a pity, don't you think, to let that fellow Reinhardt get the whip hand of you?""Confound you, why are you always girding at Reinhardt? What's he done to you? Anybody would think he's an ogre, waiting to crunch my bones, to hear you talk." He ignored the fact that for months Burroughs had not once opened his mouth on the subject. "What's a fellow to do if he can't enjoy a harmless game? It's all straight; you don't suppose I'd play with sharpers; and one can't always win. You don't want me to shirk it when I lose, I suppose? I tell you what it is: you're getting mean and miserly; you're afraid you won't get your beastly money back.""You know me better than that, Pidge," said Burroughs quietly. "You're a bit off colour, old chap. Here's your hundred; pay me when you like."If Errington had obeyed his impulse at that moment he would have apologized to Burroughs, and renounced Reinhardt and all his works once and for ever. But shame, the sense of being in the wrong, false pride, and above all the gambler's perpetual hope of success, tied his tongue, and the precious moment slipped away.Burroughs was very much surprised to get his money back within a few days--before, as he knew, Errington had received any further remittances from Shanghai."Much obliged, Moley," Errington said as he laid the notes beside his friend's plate one morning.Burroughs glanced up, but Errington would not meet his eye; so with a "Thanks, old man!" as casual as Errington's own remark, he put the notes into his pocket and began cheerfully to talk shop. But he was much disturbed in mind. If his chum had won the money, it would encourage him to go on gambling. If he had not won it, how had he obtained it so soon? Burroughs hoped with all his heart that he had not borrowed of Reinhardt or any other German of the set. It was bad enough that Reinhardt should entice his subordinate to play at all; and the low opinion that Burroughs held of him fell still lower.He would have been even more perturbed had he known the real source of Errington's money. Restive under the disapproval, of which he was conscious, though Burroughs never again uttered it, the lad was foolish enough to apply to the Chinese money-lenders. They were ready to oblige a young Englishman, and fixed their interest to match the risk, as they said: which meant that they would squeeze as much as possible out of him by working on his fears of exposure and disgrace.The nightly card-parties went on, and Errington became a constant attendant. There grew up a constraint between the two friends. Burroughs was anxious and worried, and could not help showing it. Errington, in his own worried state of mind, was annoyed at his friend's manner, all the more because he knew very well that he himself was in the wrong. His high spirits gave way to moodiness and irritability, and after a time he avoided Burroughs. It was a trying position for both of them, inmates of one lodging. They saw less and less of each other, and when they could not but meet, what conversation passed between them was almost confined to business matters.Naturally the affairs of the few Europeans in the town were freely discussed by their native servants and their cronies. Vague rumours came to Burroughs' ears, after a long round, of what went on at Reinhardt's card-parties. It appeared that Reinhardt himself was frequently the winner when the stakes were high, and Burroughs became less and less tolerant of a man who ought to have been particularly scrupulous in keeping his subordinate out of mischief. Reinhardt was always very polite and pleasant when he met Burroughs, but on more than one occasion the latter was rude to him. There were no half measures with Burroughs.One day, talking shop because they seemed to have now no other common topic, Burroughs mentioned to Errington that he was negotiating a very large transaction with a Chinese broker, and stated the terms on which the consignment of goods was to change hands. Errington congratulated him on the prospect of doing a good stroke of business, and the subject dropped.Next day, however, at the last moment, the negotiations fell through, to Burroughs' great annoyance. It was a loss to his branch, and incidentally to himself, for both he and Errington had a small interest in the turnover of their branches, as well as a salary. He was also vexed at having mentioned the matter to Errington, when it was so unlike him to talk about things that were still uncertain.What was his surprise and irritation a few days later to hear from his comprador that the transaction in which he had failed had been completed by Errington, who had overbid him."Nonsense! Absolute rot!" he said to the man, feeling indignant on his friend's behalf.The comprador spread out his hands deprecatingly and said--"Allo lightee savvy all same, sah. Mass' Ellington he go buy all jolly lot.""Shut up; I don't believe it."The Chinaman shrugged: surely his master was very short this morning! But he said no more. Two days after, however, he brought Burroughs the order for the goods, written on the official paper of Ehrlich Söhne, and signed with Errington's initials. At this, even a friend of long standing might well be staggered. Burroughs remembered that his chum had been looking more and more worried of late. He came to breakfast with a pale face and weary eyes, and the look of a man who had not slept. Could it be that, in his urgent need of money, he had fallen to the temptation of snatching this business out of the hands of the other house? If it had been Reinhardt, Burroughs would not have been at all surprised; but that Errington had taken advantage of the information casually given him to steal a march on his friend was inconceivable. Burroughs knew perfectly well that at the time when negotiations were in progress with him, Feng Wai, the Chinese merchant, had made no overtures to the German firm, so that there was no question of the firms being played off against each other. Besides, it had always been an understanding between the two old school-fellows that, a price having once been named, each should abide by it.The position was unendurable to Burroughs, who at once stepped over to Errington's office, and walked, as he had always been accustomed to do, though not frequently of late, straight into his room. Once, Errington would have sprung up from his seat with a hearty word of greeting: now he remained sitting, with a look of embarrassment."I say, Pidge," began Burroughs, trying to speak in an ordinary tone, "what's this I hear about Feng Wai doing better with you than with me? I told you, you remember, that I had practically concluded the deal."Burroughs was but a poor actor, and his manner, rather than his tone, told Errington that he was labouring under some strong feeling. Nervous and irritable as he was, Errington at once took offence."I shouldn't listen to gossip, if I were you," he said; "next time come straight to me.""As it happens, I have come straight to you as soon as I had seen with my own eyes what I wouldn't believe when I heard it. I don't want any more information than your signature.""Look here, do you mean to be offensive, or can't you help it? Say straight out that you think I've gone behind your back, if you do think it.""Well then, if you want it straight, you shall have it," said Burroughs, losing his temper. "I've seen your order, signed with your initials. After our agreement it would have been bad enough if I'd said nothing to you; but having myself given you the terms, in confidence, as I supposed----""That's enough!" cried Errington, springing up, his eyes ablaze with anger. "You've been looking accusations against me for months past, and I've had enough of it. You always had the makings of a fine prig. Until you beg my pardon, I swear I'll have nothing more to do with you."And flinging out of the office, he slammed the door behind him.Burroughs was as much hurt as enraged. This was the first serious row between them since their early school-days. But he was not inclined to apologize. He felt that he had asked for information in a perfectly civil way; and though, in his heart, he could not help suspecting that there was possibly some mistake, the sarcasm of his old friend had wounded him too bitterly for him to hold out the olive branch.When he went home to the chummery, the gravity of the quarrel was proved by the fact that Errington had removed all his personal belongings."Where's Mr. Errington?" he asked of Chin Tai, his servant."He gone wailo Mass' Leinhadt," said the man, grinning. He was glad to have seen the back of Lo San, Errington's man.And next morning, when Lo San brought an envelope containing a remittance for the entire amount that Errington owed him, Burroughs felt still more deeply incensed. To repay him with money borrowed from the German seemed the finishing stroke to their old friendship. In the old days, a quiet talk would have set matters right instantly; but the previous coolness between them, due to Errington's gambling, rendered that course now impossible.The explanation was exceedingly simple. Errington had received an inquiry from Feng Wai immediately after he had heard from Burroughs of the negotiation in progress. He had quoted exactly the same terms, and the bargain was struck. But the Chinaman found that, the rates having gone up slightly, he was unable to supply the goods, and went to the office to ask to be released from his contract. It happened that Errington was out at the time, but Reinhardt was there. Scenting a chance of raising a difference between the two friends, Reinhardt agreed to give the enhanced price, merely altering the figures in the contract note, taking care to make the new figures as like Errington's as possible. The Chinese merchant is usually as good as his word; but Feng Wai had had only a verbal understanding with Burroughs, and thought himself justified in concluding the transaction at the higher price. Reinhardt stipulated that the extra price should not be disclosed; but Burroughs' comprador often got information through private channels, and it was not long before he was aware of the terms of the bargain.The appearance of Errington at his bungalow that evening, in a towering rage, told Reinhardt that his scheme had succeeded, but he was scarcely prepared for the completeness of the breach between the friends. He owed Burroughs the grudge which a mean and dishonourable man often owes a more honourable one for no other reason than that he is more honourable. He was now anxious that Errington should not discover the change of price, for he knew that, if he heard of it, he would at once seek to put himself right with his friend. Errington was too angry at first to give any explanation of the quarrel; but presently he said--"What's all this tosh about outbidding Burroughs with Feng Wai? Nothing in it, is there?""Of course not. You initialled ze contract yourself, didn't you?""Yes.""Ze invoice will prove it: I show you zat to-morrow when we go to ze office."Before night he had made a private arrangement with Feng Wai that the goods should be invoiced at the original price, and that the difference should be made up by Reinhardt himself. His intention was to recoup himself by an adjustment in his private ledger under what an Englishman would call "squeeze." The invoice, consequently, satisfied Errington that there was no foundation for Burroughs' suspicion, and he nourished a deep resentment against his old friend for harbouring it. Reinhardt was, of course, careful to file the altered contract note among his private papers: to alter the figures back again could hardly be done so neatly as to escape the notice of one so keen as Errington.Thus Errington became an inmate of Reinhardt's house, and the breach between the two friends widened. In a place where there is only a small community of white men, a disagreement of this kind is at once set right, or it becomes far more acute. With Errington, the mere idea that he could be suspected by his friend of such a trick as he had accused him of rankled more and more as time went on. He found himself harbouring bitter thoughts, not only of him, but of Mr. Ting; for in his perverted state of mind he was ready to listen to Reinhardt's suggestions that the Chinaman had profited by his father's losses, and was actually enjoying a wealth which, if right were done, would be his own.By and by his bitterness of spirit was if possible aggravated by the suspicion that Reinhardt cheated at cards. Being more continuously in the German's company, he noticed little things, slight manifestations of character, which had before escaped him. He watched his host more and more carefully, and though he was unable to bring the matter home to him, he grew at length almost convinced that Reinhardt was a swindler. This, coming upon the loss of his friend, which in his better moments he felt deeply, so worked upon him that he found his situation unendurable, and applied to his firm for a transfer still farther up the river. The managers at first hesitated, but his threat to resign unless his application was granted, coupled with reports of his business aptitude from all with whom he had come in contact, produced the result he desired. Rather than lose his services, the firm put him in charge of a small sub-branch at Chia-ling Fu.CHAPTER VIMR. TING SPEAKS OUTDuring the whole of the winter there had been much speculation among the European residents in the treaty ports as to the cause of the unrest disturbing many different parts of the country. Disorder of one kind or another is always smouldering in China. Sometimes it is due to the oppression of the officials, sometimes to hatred of the foreigners, often to obscure causes which not even the older white residents in the country can understand.For some time past there had been risings in various districts which puzzled even the acutest and most experienced. A rumour had gradually arisen that they were due partly to the secret societies which supported predatory bands in many parts of the empire, partly to direct incitement from without. Germany had always expected far greater things from her possession of Kiauchou than had actually sprung from it. Her appetite for colonial extension had grown by what it fed on, and been whetted especially by her successful deals with France over Morocco. Her colonial party hungered after a big slice of the Middle Kingdom, but while China was at peace with herself and the rest of the world, there was little that Germany could do, without risking armed opposition on the part of other interested Powers.From time immemorial it has been the custom of strong states desiring territorial aggrandisement to make an opportunity of fishing in troubled waters. Many people in China now said that German agents were at work in more than one part of the empire, stirring up the forces of disruption which were always latent in the country. Whether rightly or wrongly, Burroughs had begun to suspect, from various small matters that fell under his observation, that Reinhardt was such an agent. His comprador reported that the German had been seen in communication with the river pirate who had been captured in the attack on Mr. Ting. He said that it was whispered in native circles that German money had bribed the officials to connive at the bandit's escape. At first Burroughs merely smiled at these reports, but they were so persistent that, taken in connection with Reinhardt's frequent unexplained absences, they at last made an impression upon him. Perhaps there was something in them after all.From the newspapers which he received regularly from Shanghai he learnt that the German fleet in Chinese waters was to be strengthened by the addition of several river gunboats, for the protection of German subjects who might be threatened by the growing disorder. Inasmuch as the disturbances were not as yet serious--no more alarming than the outbreaks that occur about every five years in one part or another--Burroughs shrewdly suspected that in this case the wish was father to the thought. It was becoming a favourite move of German diplomacy to send a gunboat to some centre of disorder, which could only be removed by some one paying compensation. When, therefore, the smouldering disaffection broke into an active rising about a hundred and fifty miles up the river from Sui-Fu, a German gunboat was moved up as far as she could proceed with safety, and several launches were sent still farther.The total German population for whose lives the German Government professed to have such a tender regard consisted of Reinhardt and two or three compatriots at Sui-Fu, together with about an equal number at stations on other parts of the river. No similar move had been considered necessary by any of the other Powers. The Chinese Government protested, explaining that the disorders were slight, and would be at once suppressed. But the Germans refused to go back, and China was not certain enough of the unanimity of the other powers to risk a war with Germany unaided.The Chinese officials saw that it was of the greatest importance to keep the peace along the river, so that the Germans should have absolutely no excuse for intervening.When the movement of the German vessels took place, Reinhardt was absent from Sui-Fu. Errington had been established for some weeks at Chia-ling Fu. On Reinhardt's reappearance at his station it was rumoured among the Chinese that he had actually been in the camp of the revolutionaries, whose leader was none other than the river pirate of Mr. Ting's adventure. There was a very persistent report that the insurgents were well supplied with money, a circumstance sufficiently remarkable in itself to lend support to the suspicion that the Germans were secretly backing the insurrection.Errington meanwhile, in his new position at Chia-ling Fu, had gone from bad to worse. The city itself was more attractive than Sui-Fu; it was situated at the junction of the Min with two other rivers, amidst very fertile and picturesque country. Errington might have found much to interest him if he had cared to make friends with the missionaries, or with the Englishmen in the town. But his connection with a German firm brought him necessarily into closer contact with the little German colony, among whom there was a careless, card-playing section. Cards were practically the only recreation; and Errington, deprived of any steadying influence, fell more and more under the fascination of gambling. Absence for a time from Reinhardt dulled his suspicions of that gentleman's honesty, and when the German paid occasional visits to Chia-ling Fu he found Errington as ready as ever to associate with him. At the card-parties luck was steadily against the Englishman, and in course of time he was heavily in debt to Reinhardt and others. He went to the money-lenders again; but they declined to give him any further assistance, and began to press him in regard to the amounts he already owed them.Reinhardt also happened to be pressed for money. An American globe-trotter of great means came to Sui-Fu, and was persuaded by Reinhardt to join his card-parties. He proved more than a match for the German, who, piqued at his losses, played higher and higher, until at the end of a fortnight he was many hundred dollars to the bad.One day he ran up to Chia-ling Fu in his launch, and called on Errington. After a little general conversation, he said casually--"By ze way, zose little sums you owe me--will it be convenient to pay up?""I'm rather stoney just now," replied Errington, with an uneasy laugh. "Can you give me a little time?""Sorry, my boy, I would if I could; but I also am stoney. I must have ze money. But zere is a way for you. Why not go to Mr. Ting? I do not say it is true, but zere are many who believe zat Ting has still moneys of your late fazer, my old friend. A compatriot of mine, a man I know, once heard your fazer say in ze Shanghai Club zat whatever happened to him, ze boy--zat is you, naturally--would be provided for. Ting, said he, would see well to zat.""My guardian in England told me I had next to nothing," said Errington, much surprised; "and my education was so expensive that by the time I came of age there'd be precious little left.""I know nozink about zat. I know only what my friend told me. How stands ze matter? You owe me five hundred dollars; I cannot afford in zese times to wait for ze money; zerefore I say, apply to Mr. Ting."Errington thought over the suggestion. The suspicions already planted by Reinhardt had not taken very deep root, but this fresh hint that Mr. Ting might be actually turning to his own use money that did not belong to him made Errington resolve to broach the matter at the first opportunity.Mr. Ting at intervals travelled up the river on business. It happened that he came to Chia-ling Fu a few days after Reinhardt had made his suggestion. He called on Errington, as he had often done before, gave him news of friends in Shanghai, and showed no sign of any change of feeling towards his old employer's son.Errington was restless and ill at ease all through the interview. His natural pride revolted against the course he was forcing himself to take. At last, just as Mr. Ting was leaving, he said hesitatingly and with a shamefaced air--"Could you--would you mind lending me a thousand dollars?"The Chinaman showed no surprise."You find your pay not enough?" he said. "It was incleased, was it not?""Yes, but----""And you are a young man," Mr. Ting went on. "You have no wife nor pickins. I think with your pay, and your commission--velly good, if I hear tlue--you can live velly well. Plaps you tell me what you want so much money for."Errington began to walk up and down the room. He was struggling with himself: should he make a clean breast of it? Shame, an ill conscience, and the suggestions of Reinhardt combined to tie his tongue."Betting?" said Mr. Ting quietly. He put on his spectacles, a curious trick of his at serious moments."No, I don't bet.""Card-playing?""There's no harm in an occasional rubber, is there?" said Errington, his temper rising."Gambling?" went on the remorseless Chinaman.And then the storm burst."What right have you to question me?" demanded the boy furiously. "You are not my guardian. You profess to be a friend of mine, and when I ask you for a slight favour you preach at me. You're rolling in money, and won't lift a finger to help a fellow. I don't want your money, though if what people say is true, the amount I asked you for is a precious small portion of what I might claim from you as a right, and no favour.""Hai! What fo' you talkee so fashion? What foolo pidgin you talkee this time?" cried Mr. Ting. In his indignation at what was in truth a charge of bad faith the Chinaman lapsed for a moment into the pidgin English of his childhood. Then, recovering his composure, he said with quiet dignity: "You are the son of a gentleman who was my master and my flend, and I cannot say to you what I would say to any other man who insulted me so. I do not gludge the sum that you wish to bollow, but I am solly that you want money for leasons that you will not tell, and which I must think are no cledit to you. But I tell you now, I will lend you enough money to pay all you owe, if you will give me a plomise, the word of a gentleman, that you will make no more debts in the same fashion."Errington looked at him for a moment; then, muttering "Pledge my freedom to a Chinaman!" he flung out of the room in a rage.CHAPTER VIIA DISCOVERY IN THE SWAMPThe situation of the young fellow was now pitiable in the extreme. He did not know where to turn. There were six other white men in the place, of whom only two were English; and as he canvassed them one by one in his mind, he recognized that it was hopeless to apply to any of them. Remorse, bitter self-reproach for his folly, mingled with the harrowing fear of ruin and exposure. He thought of the pleasant months he had spent in Mr. Burroughs' house; the kindness all had shown him; the confidence they had put in him; and the thought of losing the good opinion of his friends was agony. He felt that he had kicked away the supports that might have been his. A word to the Mole would, he knew, bring his old friend to his help; but there was that miserable difference between them. A simple promise to Mr. Ting would save him; but pride held him back, and the suspicions that were poisoning his mind. Feeling utterly lost, he went to his room, and buried his aching head on the pillow.Reinhardt came to him next day."Well, did Ting shell out?" he said."No," replied Errington. "Give me a week, Reinhardt; I'll pay you in a week, or----""Do nozink foolish, my boy. Zat's all right; I will wait a week; in a week anyzink may happen."On Errington's part it was a mere staving-off of the evil day--a clutching at a straw; the last desperate hope of the gambler that time was on his side.But how to kill time? He could not attend to his business; there was little else to be done except play cards, and besides having no money, he hated cards now with a savage hatred. Hearing, however, from one of the Englishmen in the place that there was good duck-shooting some few miles up the river, he resolved to go for a day's sport. The Viceroy's request that the Europeans would not venture beyond their own settlement was forgotten, in spite of the fact that it had lately been repeated with some urgency. The country was disturbed, and the swamps haunted by the wild fowl were in the midst of the district affected. They surrounded a number of small villages which were known to be the nests of river pirates, and hot-beds of the insurrectionary movement. To the ordinary traveller the villages were almost unapproachable, being situated on dry tracts encompassed by the reedy marshes that extended for some miles inland from the banks of the river.One morning Errington started in a native sampan with his Chinese servant. On approaching the spot of which he had been told, he noticed that Lo San looked uneasily at some large Chinese characters painted in white on a rock at the river-side."Well, what is it?" he asked."Ho tao pu ching," replied the man. "Way no flee.""Not free! Not clear, I suppose you mean. Why not? There's plenty of room between the rocks.""Pilates, sah; plenty bad fellas.""Hang the pirates! It's very kind of the billposter, but we've nothing worth scooping. Go on."But game appeared to be scarce. Duck were seen in the distance, but Errington could never get within range. Determined not to return empty-handed, he went farther into the swamp, and was punting towards a thick growth of reeds fringing a piece of open water, on the far side of which he had noticed some birds, when his eye was caught by a boat floating apparently towards this open water down a narrow and irregular channel from the Yang-tse. The channel was so much overgrown with reeds and rushes that it was not easy to distinguish the nature of the approaching craft. Errington took up his binocular and scanned it, expecting to discover that it was a sampan, like that in which he was himself travelling. But on closer inspection it proved to be more like a dinghy, and probably belonged to some vessel anchored in the neighbourhood.It was too far off for him to see clearly the two men in the dinghy; they had their backs to him, but their general appearance suggested Chinamen. All at once a slight turn in their course revealed what had previously not been visible, they were towing an object of much larger size. It was impossible to distinguish it; it might be a raft or a large sampan loaded with goods.Reckless as his mood was, Errington was not utterly rash, or disposed to court danger out of pure wilfulness. While he was watching the boats, he drew the sampan within the shelter of the clump of reeds through which he was making his way."Take a look," he said, handing the binocular to his servant, who, however, preferred to use his own eyes."China fellas, sah," he said in a low voice. "My tinkee better go back chop-chop."The man had felt all along that his master was foolish to come alone into these parts, so far from the town; but he knew the Englishman's temper, and the rejection of his former word of warning had kept him silent since. Now, however, the sight of a strange boat, manned by Chinamen, near the haunts of the pirates, induced him to offer more definite advice.But in vain. Errington was not the man to be scared by actual dangers, still less imaginary ones. The moving boats had frightened away the ducks, so that there was no present chance of sport. And having nothing better to do for the moment, he drove the sampan quietly still farther among the reeds, bade Lo San keep still, and settled to watch the strangers.As they drew nearer, he noticed something that piqued his curiosity. The men in the boat, whom he now knew to be Chinamen, looked cautiously around, as if to make sure that they were not observed. Screened though he was by the reeds, Errington had the curious sensation which watchers often have, that those whom he could see also saw him. But the men gave no sign of uneasiness; the dinghy passed behind the further edge of the clump of reeds, and disappeared.Errington was now sufficiently interested to determine to wait. Ten or twelve minutes afterwards, the nose of the dinghy emerged from the rushes; the men turned it round, and made off in the direction from which they had come. But Errington saw at a glance that there was now no object astern of them. He wondered what it was, and where it had been left. Probably the circumstance would not have held his attention for a moment but for the men's cautious look around; their manner suggested that they were hiding something. It might be no business of his; on the other hand, it struck him that, since the incident had happened in a district infested by pirates, some of these pests had recently made a haul of goods. He felt that at all hazards he must satisfy himself; not that there appeared to be any danger, but he could not tell but that, behind the screen of reeds at the farther end of the open water, there might be an encampment of the water-rats, as these gentry were called by the Englishmen. The object with which Errington had set out was forgotten; duck-shooting was an exciting sport, but it did not challenge his imagination as did the possibility of a contest of wits or activity with men; and with nerves braced he resolved to investigate.Venturesome as he was in ordinary circumstances, Errington was not without the instinctive cautiousness of the born scout. He did not, therefore, head straight across the pool, as any one who knew him slightly, and argued only from his impulsiveness, might have expected him to do. Instead, he forced the sampan slowly and with some difficulty through the margin of rushes bordering the pool. Many other channels besides that on which the boat had come, led from the open water to the river. Coming to one of these narrower passages, he glanced up and down before crossing it, to make sure that there were no other men who might see him and interfere with his movements. His object was to reach the wider channel, and then follow the course that had been taken by the dinghy.It occurred to him that the dinghy, when it disappeared among the rushes, might have towed the second craft to a pirate encampment; and as the direction in which it had gone was on his right-hand side, he took the left-hand side of the pool, and punted slowly along until he came to a spot where the broad channel was open to his view for a considerable distance. He looked in the direction in which the dinghy was going when he last saw it. It was no longer in sight. With another cautious glance round, pausing for a few moments to listen, he crept out into the pool, and set out for the other side. It was not very difficult to find the narrow opening in the reeds through which the dinghy had passed with the other vessel in tow. But when he had once entered it, he saw how almost impossible it would have been to find his way had he not carefully noted the exact place of entry. Reeds grew out of the water on every side. There was no real passage; apparently it was not a regular waterway, and he ceased to expect to see any human habitation at the further end, wherever that might be. The water was shallow, and the only indication that it was navigable at all was afforded by the bent rushes where the two craft had previously passed.After proceeding for a few yards, however, he found that the water became slightly deeper, and there were some signs of the reeds having been cut. An attempt had apparently been made to clear a channel. His former idea returned to him; perhaps it led to an encampment after all. He drove the sampan on with even greater caution, becoming more and more interested as he noticed how the channel wound this way and that among the thickest beds of rushes.Threading this tortuous channel for perhaps a hundred yards, he came with startling suddenness upon the object of his search. The reeds came to an end, and on a stretch of firm ground, rising three or four feet above the level of the swamp, four or five low ramshackle huts, constructed of poles and matting, stood about thirty yards back from the edge of the water. The space between them and the water was littered with an extraordinary miscellany of objects, all of them of a more or less imperishable character--pots and pans, vases, tiles, native images, and other things, which from their arrangement in bales, bundles, or stacks, appeared to be articles of merchandise, but not in actual use here.With his knowledge of the kind of thing that went on in these swamps, Errington at once guessed that these objects were the spoil of trading vessels captured by the river pirates and brought to this cunningly devised or carefully sought hiding-place. There were black rings here and there on the ground that were without doubt the marks of camp-fires. But the place had a deserted, a neglected, look. The huts were boarded up, except where they were so tumbledown that no such precaution was possible. Three or four old and rickety sampans were drawn up at the brink. But the object which had been towed by the dinghy was floating, secured by a rope to one of the uprights of a ruined hut close to the shore.Errington looked at it curiously. It appeared from its shape to be a boat of some kind, but being completely covered with matting its outlines were indistinguishable. Wondering what its contents could be, to be so carefully covered up, Errington punted the sampan alongside, and lifted a corner of the matting. What he saw gave him a surprise comparable only to a galvanic shock. Underneath was a stretch of canvas that exactly resembled a wing of the flying boat, folded back, as Burroughs' custom was when the vessel was not in use. Lifting the matting further, Errington had no more doubt. The object before him, shapeless and ungainly as it was under its cover, was indeed the flying boat.Lo San's astonishment was equal to his own. The Chinaman uttered a smothered "Hai!" then looked fearfully around, as if expecting that the sound would bring a crew of the dreaded pirates yelling about them. But there was no sound, no sign of life.Errington's first impulse was to tow the vessel out, and convey it to his own station. Then a doubt crossed his mind. The dinghy which had brought it to this spot had been unmistakably of European build. The vessel from which it had come was probably not far distant. Perhaps Burroughs himself was on it. Errington puzzled his brain to hit upon any reason why his old friend should have wished to conceal his hydroplane in this swamp. Had he come up on business, or pleasure? Could it be that Mr. Ting, in his journey down-stream, had called at Sui-Fu, informed Burroughs of the mess into which Errington had got, and persuaded him to come up and attempt to set matters right? The thought made him angry. He flushed hot at what, in his perverted imagination, he looked upon as a breach of confidence."Hanged if I'll interfere!" his thoughts ran. "I'm not the keeper of the thing, confound it!" (This was the vessel in which he and Burroughs had spent so many pleasant hours.) "A pretty ass I should look if I took it back, and found that the Mole intended it to be hidden. The place is evidently deserted. No, I'm dashed if I do anything. It's no concern of mine."Dropping the matting back, he swung the sampan round, and begun to punt somewhat savagely towards the pool. The old sore was reopened. The occupation and excitement had for a time banished all recollection of his wretched circumstances; but everything now came back to him; the weight bore down again upon his spirit."Makee too muchee bobbely,[#] sah!" murmured Lo San anxiously.

CHAPTER IV

RIVER PIRATES

One day Errington had occasion to go some sixty or seventy miles up river, to look after a consignment of goods which had been wrecked in one of the native junks. He had some reason to suspect that the wreck had not been merely an accident. There was a good deal of unrest in that part of the country. Various cases of piracy had been reported both up and down the river, and in Reinhardt's absence Errington thought he had better run up himself, see that the cargo was safe, and make a few inquiries into the state of affairs generally.

Burroughs and he had devoted much of their spare time to their flying boat, which they were determined should thoroughly deserve the name by the time they visited Shanghai again. The journey offered an opportunity of testing it over a longer distance and in deeper water than hitherto, so Burroughs was nothing loath to accept his friend's invitation to accompany him, and took a day off for the purpose. They employed the vessel as a hydroplane on the way up, being reluctant to run any risks until Errington's business had been attended to.

On arriving at the scene of the wreck, Errington found that to all appearance this had been purely accidental. He arranged for the salvage of the goods, and the forwarding of them in another junk, and then set off in the early afternoon on the return journey.

It was a brilliant day, with very little wind; and having no further anxieties on the score of business, they felt free to experiment with the vessel in the air. They had no doubt of the power of the motor to generate sufficient speed to lift the hydroplane from the surface; their only concern was the stability of it when flying. Opening out the planes, which lay folded close to the vessel, like the wings of a dragonfly, when not required for aerial use, they fixed the collapsible stays and switched their motor on to the air tractor at the bows. The vessel was already planing under the stern propeller; she now rose from the water and sailed along for some time within a few feet of the surface. Then, tempted by the apparently favourable conditions, they rose gradually to a greater height, and felt very well pleased with their success.

Unluckily, however, they came suddenly upon an air pocket, caused no doubt by the difference between the temperature of the air above the banks and that of the cooler air above the river. The machine dropped with a rapidity that took them both by surprise, for as yet they were not very expert airmen. It plunged heavily into the water. They had provided themselves with air-bags, so that the immersion lasted only a few seconds; but the ignition of the engine was stopped, and they found themselves in the unfortunate position of being unable to use the vessel now even as a hydroplane.

With some difficulty they managed, with the help of their Chinese engineer, to get the machine to the bank. Recognizing the awkwardness of their situation if they should find themselves overtaken by night so far from home, they set to work energetically to overhaul the engine. It was a long time before they could make it work again. Meanwhile dusk was drawing on, and they were at least fifty miles from Sui-Fu. When at last they were satisfied that the engine would work well enough to propel them through the water, they knew that it would be quite dark before they reached home.

They pressed on with all the speed of which the engine was capable, keeping well out in the broad river in order to avoid the masses of reeds that fringed the banks. The sky grew darker and darker, though there was a little more light on the water than over the surrounding country. Suddenly their attention was attracted by a continuous whistling, evidently from the siren of a steamer some distance down stream. They felt some curiosity as to the reason of so prolonged a noise; but they had already learnt that in China people do such inconceivable things at such unusual times, looked at from the Western standpoint, that their interest was not seriously engaged.

"Some old buffer of a Chinaman amusing himself, I suppose," said Errington. "They seem to like to hear how much row they can kick up."

They were travelling at the rate of about twenty-five knots, and the whistling grew louder moment by moment. As they steered somewhat nearer to the bank, to take a short cut round a bend, they suddenly came in sight of a small steamer about three hundred yards ahead of them. It was now so nearly dark that the vessel was not very clearly distinguishable.

Almost as soon as they caught sight of it, the scream of the siren suddenly ceased; but immediately they became aware of a shrill babel of voices--cries and shouts in the high tones that Chinamen invariably employ. And as they drew swiftly nearer, they perceived that the vessel was surrounded by a number of sampans, the low punt-like boats used by the lightermen of the ports, and also by the pirates who infested the river.

A moment later they recognized the steamer. There were few vessels of the kind in these high reaches of the Yang-tse-kiang, and they had lived long enough at Sui-Fu to be able easily to distinguish them.

"It's Ting's vessel," said Errington.

Scarcely had he spoken when two or three pistol shots rang out. There was not a doubt that the steamer was being attacked. Burroughs, at the wheel, steered straight for it. Errington snatched up his revolver, but an uneasy suspicion suggesting itself to him, he snapped it, and found that its immersion had rendered it useless.

Only a few seconds had passed since they had first caught sight of the steamer. Unarmed as they were, they meant to take a hand in behalf of Mr. Ting. Each seized a heavy spanner from their tool chest, and Burroughs, telling the engineer to tie the machine to the steamer's stern rail, shut off the engine and drove the hydroplane among the sampans, sinking two of them by the impact.

Then seizing the stern rail, the two lads drew themselves up, and vaulted on deck. There was no one at the wheel, but a crowd of struggling forms was to be seen scrambling up the narrow gangways to the bridge, where there or four men were striving desperately to force the assailants back. At a glance Errington saw that the men on the bridge were the officers and crew of the vessel, and shouting to Burroughs to take the port gangway, he himself made a dash towards the starboard one, and fell upon the rear of the crowd.

The darkness, the excitement, the noise of the fight, had prevented the attackers from discovering the approach of the hydroplane, so that the sudden onslaught of the two white men, wielding heavy iron tools with the vigour of sturdy youth, took them completely by surprise. Both Errington and Burroughs were very "fit" through much exercise, and three or four of the crowd at each gangway had gone down under their vigorous blows before those in front became aware of their danger. When they turned and found that their new opponents numbered only two, they rushed upon them with yells of rage. But they had now to reckon with the men on the bridge, who instantly took advantage of the diversion, and springing down the gangways, threw themselves upon what was now the rear of their assailants.

But for this rapid movement, the fight would have gone badly for the Englishmen. One or two pistols were snapped at them, and they had already received several gashes from the ugly knives of the pirates. But it was evident from what happened now that the men on the bridge had been husbanding their ammunition. Shots fell thick among the pirates huddled on the gangways and the deck adjacent. One slightly built Chinaman, his pigtail streaming behind him, flung himself down from the bridge towards the spot where Burroughs, half stunned by a blow from a burly ruffian, had been beaten to the deck. This little man carried a knife in each hand, and used these weapons with such demoniacal fury that in a second or two he cleared the space between him and the fallen Englishman.

The sudden turning of the tables took all the spirit out of the pirates, who, though they were still three to one, sprang overboard on both sides of the vessel, and swimming to their sampans, scuttled away like rats shoreward.

"A velly good fight," said Mr. Ting, wiping his knives and raising Burroughs from the deck. "No bones bloken?"

"It's nothing," said Burroughs. "I got a whack over the head that made me see stars. Jolly glad you came to the rescue, sir, or there wouldn't have been much left of me."

"Hai! I think it is all vice vessa. Without you and Pierce, where should I be? You got a whack, Pierce?"

"Oh, a baker's dozen or so, but I've had worse at rugger," said Errington coming up. "No: hang it! they've cut me, I see; we don't use knives in our scrums. What's it all about, Mr. Ting?"

"As you see, these pilate hogs attacked me. I was going back after doing a little business--plomised myself I would dine with you. But let us see who these pigs are."

[image]A BRUSH WITH RIVER PIRATES

[image]

[image]

A BRUSH WITH RIVER PIRATES

His crew had already thrown overboard two dead bodies, and collected several wounded at the foot of the gangway. A lamp was lighted, and one of the prisoners, whose head bore plain marks of contact with Errington's spanner, was recognized by Mr. Ting's engineer as a notorious bandit and pirate named Su Fing.

"The blessings of Heaven descend upon the just," murmured Mr. Ting. "This man is the worst water-lat of the liver. He is plotected by one of the seclet societies that are the cuss of this countly, and all the mandalins and plefects and likin[#] officers are aflaid of him, and hate him as much. Suppose we take him to the yamen and accuse him befo' the mandalin, he would be aflaid to pass sentence upon him. Why? Because he would be killed dead by the assassins of the seclet society. No: we will take him to the Consular Court at Sui-Fu; there we shall have justice. Of course his punishment will not be so heavy as if he was condemned by a mandalin. Then he would have his head cut off, or stand in the cage, after a beating with the bamboo or the leather. The consuls do not punish thus. But when you cannot get the moon, a cheese is velly acceptable: that is what we will do."

[#] Customs house.

The pirate captain and his wounded men were conveyed on the steamer to Sui-Fu, and Mr. Ting accompanied the boys to the consul's court to see the matter through. The consul declared, however, that since the crime had been committed against a Chinaman, he as an Englishman had no jurisdiction, and the prisoners had to be brought before the local mandarin. The result was as Mr. Ting had foreseen. The evidence was so clear that it was impossible, even for a Chinese magistrate, to decide in favour of the pirates. He condemned them all to be beaten on the cheeks with the leather, and then to stand tiptoe in the cage, with their heads held up at the top so that they could get no ease from the intolerable pain. But the administrators of the beating laid their strokes on very lightly, and the custodians of the cages left the fastenings conveniently loose, so that within a few hours the men were at large. They remained quiet for a few weeks, while their wounds healed: then it was evident, from reports brought down the river, that they were at their old trade again.

"A nice country this is," said Errington in disgust. "We'll take care in future, old man, to keep our revolvers dry."

CHAPTER V

DIVIDED WAYS

With the coming of winter the two Englishmen found fewer opportunities of employing their leisure time. They both paid short visits to Shanghai, but could not long be spared from their branches. The intense cold made hydroplaning or flying a pastime of doubtful pleasure, and they had to fall back on their own resources, or on the recreations afforded by the European society of the town.

Burroughs did not care for what he called "racketing." He was fond of reading, and preferred an evening with his books to social functions. He joined Errington in games of draughts, chess or dominoes; but these sedentary amusements had few attractions for the more active and restless member of the chummery, who could not find in reading, either, a substitute for his usual recreations. Occasionally they went out shooting together: the reed-beds of the river abounded in wild fowl; but the country was becoming more and more disturbed; the unrest which is always fermenting in out-of-the-way parts of China broke out in riots and other disorders; and one day they received a polite request from the viceroy of the province to keep within the precincts of the settlement. The viceroy had a nervous dread lest they should come to some harm, and their Government cause trouble, which would result possibly in his dismissal from office and the consequent loss of opportunities of enriching himself, or even, if the matter were very serious, in the loss of his buttons. As peaceable traders they had no option but to comply as gracefully as possible with this request: though if they had had no business interests to consider, they would have been prepared to take the risk of the attacks to which small parties of Europeans are frequently exposed in the remoter provinces, especially during periods of popular excitement.

The result of this enforced idleness on Errington was that he fell more readily than he might otherwise have done to the temptation of Reinhardt's card-parties, which became during the winter a nightly institution. Reinhardt was now seldom absent, and with one or two other Germans in the settlement he spent the long evenings over cards. Errington would sometimes rise from his seat in the little sitting-room he shared with Burroughs, pace the floor restlessly, then, with a glance at his companion engrossed in a book, slip out, more or less shamefacedly at first, but afterwards with scanter offers to justify himself, and make his way to Reinhardt's bungalow, where he was always assured of a warm welcome.

It was unfortunate that he should find himself possessed of an unusual aptitude for cards: still more unfortunate that for a time he had the luck that proverbially attends beginners. The card-players played for stakes, and as the season advanced, the amount of the stakes, as so frequently happens, advanced too. Errington never deliberately intended to play high, but he was almost insensibly led on by the example of the older men; and having begun, he lacked the firmness to withdraw, and shrank from appearing less of a sportsman than the others.

As was only to be expected, the luck presently turned against him, and one night, after long play, he found himself not only stripped of all his money, but in debt to Reinhardt. This position was irksome to a high-spirited temperament. The idea of owing money to his superior was unendurable, and after a restless night, during which he slept little, he resolved to borrow from his chum enough to clear him.

"Got a few dollars to spare, old chap?" he said with an assumed light-heartedness at breakfast.

Burroughs flushed, and cast his eyes upon his plate: an onlooker would have thought from his manner that he was the culprit. He knew very well what was coming, and felt instinctively what Errington had suffered inwardly before he could have brought himself to this point.

"You can have what you like, Pidge--in reason, of course."

"Thanks. I could do with twenty or thirty dollars just now. Sorry to trouble you."

"Oh, hang it, man, don't talk such rot. What's mine's yours any time you like."

Errington pocketed the money hastily, and spoke of something else. His discomfort was so obvious that Burroughs hoped he would drop the card-playing forthwith. Until the monthly cheque for his salary arrived, indeed, Errington absented himself from Reinhardt's parties. He repaid Burroughs at once, and for a week or two never went out in the evening. But then the old restlessness crept upon him; once more he joined the jolly party; then not an evening passed without his leaving the chummery as soon as it was dark, not to return until long past midnight. His losses became more serious, and he played again in an attempt to retrieve them, only to plunge deeper still.

One morning, with pale face and stammering lips, quite unlike his wonted self, he asked Burroughs for the loan of a hundred dollars.

"All right, old man," said his friend, determinedly cheerful, "but aren't you going the pace rather?"

"What do you mean?" demanded Errington hotly, his old resentment at restraint flaming forth.

"Well, it's no affair of mine, of course, but it's a pity, don't you think, to let that fellow Reinhardt get the whip hand of you?"

"Confound you, why are you always girding at Reinhardt? What's he done to you? Anybody would think he's an ogre, waiting to crunch my bones, to hear you talk." He ignored the fact that for months Burroughs had not once opened his mouth on the subject. "What's a fellow to do if he can't enjoy a harmless game? It's all straight; you don't suppose I'd play with sharpers; and one can't always win. You don't want me to shirk it when I lose, I suppose? I tell you what it is: you're getting mean and miserly; you're afraid you won't get your beastly money back."

"You know me better than that, Pidge," said Burroughs quietly. "You're a bit off colour, old chap. Here's your hundred; pay me when you like."

If Errington had obeyed his impulse at that moment he would have apologized to Burroughs, and renounced Reinhardt and all his works once and for ever. But shame, the sense of being in the wrong, false pride, and above all the gambler's perpetual hope of success, tied his tongue, and the precious moment slipped away.

Burroughs was very much surprised to get his money back within a few days--before, as he knew, Errington had received any further remittances from Shanghai.

"Much obliged, Moley," Errington said as he laid the notes beside his friend's plate one morning.

Burroughs glanced up, but Errington would not meet his eye; so with a "Thanks, old man!" as casual as Errington's own remark, he put the notes into his pocket and began cheerfully to talk shop. But he was much disturbed in mind. If his chum had won the money, it would encourage him to go on gambling. If he had not won it, how had he obtained it so soon? Burroughs hoped with all his heart that he had not borrowed of Reinhardt or any other German of the set. It was bad enough that Reinhardt should entice his subordinate to play at all; and the low opinion that Burroughs held of him fell still lower.

He would have been even more perturbed had he known the real source of Errington's money. Restive under the disapproval, of which he was conscious, though Burroughs never again uttered it, the lad was foolish enough to apply to the Chinese money-lenders. They were ready to oblige a young Englishman, and fixed their interest to match the risk, as they said: which meant that they would squeeze as much as possible out of him by working on his fears of exposure and disgrace.

The nightly card-parties went on, and Errington became a constant attendant. There grew up a constraint between the two friends. Burroughs was anxious and worried, and could not help showing it. Errington, in his own worried state of mind, was annoyed at his friend's manner, all the more because he knew very well that he himself was in the wrong. His high spirits gave way to moodiness and irritability, and after a time he avoided Burroughs. It was a trying position for both of them, inmates of one lodging. They saw less and less of each other, and when they could not but meet, what conversation passed between them was almost confined to business matters.

Naturally the affairs of the few Europeans in the town were freely discussed by their native servants and their cronies. Vague rumours came to Burroughs' ears, after a long round, of what went on at Reinhardt's card-parties. It appeared that Reinhardt himself was frequently the winner when the stakes were high, and Burroughs became less and less tolerant of a man who ought to have been particularly scrupulous in keeping his subordinate out of mischief. Reinhardt was always very polite and pleasant when he met Burroughs, but on more than one occasion the latter was rude to him. There were no half measures with Burroughs.

One day, talking shop because they seemed to have now no other common topic, Burroughs mentioned to Errington that he was negotiating a very large transaction with a Chinese broker, and stated the terms on which the consignment of goods was to change hands. Errington congratulated him on the prospect of doing a good stroke of business, and the subject dropped.

Next day, however, at the last moment, the negotiations fell through, to Burroughs' great annoyance. It was a loss to his branch, and incidentally to himself, for both he and Errington had a small interest in the turnover of their branches, as well as a salary. He was also vexed at having mentioned the matter to Errington, when it was so unlike him to talk about things that were still uncertain.

What was his surprise and irritation a few days later to hear from his comprador that the transaction in which he had failed had been completed by Errington, who had overbid him.

"Nonsense! Absolute rot!" he said to the man, feeling indignant on his friend's behalf.

The comprador spread out his hands deprecatingly and said--

"Allo lightee savvy all same, sah. Mass' Ellington he go buy all jolly lot."

"Shut up; I don't believe it."

The Chinaman shrugged: surely his master was very short this morning! But he said no more. Two days after, however, he brought Burroughs the order for the goods, written on the official paper of Ehrlich Söhne, and signed with Errington's initials. At this, even a friend of long standing might well be staggered. Burroughs remembered that his chum had been looking more and more worried of late. He came to breakfast with a pale face and weary eyes, and the look of a man who had not slept. Could it be that, in his urgent need of money, he had fallen to the temptation of snatching this business out of the hands of the other house? If it had been Reinhardt, Burroughs would not have been at all surprised; but that Errington had taken advantage of the information casually given him to steal a march on his friend was inconceivable. Burroughs knew perfectly well that at the time when negotiations were in progress with him, Feng Wai, the Chinese merchant, had made no overtures to the German firm, so that there was no question of the firms being played off against each other. Besides, it had always been an understanding between the two old school-fellows that, a price having once been named, each should abide by it.

The position was unendurable to Burroughs, who at once stepped over to Errington's office, and walked, as he had always been accustomed to do, though not frequently of late, straight into his room. Once, Errington would have sprung up from his seat with a hearty word of greeting: now he remained sitting, with a look of embarrassment.

"I say, Pidge," began Burroughs, trying to speak in an ordinary tone, "what's this I hear about Feng Wai doing better with you than with me? I told you, you remember, that I had practically concluded the deal."

Burroughs was but a poor actor, and his manner, rather than his tone, told Errington that he was labouring under some strong feeling. Nervous and irritable as he was, Errington at once took offence.

"I shouldn't listen to gossip, if I were you," he said; "next time come straight to me."

"As it happens, I have come straight to you as soon as I had seen with my own eyes what I wouldn't believe when I heard it. I don't want any more information than your signature."

"Look here, do you mean to be offensive, or can't you help it? Say straight out that you think I've gone behind your back, if you do think it."

"Well then, if you want it straight, you shall have it," said Burroughs, losing his temper. "I've seen your order, signed with your initials. After our agreement it would have been bad enough if I'd said nothing to you; but having myself given you the terms, in confidence, as I supposed----"

"That's enough!" cried Errington, springing up, his eyes ablaze with anger. "You've been looking accusations against me for months past, and I've had enough of it. You always had the makings of a fine prig. Until you beg my pardon, I swear I'll have nothing more to do with you."

And flinging out of the office, he slammed the door behind him.

Burroughs was as much hurt as enraged. This was the first serious row between them since their early school-days. But he was not inclined to apologize. He felt that he had asked for information in a perfectly civil way; and though, in his heart, he could not help suspecting that there was possibly some mistake, the sarcasm of his old friend had wounded him too bitterly for him to hold out the olive branch.

When he went home to the chummery, the gravity of the quarrel was proved by the fact that Errington had removed all his personal belongings.

"Where's Mr. Errington?" he asked of Chin Tai, his servant.

"He gone wailo Mass' Leinhadt," said the man, grinning. He was glad to have seen the back of Lo San, Errington's man.

And next morning, when Lo San brought an envelope containing a remittance for the entire amount that Errington owed him, Burroughs felt still more deeply incensed. To repay him with money borrowed from the German seemed the finishing stroke to their old friendship. In the old days, a quiet talk would have set matters right instantly; but the previous coolness between them, due to Errington's gambling, rendered that course now impossible.

The explanation was exceedingly simple. Errington had received an inquiry from Feng Wai immediately after he had heard from Burroughs of the negotiation in progress. He had quoted exactly the same terms, and the bargain was struck. But the Chinaman found that, the rates having gone up slightly, he was unable to supply the goods, and went to the office to ask to be released from his contract. It happened that Errington was out at the time, but Reinhardt was there. Scenting a chance of raising a difference between the two friends, Reinhardt agreed to give the enhanced price, merely altering the figures in the contract note, taking care to make the new figures as like Errington's as possible. The Chinese merchant is usually as good as his word; but Feng Wai had had only a verbal understanding with Burroughs, and thought himself justified in concluding the transaction at the higher price. Reinhardt stipulated that the extra price should not be disclosed; but Burroughs' comprador often got information through private channels, and it was not long before he was aware of the terms of the bargain.

The appearance of Errington at his bungalow that evening, in a towering rage, told Reinhardt that his scheme had succeeded, but he was scarcely prepared for the completeness of the breach between the friends. He owed Burroughs the grudge which a mean and dishonourable man often owes a more honourable one for no other reason than that he is more honourable. He was now anxious that Errington should not discover the change of price, for he knew that, if he heard of it, he would at once seek to put himself right with his friend. Errington was too angry at first to give any explanation of the quarrel; but presently he said--

"What's all this tosh about outbidding Burroughs with Feng Wai? Nothing in it, is there?"

"Of course not. You initialled ze contract yourself, didn't you?"

"Yes."

"Ze invoice will prove it: I show you zat to-morrow when we go to ze office."

Before night he had made a private arrangement with Feng Wai that the goods should be invoiced at the original price, and that the difference should be made up by Reinhardt himself. His intention was to recoup himself by an adjustment in his private ledger under what an Englishman would call "squeeze." The invoice, consequently, satisfied Errington that there was no foundation for Burroughs' suspicion, and he nourished a deep resentment against his old friend for harbouring it. Reinhardt was, of course, careful to file the altered contract note among his private papers: to alter the figures back again could hardly be done so neatly as to escape the notice of one so keen as Errington.

Thus Errington became an inmate of Reinhardt's house, and the breach between the two friends widened. In a place where there is only a small community of white men, a disagreement of this kind is at once set right, or it becomes far more acute. With Errington, the mere idea that he could be suspected by his friend of such a trick as he had accused him of rankled more and more as time went on. He found himself harbouring bitter thoughts, not only of him, but of Mr. Ting; for in his perverted state of mind he was ready to listen to Reinhardt's suggestions that the Chinaman had profited by his father's losses, and was actually enjoying a wealth which, if right were done, would be his own.

By and by his bitterness of spirit was if possible aggravated by the suspicion that Reinhardt cheated at cards. Being more continuously in the German's company, he noticed little things, slight manifestations of character, which had before escaped him. He watched his host more and more carefully, and though he was unable to bring the matter home to him, he grew at length almost convinced that Reinhardt was a swindler. This, coming upon the loss of his friend, which in his better moments he felt deeply, so worked upon him that he found his situation unendurable, and applied to his firm for a transfer still farther up the river. The managers at first hesitated, but his threat to resign unless his application was granted, coupled with reports of his business aptitude from all with whom he had come in contact, produced the result he desired. Rather than lose his services, the firm put him in charge of a small sub-branch at Chia-ling Fu.

CHAPTER VI

MR. TING SPEAKS OUT

During the whole of the winter there had been much speculation among the European residents in the treaty ports as to the cause of the unrest disturbing many different parts of the country. Disorder of one kind or another is always smouldering in China. Sometimes it is due to the oppression of the officials, sometimes to hatred of the foreigners, often to obscure causes which not even the older white residents in the country can understand.

For some time past there had been risings in various districts which puzzled even the acutest and most experienced. A rumour had gradually arisen that they were due partly to the secret societies which supported predatory bands in many parts of the empire, partly to direct incitement from without. Germany had always expected far greater things from her possession of Kiauchou than had actually sprung from it. Her appetite for colonial extension had grown by what it fed on, and been whetted especially by her successful deals with France over Morocco. Her colonial party hungered after a big slice of the Middle Kingdom, but while China was at peace with herself and the rest of the world, there was little that Germany could do, without risking armed opposition on the part of other interested Powers.

From time immemorial it has been the custom of strong states desiring territorial aggrandisement to make an opportunity of fishing in troubled waters. Many people in China now said that German agents were at work in more than one part of the empire, stirring up the forces of disruption which were always latent in the country. Whether rightly or wrongly, Burroughs had begun to suspect, from various small matters that fell under his observation, that Reinhardt was such an agent. His comprador reported that the German had been seen in communication with the river pirate who had been captured in the attack on Mr. Ting. He said that it was whispered in native circles that German money had bribed the officials to connive at the bandit's escape. At first Burroughs merely smiled at these reports, but they were so persistent that, taken in connection with Reinhardt's frequent unexplained absences, they at last made an impression upon him. Perhaps there was something in them after all.

From the newspapers which he received regularly from Shanghai he learnt that the German fleet in Chinese waters was to be strengthened by the addition of several river gunboats, for the protection of German subjects who might be threatened by the growing disorder. Inasmuch as the disturbances were not as yet serious--no more alarming than the outbreaks that occur about every five years in one part or another--Burroughs shrewdly suspected that in this case the wish was father to the thought. It was becoming a favourite move of German diplomacy to send a gunboat to some centre of disorder, which could only be removed by some one paying compensation. When, therefore, the smouldering disaffection broke into an active rising about a hundred and fifty miles up the river from Sui-Fu, a German gunboat was moved up as far as she could proceed with safety, and several launches were sent still farther.

The total German population for whose lives the German Government professed to have such a tender regard consisted of Reinhardt and two or three compatriots at Sui-Fu, together with about an equal number at stations on other parts of the river. No similar move had been considered necessary by any of the other Powers. The Chinese Government protested, explaining that the disorders were slight, and would be at once suppressed. But the Germans refused to go back, and China was not certain enough of the unanimity of the other powers to risk a war with Germany unaided.

The Chinese officials saw that it was of the greatest importance to keep the peace along the river, so that the Germans should have absolutely no excuse for intervening.

When the movement of the German vessels took place, Reinhardt was absent from Sui-Fu. Errington had been established for some weeks at Chia-ling Fu. On Reinhardt's reappearance at his station it was rumoured among the Chinese that he had actually been in the camp of the revolutionaries, whose leader was none other than the river pirate of Mr. Ting's adventure. There was a very persistent report that the insurgents were well supplied with money, a circumstance sufficiently remarkable in itself to lend support to the suspicion that the Germans were secretly backing the insurrection.

Errington meanwhile, in his new position at Chia-ling Fu, had gone from bad to worse. The city itself was more attractive than Sui-Fu; it was situated at the junction of the Min with two other rivers, amidst very fertile and picturesque country. Errington might have found much to interest him if he had cared to make friends with the missionaries, or with the Englishmen in the town. But his connection with a German firm brought him necessarily into closer contact with the little German colony, among whom there was a careless, card-playing section. Cards were practically the only recreation; and Errington, deprived of any steadying influence, fell more and more under the fascination of gambling. Absence for a time from Reinhardt dulled his suspicions of that gentleman's honesty, and when the German paid occasional visits to Chia-ling Fu he found Errington as ready as ever to associate with him. At the card-parties luck was steadily against the Englishman, and in course of time he was heavily in debt to Reinhardt and others. He went to the money-lenders again; but they declined to give him any further assistance, and began to press him in regard to the amounts he already owed them.

Reinhardt also happened to be pressed for money. An American globe-trotter of great means came to Sui-Fu, and was persuaded by Reinhardt to join his card-parties. He proved more than a match for the German, who, piqued at his losses, played higher and higher, until at the end of a fortnight he was many hundred dollars to the bad.

One day he ran up to Chia-ling Fu in his launch, and called on Errington. After a little general conversation, he said casually--

"By ze way, zose little sums you owe me--will it be convenient to pay up?"

"I'm rather stoney just now," replied Errington, with an uneasy laugh. "Can you give me a little time?"

"Sorry, my boy, I would if I could; but I also am stoney. I must have ze money. But zere is a way for you. Why not go to Mr. Ting? I do not say it is true, but zere are many who believe zat Ting has still moneys of your late fazer, my old friend. A compatriot of mine, a man I know, once heard your fazer say in ze Shanghai Club zat whatever happened to him, ze boy--zat is you, naturally--would be provided for. Ting, said he, would see well to zat."

"My guardian in England told me I had next to nothing," said Errington, much surprised; "and my education was so expensive that by the time I came of age there'd be precious little left."

"I know nozink about zat. I know only what my friend told me. How stands ze matter? You owe me five hundred dollars; I cannot afford in zese times to wait for ze money; zerefore I say, apply to Mr. Ting."

Errington thought over the suggestion. The suspicions already planted by Reinhardt had not taken very deep root, but this fresh hint that Mr. Ting might be actually turning to his own use money that did not belong to him made Errington resolve to broach the matter at the first opportunity.

Mr. Ting at intervals travelled up the river on business. It happened that he came to Chia-ling Fu a few days after Reinhardt had made his suggestion. He called on Errington, as he had often done before, gave him news of friends in Shanghai, and showed no sign of any change of feeling towards his old employer's son.

Errington was restless and ill at ease all through the interview. His natural pride revolted against the course he was forcing himself to take. At last, just as Mr. Ting was leaving, he said hesitatingly and with a shamefaced air--

"Could you--would you mind lending me a thousand dollars?"

The Chinaman showed no surprise.

"You find your pay not enough?" he said. "It was incleased, was it not?"

"Yes, but----"

"And you are a young man," Mr. Ting went on. "You have no wife nor pickins. I think with your pay, and your commission--velly good, if I hear tlue--you can live velly well. Plaps you tell me what you want so much money for."

Errington began to walk up and down the room. He was struggling with himself: should he make a clean breast of it? Shame, an ill conscience, and the suggestions of Reinhardt combined to tie his tongue.

"Betting?" said Mr. Ting quietly. He put on his spectacles, a curious trick of his at serious moments.

"No, I don't bet."

"Card-playing?"

"There's no harm in an occasional rubber, is there?" said Errington, his temper rising.

"Gambling?" went on the remorseless Chinaman.

And then the storm burst.

"What right have you to question me?" demanded the boy furiously. "You are not my guardian. You profess to be a friend of mine, and when I ask you for a slight favour you preach at me. You're rolling in money, and won't lift a finger to help a fellow. I don't want your money, though if what people say is true, the amount I asked you for is a precious small portion of what I might claim from you as a right, and no favour."

"Hai! What fo' you talkee so fashion? What foolo pidgin you talkee this time?" cried Mr. Ting. In his indignation at what was in truth a charge of bad faith the Chinaman lapsed for a moment into the pidgin English of his childhood. Then, recovering his composure, he said with quiet dignity: "You are the son of a gentleman who was my master and my flend, and I cannot say to you what I would say to any other man who insulted me so. I do not gludge the sum that you wish to bollow, but I am solly that you want money for leasons that you will not tell, and which I must think are no cledit to you. But I tell you now, I will lend you enough money to pay all you owe, if you will give me a plomise, the word of a gentleman, that you will make no more debts in the same fashion."

Errington looked at him for a moment; then, muttering "Pledge my freedom to a Chinaman!" he flung out of the room in a rage.

CHAPTER VII

A DISCOVERY IN THE SWAMP

The situation of the young fellow was now pitiable in the extreme. He did not know where to turn. There were six other white men in the place, of whom only two were English; and as he canvassed them one by one in his mind, he recognized that it was hopeless to apply to any of them. Remorse, bitter self-reproach for his folly, mingled with the harrowing fear of ruin and exposure. He thought of the pleasant months he had spent in Mr. Burroughs' house; the kindness all had shown him; the confidence they had put in him; and the thought of losing the good opinion of his friends was agony. He felt that he had kicked away the supports that might have been his. A word to the Mole would, he knew, bring his old friend to his help; but there was that miserable difference between them. A simple promise to Mr. Ting would save him; but pride held him back, and the suspicions that were poisoning his mind. Feeling utterly lost, he went to his room, and buried his aching head on the pillow.

Reinhardt came to him next day.

"Well, did Ting shell out?" he said.

"No," replied Errington. "Give me a week, Reinhardt; I'll pay you in a week, or----"

"Do nozink foolish, my boy. Zat's all right; I will wait a week; in a week anyzink may happen."

On Errington's part it was a mere staving-off of the evil day--a clutching at a straw; the last desperate hope of the gambler that time was on his side.

But how to kill time? He could not attend to his business; there was little else to be done except play cards, and besides having no money, he hated cards now with a savage hatred. Hearing, however, from one of the Englishmen in the place that there was good duck-shooting some few miles up the river, he resolved to go for a day's sport. The Viceroy's request that the Europeans would not venture beyond their own settlement was forgotten, in spite of the fact that it had lately been repeated with some urgency. The country was disturbed, and the swamps haunted by the wild fowl were in the midst of the district affected. They surrounded a number of small villages which were known to be the nests of river pirates, and hot-beds of the insurrectionary movement. To the ordinary traveller the villages were almost unapproachable, being situated on dry tracts encompassed by the reedy marshes that extended for some miles inland from the banks of the river.

One morning Errington started in a native sampan with his Chinese servant. On approaching the spot of which he had been told, he noticed that Lo San looked uneasily at some large Chinese characters painted in white on a rock at the river-side.

"Well, what is it?" he asked.

"Ho tao pu ching," replied the man. "Way no flee."

"Not free! Not clear, I suppose you mean. Why not? There's plenty of room between the rocks."

"Pilates, sah; plenty bad fellas."

"Hang the pirates! It's very kind of the billposter, but we've nothing worth scooping. Go on."

But game appeared to be scarce. Duck were seen in the distance, but Errington could never get within range. Determined not to return empty-handed, he went farther into the swamp, and was punting towards a thick growth of reeds fringing a piece of open water, on the far side of which he had noticed some birds, when his eye was caught by a boat floating apparently towards this open water down a narrow and irregular channel from the Yang-tse. The channel was so much overgrown with reeds and rushes that it was not easy to distinguish the nature of the approaching craft. Errington took up his binocular and scanned it, expecting to discover that it was a sampan, like that in which he was himself travelling. But on closer inspection it proved to be more like a dinghy, and probably belonged to some vessel anchored in the neighbourhood.

It was too far off for him to see clearly the two men in the dinghy; they had their backs to him, but their general appearance suggested Chinamen. All at once a slight turn in their course revealed what had previously not been visible, they were towing an object of much larger size. It was impossible to distinguish it; it might be a raft or a large sampan loaded with goods.

Reckless as his mood was, Errington was not utterly rash, or disposed to court danger out of pure wilfulness. While he was watching the boats, he drew the sampan within the shelter of the clump of reeds through which he was making his way.

"Take a look," he said, handing the binocular to his servant, who, however, preferred to use his own eyes.

"China fellas, sah," he said in a low voice. "My tinkee better go back chop-chop."

The man had felt all along that his master was foolish to come alone into these parts, so far from the town; but he knew the Englishman's temper, and the rejection of his former word of warning had kept him silent since. Now, however, the sight of a strange boat, manned by Chinamen, near the haunts of the pirates, induced him to offer more definite advice.

But in vain. Errington was not the man to be scared by actual dangers, still less imaginary ones. The moving boats had frightened away the ducks, so that there was no present chance of sport. And having nothing better to do for the moment, he drove the sampan quietly still farther among the reeds, bade Lo San keep still, and settled to watch the strangers.

As they drew nearer, he noticed something that piqued his curiosity. The men in the boat, whom he now knew to be Chinamen, looked cautiously around, as if to make sure that they were not observed. Screened though he was by the reeds, Errington had the curious sensation which watchers often have, that those whom he could see also saw him. But the men gave no sign of uneasiness; the dinghy passed behind the further edge of the clump of reeds, and disappeared.

Errington was now sufficiently interested to determine to wait. Ten or twelve minutes afterwards, the nose of the dinghy emerged from the rushes; the men turned it round, and made off in the direction from which they had come. But Errington saw at a glance that there was now no object astern of them. He wondered what it was, and where it had been left. Probably the circumstance would not have held his attention for a moment but for the men's cautious look around; their manner suggested that they were hiding something. It might be no business of his; on the other hand, it struck him that, since the incident had happened in a district infested by pirates, some of these pests had recently made a haul of goods. He felt that at all hazards he must satisfy himself; not that there appeared to be any danger, but he could not tell but that, behind the screen of reeds at the farther end of the open water, there might be an encampment of the water-rats, as these gentry were called by the Englishmen. The object with which Errington had set out was forgotten; duck-shooting was an exciting sport, but it did not challenge his imagination as did the possibility of a contest of wits or activity with men; and with nerves braced he resolved to investigate.

Venturesome as he was in ordinary circumstances, Errington was not without the instinctive cautiousness of the born scout. He did not, therefore, head straight across the pool, as any one who knew him slightly, and argued only from his impulsiveness, might have expected him to do. Instead, he forced the sampan slowly and with some difficulty through the margin of rushes bordering the pool. Many other channels besides that on which the boat had come, led from the open water to the river. Coming to one of these narrower passages, he glanced up and down before crossing it, to make sure that there were no other men who might see him and interfere with his movements. His object was to reach the wider channel, and then follow the course that had been taken by the dinghy.

It occurred to him that the dinghy, when it disappeared among the rushes, might have towed the second craft to a pirate encampment; and as the direction in which it had gone was on his right-hand side, he took the left-hand side of the pool, and punted slowly along until he came to a spot where the broad channel was open to his view for a considerable distance. He looked in the direction in which the dinghy was going when he last saw it. It was no longer in sight. With another cautious glance round, pausing for a few moments to listen, he crept out into the pool, and set out for the other side. It was not very difficult to find the narrow opening in the reeds through which the dinghy had passed with the other vessel in tow. But when he had once entered it, he saw how almost impossible it would have been to find his way had he not carefully noted the exact place of entry. Reeds grew out of the water on every side. There was no real passage; apparently it was not a regular waterway, and he ceased to expect to see any human habitation at the further end, wherever that might be. The water was shallow, and the only indication that it was navigable at all was afforded by the bent rushes where the two craft had previously passed.

After proceeding for a few yards, however, he found that the water became slightly deeper, and there were some signs of the reeds having been cut. An attempt had apparently been made to clear a channel. His former idea returned to him; perhaps it led to an encampment after all. He drove the sampan on with even greater caution, becoming more and more interested as he noticed how the channel wound this way and that among the thickest beds of rushes.

Threading this tortuous channel for perhaps a hundred yards, he came with startling suddenness upon the object of his search. The reeds came to an end, and on a stretch of firm ground, rising three or four feet above the level of the swamp, four or five low ramshackle huts, constructed of poles and matting, stood about thirty yards back from the edge of the water. The space between them and the water was littered with an extraordinary miscellany of objects, all of them of a more or less imperishable character--pots and pans, vases, tiles, native images, and other things, which from their arrangement in bales, bundles, or stacks, appeared to be articles of merchandise, but not in actual use here.

With his knowledge of the kind of thing that went on in these swamps, Errington at once guessed that these objects were the spoil of trading vessels captured by the river pirates and brought to this cunningly devised or carefully sought hiding-place. There were black rings here and there on the ground that were without doubt the marks of camp-fires. But the place had a deserted, a neglected, look. The huts were boarded up, except where they were so tumbledown that no such precaution was possible. Three or four old and rickety sampans were drawn up at the brink. But the object which had been towed by the dinghy was floating, secured by a rope to one of the uprights of a ruined hut close to the shore.

Errington looked at it curiously. It appeared from its shape to be a boat of some kind, but being completely covered with matting its outlines were indistinguishable. Wondering what its contents could be, to be so carefully covered up, Errington punted the sampan alongside, and lifted a corner of the matting. What he saw gave him a surprise comparable only to a galvanic shock. Underneath was a stretch of canvas that exactly resembled a wing of the flying boat, folded back, as Burroughs' custom was when the vessel was not in use. Lifting the matting further, Errington had no more doubt. The object before him, shapeless and ungainly as it was under its cover, was indeed the flying boat.

Lo San's astonishment was equal to his own. The Chinaman uttered a smothered "Hai!" then looked fearfully around, as if expecting that the sound would bring a crew of the dreaded pirates yelling about them. But there was no sound, no sign of life.

Errington's first impulse was to tow the vessel out, and convey it to his own station. Then a doubt crossed his mind. The dinghy which had brought it to this spot had been unmistakably of European build. The vessel from which it had come was probably not far distant. Perhaps Burroughs himself was on it. Errington puzzled his brain to hit upon any reason why his old friend should have wished to conceal his hydroplane in this swamp. Had he come up on business, or pleasure? Could it be that Mr. Ting, in his journey down-stream, had called at Sui-Fu, informed Burroughs of the mess into which Errington had got, and persuaded him to come up and attempt to set matters right? The thought made him angry. He flushed hot at what, in his perverted imagination, he looked upon as a breach of confidence.

"Hanged if I'll interfere!" his thoughts ran. "I'm not the keeper of the thing, confound it!" (This was the vessel in which he and Burroughs had spent so many pleasant hours.) "A pretty ass I should look if I took it back, and found that the Mole intended it to be hidden. The place is evidently deserted. No, I'm dashed if I do anything. It's no concern of mine."

Dropping the matting back, he swung the sampan round, and begun to punt somewhat savagely towards the pool. The old sore was reopened. The occupation and excitement had for a time banished all recollection of his wretched circumstances; but everything now came back to him; the weight bore down again upon his spirit.

"Makee too muchee bobbely,[#] sah!" murmured Lo San anxiously.

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