Chapter 37

Ping Wang recovered fairly quickly, and it was early one morning, nearly a fortnight after he had been taken ill, when, having bidden farewell to their kind hosts, the three friends passed out of the town, and began their six-mile journey along the muddy track which led to Kwang-ngan.

Before they had gone far they found a cart stuck in the mud. The owner and his wife--the latter looking very comical with her tiny crippled feet and black trousers--stood helplessly beside it.

'Noble brothers,' the man called out to the approaching travellers, 'your dog of a servant implores you to assist him to move his cart.'

'He wants us to help him get his cart out of that hole,' Ping Wang said to the Pages, in an undertone. 'Shall we?'

'Certainly,' Charlie answered.

Charlie, Fred, and Ping Wang walked up to the cart, and putting forth all their strength moved it, at the first attempt, out of the rut in which it had stuck. The Chinaman thanked them profusely for their help. His wife said nothing, but stared at Charlie in a way that made him feel quite uncomfortable. He was much relieved when, in obedience to her husband's call to come and take her seat, she toddled off towards the vehicle.

'It's a wonder,' Charlie whispered to Fred, 'that she doesn't fall on her nose. If she did it would not spoil it, for it's flat already. Hallo, what's Ping Wang saying to the old man?'

In a few moments they knew. Ping Wang came over to them, and said, quietly, 'These people are on their way to Kwang-ngan, and they will drive us there for one hundred cash.'

A cash is a copper coin with a square hole in the middle. Its value is about a fifth of an English farthing. These coins are carried strung together, and their value being so small a man can have a heavy load of coppers without being even moderately rich.

'It's cheap,' Fred answered. 'Let us accept.'

Ping Wang therefore informed his noble brother that the sons of dogs would have the pleasure of riding in his magnificent carriage. Before they had travelled far the Pages came to the conclusion that the ride was by no means a cheap one, and that instead of paying to ride they ought to have been paid, so frequently were they called upon to pull or push the cart out of some rut in which it stuck fast. They felt that the wily old Chinaman had made a very good bargain, and if they had been able to speak Chinese they would have told him so. Charlie, however, disliked the woman much more than he did her husband. She stared at him almost continuously while they were on the cart, and when he was in the road helping to get the vehicle out of a rut, he could see her still peeping out at him. When the cart had stuck in the mud for the tenth time in half an hour, Charlie whispered to Fred, as they were extricating it, 'I have had enough of this. Let's walk.'

Fred nodded his head, and then told Ping Wang their decision. Ping Wang was as ready as they to get away from the cart, and when it had been pushed and pulled out of the rut he informed the cart-owner that they were about to leave him.

'Noble brother,' he said, 'if your dogs of servants walk, your magnificent carriage will be lighter, and not stick in the mud so frequently.'

'Noble brother,' the cart-owner answered, with a savage expression on his face, which proved that he considered Ping Wang far from being noble, 'you will not forget that you promised to pay your humble slave one hundred cash.'

Ping Wang paid the cart-owner. But when the woman saw that the money was safe in her husband's wallet, she stretched forth her hand, seized Charlie's pigtail, and tugged at it with all her strength.

'Foreigner!' she screamed as she fell backwards in the cart with the pigtail, and skull-cap attached, in her hand.

'Foreigners!' the man shouted, on seeing Charlie's unmistakably European head--for his beehive had fallen off--and, seizing Ping Wang's pigtail with both hands, pulled it with tremendous force.

Ping Wang shouted with pain, but the cart-owner being convinced that if he pulled hard enough the pigtail would come off, tugged still more vigorously.

In great pain Ping Wang suddenly turned right about, and, before the cart-owner had time to move, seized his own pigtail with his mouth, about an inch from his tormentor's hands, and held it tight between his teeth. The cart-owner continued to tug viciously, but Ping Wang struck him several blows on the face with his fist, and finally compelled him to release his hold.

In the meanwhile Charlie had climbed into the cart, and was struggling with the Chinese woman to regain his pigtail. At first he thought that she was sitting on it, but when he pulled her up, he found he had been mistaken.

'Foreigner! Foreigner!' she screamed as he searched about the cart, and frequently she struck him with her open hands.

'If you won't keep quiet, madam,' Charlie said, 'I shall have to put you out.'

He caught hold of her with the intention of lifting her out, so that he might search the cart undisturbed. But the moment that he touched her she screamed frantically. Her husband was too busy holding his bruised face to heed her, but Ping Wang went at once to see what was happening, and finding that Charlie was lifting her bodily, shouted, 'Put her down, Charlie. Don't touch her!'

'But she has hidden my pigtail,' Charlie protested.

'Never mind. Don't touch her again, for it's a terrible insult to a Chinese woman to lay hands on her. Put her down and jump out.'

Charlie put the woman down, jumped out of the cart, and picked up his 'beehive,' but he was very indignant at having been robbed of his pigtail. To stop the cartman from following them, he caught hold of the horse, and led it into the thickest mud, where the wheels sank in almost to the axle.

They started off at a trot immediately, the Chinaman and his wife yelling after them insulting remarks. Fortunately there was no one about just then, and the three travellers were out of sight before the cartman and his wife had an opportunity of telling any one about the foreigners whom they had seen disguised as Chinamen.

When they had run for about a quarter of a mile, they began to walk, and discussed what should be done to hide the loss of Charlie's pigtail.

'To start with,' Fred said, 'we had better take off our goggles now.'

'If you can hide the loss until we get to Kwang-ngan,' said Ping Wang, 'I will buy you a new one. Put your "beehive" on the back of your head.'

Charlie did so, but as he was without a skull-cap, his European forehead was most noticeable.

'That will never do,' Ping Wang declared. 'Put your beehive as it was before. We will walk in single file; I in front of you, and Fred behind you.'

In that order they had walked for nearly two miles, when a man, passing in the opposite direction, mistook Fred for an acquaintance. He stopped short, and shook his own hands. Fred knew that the Chinese, when they meet a friend, instead of shaking his hand, shake their own. Wishing to be polite, he shook his own hands in reply.

Then the Chinaman made some remark. Fortunately Ping Wang, having been nudged by Charlie, turned round, and seeing Fred being addressed by a Chinaman, explained that Fred was a man of weak intellect. The Chinaman was astonished, but having satisfied himself that Fred was not the man he had fancied, went on his way, turning round, however, after walking a few yards, to have a look at the three friends. Then he noticed that Charlie had no pigtail, and immediately shouted jeering remarks at him.

Ping Wang told the Pages what the man had said, and they agreed that it would be unwise for Charlie to enter Kwang-ngan as he was.

'I will leave you outside the city,' Ping Wang said, 'and come back to you as soon as I have bought a new queue.'

'But suppose somebody speaks to us?'

They were wondering what would be best, when Fred seized Ping Wang by the arm, and pointed to a spot some two hundred yards away from them.

'Are they human heads?' he gasped.

'They are,' Ping Wang answered gravely, and when they had gone a little nearer, all three could see clearly the heads of six Chinamen hanging by their pigtails from six tall canes.

'I have an idea,' Fred said. 'I do not like the notion, but we are in a difficulty, and as we _must_ have another pigtail, I think we need not have any scruples about cutting off one of these.'

'I don't like it,' said Charlie.

'But it will be a great pity, and it may be dangerous too, if we miss this opportunity,' Ping Wang declared. 'By taking one of these pigtails we shall lessen the risk of being found out.'

'Very well, then,' Charlie said, 'I will wear the pigtail. Let us get it and be off as soon as possible.'

'We must not try to get it until after dark,' Ping Wang replied. 'We must hide until then.'

(_Continued on page 342._)

THE HIDDEN ROOM.

(_Concluded from page 331._)

It was scarce seven o'clock, and Aunt Deborah was busy in the dairy, when a clatter of hoofs was heard in the court-yard, and, looking out, she saw half-a-dozen troopers sitting stern and straight on their horses, while their leader handed a note to Joan, which was speedily brought to her. It was from her brother, telling her to give the men board and lodging and to aid them in every way in their search for Sir Denzil. 'There is a rumour,' he wrote, 'that he is hidden about the Court, which is absurd.' (How had he forgotten the secret chamber? This question puzzled Millicent in after years, but it was never answered.)

Aunt Deborah went to give orders for the men's comfort, sending little Marjorie to call Millicent down to help; but the child came back with a grave face and the unlooked-for news that Millicent was so ill she could not rise.

Aunt Deborah was kindness itself when any one was really ill, and she hurried off at once to see what was the matter.

Millicent's flushed face and heavy eyes were enough to rouse her sympathy. 'You have taken a chill, child, dreaming in the garden; the wind was keen though the sun was hot. 'Tis a pity just when these men will want to go through the house; but there is nothing to hide from any one here. You must lie still for a day or two, and Joan shall send you up some soup and cooling drink.'

So Millicent lay still all that day, her heart beating quickly at every sound, while the sergeant in charge went leisurely over the house, tapping the wall here and the floor there, and even glancing casually, chaperoned by Aunt Deborah, round her room, while his men scoured the country round without success.

Indeed, she was in such a state of excitement that her hot hands and bright eyes made Aunt Deborah think herself right about the chill, and keep her in bed for four days.

Millicent felt rather a hypocrite when the twins, in much concern, brought her up nice things to eat, which she, in her turn, secretly carried to the old knight, who was now recovering fast; while she sallied forth in the dark to the buttery to get more substantial fare for her own healthy appetite.

By the time Aunt Deborah pronounced her well enough to be up, the house was once more quiet, the soldiers having been recalled to London.

More than two weeks passed, and the days were growing cold, for it was now October, when one afternoon Millicent was walking up and down the garden in deep perplexity. Sir Denzil was now able to walk about his little cell, and he was very anxious to set out to join his friends; but he was still very lame, and she saw clearly that even if he got safely out of the house, he was almost sure to be recognised and captured before he reached Oxford. Moreover, her father had had a touch of ague, and was coming home that very night. Aunt Deborah had gone to Reading with the family coach to meet him, and she knew she could not keep the secret long from him. What was to be done? Plan after plan rose in her mind, only to be thrown aside.

She was roused by the sound of voices, and going into the court-yard, she found all the maids and her little sisters gathered round a pedlar, who was showing off his wares to them.

Millicent was as fond of pretty things as any girl of her age, and soon forgot her troubles in turning over the piles of ribbons and lace laid out before her. She chose some ribbons, some lace, and a few trinkets.

'I will add this too, lady,' said the pedlar as he handed her the goods, laying a faded yellow rosebud on the top; 'it once was sweet, and the perfume lingers long.'

Millicent gazed thoughtfully at the pedlar, and he met her eyes with a meaning look.

''Tis growing dusk, good man,' she said carelessly, 'and the court-yard gates will soon be shut, so I advise you to take the straight road through the park if you would be at the village ere dark. Come, children, we will go indoors out of the cold,' and she turned away.

But having once got rid of the little girls and gained the privacy of her own room, she hastily fastened the bolt; then drawing a dark cloak round her, she got out through the window, and by the aid of the apple-tree easily reached the ground. A few minutes more and she had overtaken the pedlar, who was walking slowly through the park.

'You carry more than a rosebud in your basket, good man,' she said cautiously.

'That do I, lady,' he answered; 'but mayhap we could talk more safely under these trees.'

Then when they were out of sight of any passer-by he went on: 'I am Jasper Pope at your service, Sir Denzil de Foulke's own man, and I have in my basket such a disguise as would puzzle his dearest friend, that of a pedlar's wife. Also there is a packet for you, lady; you will find it at the bottom. I could not see you sooner. I have been selling my wares in the village for a day or two, but durst not venture near the Court until I heard the old madame was absent.'

The basket seemed a light weight to Millicent, as she carried it back to the house, for now she saw the end of her difficulties. She had some trouble getting it up to the window, but after that all was easy. The children were in bed and the servants lingering over their supper, and the back-stairs so far away that no one noticed the stealthy footsteps as Sir Denzil crept down them in his strange attire.

Little did Sir David Basset or Dame Deborah dream that the lame pedlar-woman, in the lilac print dress and white mob-cap, whom they passed in the park, and who curtsied so low as the great coach lumbered past, was the Royalist leader whom everyone was searching for; neither did they dream that Millicent, who was waiting so demurely on the steps to receive them, wore under her smooth white kerchief a little crystal heart hung from a slender gold chain, which she had found in a packet, addressed to her, in the bottom of the pedlar's basket.

More than eleven long years came and went. Charles I. was beheaded, Cromwell ruled and died, and at last, one bright May day, Charles II. was brought back to his father's throne.

Many changes had taken place at Basset Court. Old Sir David was dead, and his son, Sir Antony, reigned in his stead. Antony and his young wife had gone up to London to see the merry-makings, but Millicent preferred to stay at home; and she is walking up and down the rose-garden this sunny evening, waiting for the return of the travellers.

All these years Ralph de Foulkes had been in France with the King, and all these years she had waited. Would Antony have seen him in London? Would he remember? Hark! there is the sound of wheels, and the great coach lumbers into the courtyard. She turns to welcome Antony and his wife, but she sees instead a tall, strong man, with a sunny smile on his face, and a few withered roses in his hand.

PUZZLERS FOR WISE HEADS.

15.--LADDER PUZZLE.

Take the first and last letters of the 'rounds,' and add a letter between each round, to form the 'posts.'

Right post. A large town in England, not far from Birmingham.

Left post. The act or process of reasoning.

Round 1. A boy's Christian name. " 2. A small singing bird. " 3. A town prominent in the South African War. " 4. A large island in the Pacific. " 5. A terrible monster of Greek legend. " 6. Another island in the Pacific. " 7. A race which invaded and conquered England.

C. J. B.

[_Answer on page 371._]

ANSWER TO PUZZLE ON PAGE 290.

14.--1. F-rail. 2. S-tale. 3. B-one. 4. S-hake. 5. F-right. 6. T-haw.

THE ASS OF DENMARK.

A Dane once brought to his country a beautiful he-ass from Andalusia, and the animal was exhibited as a curiosity in all the towns. An innkeeper of a place between Hamburg and Lubeck took it for a sign; he had it painted, and hung the sign at the door of his inn, with the inscription, 'The Ass of Denmark;' and the good accommodation of the inn rendered it famous.

Many years after, the Prince of Denmark, in passing by that place, took lodging there. The honour was so highly appreciated by the innkeeper that he begged the prince to allow him to take his portrait for a sign, and this was granted him. Another innkeeper immediately bought the well-known sign of the Ass, and by this means attracted to his inn all travellers. The other then perceived his want of foresight; and in order to remedy it, he had written at the foot of the portrait of the Prince of Denmark, '_This is the original Ass._'

ETHEL'S ORANGE-PLANT.

'My little orange-tree is coming up! It has put out two leaves since yesterday!' said Ethel, joyously, as she put the precious pot on the rustic table in the arbour, which in the summer holidays was the favourite sitting-room of Ethel and her sister May. 'I am so glad. I wonder when it will begin to bear oranges,' and Ethel already saw, in imagination, the tiny shoot, with its twin green leaves, growing into a bushy tree, weighed down with golden fruit!

'Here comes May,' she continued. 'May, May! isn't it nice? My orange has two leaves!'

May, however, was in no humour to rejoice with her little sister. Her orange-pip, planted at the same time, showed no signs of life whatever, and now to hear of Ethel's plant putting forth leaves was too much; and so her only answer was to say crossly, 'What have you brought the stupid thing here for? I want the table for my scrap-book.'

'Oh, let it stop,' pleaded little Ethel. 'The sun always leaves the schoolroom window at ten o'clock, and orange-trees want so much sun. There is plenty of room for your desk and the pot.'

May did not answer, but she pettishly pushed the plant to one side, and placed her scrap-book on the table with a bang.

'There is not room,' she said at last; 'where is my desk to go with that great plant blocking up everything? Take it back to the schoolroom, Ethel,' and not looking at the plant, she carelessly pushed it to one side--too much to one side, for it fell to the ground and was broken to pieces, the heavy scrap-book falling on top of it.

'Oh, my plant! my beautiful plant is broken!' cried Ethel. 'I shall never see the oranges grow on it,' and she covered her face with her hands and sobbed bitterly.

'What is the matter? Are you hurt, dear?' asked her mother, hurrying up from a flower-bed where she was planting out seedlings.

'It's the orange-plant!' sobbed Ethel; 'but May did not mean to break it,' she added loyally.

'Oh, dear, what a pity!' said Mrs. Randen, as she carefully lifted the plant in its broken pot, and placed it on the table. 'How came you to be so careless, May?'

'I--I don't know,' stammered May, and she turned away feeling ashamed and miserable, for her conscience told her it was scarcely an accident, for she meant to be rough with the plant, though perhaps she had hardly meant to break it.

'How could I do it?' she asked herself, as she threw herself on the schoolroom sofa, and burst into tears. 'Ethel is so good, too; how horrid I must be to have grudged her pleasure in her plant, even though mine is dead.'

She raised her eyes to the window, where stood her pot, and there, to her amazement, she saw a tender little leaf pushing through the dark soil. It was not dead then! Quick as thought she jumped up, seized the pot, and flew down to the arbour.

'My plant is coming up, and you must have it, Ethel, because I am so very sorry I broke yours,' she said eagerly. 'Take it, do, and say you forgive me.'

'Oh, May, you could not help it,' said Ethel, drying her eyes, and trying to smile, 'and I won't take your plant. I am very glad it is coming up.'

'You must have it,' said May firmly. 'I shall never like it unless it is yours; it will always remind me of a horrid day,' ended up May, somewhat lamely, for she could not say how guilty she felt in the matter.

So Ethel had the plant, and nursed it so well that in days to come it really did produce a small orange, and this time May was the first to rejoice with her sister.

ANIMAL MAKESHIFTS.

True Anecdotes.

IV.--CURIOUS CUPBOARDS.

The inborn wisdom which Providence gives animals for their good is clearly shown by something very like forethought about food supplies, an instinct which tells creatures to lay by 'for a rainy day.' It is less strongly marked among the winged races, because they prefer to fly in search of fresh supplies when the old fail, and seldom provide cupboards or larders at home. Yet there are birds that make stores. After a full meal many of the crow tribe, including the raven, rook, and jackdaw, will put away and hoard what is left. A magpie once paid me a visit, perching on an ash-tree, the boughs of which almost brushed against my bedroom window. Very early one morning he awoke me by calling out his own name, together with a lot of chattering, the meaning of which appeared to be that 'Maggie' was both hungry and thirsty. He was tame and talkative, and had clearly escaped from somewhere. I placed a saucer of milk and bread, with a dish of meat, cut up, and another of fresh water, on the sill of the open window, and soon had the pleasure of seeing my guest making a hearty meal. After eating till he could eat no more, he took a splendid bath out of the water-dish, muttering hoarsely all the while, and strutting up and down as he eyed the remaining meat, which he felt unable to swallow. From time to time he cast a cunning look my way, as if to hint politely that he wished to be alone. 'Go about your business, do,' I thought the look said; so I went out, shut the door, and watched him through the keyhole. With much chuckling Maggie then laid his plans, and carried them out.

That night, on going to bed, I found several lumps of meat hidden under my pillow; a further search revealed a second layer beneath the bolster. A few bits were crammed into chinks round the window-sashes, and the rest was concealed in various convenient spots. There Maggie had placed them to await the time when they should be wanted. He himself roosted on one leg in the ash-tree, looking like a feather mop, and was spared the grief of seeing his hoards discovered. But, in spite of the hidden store, he roused me at dawn the next morning by shrill screams for breakfast.

I knew Maggie would be claimed by somebody, and sure enough a woman, who had tracked him by his voice, soon came and asked leave to 'call him back.' But Maggie refused to come, and as the idea of a cage for any living creature is distasteful to me, I was glad to arrange for his free board and lodging in the tree near my window. I found that at his old quarters, one of a row of cottages hard by, he had kept things lively by his playful habit of watching the neighbours hang out their clean linen in the back yards, getting loose from his cage, pouncing down on the clothes-lines, pulling out the pegs, and chuckling with glee when all the 'wash' fell down in the dirt, and had to be done over again.

Dogs and cats, as descendants of wild races, still keep a trace of the old customs of their ancestors. Who does not know the anxious look with which a well-fed pet dog will dig a hole and bury a bone that he does not happen to want, as if he had an old age in the workhouse to dread? I have seen a little Yorkshire terrier go the round of the dinner-table, sit up and beg piteously, pretending that 'the smallest trifle is most thankfully received,' look carefully round, and, thinking that no one saw him, bury those trifles under the hearthrug, and return for more. The habit is not so common in cats, but I have known more than one puss do the same thing. One little tabby, found in the snow on my doorstep, would play with a piece of meat as if it were a mouse, make believe to kill it, and then hide it away under the edge of the carpet, with a great show of sniffing and scraping, as if to make sure that no other cat could scent it out. She had once been nearly starved, and so had learnt prudence.

A few small animals, the squirrel, field mouse, and dormouse, are store-keepers by nature. The larder is placed at a convenient distance from the nest in which these little animals sleep, and if forgotten, or accidentally left unused, the nuts, seeds, &c., often taken root and grow. Many a spreading chestnut, sturdy oak, and shady beech, to say nothing of hazel copse, owes life to these thrifty little folk, and thus the tiny woodlanders give back to nature a thousandfold more than they take. More than a bushel of raw potatoes was once found laid up by a water-rat in his winter cupboard, underground.

It is not every squirrel, however, that lays up a winter store. It seems that if that prudent little animal sees his way to a fair supply of food, or lives where human beings will provide victuals, he takes no such trouble. He is, at any rate, a good judge of nuts. A gardener who liked ripe filberts, and was looking forward to a fine crop in his plantation, found out that a squirrel in the neighbourhood liked them too, and knew how to 'sample' them better than himself. One day the master of the filbert-trees came to his wife with a happy air. 'I have done the squirrel this time, at all events,' said he; 'for I found a heap of filberts he had put together, all ready to carry off, little by little, and now when he returns he will find them gone.' Not a bit of it! Every nut was a bad one, which the knowing little rascal had tossed away in disgust, while he picked out all the good ones to eat or take home!

EDITH CARRINGTON.

A SHORT CONVERSATION.

The celebrated physician, Dr. Abernethy, was famous for the brevity and bluntness of his answers; he never used a word more than was necessary. One day a lady who knew his peculiarity came to him and held out her finger without a word.

'Cut?' asked the doctor.

'Bite,' answered the patient.

'Dog?'

'Parrot.'

'Go home and poultice,' said Abernethy.

The next day the finger was again shown.

'Better?' was the doctor's question.

'Worse.'

'Poultice again.'

Lastly, when the finger was at length cured, the doctor even went so far as to compliment his patient.

'Better?' he asked.

'Quite well.'

'Good. You are the most sensible woman I ever met. Good-day.'

WHAT INSECTS LOVE.

'I love,' said a Beetle, 'The Buttercups all.' 'And I,' quoth a Fly, 'Like the Daisies small.' But a Humble Bee Said, 'As for me, My love is true To the Cornflowers blue, And Violets hid by a moss-grown wall.'

'All flowers I adore,' Laughed a Butterfly; And murmured a Wasp, 'Red Heather, say I.' Then a grey Moth said, 'When you're all in bed, I have the bliss Of the Woodbine's kiss; She waits for me when the day doth die.'

AFLOAT ON THE DOGGER BANK.

A Story of Adventure on the North Sea and in China.

(_Continued from page 335._)