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diff --git a/old/55129-0.txt b/old/55129-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 629a299..0000000 --- a/old/55129-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,10440 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Working my Way Around the World, by -Lena M. Franck and Harry Alverson Franck - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: Working my Way Around the World - -Author: Lena M. Franck - Harry Alverson Franck - -Release Date: July 16, 2017 [EBook #55129] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WORKING MY WAY AROUND THE WORLD *** - - - - -Produced by Richard Tonsing and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive) - - - - - - - - - - WORKING MY WAY - AROUND THE WORLD - - -[Illustration: HARRY A. FRANCK] - - - - - WORKING MY WAY AROUND THE WORLD - - REWRITTEN BY - LENA M. FRANCK - FROM - HARRY A. FRANCK’S “VAGABOND JOURNEY AROUND THE WORLD” - - - ILLUSTRATED WITH PHOTOGRAPHS AND WITH MAPS - -[Illustration] - - NEW YORK - THE CENTURY CO. - 1918 - - - - - Copyright, 1918, by - THE CENTURY CO. - - _Published, September, 1918_ - - - - - DEDICATED TO - ALL YOUNG FIRESIDE TRAVELERS - - Still, as my Horizon grew, - Larger grew my riches, too. - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CONTENTS - - - CHAPTER PAGE - - I “CROSSIN’ THE POND WI’ THE BULLOCKS” 3 - - II “ON THE ROAD” IN THE BRITISH ISLES 7 - - III IN CLEAN HOLLAND 12 - - IV NOT WELCOME IN THE FATHERLAND 17 - - V TRAMPING THROUGH FRANCE 24 - - VI CLIMBING OVER THE ALPS 29 - - VII IN SUNNY ITALY 32 - - VIII AMONG THE ARABS 56 - - IX A LONELY JOURNEY 75 - - X CITIES OF OLD 82 - - XI THE WILDS OF PALESTINE 106 - - XII CAIRO AND THE PYRAMIDS 129 - - XIII A TRIP UP THE NILE 146 - - XIV STEALING A MARCH ON THE FAR EAST 164 - - XV IN THE LAND OF THE WANDERING PRINCE 180 - - XVI THE MERRY CIRCUS DAYS 194 - - XVII THREE WANDERERS IN INDIA 204 - - XVIII THE WAYS OF THE HINDU 216 - - XIX IN THE HEART OF INDIA 224 - - XX BEYOND THE GANGES 242 - - XXI TRAMPING THROUGH BURMA 250 - - XXII IN THE JUNGLES OF BURMA 265 - - XXIII IN SIAM 276 - - XXIV HUNGRY DAYS 287 - - XXV FOLLOWING THE MENAM RIVER TO BANGKOK 304 - - XXVI ON THE WAY TO HONG-KONG 316 - - XXVII WANDERING IN JAPAN 322 - - XXVIII HOMEWARD BOUND 332 - - - - - LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS - - - Harry A. Franck _Frontispiece_ - - PAGE - - A baker’s cart of Holland on the morning round 14 - - Boundary line between France and Germany 21 - - My entrance into Paris 22 - - The Bridge of Sighs 39 - - My gondolier on the Grand Canal 41 - - Country family returning from market 49 - - Italian peasants returning from the vineyards to the - village 53 - - The lonely, Bedouin-infected road over the Lebanon 76 - - On the road between Haifa and Nazareth I met a road - repair gang 98 - - The shopkeeper and traveling salesman with whom I spent - two nights and a day on the lonely road to - Jerusalem 117 - - The Palestine beast of burden 119 - - A woman of Alexandria, Egypt, carrying two bushels of - oranges 130 - - An abandoned mosque outside the walls of Cairo 132 - - An Arab café in Old Cairo 134 - - Sais or carriage runners of Cairo, clearing the streets - for their master 138 - - An Arab gardener 140 - - Egypt—A young Arab climbing down the pyramid 142 - - On the top of the largest pyramid 143 - - A trip to the pyramids 144 - - “Along the way shadoofs were ceaselessly dipping up the - water” 147 - - The Egyptian fellah dwells in a hut of reeds and mud 156 - - Soudan steamer on the Nile 160 - - Arab passengers on the Nile steamer 162 - - A Singhalese woman stops often to give her children a - bath 182 - - The yogi who ate twenty-eight of the bananas at a - sitting 187 - - The thatch roof at the roadside 190 - - I take a last ’rickshaw ride before taking the steamer - for India 205 - - “Haywood” snaps me as I am getting a shave in - Trichinopoly 209 - - The Hindu street-sprinkler does not lay much dust 228 - - I do a bit of laundry work 235 - - A lady of Delhi out for a drive in a bullock cart 240 - - The chief of a jungle village agrees to guide us for one - day’s journey 267 - - A freight carrier crossing the stream that separates - Burma from Siam 277 - - My companion, Gerald James of Perth, Australia, crossing - the boundary line between Burma and Siam 279 - - The sort of jungle through which we cut our way for - three weeks 292 - - Myself after four days in the jungle, and the Siamese - soldiers who invited us to eat a frog and lizard - supper 297 - - An elephant, with a Mahout dozing on his head, was - advancing toward us 307 - - Bangkok is a city of many canals 317 - - My ’rickshaw man 322 - - Numadzu 323 - - Some street urchins near Tokio 325 - - Osaka 326 - - Horses are rare in Japan 328 - - Japanese children playing in the streets of Kioto 329 - - Women do most of the work in the rice-fields of Japan 330 - - Yokohama decorated in honor of Secretary Taft’s party 334 - - A Yokohama street decorated for the Taft party 338 - - - - - WORKING MY WAY AROUND THE WORLD - - - - - CHAPTER I - “CROSSIN’ THE POND WI’ THE BULLOCKS” - - -After spending some sixteen years in schools and colleges, I decided, -one spring, to take a year off and make a trip around the world. I had -no money for such a journey; but that didn’t matter for I meant to “work -my way” from place to place. I spoke French and German, and had some -knowledge of Spanish and Italian. I believed that if I had to work among -the people of foreign countries I would learn more of them and of their -languages than in any other way. So I was not sorry that I had to start -my journey with only my camera and one hundred and four dollars for -films. - -As a beginning I had arranged to cross the Atlantic on a cattle-boat in -the employ of a company in Walkerville, Canada. This company ships -thousands of cattle to the markets of England every year. When I asked -for a job as cattleman, they employed me at once. So it happened that on -the eighteenth of June, 1904, I crossed the Detroit River to Canada, and -walked two miles to the Walkerville cattle-barns. From the long rows of -low brick buildings sounded now and then a deep bellow, or the song or -whistle of a stock feeder at his labor. I left my bag at the office and -joined the crew in the yard. - -The cattlemen had already begun driving the cattle from the stables. It -was no easy task. As soon as they were free, the sleek animals began to -prance, to race, and to bellow, leading the stockmen a merry chase all -around the yard. Little by little, however, the men managed to urge them -slowly up the chute into the waiting cars. The setting sun had reddened -the western sky, and darkness had fallen in the alleyways between the -endless stables, before the last bull was tied and the last car door -locked. The engine gave a warning whistle. We who were to care for the -stock on the way raced to the office for our bundles, tossed them on top -of the freight-cars, and climbed aboard after them. - -The train began to move. The stockmen left behind called out farewells -to their friends who were “crossin’ the pond wi’ the bullocks”: “So -long, Jim.” “Don’t fergit that smokin’ tobacco for me, Bob.” And we were -off. - -After a short run we came to the main line of the Canadian Pacific. Here -our cars were joined to a long train that was being made up. We were to -travel in the caboose. As we came into the glare of the tail lights, -carrying our bundles and long poles, the trainmen saw us, and began -growling: “Huh! more cow-punchers!” - -We rode for thirty-six hours. When we reached Montreal at last, we left -the stock to the care of the feeders at the railroad pens, and went at -once to the “Stockyards Hotel”—a building filled from bar-room to garret -with the odor of cattle. - -Where were we going, and when? Up to this time I had not even learned on -what ship we were to sail. Then I heard some one say “Glasgow,” and soon -the news leaked out that we were to sail on the _Sardinian_ two days -later. - -On the second evening I went on board the _Sardinian_ with the rest of -our crew, and wandered around among the empty cattle-pens built on the -four decks. Toward midnight loads of baled straw were brought on board, -and we began to “bed down” the pens. When this was finished, we threw -ourselves down in the empty stalls and fell asleep. - -We were awakened before daylight by a rush of excited cattle and the -cries of their drivers. The hubbub lasted for three hours. By that time -the animals were securely tied in their stalls, the winch had yanked up -on deck three bulls that, having been killed in the rush, were to be -dumped in the outer bay, and we were off down the St. Lawrence. The crew -fell to coiling up the shore lines and joined the cattlemen in a glad -chorus: - - “We’re homeward bound, boys, for Glasgow town; - Good-by, fare thee well; good-by, fare thee well!” - -The passage across was like other cattle-boat trips. There were a few -quarrels, a free-for-all fight now and then, among the cattlemen: the -work was hard, the food poor, and the sailors’ quarters in the -forecastle unfit to live in. But the voyage was no worse than I had -expected. - -On the tenth day out, we came on deck to see, a few miles off, the -sloping coast of Ireland. Patches of growing and ripening grain made the -island look like a huge tilted checkerboard. Before night fell we had -left Ireland behind, and it was near the mouth of the Clyde River that -we fed the cattle for the last time. - -A mighty uproar awakened us at dawn. Glasgow longshoremen, shouting at -the top of their voices, were driving the cattle, slipping and sliding, -down the gangway. We had reached Europe at last! An hour later the -cattlemen were scattering along the silent streets of Sunday morning -Glasgow. - - - - - CHAPTER II - “ON THE ROAD” IN THE BRITISH ISLES - - -At noon the next day I received my wages and a printed certificate -stating that I had been a sailor on the cattle-boat. I kept it, for the -police would surely demand to know my trade while I was tramping through -the countries of Europe. - -Tucking my camera into an inside pocket, I struck out along the Clyde -River toward the Highlands of Scotland. I passed through Dumbarton, a -town of factories, and at evening reached Alexandria. A band was -playing. I joined the crowd on the village green, and watched the young -Scots romping and joking, while their elders stood apart in gloomy -silence. A church clock struck nine. The concert ended. The sun was -still well above the horizon. I went on down the highway until, not far -beyond the town, the hills disappeared, and I saw the glassy surface of -a lake, its western end aglow in the light of the drowning sun. It was -Loch Lomond. - -By and by the moon rose, casting a pale white shimmer over the Loch and -its little wooded islands. On the next hillside stood a field of -wheat-stacks. I turned into it, keeping well away from the owner’s -house. The straw was fresh and clean, and made a soft bed. But the -bundles of wheat did not protect me from the winds of the Scottish -Highlands. With a feeling that I had not slept soundly, I rose at -daybreak and pushed on. - -Two hours of tramping brought me to Luss, a pretty little village on the -edge of Loch Lomond. I hastened to the principal street in search of a -restaurant; but the village was everywhere silent and asleep. Down on -the beach of the Loch a lone fisherman was preparing his tackle. He was -displeased when I said his fellow townsmen were late risers. - -“Why, mon, ’tis no late!” he protested; “’tis no more nor five—and a -bonny morning it is, too. But there’s a mist in it,” he complained as he -looked at the sky. - -I glanced at the bright morning sun and the unclouded sky. I could see -no mist, nor any sign of rain. Trying to forget my hunger, I stretched -out on the sands to wait for the morning steamer. Ben Lomond, a mountain -I had read of in Scott’s “Lady of the Lake,” stood just across the Loch, -and I had made up my mind to climb it. - -About six, a heavy-eyed shopkeeper sold me a roll of bologna and a loaf -of bread. The steamer whistle sounded before I got back to the beach. I -bought a ticket at the wooden wharf, and hurried out to board the -steamer. - -A big Scot stepped in front of me and demanded “tup’nce.” - -“But I’ve paid my fare,” I said, holding up the ticket. - -“Aye, mon, ye hov,” rumbled the native, straddling his legs and -thrusting out his elbows. “Ye hov, mon. But ye hovna paid fer walkin’ -oot t’ yon boat on our wharf.” - -Ten minutes later I paid again, this time for being allowed to walk off -the boat at Renwardenen. - -Plodding through a half mile of heath and marsh, I struck into the -narrow white path that zigzagged up the face of the mountain. The mist -that the fisherman had seen began to settle down, and soon turned to a -drenching rain. For five hours I scrambled upward, slipping and falling -on wet stones and into deep bogs, and coming at last to a broad, flat -rock where the path disappeared. It was the top of old Ben Lomond, a -tiny island surrounded by whirling gray mist. The wind blew so hard that -it almost bowled me off my feet into the sea of fog. - -I set off down the opposite slope. In the first stumble down the -mountain I lost my way, and came out upon a boggy meadow, where I -wandered for hours over low hills and through swift streams. Now and -then I scared up a flock of shaggy highland sheep that raced away down -wild looking valleys. There was neither road nor foot-path. For seven -miles I dragged myself, hand over hand, through a thick growth of shrubs -and bushes; and once I fell head first into an icy mountain river before -I reached the highway. - -At the foot a new disappointment awaited me. There was a hotel, but it -was of the millionaire-club kind. I turned toward a group of board -shanties at the roadside. - -“Can you sell me something to eat?” I inquired of the sour-faced -mountaineer who opened the first door. - -“I can no!” he snapped. “Go to the hotel!” - -There were freshly baked loaves plainly in sight in the next hovel where -I stopped. - -“Have you nothing to eat in the house?” I demanded. - -“No, mon; I’m no runnin’ a shop.” - -“But you can sell me a loaf of that bread?” - -“No!” bellowed the Scot. “We hovna got any. Go to the hotel. Yon’s the -place for tooreests.” - -I tried at the other huts; but nobody would sell me any bread. So, -though I had already tramped and climbed twenty-five miles, I struck off -through the sea of mud that passed for a road, toward Aberfoyle, fifteen -miles distant. The rain continued. There was another lake, and then the -road stretched away across a dreary field. I became so weary that I -forgot I was hungry—then so drowsy that I could hardly force my legs to -carry me on. Dusk fell, then darkness. It was past eleven when I -splashed into Aberfoyle, too late to find an open shop. I hunted until I -found an inn, rang the bell until I awoke a servant, and went supperless -to bed. - -Late the next morning I hobbled out into the streets of Aberfoyle to the -station, and took the train for Sterling. Two days later, in the early -afternoon, I reached Edinburgh. Following the signs that pointed the way -to the poor man’s section, I brought up in Haymarket Square, a place -well known in history. Many places in Europe that were once the palaces -of kings and queens are the slums of to-day. A crowd of careless-looking -men, in groups and in pairs, sauntered back and forth at the foot of a -statue in the center of the square. One of them, as ragged and uncombed -as his hearers, was making a speech. Another, in his shirt sleeves, -wandered from group to group, trying to sell his coat for the price of a -night’s lodging. - -A sorry-looking building in front of me bore the sign: “Edinburgh Castle -Inn. Clean, capacious beds, 6 shillings.” - -I went inside, and found the place so dirty that I was glad to escape -again into the street. A big policeman marched up and down with an air -of importance. - -“Where shall I find a fairly cheap lodging-house?” I asked him. - -“Try the Cawstle Inn h’over there,” replied “Bobby,” grandly waving his -Sunday gloves toward the place I had just left. - -“But that place is not clean,” I objected. - -“Not clean! Certainly it is clean! There’s a bloomin’ law makes ’em keep -’em clean,” shouted Bobby, glaring at me. - -I entered another inn facing the square, but was thankful to escape from -it to the one I had first visited. Here I paid for my lodging, and -passed into the main room. It was furnished with benches, tables, and -several cook-stoves. - -Men were crowded around these stoves, getting their own supper. Water, -fuel, and dishes were furnished free to all who had paid their lodging. -On the stoves were sputtering or boiling many kinds of cheap food, -tended by tattered men who handled frying-pans with their coat-tails as -holders, and cut up cabbages or peeled potatoes with knives that had -half-inch layers of tobacco on their blades. Each ate his mixture with -the greatest enjoyment, as soon as it showed the least sign of being -cooked, often without giving it time to cool, as I could tell by the -expression on the faces about me. - - - - - CHAPTER III - IN CLEAN HOLLAND - - -Three days later I took passage to London, and that same afternoon -sailed for Rotterdam. At sunrise the next morning I climbed on deck, and -found the ship steaming slowly through a peaceful canal. On all sides -were flat plains, stretching as far as the eye could see. Far below us -were clusters of squat cottages with the white smoke of kindling fires -curling slowly upward from their chimneys. Here and there a peasant, -looking very tiny from our high deck, crawled along over the flat -meadows. In the distance clumsy windmills were turning slowly in the -morning breeze. - -Our canal opened out into the busy harbor of Rotterdam. A customs -officer asked me where I was going, slapped me on the back in a fatherly -fashion, and warned me in German to look out for the “bad people” who -lay in wait for seamen ashore. - -I quickly tired of the city, and turned out along the broad, flat -highway to Delft. The road ran along at the side of a great canal, and -at times crossed branch waterways half hidden by boats, filled with -cargo, toiling slowly by on their way to market and by empty boats -gliding easily homeward. On board, stout men bowed double over the poles -they use to push their craft along. On the bank, along the gravel path, -women strained like oxen at the tow-ropes around their shoulders. - -In the early afternoon I passed through Delft, and pushed on toward The -Hague. Beyond Delft I turned into a narrow cobblestone roadway running -between two canals. It was a quiet route. I went on my lonely way, -thinking of many things and gazing off across the flat green country. - -Suddenly a galloping “rat-a-tat” sounded close behind me. A runaway -horse! To pause and glance behind might cost me my life; for the crazed -brute was almost upon me. With a swiftness born of fear, I began to run! -Luckily, ahead of me I spied a foot-bridge over one of the canals. I -made one flying leap toward it, and reached it in safety just as there -dashed by me at full speed—a Hollander of some six summers, bound to -market with a basket on his arm! - -After spending only a few hours in the interesting city of The Hague, I -looked for the highway to Leiden. I was not very successful in my search -for it, for the mixed language of German, English, and deaf-and-dumb -show with which I tried to make myself understood did not get me clear -directions. A road to Leiden was finally pointed out to me right enough, -but it was not a public highway. By some mistake, I set out along the -Queen’s private driveway, which led to the boyhood home of Rembrandt, -the great Dutch artist. - -It was a pleasure to travel by the Queen’s own highway, of course, -especially as it led through a fragrant forest park. But, unfortunately, -there was no chance of finding an inn when hunger and darkness came on -me. There was not even a cross-road to lead me back to the public -highway, where I could find a place to eat and sleep. So I plodded on -deep into the lonely forest until night overtook me. Just what hour it -was when I reached Leiden, I could not tell. But it was certainly late; -for, except a few drowsy policemen, the good people, and even the bad, -were sound asleep. With a painful number of miles in my legs, I went to -bed on a pile of lumber. - -[Illustration: A baker’s cart of Holland on the morning round.] - -The warm sun awoke me early—before the first shopkeeper was astir. It -was Sunday, so I was not able to buy any food. Still hungry, I set off -toward Haarlem. On those flat lowlands it was disagreeably hot. Yet the -peasants, in their uncomfortable Sunday clothes, plodded for miles along -the dusty highway to the village church. - -The men marched along sadly, as if they were going to prison. The women, -stout, and painfully awkward in their stiffly starched skirts, tramped -perspiringly behind the men. Even the children, the frolicking, romping -youngsters of the day before, were imprisoned in home-made -strait-jackets, and suffered discomfort in uncomplaining silence. Yet -one and all spoke a pleasant word to me as they passed. - -Ever since leaving Rotterdam, I had noticed that there were no wells in -country places. I had so far been able to quench my thirst only in the -villages. But toward noon on this hot Sunday I became so thirsty that I -finally turned in at the only place in sight, a farm cottage. Beside the -road ran the ever-present canal. A narrow foot-bridge crossed it to the -gateway leading to the cottage. Around the house ran a branch of the -main waterway, giving the farmer a place to moor his canal-boat. I could -not open the gate, and I had to shout again and again before any one in -the house heard me. At last, from around the corner of the building a -very heavy woman came into view, bearing down upon me like an ocean -liner sailing into a calm harbor. I could not speak Dutch, but I did the -best I could. Perhaps the lady spoke some German, so I said: “Ein Glass -Wasser, bitte.” - -“Vat?” - -It could do no harm to give my mother tongue a trial: - -“A glass of water.” - -“Eh!” - -I tried a mixture of the two languages: - -“Ein glass of vater.” - -This time she understood. - -“Vater?” shrieked the lady, with such force that the rooster in the back -yard leaped sidewise a distance of six feet. “Vater!” - -“Ja, Vater, bitte.” - -A deep silence followed—a silence so intense that one could have heard a -fly pass by a hundred feet above. Slowly the lady placed a heavy hand on -the gate between us. Perhaps she was wondering if it were strong enough -to keep out the madman on the other side. Then, with a snort, she -wheeled about and waddled toward the house. Close under the eaves of the -cottage hung a tin basin. Snatching it down, she sailed for the canal -behind the house, stooped, dipped up a basinful of that very same -weed-clogged water that flowed by at my feet, and moved back across the -yard to offer it to me with a patient sigh. After that, whenever I -became thirsty, I got my drink from roadside canals after the manner of -beasts of the field—and Hollanders. - -Long before I reached Haarlem, I came upon the great flower farms. I saw -more and more of these as I neared the town. I passed through the city -of tulips and out onto the broad, straight highway that leads to -Amsterdam. It ran as straight as a bee line to where it disappeared in a -fog of rising heat-waves. Throughout its length it was crowded with -vehicles, horseback riders, and, above all, with wheelmen who would not -turn aside an inch for me, but drove me again and again into the wayside -ditch. - -I reached Amsterdam late in the afternoon; and, after much wandering in -and out among the canals, I found a room in a garret overhanging the -sluggish waterway. The place was clean, as we have heard all places are -in Holland, and there was a coffee-house close at hand, where eggs, -milk, cheeses, and dairy products of all kinds were served at small cost -and in cleanly surroundings. - -I visited parks, museums, and the laborers’ quarters in Amsterdam, and -every evening spent a long time searching for my canal-side garret, -because it looked so much like other canal-side garrets. - - - - - CHAPTER IV - NOT WELCOME IN THE FATHERLAND - - -One afternoon, while in my favorite coffee-house, I heard some one say -that a cargo-boat was to leave for a town in Germany on the Rhine, and -that passengers could go along for a song. It was to leave at four. I -thrust a lunch into a pocket, and hurried down to the boat. She was a -big canal-boat, as black as a coal-barge, but not so clean. Her -uncovered deck was piled high with boxes, barrels, and crates, holding -everything from beer mugs to noisy chickens. I scrambled over the cargo, -and found a seat on a barrel of oil. - -I left the cargo-boat at the German town of Arnheim, and walked along -the Rhine, stopping at the towns along the way. Partly on foot and -partly by steamer, I made my way to the city of Mainz. From there I -turned eastward and tramped along the highway to Frankfurt. - -It was late at night when I reached Frankfurt. The highway ended among -the great buildings of the business blocks. After hunting for some time -I found, on a dingy side street, a building on which there was a sign -offering lodging at one mark. Truly it was a high price to pay for a -bed; but the hour was late, the night stormy, and I was tired. I entered -the drinking-room. The bartender was busy quieting the shouts of “Glas -Bier” that rose above the rest of the noise. As soon as I could get his -attention, I told him that I wanted lodging. - -“Beds?” cried the _Kellner_, too busy with his glasses to look up at me. -“To be sure—we have always plenty of beds. One mark.” - -But mein Herr, the proprietor, was staring at me from the back of the -hall. Slowly he shuffled forward, cocked his head on one side, and -studied me closely from out his bleary eyes. - -“What does he want?” he demanded, turning to the bartender. - -I told him that I wanted a night’s lodging. - -“Where do you come from?” - -Knowing that he would ask other questions, I explained fully why I was -there, and told him that I was an American sailor on a sight-seeing trip -in the Fatherland. The drinkers clustered about us and listened. I could -see that they did not believe me. While I was talking, they began -exchanging glances and nudging one another with looks of disbelief on -their faces. Perhaps they distrusted me because I talked like a -foreigner and wore the dress of a wanderer. - -The proprietor blinked his pudgy eyes, glanced once more into the faces -of those about him to see what they thought about it. It may be that he -wanted to let me stay; but what would the police inspector say in the -morning when he saw the name of a foreigner on the register? He -scratched his grizzly head as if to bring out an idea with his stubby -fingers. Then he glanced once more at the tipplers, and said, with a -blink: - -“It gives me pain, young man—I am sorry, but we have not a bed left in -the house.” - -I wandered out into the night, and told my story to five other -inn-keepers. None of them would take me in. One proprietor told me the -best way for me to preserve my good health was to make a quick escape -into the street. As he was a creature of immense size, I lost no time in -following his advice. It was midnight when I finally induced a policeman -to tell me where to stay. He pointed out an inn where wanderers were not -so much of a curiosity, and I was soon asleep. - -The next morning I set out to find the birthplace of the German poet -Goethe. When I reached a part of the city where I thought he had lived, -I asked a policeman to show me the house. - -“Goethe?” he said. Why, yes, he believed he had heard that name -somewhere. He was not sure, but he fancied the fellow lived in the -eastern part of the city, and he told me how to get there. The route led -through narrow, winding streets. Now and then I lost my way, and was set -right by other keepers of the law. At last, after tramping most of the -morning and wearing out considerable shoe-leather, I found the place -directly across the street from the inn at which I had slept. - -The next morning I made up my mind to go by rail to Weimar. The train -was to start at nine o’clock. I reached the station at eight-forty, -bought a fourth-class ticket, and stepped out upon the platform just in -time to hear a guard bellow the German words for “All aboard!” The -Weimar train stood close at hand. As I stepped toward it, four -policemen, strutting about the platform, whooped and sprang after me. - -“Where are you going?” shrieked the first to reach me. - -“I go to Weimar.” - -“But the train to Weimar is gone!” shouted the second officer. - -As I had a hand on the car door, I became so bold as to contradict him. - -“But yes, it has gone!” gasped a third sergeant, who stood behind the -others. “It is gone! The guard has already said ‘All aboard.’” - -The train stood at the edge of the platform long enough to have emptied -and filled again; but, as it was gone ten minutes before it started, I -was obliged to wait for the next one at ten-thirty. - -I managed to board the next one. It was a box car with wooden benches -around the sides and a door at each end. Almost before we were well -started, the most uncombed couple aboard stood up and began to yell. I -was alarmed at first, for I did not know what was the matter with them. -But after a time I realized that they thought they were singing. Many of -the passengers seemed to think so too, for before the pair left at the -first station they had gathered a handful of pennies from the listeners. - -We stopped at a station at least every four miles during that day’s -journey. At the first village beyond Frankfurt the car filled with -peasants and laborers in heavy boots and rough smocks, who carried farm -tools of all kinds, from pitchforks to young plows. Sunburned women, on -whose backs were strapped huge baskets stuffed with every product of the -country-side, from cabbages to babies, packed into the center of the -car, turned their backs on those of us who sat on the benches and -peacefully leaned themselves and their loads against us. The car filled -until there was not room for one more. - -A guard outside closed the heavy door with a bang, then gave a mighty -shout of “Vorsicht!” (“Look out.”) The station-master on the platform -raised a hunting-horn to his lips, and blew such a blast as echoed -through the ravines of all the country round. The head guard drew his -whistle and shrilly repeated the signal. The engineer whistled back. The -guard whistled again; the driver gave forth another wild shriek to show -that he was ready to start; the man on the platform whistled once more -to cheer him on; a heroic squeal came from the cab in answer; and, with -a jerk that sent peasants, baskets, farm tools, lime-pails, and cabbages -all in a struggling heap at the back of the car, we were off. To -celebrate the start the engineer shrieked again and gave a second yank, -lest some sure-footed person among us had by any chance kept his -balance. - -[Illustration: Boundary line between France and Germany. It runs through -wheat fields on either side. The nearest sign post bears the German -eagles and the further one reads “Frontière.”] - -There were times during the journey when the villages seemed to be too -far apart to suit the engineer. For, having given all the toots, he -would bring the car to a sudden stop in the open country. But, as German -railway laws forbid passengers to step out, crawl out, or peep out of -the car at such times, there was no way of learning whether the engineer -had lost his courage or had merely caught sight of a wild flower that -took his fancy. - -I arrived at Weimar late at night. Next day I set out on foot toward -Paris, on the old national road. It wound its way over rolling hills and -among the ravines and valleys where was fought a great battle between -Germany and France in the Franco-Prussian War. For miles along the way, -dotting the hillsides, standing alone or in clusters along lazy brooks -or half hidden among the green of summer, were countless simple white -crosses marking the graves of fallen soldiers and bearing only the -simple inscription, “Here rests Krieger——1870.” At one place I came upon -a gigantic statue of a soldier pointing away across a deep wooded glen -to the vast graveyard of his fallen comrades. - -[Illustration: Plodding early and late, I reached Paris a few days after -crossing the boundary.] - -A mile farther on, in the open country, two iron posts marked the -boundary between the two countries. A farmer, with his mattock, stood in -Germany, grubbing at a weed that grew in France. - -I expected to be stopped when I tried to pass into France, for I knew -that the two countries were not on the most friendly terms. The customs -house was a mere cottage, the first building of a straggling village -some miles beyond the boundary. When I came within sight of it, a -friendly-looking Frenchman, in a uniform worn shiny across the shoulders -and the seat of the trousers, wandered out into the highway to meet me. -Behind him strolled a second officer. But they did not try to delay me. -They cried out in surprise when I told them I was an American walking to -Paris. They merely glanced into my bundle, and as I went on they called -out after me, “Bon voyage!” - -I had to wait for some time whenever I came to a railway crossing. Ten -minutes before a train was due, the gate-woman would close both gates -and return to the shades of her cottage close by. If the train happened -to be an hour late, that made no difference. That was the time that -Madame was hired to lock the gates, and locked they must remain until -the train had passed. It was useless to try to climb over them, for -Madame’s tongue was sharp and the long arm of the law was on her side. - -Plodding early and late, I reached Paris a few days after crossing the -boundary. - -A month of tramping had made me an awful sight. Moreover, it was August, -and my woolen garments had been purchased with the winds of the Scottish -Highlands in mind. For fifteen francs I bought an outfit more suited to -the climate. Then I rented a garret, and roamed through the city for -three weeks. - - - - - CHAPTER V - TRAMPING THROUGH FRANCE - - -The month of August was drawing to a close when I started southward. At -first I had to pass through noisy, dirty villages filled with crying -children and many curs. Beyond, travel was more pleasant, for the -national highways are excellently built. The heaviest rain raises hardly -a layer of mud. But these roads wind and ramble like mountain streams. -They zigzag from village to village even in a level country, and where -hills abound there are villages ten miles apart with twenty miles of -tramping between them. - -I passed on into a pleasant rolling country. Beyond Nemours, where I -spent the second night, I came upon two tramps. They were sitting in the -shade of a giant oak, enjoying a breakfast of hard bread which they -dipped, now and then, into a brook at their feet. They invited me to -share their feast, but I explained that I had just had breakfast. After -finishing they went on with me. They were miners on their way to the -great coal-fields of St. Etienne. We were well acquainted in a very -short time. They called me “mon vieux,” which means something like “old -man” in our language, and greeted every foot-traveler they met by the -same title. - -There are stern laws in France against wandering from place to place. I -knew that the three of us, traveling together, would be asked to explain -our business. We were still some distance off from the first village -when I saw an officer step from the door of a small building and walk -out into the middle of the road to wait for us. - -“Where are you going?” he demanded sternly. - -“To St. Etienne.” - -“And your papers?” - -“Here!” cried the miners, each snatching a worn-looking book from a -pocket under his coat. - -The gendarme stuffed one of the books under an arm, and began to look -through the other. Between its greasy covers was a complete history of -its owner. It told when he was born and where; where he was baptized; -when he had been a soldier, and how he had behaved during his three -years in the army; and so on, page after page. Then came pages that told -where he had worked, what his employer thought of him, with wages, -dates, and reasons why he had stopped working at that particular place. -It took the gendarme a long time to look through it. - -He finished examining both books at last, and handed them back with a -gruff “Well!” - -“Next yours,” he growled. - -“Here it is,” I answered, and pulled from my pocket a letter of -introduction written to American consuls and signed by our Secretary of -State. - -With a puzzled look, the gendarme unfolded the letter. When he saw the -strange-looking English words he gasped with astonishment. - -“What!” he exclaimed. “What is this you have here?” - -“My passport,” I answered. “I am an American.” - -“Ha! American! Zounds! And that is really a passport? Never before have -I seen one.” - -It was not really a passport, although it was as good as one; but as the -gendarme could not read it, he was in no position to dispute my word. - -“Very good,” he went on; “but you must have another paper to prove that -you have worked.” - -Here was a difficulty. If I told him that I was a traveler and no -workman, he would probably put me in jail. For a moment I did not know -what to do. Then I snatched from my bundle the paper showing that I had -worked on a cattle-boat. - -“Bah!” grumbled the officer. “More foreign gibberish. What is this -villain language that the evil one himself could not read?” - -“English.” - -“_Tiens_, but that is a queer thing!” he said thoughtfully, holding the -paper out at arm’s length, and scratching his head. However, with some -help he finally made out one date on the paper, and, handing it back -with a sigh, allowed us to pass on. - -“Wait!” he cried before we had taken three steps. “What country did you -say you came from?” - -“America,” I answered. - -“L’Amérique! And, being in America, you come to France? Oh, my soul, -what idiocy!” And, waving his arms above his head, he fled to the shade -of his office. - -We journeyed along as before, showing our papers at each village, and -once being stopped in the open country by a gendarme on horseback. By -the time we reached Briare in the early afternoon, the miners looked so -lean with hunger that I offered to pay for a meal for three. They needed -no second invitation, and led the way at once to a place that looked to -me like nothing but an empty warehouse. The miners pushed open a door, -and we entered a low room, gloomy and unswept. Around the table to which -we made our way, through a forest of huge wine barrels, were gathered a -dozen or more peasants. - -The keeper of the place set out before us a loaf of coarse bread and a -bottle of wine, and then went back to his seat on a barrel. His shop was -really the wine cellar of a restaurant that faced the main street. The -fare would have cost us twice as much there. One of the miners asked me -if he might order two _sous’_ worth of raw salt pork. Having obtained my -consent, he did so, and he and his companion ate it with great relish. - -I left my companions behind soon after, for they could not walk the -thirty miles a day that I had planned for myself, and passed on into the -vineyard and forest country. In the fields left bare by the harvesters, -peasant women were gathering with the greatest care every overlooked -straw they could find, and, their aprons full, plodded homeward. - -The inhabitants were already lighting their lamps when I entered the -village of La Charité. The bells of a gray church began to ring out the -evening angelus. Squat housewives gossiped at the doors of the stone -cottages that lined the road. From the neighboring fields heavy -ox-carts, the yokes fastened across the horns of the animals, lumbered -homeward. In the dwindling light a blacksmith before his open shop was -fitting with flat iron shoes a spotted ox tied up on its back in a -frame. - -I inquired for an inn, and was directed to a ramshackle stone building, -one end of which was a stable. Inside, under a sputtering lamp, huddled -two men, a woman, and a girl, around a table that looked as if it had -held too much wine in its day and was for that reason unsteady on its -legs. The four were so busy eating bread and soup that they did not see -me come in. - -Walking forward to attract attention in the dim light, I stepped on the -end of a loose board that supported two legs of the tipsy table, causing -the bowl of soup to slide into the woman’s arms and a loaf to roll to -the earthen floor. That was unlucky but it made them notice me. One of -the men was the proprietor, the other a tramp who spoke very queer -French. All the evening, waving his arms above his head, he talked -excitedly of the misfortunes he had lived through. - -At last the girl agreed to show me to a room. She led the way out of -doors, up an outside stairway, to a hole about four feet high over the -stable. Here I spent the night, and at daybreak I resumed my journey. - -At that season half the highways of France were lined with hedges heavy -with blackberries. At first I was not sure they were blackberries, and I -was afraid to eat them; for I had noticed that the thrifty French -peasant never touched them, letting them go to waste. But, coming one -morning upon a hedge fairly loaded with large, juicy fruit, I tasted -one, discovered that it was a real blackberry, and fell to picking a -capful. A band of peasants, on their way to the fields, stopped to gaze -at me in astonishment, and burst into loud laughter. - -“But, _mon vieux_,” cried a plowman, “what in the world will you do with -those berries there?” - -“Eat them, of course,” I answered. - -“Eat them!” roared the countrymen. “But those things are not good to -eat.” And they went on, laughing louder than before. - - - - - CHAPTER VI - CLIMBING OVER THE ALPS - - -I tramped through several villages, and came to the bank of the Upper -Loire River. A short distance beyond, the road began winding up the -first foot-hills of the Alps. Along the way every rocky hillside was cut -into steps to its very top, and every step was thickly set with -grape-vines. - -As I continued climbing upward I left the patches of grape-vines below -me, and came to waving forests where sounded the twitter of birds and -now and then the cheery song of a woodsman or shepherd boy. - -At sunset I reached the top. The road led downward, the forests fell -away, the tiny fields appeared once more, and the song of the -mountaineer was silent. Lower still, I spent the night at a barracks -half filled with soldiers. - -The next day was Sunday. As I tramped down the mountains I met groups of -people from Lyon, chattering gaily as, dressed in their Sunday clothes, -they climbed to the freer air of the hills. I continued my downward -journey, stopping now and then to look about me. The grape-vines -disappeared, to give place to mulberry trees. From my height I could see -the city of Lyon at the meeting-place of the rivers Soane and Rhône. -Even on this day of merrymaking the whir of silk-looms sounded from the -wayside cottages, well into the suburbs of the city. - -From Lyon I turned northeastward toward the Alps. A route winding like a -snake climbed upward. Often I tramped for hours around the edge of a -yawning pit, having always in view a rugged village and its vineyards -far below, only to find myself at the end of that time within a stone’s -throw of a sign-post that I had passed before. But I kept on, passed -through Geneva, and in a few days’ time came to the town of Brig, at the -foot of the Simplon Pass which crosses the Alps. - -The highway over the Simplon Pass was built by Napoleon in 1805. It is -still, in spite of the railways built since, a well traveled route, -though not by foot travelers. The good people of Brig cried out against -it when I told them I was going to cross on foot. - -With a lunch in my knapsack, I left Brig at dawn. Before the sun rose -the morning stage-coach rattled by, and the jeering of its drivers -cheered me on. With every turn of the route up the mountain the picture -below me grew. Three hours up, Brig still peeped out through the slender -pine trees far below, yet almost directly beneath. Across the pit sturdy -mountain boys scrambled from rock to boulder with their sheep and goats. -Far above the last shrub, ragged peaks of stone stood against the blue -sky like figures of curious shapes, peaks aglow with nature’s richest -coloring, here one deep purple in the morning shade, there another of -ruddy pink, changing like watered silk in the sunshine that gilded its -top. Beyond the spot where Brig was lost to view began the roadside -cottages in which the traveler, tired out or overcome by the raging -storms of winter, may seek shelter. In this summer season, however, they -had been changed into wine-shops, where children and stray goats -wandered among the tables. - -Higher up I found scant footing on the narrow ledges. In several places -the road burrowed its way through tunnels. High above one of these, a -glacier sent down a roaring torrent right over the tunnel. Through an -opening in the outer wall I could reach out and touch the foaming stream -as it plunged into the abyss below. - -Light clouds, that had hidden the peaks during the last hours of the -climb, almost caused me to pass by without seeing the hospice of St. -Bernard that marks the summit. It is here that those wonderful St. -Bernard dogs are trained to hunt for and give aid to travelers lost in -the snow. I stepped inside to write a postal card to the world below, -and turned out again into a drizzling rain that soon became a steady -downpour. But the miles that had seemed so long in the morning fairly -raced by on the downward trip, and a few hours later I reached the -boundary line between France and Italy. - - - - - CHAPTER VII - IN SUNNY ITALY - - -The next morning I continued my tramp into sunny Italy. The highway was -covered with deep mud, and my garments were still wet when I drew them -on. But the day was bright with sunshine. The vine-covered hillside and -rolling plains below, the lizards basking on every shelf of rock, -peasant women plodding barefoot along the route, made it hard to realize -that the weather of the day before had been dismal and chilling. - -As I walked on I met countless poor people. Ragged children quarreled -for the possession of an apple-core thrown by the wayside; the rolling -fields were alive with barefooted women toiling like slaves. A sparrow -could not have found a living behind them. In wayside orchards men armed -with grain-sacks stripped even the trees of their leaves—for what -purpose I did not know until the bed I was assigned to in the village -below offered a possible explanation. All along the highway were what -looked from a distance like walking hay-stacks. But when I came nearer I -saw beneath them the tired faces of women or half grown girls. - -Nightfall found me looking for lodging in a lake-side village half way -between Como and Lecco. I found an inn after a long and careful search; -but, as it had no door opening on to the street, I was puzzled as to -where to enter it. There was a dark passageway and a darker stairway -before me, leading downward into a pit. I plunged down the passage with -my hands out in front of me—which was fortunate, for I brought up -against a stone wall. Then I stealthily approached the stairway, -stumbled up the stone steps over a stray cat and a tin pan, and into the -common room of the village inn—common because it served as kitchen, -dining-room, parlor, and office. - -I asked for supper and lodging. The proprietor half rose to his feet, -sat down again, and motioned me to a seat. I took a place opposite him -on one of the two benches near the fireplace, partly because it had been -raining outside, but chiefly because there were no chairs. A long -silence followed. The keeper sat on his bench, staring long and hard at -me without saying a word. His wife wandered in and placed several pots -and kettles around the fire that toasted our heels. - -“Not nice weather,” grinned the landlord at last, and after that we were -soon engaged in lively conversation. Too lively, in fact, for my host at -one time became so earnest about something he was telling that he kicked -over a kettle of macaroni, and was banished from the chimney-corner by -his angry wife. Not being in the habit of making gestures with my feet, -I kept my place and tried to answer the questions that the exile fired -at me from across the room. - -When drowsiness fell upon me, the hostess led the way to a large, airy -room. The coarse sheets on the bed were remarkably white, although the -Italian housewife does her washing in the village brook, and never uses -hot water. Such labor is cheap in Italy, and for all of this I paid less -than ten cents. - -Early next day I pushed on toward Lecco. A light frost had fallen in the -night, and the peasants, alarmed by the first breath of winter, sent -into the vineyards every man, woman, and child able to work. The pickers -labored feverishly. All day women plodded from the fields to the -roadside with great buckets of grapes to be dumped into barrels on -waiting ox-carts. Men wearing heavy wooden shoes jumped now and then -into the barrels and stamped the grapes down. When full, the barrels -were covered with strips of dirty canvas, the farmer climbed into his -cart, turned his oxen into the highway, and promptly fell asleep. When -he reached the village, he drew up before the chute of the village -wine-press, and shoveled his grapes into a slowly revolving hopper. Here -they were crushed to an oozy pulp, and then run into huge tanks and left -to settle. - -After stopping for a morning lunch I tramped through and beyond Bergamo, -where a level highway led across a vast plain covered with grape-vines -and watered by a network of canals. Behind me only a ghostlike range of -the Alps wavered in the haze of the distant sky-line. - -About the time I arrived in northern Italy the butchers had gone on a -strike. That did not trouble me much, for I had eaten nothing but bread -for weeks. The bread was made into loaves of the size, shape, and -toughness of baseballs. Still, hard loaves soaked in wine, or crushed -between two wayside rocks, could be eaten, in a way; and as long as they -were plentiful I could not suffer from lack of food. - -A few miles farther on, however, at each of the bakeries of a village I -was turned away with the cry of: - -“There is no bread! The strike! The bakers have joined the strike and no -more bread is made.” - -To satisfy that day’s appetite I had to eat “paste,” a mushy mess of -macaroni. - -I was returning next morning from an early view of the picturesque -bridges and the ancient buildings of Verona, when I came upon a howling -mob, quarreling, pushing, and scratching in a struggle to reach the -gateway leading to the city hall. Behind this gate above the sea of -heads I could just see the top of some heavy instrument, and the caps of -a squad of policemen. I asked an excited neighbor the cause of the -squabble. He glared at me and howled something in reply. The only word I -understood was _pane_ (bread). I turned to a man behind me. Before I -could speak to him, he shoved me aside and crowded into my place, at the -same time shouting, “Pane!” I tried to crowd past him. He jabbed me -twice in the ribs with his elbows, and again roared, “Pane!” In fact, -everywhere above the howl and noise of the multitude one word rang out, -clear and sharp—“Pane! pane! pane!” My hunger of the day before, and the -thought of the long miles before me, aroused my interest in that -product. I dived into the human whirlpool and battled my way toward the -center. - -Reaching the front rank, I paused to look about me. Behind the iron -gate, a dozen perspiring policemen were guarding several huge baskets of -those baseball loaves. Beyond them stood the instrument that had -attracted my attention. It was a pair of wooden scales that looked big -enough to give the weight of an ox. Still farther on, an officer, who -seemed to feel the importance of his position, sat over a huge book, a -pen the size of a dagger behind each ear, and one resembling a young -bayonet in his hand. - -One by one, the citizens of Verona were pushed through the gate into the -space where the policemen guarded the bread, to be halted suddenly with -the shouted question, “Pound or two pounds?” Once weighed out, his -loaves were passed rapidly from one to another of the officials, so -rapidly that the citizen had to run to keep up with them. When he -reached the officer sitting before the big book, he had to pause while -the latter asked him questions and wrote down the answers. Then he ran -on until he reached the receiving table of another official, where he -caught his flying loaves and made his escape. - -Almost before I had time to see how it was done, the pushing crowd sent -me spinning through the gate. “Two pounds!” I shouted as I rushed on in -my journey toward the book. In a very short time I had reached the last -official, dropped ten _soldi_, gathered up my bread, and left by a gate -that opened into an alley. - -Perhaps you think it was easy to carry two armfuls of baseball loaves. -Take my word for it that it was no simple task. A loaf rolled into the -gutter before I had taken a dozen steps. The others tried to squirm out -of my grasp. With both hands full, I had to disgrace myself by squatting -on the pavement to fill my pockets; and even then I had a hard time -keeping them from jumping away from me. People must have taken me for a -traveling juggler. I made up my mind that I must either give or throw -some of those loaves away. - -He who longs to give alms in Italy has not far to look for some one -willing to benefit by his kindness. I glanced down the alley, and my -eyes fell on a mournful-looking beggar crouched in a gloomy doorway. -With a kind-hearted smile, I bestowed upon him enough of my load to -enable him to play the American national game until the season closed. -The outcast wore a sign marked, “Deaf and dumb.” Either he had picked up -the wrong card in hurrying forth to business that morning, or my -generous gift surprised him out of his misfortune; for as long as a -screeching voice could reach me I was flooded with more blessings than I -could possibly have found use for. - -I plodded on toward Vincenza. All that day, while I sat in village inns, -groups of discouraged-looking men sat scolding against the bakers, and -watching me enviously as I soaked my hard-earned loaves in a glass of -wine. - -When morning broke again, I decided to test the third-class cars of -Italy to see if they were more comfortable than walking; so I took the -train from Vincenza to Padua. At least, the ticket I purchased bore the -name Padua, though the company hardly lived up to the printed agreement -thereon. At the end of several hours of slow jolting and bumping, we -were set down in the center of a wheat-field. The guard shouted, -“Padua!” It seemed to me I had heard somewhere that Padua boasted -buildings and streets, like other cities. It was possible that I had not -been informed correctly. But I could not rid myself of the idea, and I -wandered out through the lonely station to ask the first passer-by how -to get to Padua. - -“Padova!” he snorted. “Certainly this is Padova! Follow this road for a -mile. Just before you come in sight of a white-washed pig-sty, turn to -the left, walk straight ahead, and the city cannot escape you.” - -I followed his directions, and in due time came to the city gate. - -I never saw such a sleepy town. The sun is certainly hot in Italy in the -summer months, but I had not expected to find a place where the people -slept all the time. The city seemed lost in slumber. The few horses -dragged their vehicles after them at a snail’s pace, the drivers nodding -on their seats. Many of the shop-keepers had put up their shutters and -gone home to rest. Those who had not could with difficulty be aroused -from their midday naps to attend to the wants of yawning customers. The -very dogs slept in the gutters or under the chairs of their drowsy -masters. Even many of the buildings were crumbling away and seemed to be -falling asleep like the inhabitants. - -However, I had a chance to look at the famous statues and architecture -in peace, and, leaving the sleepy city to slumber on, I set off at -noonday toward Venice. Away to the eastward stretched land as flat and -unbroken as the sea. Walking was not so easy, however, as it had been -among the mountains behind, for a powerful wind from the Adriatic Sea -pressed me back like an unseen hand at my breast. Although I had been -certain that I would reach the coast town, Fusiano, before evening, -twilight found me still plodding across barren lowlands. With the first -twinkling star a faint glow of light appeared afar off to the left. -Steadily it grew until it lighted up a distant corner of the sky, while -the wind howled stronger and louder across the unpeopled waste. - -Night had long since settled down when the lapping of waves told me that -I had reached the coast-line. A few rickety huts rose up out of the -darkness; but still far out over the sea hovered that glow in the sky—no -distant fire, as I had supposed, but the reflected lights of the island -city, Venice. I had long been thinking of the cheering meal and the soft -couch that I would have before boarding the steamer that would take me -to the city of the sea; but I had to do without them. For there was no -inn among the hovels of Fusiano. I took shelter in a shanty down on the -beach, and waited patiently for the ten o’clock boat. - -By ten o’clock there had gathered on the crazy wharf enough dark-faced -people to fill the steamer. On the open sea the wind was wild. Now and -then a wave spat in the faces of the passengers huddled together on the -deck. A ship’s officer jammed his way among us to collect the six-cent -tickets. - -[Illustration: The Bridge of Sighs, so-called because it leads from the -Justice Court in the Palace of the Doges on the left to the prison on -the right. It crosses the Grand Canal of Venice.] - -By and by the steamer stopped tossing about and began to glide smoothly. -I pushed to the rail to peer out into the night. Before me I saw a -stretch of smooth water in which twinkled the reflection of thousands of -lights of smaller boats, and the illuminated windows of a block of -houses rising sheer out of the sea. We glided into port. A gondola -lighted up by torches at both ends glided across our path. A wide canal -opened on our left, and wound in and out among great buildings faintly -lighted up by lamps and lanterns on the mooring-posts. It was the Grand -Canal of Venice. The steamer nosed its way through a fleet of gondolas -and tied up at a landing before a marble column. - -I went ashore and looked about me. There were no streets, and the hotels -that faced the canals were all too expensive for me. I did not know -where to look for the poor man’s section of the city. For two full hours -I tramped through squares and dark, narrow alleys, only to turn up at -last within a stone’s throw of my landing-place. I finally spent the -night outdoors, sitting on the edge of the canal. - -After spending a few days in Venice, I walked down to the Grand Canal -one morning, with my mind made up to ride in a gondola. I had difficulty -in attracting the attention of the water cabman. They are not in the -habit of asking men wearing corduroys and flannel shirts to be their -passengers. A score of them had just recovered from a rush made on a -tow-head wearing the regular tourist clothes. They did not seem to see -me. When I boldly called out to them, they crowded around me to jeer and -laugh at the laborer trying to play the lord. For some time they thought -I was joking. I had to show them my purse with money in it before one of -them offered to take me aboard. - -Along the Grand Canal passing gondoliers, without passengers to keep -them in proper conduct, flung cutting taunts at my boatman. - -“Eh, Amico!” they called out, “what’s that you’ve got?” - -[Illustration: My gondolier on the Grand Canal.] - -“Ch’è un rico colui quà, eh?” (“Pretty rich wine that, eh?”) - -“Sanque della Vergine, caro mio, dove hai accozzato quello?” (“But, my -dear fellow, where did you pick that one up?”) - -But my guide finally lost his grin and became respectful, pointing out -objects of interest with a face as solemn as an owl, and shaking his -head sternly at his fellow boatmen when they began to joke. - -Fear drove me away from Venice before I had rested the miles from Paris -out of my legs—fear that in a few days more the mosquitoes would finish -their wicked work and devour me entirely. On a Sunday evening I made my -way to the station and bought a third-class ticket to Bologna. - -Under a lowering sun our train crawled slowly into Bologna—so slowly -that I was glad to get off and walk. I struck off along the ancient -highway to Florence. The country was mountainous, so that when I was not -climbing up I was climbing down. The people in this section were very -poor, earning their living by tending cattle or by making wine. A few -miles from the town the highway began to wind up among lonely mountains. -Here and there a vineyard clung to a wrinkled hillside. At such spots -tall cone-shaped buckets holding about two bushels each stood by the -roadside, some filled with grapes, others with the floating pulp left by -the crushers. - -What kind of crusher was used I did not learn until nearly nightfall. -Then, suddenly coming round a huge boulder, I stepped into a group of -bare-legged women who were slowly treading up and down in as many -buckets of grapes. - -Darkness overtook me when I was high among the lonely mountains, far -from any hut or village. A half hour later a mountain storm burst upon -me. - -For what seemed an endless length of time I plunged on. Then before me I -noticed a faint gleam of light flickering through the downpour. I -splashed forward, and banged on a door beside a window through which the -light shone. The door was quickly opened, and I fell into a tiny -wine-shop. Three drinkers sat in the room. They stared stupidly for some -time while the water ran away from me in little rivers along the floor. -Then the landlord remarked, with a silly grin: - -“You are all wet.” - -“Also hungry,” I answered. “What’s to eat?” - -“Da mangiare! Ma! Not a thing in the house.” - -“The nearest inn?” - -“Six miles on.” - -“I suppose I must go to bed supperless, then,” I sighed, drawing my -water-soaked bundle from beneath my coat. - -“Bed!” cried the landlord. “You cannot sleep here. I keep no -lodging-house.” - -“What!” I exclaimed. “Do you think I am going on in this flood?” - -“I keep no lodging-house,” repeated the host stubbornly. - -I sat down on a bench, determined that no three Italians should throw me -out without a struggle. One by one, they came forward to try coaxing, -growling, and shouting at me, shaking their fists in my face. I stuck -stubbornly in my place. The landlord was ready to weep, when one of his -countrymen drew me to the window and offered to let me stay in his barn -across the way. I made out through the storm the dim outline of a -building, and, catching up my bundle, dashed with the native across the -road and into a stone hovel. I could feel under my feet that the floor -was nothing but the bare ground. An American cow would balk at the door -of the house of a mountain peasant of Italy; she would have fled -bellowing if she had seen the inside of the barn that came to view when -my companion lighted a lantern. He pointed to a heap of corn husks in a -corner behind the oxen and donkeys. Then, fearful of losing a moment -over the wine with his fellows, he gave the lantern a shake that put out -the light, and, leaving me in utter darkness, hurried away. - -I felt my way toward the husks, narrowly missed knocking down the last -donkey in the row, and was about to throw myself down on the heap, when -a man’s voice at my feet shouted a word that I did not catch. Being in -Italy, I answered in Italian: - -“Che avete? Voglio dormire qui.” - -“Ach!” groaned the voice in German. “Only an accursed Italian.” - -“Here, friend,” I shouted in German, poking the form with my foot. “Whom -are you calling accursed?” - -The man in the husks sprang to his feet with a wild shout. - -“Lieber Gott!” he shrieked, clutching at my coat and dancing around me. -“Lieber Gott! You understand German. You are no cursed Italian. God be -thanked. In three weeks have I heard no German.” - -Even the asses were complaining by the time he had finished shouting and -settled down to tell his troubles. He was only another German on his -_Wanderjahr_ (year of wandering), who had strayed far south in the -peninsula, and, after losing his last copper, was struggling northward -again as rapidly as he could on strength gained from a crust of bread or -a few wayside berries each day. One needed only to touch him to know -that he was as thin as a side-show skeleton. I offered him half of a -cheese I carried in a pocket, and he snatched it with the hungry cry of -a wolf, and devoured it as we burrowed deep into the husks. - -All night long the water dripped from my elbows and oozed out of my -shoes, and a bitter mountain wind swept through the cracks of the -building. I had just begun to sleep when morning broke. I rose with -joints so stiff that I could hardly move. I pounded and rubbed them for -a half hour before they were in working order. Outside a cold drizzle -was falling; but, bidding farewell to my companion of the night, I set -out along the mountain highway. - -Two hours beyond the barn, I came upon a miserable group of huts crowded -together on the top of a hill. Among them was an even more miserable -inn, where I stopped for a bowl of thin soup in which had been drowned a -lump of black bread. Then still hungry, I plodded on in the drizzle. - -A night of corn-husks had made me look more like a beggar than I knew. -Two miles beyond the village, I passed a ragged road-repairer and a boy -who were breaking stone at the wayside. Near by was a hedge weighted -down with blackberries, to which I hastened and fell to picking my late -dinner. The workman stared a moment, open-mouthed, laid aside his -sledge, and mumbled something to the boy. The boy left his place, -wandered down the road a short distance beyond me, and idled about as if -waiting for someone. With a half filled cap, I set off again. The boy -edged nearer to me as I approached, and, brushing against me, thrust -something under my arm and ran back to the stone-pile. In my -astonishment I dropped the gift on the highway. It was a quarter loaf of -black bread left over from the ragged workman’s dinner. - -The next afternoon found me looking down upon the city of Florence, in a -vast valley where the winding Arno was bluish silver under the setting -sun. By evening I was housed in the city of the poet Dante and the -artist Michelangelo. - -During my four days in Florence I lived with the poorest working class, -but spent hours each day in cathedral and galleries. Beggars were -everywhere. I paid half a franc a day for a good sized room, and bought -my food of a traveling restaurant. At night there appeared at street -corners in the unwashed section of the city men with pushcarts laden -with boiled tripe. Around them gathered jostling crowds, who continued -pushing until the last morsel had been sold. Each customer seemed to -possess but a single cent which he had carefully guarded through the -day, waiting for the coming of the tripe man. Never did the peddler make -a sale without a quarrel arising over the size of the morsel; and never -did the buyer leave until a second strip about the size of a match had -been added to his share to make up what he claimed to be the fair -weight. - -I spent most of my fourth day in Florence looking at her works of art. -Late that afternoon I decided not to return to my lodging, and wandered -off along the highway to Rome. The country was still mountainous, but -the ranges were not so steep and there were more huts than to the north. -When night settled down, I could see before me a country inn on a -hilltop. - -I wandered on, reached the inn, went inside, and sat down. At first the -groups of men seated before the fireplace and around the table scarcely -looked my way. When I began to speak, however, they turned to stare, and -began nodding and glancing at one another as if they said: - -“Now where do you suppose he comes from?” - -I did not offer to tell them, though they squirmed with curiosity. -Finally one of them, clearing his throat, hinted timidly: - -“Hem, ah—you are a German, perhaps?” - -“No.” - -The speaker rubbed his neck with a horny hand and turned awkwardly to -look at his fellows. - -“Hah, you are an Austrian!” charged another, with a scowl. - -“No.” - -“Swiss?” suggested a third. - -“No.” - -They began to show greater interest. A traveler from any but these three -countries is something to attract unusual attention in the country inns -of Italy. - -“Ah!” tried a fourth member of the group. “You are a Frenchman?” - -“No.” - -The geographical knowledge of the party was used up. There followed a -long wrinkled-browed silence. The landlady wandered in with a pot, -looked me over out of a corner of her eye, and left slowly. The silence -grew intense. A native opened his mouth twice or thrice, swallowed his -breath with a gulp, and purred with a frightened air: - -“Er, well—what country does the signore come from?” - -“From America.” - -A chorus of exclamations woke the cat dozing under the fireplace. The -hostess ran in, open-mouthed, from the back room. The landlord dropped -his pipe and exclaimed “Ma!” in astonishment. The slowest of the party -left their games and stories and crowded closely around me. - -One man began telling what he knew of America. Among other things, he -said the railway trains of America run high up in the air above the -houses. When the others did not seem to believe it, he tried to prove it -by shouting at them. He said he had read about it in a newspaper. Then -he mentioned “Nuova York,” and asked me if it were not also true that -its buildings were higher than the steeple of the village church, and -whether the railroads were not built high to enable the people to get -into such high houses. He seemed to think that Americans never come down -to earth. When he gave me a chance to speak, I explained that what he -had read was about the New York Elevated and not about the railways of -the whole country. - -Moreover, “Nuova York” meant America to the whole party. Not a man of -them knew that there were two Americas; not one had ever heard the term -“United States.” Many country people of Italy think of America as a land -somewhere far away,—how far or in what direction they have no -idea,—where wages are higher than in Italy. Countless times questions -like these were asked: - -“Is America farther away than Switzerland?” - -“Did you walk all the way from America?” - -“Who is king of America?” - -“Why! Are you a native American? I thought Americans were black!” - -Finally a woman added insult to injury by asking: - -“In America you worship the sun, _non e vero_?” - -One evening, at a country inn, I remarked that the United States as a -whole is as large, if not larger, than Italy. My hearers were deafening -me with shouts of scorn and disbelief when a newcomer of the party came -to my assistance. - -“Certainly that is right!” he cried. “It is larger. I have a brother in -Buenos Ayres, and I know. America, or the United States, as this signore -chooses to call it, has states just like Italy. The states are Brazil, -Uruguay, Republica Argentina, and Nuova York.” - -The roadway between Florence and Siena winds through splendid scenery -and over mountains, from the top of which I had a complete view in every -direction of the surrounding hills and valleys. But I had little chance -to admire the scenery, for again and again I had to jump aside and vault -over roadside hedges before a team of oxen driven round a hill. These -oxen had horns that measured at least six and even seven feet from tip -to tip, so when I met two of them yoked together there wasn’t much room -left for me. Moreover, their drivers were frequently sound asleep, and -the animals wandered this way and that as they pleased all over the -highway, tossing their horns toward me. As I met them at almost every -quarter mile, I had to be watchful and quick. - -I came upon Siena at last. Before me lay a broad, fertile valley with a -rocky hill rising from the center of it. The houses were scattered over -the hill, some of them on the very top, others clinging to the sides as -if fearful of falling to the bottom into the valley itself. It was -another of those up-and-down towns whose streets should be fitted with -ladders; where every householder is in danger, every time he steps out -of doors, of falling into the next block, should he by any chance lose -his hold on the front of his dwelling. I managed to climb into the city -without actually crawling on my hands and knees; but more than once I -kept my place only by clutching at the nearest building. - -[Illustration: A country family returning from market. The grape casks -being empty the boys do not need to walk home.] - -Two days after leaving Siena I was tramping along a highway that wound -over low mountains, between whispering forests, in utter loneliness. -Where the woods ended stretched many another weary mile, with never a -hut by the wayside. Now and then I came upon a shepherd clad in -sheepskins, sitting among his flocks on a hillside. - -The sun sank while I was plodding through an endless marsh. All about me -were the whispering of great fields of reeds and grasses, and the dismal -croaking of countless frogs. Twilight faded to black night. Far away -before me the lights of Rome brightened the sky; yet hours of tramping -seemed to bring them not a yard nearer. - -Forty-one miles had I covered, when three hovels rose up by the wayside. -One was a wine-shop. I went inside and found it filled with traveling -teamsters. One of them offered me a bed on his load of straw in the -stable. - -He rose at daybreak and drove off, and at that early hour I started once -more on my way to Rome. The lonely road led across a windy marsh, -rounded a low hill, and brought me face to face with the ancient city -that was once the center of the civilized world. - -To the right and left, on low hills, stood large buildings like those in -American cities. From these buildings a mass of houses sloped down the -hills and covered the broad valleys between them. The Tiber River wound -its way among the dull gray dwellings. Here and there a dome shone -brightly in the morning sunshine. But, towering high above all, dwarfing -everything else, stood the vast dome of St. Peter’s. - -As I looked I thought of how, hundreds of years ago, people had caught -their first glimpse of Rome from this very hilltop. Before the days of -railroads, travelers had come by this same road, millions of them on -foot, and entered the city by this same massive western gateway. I -watched the steady stream of peasants, on wagons, carts, donkeys, and -afoot, pouring through this same entrance; while officers stood there, -running long slim swords through bales and baskets of farm produce. -Finally I joined the noisy, surging crowd, and was swept within the -walls. - -I spent nearly a week wandering through St. Peter’s, the Vatican Art -galleries, and among the chapels, ruins, and ancient monuments of Rome. -Then I turned southward again on the road to Naples. For three days the -route led through a territory packed with ragged, half-starved people, -who toiled constantly from the first peep of the sun to the last waver -of twilight, and crawled away into some hole during the hours of -darkness. They were not much like the people of northern Italy. -Shopkeepers snarled at their customers, false coins of the smallest sort -made their appearance, and had I not looked so much like the natives -themselves I should certainly have won the attention of those who lived -by violence. - -In this section the language changed rapidly. The tongue spoken in -Florence and Siena was almost foreign here. A word learned in one -village was not understood in another a half day distant. The villages -were perched at the summits of the steepest hills, up which each day’s -walk ended with a weary climb by steep paths of stones that rolled under -my feet. - -For three nights after leaving Rome I had to sleep out of doors. On my -fourth day I found lodging at the wayside, in a building that was one -fourth inn and three fourths stable. The keeper, his wife, and their -many children all were barefooted. The father sat on a stool, bouncing -the baby up and down on his broad feet. Another child squatted on top of -the four-legged board that served as a table, and in a fit of -bashfulness thrust his fingers into his mouth. - -“You have lodgings for travelers?” I inquired. - -“Yes,” growled the owner. - -“How much for bed?” - -“Two cents.” - -I demanded to see the lodging that could be had at such a price. - -“Giovanni,” bawled the head of the house, “bring in the bed!” - -A moth-eaten youth flung open the back door, and threw at my feet a -dirty grain-sack filled with crumpled straw that peeped out here and -there. - -After I had rested awhile, the father bawled once more to his son, and -motioned to me to take up my bed and walk. I followed the youth out to -the stable, picking my way by the light of the feeble torch he carried. -Giovanni waded inside, pointed out to me a long, narrow manger of slats, -and fled, leaving me alone with the problem of how to rest nearly six -feet of body on three feet of stuffed grain-sack. I tried every way I -could think of, but decided at last to sleep on the bare slats and use -the sack as a pillow. - -I had just begun to doze, when an outer door opened and let in a great -draft of night air, closely followed by a flock of sheep that quickly -filled the stable to overflowing. Some of the animals tried to overflow -into the manger, sprang back when they found me in it, and made their -discovery known to their companions by several long “b-a-a-s.” The news -awakened a truly Italian curiosity. The sheep started a procession, and -the whole band filed by the manger, every animal poking its nose through -the slats for a sniff. This over, each of the flock expressed its -opinion of my presence in trembling, nerve-racking bleats. They kept -this up until the youth came to tell me that it was morning, and carried -off my bed, fearful, no doubt, that I would run off with that valuable -piece of property. - -[Illustration: Italian peasants returning from the vineyards to the -village.] - -In spite of bruises and aches, I plodded on at a good pace, hoping by -this early start to reach Naples before the day was done. But I was -still in the country when the gloom, settling down like a fog, drove -into the highway bands of weary people and four-footed beasts, toiling -homeward from their day’s work. The route led downward. The fields -between tumble-down villages grew shorter and shorter until they -disappeared entirely, and I found myself between an unbroken row of -stone houses. The bands of home-going peasants increased to a crowd, -through which I struggled to make my way. - -It was impossible to stop long enough to look about me. I finally -cornered a workman and asked how to get to Naples. - -“Napoli! Ma! This is Napoli!” he bellowed, shoving me aside. - -I plunged on, certain that the road must lead to the harbor and its -sailors’ lodgings. Ragged, cross-looking laborers swept against me. -Donkeys, with and without loads, brayed when their masters struck them. -Heavy ox-carts, massive wagons, here and there a horseman, fought their -way up the hill amid shrill shouts, roaring oaths, screaming yeehawing -of asses, the rumble of wheels on cobblestones, the snap of whips, the -whack of heavy sticks. I moved along with the bawling multitude before -and behind me, and a long time afterward reached level streets, and was -dragged into a miserable lodging-house by a boarding-house runner. - -In Naples the business people do not wait for you to come into the shop -to ask for what you want. They come out to the street after you, or send -their runners out to invite you in. The barber walks up and down the -street, watching for men who need a shave; the merchant stands before -his door and shouts and beckons to the passing crowd to come in and see -his goods; the ticket agent tramps up and down the wharves, trying to -sell a ticket to everyone who passes; and the boarding-house runners are -everywhere, looking for the stranger within the city who has not yet -found a lodging-place. - -I spent a few days in Naples, then went to Marseilles, where I lived a -month, tramping sorrowfully up and down the break-water waiting for a -chance to get work on some ship eastward bound. On the last day of -November my luck changed. The _Warwickshire_, an English steamer sailing -to Burma, put in at Marseilles and sent out a call for a sailor. I was -the first man on board, showed them my discharge from the cattle-boat, -and was “signed on” at once. - -The next day I watched the familiar harbor of Marseilles grow smaller -and smaller until it faded away on the distant sky-line. - - - - - CHAPTER VIII - AMONG THE ARABS - - -On a peaceful sea the _Warwickshire_ sped eastward. My work was -“polishin’ ’er brasses,” and I can say without boasting that the ship -was brighter because I was there. - -On the morning of the fifth day out, I was ordered into the hold to send -up the trunks of Egyptian travelers. When I climbed on deck after the -last chest, the deep blue of the sea had turned to a shabby brown, but -there was no land in sight. Suddenly there rose from the sea a -flat-topped building, then another and another, until a whole village -lay spread out on the water before us. The houses appeared to sit like -gulls on the ruddy sea. It was Port Said. Beyond the town we could see a -stretch of reddish desert sand. Slowly the _Warwickshire_ nosed her way -into the canal, the anchor ran out with a rattle and roar, and there -swarmed upon our decks a multitude of strange-looking people who seemed -to belong to another world. - -Darkness soon fell. I had signed on the _Warwickshire_ under a promise -that I might leave her at Port Said. Through all the voyage, however, my -shipmates had spent the hours of the dog-watch telling me tales of the -horrors that had befallen white men who became penniless among the -Arabs. Perhaps my shipmates spoke truly. It seemed as if they might have -done so as I sat gazing off into the blackest of nights, listening to -the shrieks that rose from the maze of buildings ashore, and the -snarling, scowling mobs that raced about our decks. Perhaps I should be -murdered if I ventured ashore among these black tribes. Or, if I escaped -murder, I might be left to die of starvation on this neck of sand. - -The captain had given me leave to go on to Rangoon. An Englishman, who -was returning to the Burmese district he governed, had promised me a -position with good pay. It seemed foolhardy to halt in this land of -rascals, when in a few days I might complete half my journey around the -globe and find ready employment. - -For an hour I sat staring into the black night, trying to decide whether -to risk going ashore or to go on with the ship. I finally decided that I -must see Palestine and Egypt, countries I had read much of in the Bible. -They were lands too famous to be lightly passed by. I bade farewell to -my astonished shipmates, collected my few days’ wages, and, with about -nine dollars in my pocket, dropped into a boat and was rowed ashore. - -At the landing I paid the dusky boatman the regular fare—the amount was -posted in plain sight on the wharf. But he was not satisfied. For an -hour he dogged my footsteps, howling threats or whining in a -high-pitched voice, now in his native Arabic, now in such English as he -could put together. But I shook him off at last, and set out to find a -lodging. - -It was not an easy thing to do. To be sure, I passed several hotels -before which well dressed men lounged at little tables, and barefooted -black waiters flitted back and forth carrying cool drinks. But to stop -at such a hotel would take more money than I had had for some time. -There must have been dozens of native inns among the maze of hovels into -which I plunged at the first step off the avenue. But how could I tell -where they were, when the only signs I could see were as meaningless to -me as so many spatters of ink? Even in Holland I had been able to guess -at shop names. But Arabic! I had not the least idea whether the signs I -saw announced a lodging-house or the quarters of an undertaker! A long -evening I pattered in and out of crooked byways, bumping now and then -into a dark Arab who snarled at me and made off, and bringing up here -and there in some dismal blind alley. Fearful of wandering too far from -the lighted square, I turned back toward the harbor. Suddenly I caught -sight of a sign in English: “Catholic Sailors’ Home.” I dashed joyfully -toward it. - -The Home was little more than a small reading-room. Half hidden behind -the stacks of ragged magazines, sat the “manager,” a Maltese boy, -huddled over paper and pencil and staring in a discouraged manner at an -Italian-English grammar. I stepped forward and offered to help him, and -together we waded through a very long lesson. Before we had ended, six -tattered white men wandered in and carefully chose books over which to -fall asleep. - -“You must know,” said the young manager, as he closed the grammar, “that -there am no sleepings here. And we closes at eleven. But I am fix you -oop. I am shelter all these seamens, while I lose my place when the -Catholic society found it out.” - -He peered out into the night and locked the doors. Then he blew out the -lights and awoke the sleepers. We groped our way through a long -stone-paved passageway to the back of the building. - -“You are getting in here,” said the Maltese, pulling open what appeared -to be a heavy pair of shutters; “but be quietness.” - -I climbed through after the others. A companion struck a match that -lighted up a stone room, once the kitchen of the Home. Closely packed -though we were, it soon grew icy cold on the stone floor. Two of the -ragged men rose with cries of disgust, and crawled out through the -window to tramp up and down the hall. I felt my way to a coffin-shaped -cupboard in one corner, laid it lengthwise on the floor, pulled out the -shelves, and, crawling inside, closed the doors above me. My sleep was -unbroken until morning. - -On my second afternoon in Port Said, one of my room-mates at the Home—an -Austrian—wandered with me out to the break-water. We lay stretched out, -watching the coming and going of the pilot-boats and the sparkle of the -canal, that narrowed to a thread far away on the yellow desert. - -A portly Greek approached, and asked in Italian if we wanted work. We -did, of course. We followed him back to land and along the beach until -we came to a hut in the native part of the city. On the earth floor sat -two widemouthed stone vessels. The Greek motioned to us to seat -ourselves before them, poured into them some kind of small nut, and -handed each of us a stone pestle. When we had fallen to work pounding -the nuts, he sat down on a stool, prepared his water-bottle pipe, and, -except for a wave of the hand now and then as a signal to us to empty -the vessels of the beaten mass and refill them, remained utterly -motionless for the rest of the day. - -Like machines we pounded hour after hour. The pestles were heavy when we -began; before the day was over mine weighed at least a ton. What we were -beating up, and what we were beating it up for, I do not know to this -day. The Austrian said that he knew the use of the product, but fell -strangely silent when I asked him to explain. Night sounds were drifting -in through the door of the hut when the Greek signed to us to stop. Then -he handed each of us five small piasters (12½ cents). We hurried away -across the beach to a native shop where mutton sold cheaply. - -Two days later I took a “deck-passage” for Beirut, and boarded an old -ship flying the English flag. A crowd of Arabs, Turks, and Syrians, -Christians and Mohammedans, men and women, squatted on the half-covered -deck. In one place were piled a half hundred wooden gratings. What these -were for was a mystery to me until my fellow passengers fell to pulling -them down, one by one, and spreading their bed-clothes on them! I was -the only one of all the multitude without bedding; even the lean, gaunt -Bedouins, dressed in tattered filth, had each a roll of ragged blankets -in which, after saying their evening prayers with many bowings toward -the city of Mecca, they rolled themselves and lay down together. When I -stretched out on a bare grating, the entire throng was lying huddled in -a dozen separate groups. - -Morning broke bright and clear. Far off to the right rose the -snow-capped range of the Lebanon Mountains. I strolled anxiously about -the deck. In a group of Turks I came upon two who spoke French. I began -to talk with them, chiefly because I wanted to ask them questions. I -told them a few of my experiences on the highways of Europe. These -stories amused them greatly. Then I spoke of my intention of walking to -Damascus. They shouted with astonishment. It was plain that some of them -did not believe me. - -“What!” cried one of the French-speaking Turks, waving a flabby hand -toward the snow-banks that covered the wall-like range of mountains. “Go -to Damascus on foot! Impossible! You would be buried in the snow. This -country is not like Europe! There are thousands of murderous Bedouins -between here and Damascus who would glory in cutting the throat of a dog -of an unbeliever! Why? I have lived years in Beirut, and no man of my -acquaintance, native or Frank [European], would ever undertake such a -journey on foot.” - -“And you would lose your way and die in the snow,” put in the other. - -Throughout the morning the pair were kept busy translating for me what -the others of the group said about the absolute foolishness of such an -undertaking. It was a story I heard again and again while traveling in -the Far East; but it was new to me then, and as I ran my eye along the -snow-hooded wall that faded into hazy distance to the north and south, I -half believed it. - -The coast-line drew nearer. On the plain at the foot of the mountains I -could see here and there well cultivated patches between dreary -stretches of blood-red sand. A few minutes later we dropped anchor well -out in the harbor of Beirut. Down the gangway tumbled a mighty landslide -of Asiatics, men and women, large and small, dirty and half dirty, -pushing, kicking, scratching and biting one another, hopelessly -entangled with bundles of every thinkable shape. Shouting boatmen rowed -us ashore. As we swung in against the rock, I caught a proud-looking -Bedouin trying to separate me from my knapsack. A well directed push -landed him in the laps of several heavily veiled women, and I sprang up -a stairway cut in the face of the rock. - -The city itself was miles away from the landing-place. One of the -officials called an evil-looking native, clothed in a single garment -that reached to his knees, and ordered him to guide me to the town. We -set off through the night, heavy with the smell of oranges, along a -narrow road six inches deep in the softest mud. On the outskirts of the -city the native halted and began talking to me in Arabic. I shook my -head. He seemed to think that I was unable to understand him because of -some fault in my hearing. So he asked the question again and again, -louder and more rapidly each time he repeated it. I let him shout until -breath failed him and he gave up and splashed on. He halted once more, -in a square reeking with mud in the center of the city, and burst forth -excitedly in a jumble of words more difficult to understand than before. - -“Ingleesee?” he shrieked, with his last gasp. - -“No,” I answered, understanding this one word; “Americano.” - -“Ha!” shouted the Arab. “Americano?” And once more he began his -shouting. He seemed to be trying to explain something about my fellow -countrymen, for he repeated the word “Americano” again and again. Once -more he gave up trying to make me understand and struck off to the -southward. I shouted “hotel” and “inn” in every language I could call to -mind; but, after a few mumbles, he fell silent, and only the splash of -our feet in the muddy roadway could be heard. - -We left the city behind, but still the Arab plodded steadily and -silently southward. Many a story of white men led into Arabic traps -passed through my mind. Far out among the orange groves beyond the city, -he turned into a small garden, and pointed to a lighted sign above the -door of a building among the trees. It was the home of the American -consul. Not knowing what else to do with a Frank who did not understand -the loudest Arabic, the native had led me to the only man in Beirut whom -he had heard called “Americano.” - -When I had paid my bill next morning at the French inn to which I had -been sent, I stepped into the office of that great tourist agency, Cook -& Son, and exchanged a sovereign for so many iron and tin coins that I -could hardly carry them. Then I ate a native breakfast, and, strolling -down to the harbor, sat on a pier. - -For a time the uproar made by shrieking Arabs, braying camels, and the -rattle of ships discharging their freight, drowned all other sounds. -Then suddenly I caught faintly a shout in English behind me, and turned -around. A lean native in European dress and fez cap was beckoning to me -from the opening of one of the narrow streets. I dropped from the pier -and turned shoreward. The native ran toward me. “You speak Eengleesh?” -he cried. “Yes? No? What countryman you?” - -“American.” - -“No? Not American?” shrieked the native, dancing up and down. “You not -American? Ha! ha! ver’ fine. I American one time, too. I be one time -sailor on American warsheep _Brooklyn_. You write Engleesh too? No? Yes? -Ver’ fine! You like job? I got letters write in Engleesh! Come, you!” - -He led the way through the swarming streets, shouting answers to the -questions I asked him. He said his name was Abdul Razac Bundak and his -business that of “bumboat man.” That is to say, he sold supplies to -ships, acted as guide for officers ashore, led tourists on sight-seeing -trips, and in the busy season ran a sailors’ boarding-house. - -Some distance back from the harbor, in a shoe-shop kept by his uncle, I -sat down to write three letters for him. By the time these were finished -he had discovered that I knew other languages, and I wrote three more, -two in French and one in Spanish. They were business letters to ship -captains who often put in at Beirut. The bumboat man paid me two unknown -coins and invited me to dinner in a neighboring shop. - -In the days that followed, our “company,” as Abdul called it, was the -busiest in Beirut. I wrote many letters for him and for other Arabs in -the city who had heard of me. Had those men been less indolent they -might have doubled their business. But they did not like to hurry. Again -and again, while telling me what to write, they would drift away into -the land of dreams with a sentence left half finished on their lips. The -palm of the left hand was the writing-desk, and it was always with -difficulty that I stirred them up to clear a space on their littered -stands. I did not get much pay for this work; but I added something each -day to the scrap iron in my pocket. - -When business was slow, Abdul could think of nothing better to do than -to eat and drink. Let his cigarette burn out, and he rose with a yawn, -and we rambled away through the windings of the bazaars to some tiny -tavern. The keepers were always delighted to be awakened from their -dreams by our “company.” While we sat on a log or an upturned basket and -sipped a glass of some native drink, Abdul spun long tales of the -_faranchee_ world. Some of these stories could not have been true; but, -with a live _faranchee_ to serve as illustration, the shop-keepers were -satisfied and listened open-mouthed. - -With every drink the keeper served a half dozen tiny dishes of -hazelnuts, radishes, peas in the pod, cold squares of boiled potatoes, -berries, and vegetables known only in Arabia. But Abdul was gifted with -an unfailing appetite, and at least once after every business deal he -led the way to one of the many eating-shops facing the busiest streets -and squares. In a gloomy, cave-like shop, the front of which was all -door, stood two long, rough tables, with long, rough benches beside -them. The proprietor sat near the entrance behind a great block of brick -and mortar over which simmered a score of black kettles. I read the bill -of fare by raising the cover of each kettle in turn, chose a dish that -seemed less mysterious than the rest, picked up a large ring-shaped loaf -and a bottle of water from a bench, and withdrew to the back of the -shop. Whatever I chose, it was almost certain to contain mutton. The -Arabian cook, however, sets nothing over the fire until he has cut it -into small pieces. Each dinner was a stew of some kind, of differing -tastes and colors. - -Abdul did not often concern himself with the contents of the kettles, -for his prime favorite was a dish prepared by running a row of tiny -cubes of liver and kidneys on an iron bar, and turning them over and -over above glowing coals. I too should have ordered this delicacy more -often, had not Abdul, with his incurable “Eengleesh,” persisted in -calling it “kittens.” - -With all its mud and careless disorder, there was something very -pleasing about this corner of the Arab world: the lazy droning of its -shop-keepers, the roll of the incoming sea, the twitter of birds that -spoke of summer and seemed to contradict the calendar—above all, the -picturesque orange trees bending under the ripening fruit that perfumed -the soft air, with the snow-drifts almost within stone’s throw on the -peaks above. - -For all that, I should not have remained so long in Beirut by choice, -for the road was long before me, and I had planned to cover a certain -part of it each day. But my friends in the East could not understand why -I was anxious to go at once. “To-morrow is as good as to-day; wait until -to-morrow,” they would say, when some small matter had kept me from -starting on the day I had planned. But when to-morrow came, they -repeated the same words. They could not understand my hurry. - -There was no one in Beirut who could tell me which road led to Damascus. -Abdul threw up his hands in horror when I spoke to him of my intended -journey. “Impossible!” he shrieked. “There is not road. You be froze in -the snow before the Bedouins cut your liver. You no can go. Business -good. Damascus no good. Ver’ col’ in Damascus now.” - -One afternoon, however, while in unusually good spirits, he admitted -that there was a road leading to Damascus, and that caravans had been -known to pass over it. But even then he insisted that the journey could -not be made on foot. - -The bumboat man left me next morning just outside the city, and a bend -in the road soon hid him from view. For an hour the highway was -perfectly level. On each side were rich gardens and orange groves, -thronged with dusky men and women clad in flowing sheets. Soon all this -changed. The road wound upward, the delicate orange tree gave place to -the sturdy olive, instead of fertile gardens there were now rocky -hillsides all about, and the only persons to be seen were now and then -an Arab, grim and scowling, leading or riding a swaying camel. - -The way was lonely and silent. A rising wind sighed mournfully through -the gullies and trees. The summer breeze of the sea-level turned chilly. -I hunted until I found the sunny side of a large rock before attempting -to eat the lunch in my knapsack. Farther up the cedar forests began. -Here and there groups of peasants were digging on the wayside slopes. To -the north and south I could see flat-roofed villages clinging to -mountain-sides. - -How strange and foreign seemed everything about me! The dress and tools -of the peasants, the food in my knapsack, everything was so different -from the world I had lived in. If I spoke to those I met, they answered -back in a strange jumble of words, wound the folds of their queer -garments about them, and hurried on. If I caught sight of a village -clock, its hands pointed to six when the hour was noon. Even the -familiar name of the famous city to which I was bound was meaningless to -the natives, for they called it “Shaam.” - -My pronunciation of the word must have been at fault; for, though I -stood long at a fork in the road in the early forenoon, shouting “Shaam” -at each passer-by, I took the wrong branch at last. I tramped for some -hours along a rapidly disappearing highway before I suspected my -mistake. Even then I kept on, for I was not certain that I was going in -the wrong direction. At last the route led forth from a cutting in the -hills, and the shimmering sea almost at my feet showed me that I was -marching due southward. - -Two peasants appeared above a rise of ground beyond. As they drew near I -pointed off down the road and shouted, “Shaam?” The pair halted -wonderingly in the center of the highway some distance from me. “Shaam! -Shaam! Shaam!” I repeated, striving to give the word a pronunciation -that they could understand. The peasants stared open-mouthed, drew back -several paces, and peered down the road and back at me a dozen times, as -if they were not sure whether I was calling their attention to some -wonder of nature, or trying to get them to turn around long enough to -pick their pockets. Then a slow, half-hearted smile broke out on the -features of the quicker-witted. He stood first on one leg, then on the -other, squinted along the highway once more, and began to repeat after -me: “Shaam! Shaam! Shaam!” - -“Aywa, Shaam!” I cried. - -He turned to his companion. They talked together so long that I thought -they had forgotten me. Then both began to shake their heads so forcibly -that the muscles of their necks stood out like steel cords. Two broad -grins wrinkled their leathery faces. They stretched out their arms to -the southward and burst forth in unmusical duet: “La! la! la! la! la! -Shaam! La! la! la! la! la!” The Arab says “la” when he means “no.” I -turned around and hurried back the way I had come. - -Dusk was falling when I came a second time to a two-row village facing -the highway. As I expected, there was not an inn, or anything like one, -in the place. I had seen enough of the Arabian, however, to know that he -has his share of curiosity. So I sat down on a large rock at the end of -the village. - -In three minutes a small crowd had collected. In ten, half the -population was swarming around me and roaring at my useless effort to -make myself understood. They stood about me, grinning and chattering, -for a good half hour before one of the band motioned to me to follow -him, and turned back into the village. The crowd followed me, closely -examining every part of my clothing, grinning, smirking, running from -one side to the other, lest they lose some point in the make-up of so -strange a creature, and babbling the while like an army of apes. - -The leader turned off the highway toward the largest building in the -village. Ten yards from the door, he halted. The crowd formed a half -circle, leaving me in the center, and then one and all began to shout -something at the top of their lungs. - -A girl of some sixteen years appeared at the door. “Taala hena!” (“Come -here!”) roared the chorus. The girl ran down the steps. A roar as of an -angry sea burst forth, as every member of the company stretched out an -arm toward me. Plainly each was determined that he, and not his -neighbor, should be the one to introduce this strange being. - -“Sprechen Sie Deutsch?” (“Do you speak German?”) shrieked the girl in my -ear. - -“Ja wohl.” (“Yes, indeed”), I answered. - -The rabble fell utterly silent at the first word, and I asked to be -directed to an inn. - -“There is no hotel in our city of Bhamdoon,” replied the girl, with -flashing eyes. “We should be insulted. In this house with my family -lives a German missionary lady. You must stop here.” - -She led the way to the door. The missionary met me on the steps with a -cry of delight. She explained that she had not seen a European in many -months. - -“What would supper and lodging cost me here?” Luckily, the German lady -was hard of hearing. The girl gave me a quick glance, half scornful, -half astonished, which reminded me that such a question is an insult in -the land of Arabs. - -“The lady is busy now,” said the girl. “Come and visit my family.” She -led the way along a hall and threw open a door. I pulled off my cap. - -“Keep it on,” said my guide, “and leave your shoes there.” - -She stepped out of her own loose slippers and into the room. It was -square and low. The stone floor was half covered with mats and cushions. -In the center glowed a small sheet-iron stove; and around three of the -walls ran a long cushioned seat. Two men, two women, and several -children were seated in a half circle on the floor, their legs folded -under them. They rose without a word as I entered. The girl placed a -cushion for me on the floor. The family sat down again and carefully and -slowly folded their legs as before. Then, after they were firmly seated, -one and all in turn, according to age, cried “Lailtak saeedee” (Good -evening). - -In the center of the group were three large bowls, one of lentils and -another of chopped-up potatoes in oil. A third contained a delicacy made -of sour milk, half soup and half pudding, that is a great favorite among -the Arabs. On the floor, beside each member of the family, lay several -sheets of bread, half a yard wide and as thin as cardboard. The head of -the house pushed the bowls toward me, ordered a stack of bread to be -placed beside my cushion, and motioned me to eat. I stared helplessly at -the bowls, for there was neither knife, fork, nor spoon in sight. The -girl, however, knowing the ways of _faranchees_ from years in a mission -school in Beirut, explained my difficulty to her father. He cast a -scornful look at me, begged my pardon, through his daughter, for being -so impolite as to eat a morsel before his guest had begun, tore a few -inches from a bread-sheet, and, folding it between his fingers, picked -up a pinch of lentils and ate. I lost no time in following his example. - -A wonderful invention is this Arab bread. If one buys food in a native -bazaar, it is wrapped in a bread-sheet, and a very good wrapper it is, -for it requires a good grip and a fair pair of muscles to tear it. A -bread-sheet takes the place of many dishes. It makes a splendid cover -for pots and pans; it does well as a waiter’s tray. Never have I seen it -used to cover roofs, nor as shaving paper; but, then, the Arab is slow -and he may not have thought of making use of it in those ways yet. As an -article of food, however, this bread is not an entire success. The taste -is not unpleasant, but ten minutes’ chewing makes far less impression on -it than on a rubber mat. The bread I ate that night must have been very -old, for it would fall into pieces when I used it as a spoon. My host -picked up one of my sheets, held it against the glowing stove with the -flat of his hand, and returned it. It bent as easily as cloth and was -much more agreeable to the taste than before. - -The younger man rolled cigarettes for himself and his father. They asked -me questions, which the girl repeated to me in German. She was about to -tell them my answers, when there came a tap at the door and a few words -in Arabic that caused the family to jump hurriedly to their feet. -“Sheik! sheik!” they whispered excitedly. The children were whisked into -one corner. - -The door was flung open, and there entered the room an under-sized man -of about sixty. Long, flowing robes enveloped his form, a turban-wound -fez perched almost merrily on his head, and his feet were bare, for he -had dropped his slippers at the door. His face, deeply wrinkled, with a -long scar across one cheek, was browned and weather-beaten by the wild -storms that sometimes rage over the Lebanon. - -The sheik greeted the head of the family, took a seat near me on the -divan, bowed low to each person present, bowed again when they each -returned his greeting, and then with a wave of his hand invited them to -be seated. The newcomer had quite plainly been attracted to the house -because he had heard that a _faranchee_ was visiting the family. He was -asking questions about me, as I could tell by his gestures and the few -words I understood. The family began eagerly explaining and telling him -how they supposed I happened to be in that part of the world. For a time -the sheik listened without showing the least surprise. He sat there -puffing at a cigarette as quietly as if it were nothing new to have -_faranchees_ wander into his town on foot at night. - -At the end of his story, however, the head of the house remarked that I -was on my way to “Shaam” on foot. This news was as astonishing as he -could have wished. The sheik fairly bounded into the air, threw his -cigarette at the open stove, and burst forth excitedly. The girl -explained his words. He said it was “impossible,” it “couldn’t be done”; -and at the close of his speech he declared that, as village mayor or -sheik, he would not permit me to continue on such a foolhardy -undertaking. How many weapons did I carry? None? What—no weapon? Travel -to far-off Damascus without being armed? Why, his own villagers never -ventured along the highway to the nearest towns without their guns! he -would not hear of it! And he was still talking excitedly when the -missionary came to invite me to a second supper. - -I bade farewell to the family early next morning, swung my knapsack over -my shoulder and limped down to the road. But Bhamdoon was not yet done -with me. In the center of the highway, in front of the little shop that -he kept, stood the sheik and several of his townsmen. With great -politeness he invited me to step inside. My feet were still swollen and -blistered from the long tramp of the day before, for the cloth slippers -of Port Said offered no more protection from the sharp stones of the -highway than a sheet of paper; so I accepted the invitation. The village -head placed a stool for me in front of the shop, where everybody walking -up or down the road could see me. - -It soon began to look as if I were on exhibition as some strange animal -that had been discovered, for the sheik pointed me out with delight to -every passer-by. It was plain, too, that he was making use of the moment -to collect some village tax. For on the floor beside me stood an -earthenware pot, and as soon as the visitors had looked me over from all -sides, the sheik invited them to drop into it a _bishleek_ (ten cents). -Not a man passed without giving something; for the command of a sheik of -a Syrian village is a law to all its people. - -After I had sat there for some time, a villager I had not yet seen -appeared and began talking to me in English. I learned that he had once -lived in Maine, where he had earned money enough to live in ease in his -native country, to which he had returned years before. He insisted that -I visit his house near by. While I was there he fell to tucking -bread-sheets, black olives, raisins, and pieces of sugar-cane into my -knapsack, shouting all the while of his undying love for America and -things American. Out of mere pride for his dreary country, he took care, -on his way back to the shop, to point out a narrow path that wound up -the steep slope of the neighboring range of mountains. - -“That,” he said, “leads to the Damascus road; but no man can journey to -Damascus on foot.” - -The earthenware pot was almost full when I took my seat again on the -stool. I turned to my new acquaintance. - -“What special taxes is the sheik gathering this morning?” I demanded. - -“Eh! What?” cried the former New Englander, following the direction of -my finger. “The pot? Why, don’t you know what that’s for?” - -“No,” I answered. - -“Why, that is a collection the sheik is taking up to buy you a ticket to -Damascus on the railroad.” - -I picked up my knapsack from the floor, and stepped into the highway. -The sheik and several bystanders threw themselves upon me to hold me -back. It was no use trying to escape from a dozen horny hands. I -permitted myself to be led back to the stool, and sat down with the -knapsack across my knees. The sheik addressed me in soothing tones, as -if he were trying to coax me to wait, pointing to the pot with every -third word. The others went back to their seats on the floor, rolled new -cigarettes, and became quiet once more. With one leap I sprang from the -stool into the street, and set off at top speed down the highway, a -screaming, howling, ever-increasing, but ever more distant crowd at my -heels. - -Half an hour later I reached the top of a neighboring range of -mountains, and slid down the opposite slope on to the highway to -Damascus. - - - - - CHAPTER IX - A LONELY JOURNEY - - -For miles the road climbed sharply upward, or crawled along the face of -a mountain at the edge of a yawning pit. The villages were far apart, -and as they were low and flat, and built of the same rock as the -mountains, I did not notice them until I was almost upon them. In every -such place one or more of the householders marched back and forth on the -top of his dwelling, dragging after him a great stone roller and -chanting a mournful tune that seemed to cheer him on in his labor. - -At first sight these flat roofs seemed to be of heavy blocks of stone. -But they were really made of branches and bushes, plastered over with -mud. If the rolling had been neglected for a fortnight in this rainy -season, the roofs would soon have sagged and fallen in of their own -weight. - -Most of the way was lonely. At one time I met a line of proud and -scornful-looking camels plodding westward. Some time later a company of -villagers on horseback appeared, and a long moment afterward I came upon -a straggling band of evil-eyed Bedouins astride lean asses. Never a -human being alone, never a man on foot, and never a traveler without a -long gun slung across his shoulders. The villagers stared at me -open-mouthed; the camel-drivers leered wickedly; and the scowling -Bedouins halted to watch me, as I went on, as if they were trying to -decide whether I was worth the robbing. - -The highway wound upward through a narrow rocky passage between tall -hills. As I went on I noticed how lonely the pass was. I began to think -that wandering Bedouins could not choose a better spot in which to lie -in wait for the victims they meant to rob. Suddenly a shot rang out at -the top of the pass. I started in alarm. - -[Illustration: Beyond the pass stretched mile after mile of rocky -country, the loneliest I had ever seen.] - -The command came from no highwayman, however. Before a ruined hut on the -hill above stood a man in khaki uniform, the reins of a saddled horse -that grazed at his feet over one arm. “Teskereh!” he bawled. - -I climbed the hillside, and handed over my Turkish passport. The officer -grew friendly at once, and invited me into his hut. Its only furnishings -were a mat-covered bench that served as a bed, and a pan of coals. I -drew out a few coins and ate an imaginary breakfast. The officer could -not or would not understand my acting. He motioned me to a seat, offered -a cigarette, and poured out a cup of muddy coffee from a pot over the -coals; but food he would not bring forth. - -After we had sat grinning speechlessly at each other for a while, I drew -him out of the hut, and, once in the sunshine, opened my camera. He gave -one wild shriek, and stumbled over himself in his haste to get back into -the hovel. Nor could any amount of coaxing lead him to come out again -until I had closed the camera. - -Beyond the pass stretched mile after mile of rocky country, the -loneliest that I had ever seen. Hills upon hills sank down behind each -other, rocky and drear. Here and there a single olive tree added to the -loneliness of the surroundings. It was truly a “waste place of the -earth.” - -All through the day I tramped on, with never a sight or sound of any -living thing. Darkness fell over the same bare and rocky wilderness. The -wind howled across the lonely waste. On this blackest of nights I could -not have made out a ghost a yard away, and the unknown highway led me -into many a pitfall. Long hours after sunset I was plodding blindly on, -my cloth slippers making not a sound, when I ran squarely into the arms -of some kind of person whose native footwear had made his approach as -noiseless as my own. Three startled male voices rang out in hoarse -shrieks of “Allah!” as the trio sprang back in terror. - -Before I could pass on, one of them struck a match. The howling wind -blew it out instantly, but in that brief flicker I caught sight of three -ugly faces under the headdress that belongs to the roving Bedouin. -“Faranchee!” they screamed, and flung themselves upon the particular -corner of the darkness where the match had shown me standing. - -In the excitement of the moment I jumped aside so hastily that I fell -off the highway. The rattling of stones under my feet told them my -whereabouts, and they charged upon me again. A dozen times, in the game -of hide-and-seek that followed, I felt the breath of one of the -flea-bitten rascals in my face. - -The Arabic rules of the game, fortunately, made the players keep up a -continual howling, while I moved silently, after the fashion of the -West. Helped in this unfair way, I managed to escape them until they -stopped to whisper together. Then, creeping noiselessly on hands and -knees, I lay hold on the highway and sped silently away, by no means -certain whether I was headed toward Damascus or the coast. - -An hour later the howling of dogs told me that I was near a village. -Once I halted to listen for sounds of human voices. Everybody, it -seemed, was asleep, for what Syrian could be awake and silent? The -lights that shone from every hovel proved nothing, for Arabs are afraid -of the evil spirits that lurk in the darkness and leave their lamps -burning all night. I beat off the snapping curs and started on again. - -Suddenly sounds of laughter and excited voices sounded from a building -before me. I hurried toward it and knocked loudly on the door. The -merriment ceased. For several moments there was not a sound. Then there -came the slapping of slippered feet along the passageway inside, and a -woman’s voice called out to me. I called back in the few Arabic words I -knew: “M’abarafshee arabee! Faranchee! Fee wahed locanda? Bnam!” (“I -don’t speak Arabic! Foreigner! Is there an inn? Sleep!”) - -Without a word, the unknown lady slapped back along the hall. A good -five minutes passed. I knocked once more, and again there came the -patter of feet. This time a man’s gruff voice greeted me. I repeated -what I had said before. Then I heard the sliding of many bolts and bars, -the heavy door opened ever so slightly, and the muzzle of a gun was -thrust out into my face. The eyes above the musket peered cautiously out -into the darkness. - -A moment later the door was flung wide open, and a very giant of a -native, with a mustache that would have made the Kaiser jealous, stepped -out, holding his clumsy gun ready for instant use. I had to laugh at his -frightened look. He smiled shamefacedly, and, going back into the house, -returned in a moment without his gun, and carrying a lamp and a rush -mat. At one end of the building he pushed open a door that hung by one -hinge, and lighted me into a room with earth floor and one window from -which five of the six panes were missing. A heap of dried branches at -one end showed it to be a wood-shed. - -A starved-looking cur wandered in at our heels. The native drove him -off, spread the mat on the ground, and brought from the house a pan of -live coals. I called for food. When he returned with several -bread-sheets, I drew out my handkerchief containing the coins, and began -to untie it. My host shook his head fiercely and pointed several times -at the ceiling to show that the missionaries had made a Christian of him -and that he would not accept pay. - -Barely had the native disappeared when the dog poked his ugly head -through the half-open door and snarled viciously at me. He was a wolfish -animal, the yellow cur so common in Syria, and in his eye gleamed a -wickedness that gave him a startling likeness to the thieving nomads -that rove over that drear land. I drove him off and made the door fast, -built a roaring fire of twigs, and rolling up in the mat, lay down -beside the blaze. - -I woke from a doze to find that cur sniffing at me and showing his ugly -fangs within six inches of my face. A dozen times I fastened the door -against him—in vain. Had he merely bayed the moon all night it would -have mattered little, for with a fire to tend I had small chance to -sleep, but his silent skulking and his muffled snarls kept me wide-eyed -with uneasiness until the gray of dawn peeped in at the ragged window. - -The village was named Hemeh. I left it and continued my journey. The -dreary hills of the day before fell quickly away. The highway sloped -down a narrow, fertile valley in close company with a small river. On -the banks of the river grew willows and poplars in great masses. - -A bright morning sun soon made the air agreeable, although the chill of -night and the mountains still hovered in the shadows. Travelers became -frequent. I met peasant families driving their asses homeward from the -morning market, bands of merchants on horseback, and well-to-do natives -in clothes that made me think of the unlucky coat of Joseph. Here passed -a camel caravan whose drivers would, perhaps, purchase just such a slave -of his brothers this very day. There squatted a band of Bedouins at -breakfast. Beyond rode a full-bearded sheik who reminded me of Abraham -of old. - -The road continued downward. The passing crowd became almost a -procession. I swung, at last, round a group of hills that had hidden -from view an unequaled sight. Two miles away, across a vast level plain, -crossed by the sparkling river, and peopled by a battalion of soldiers -drilling in the sunlight, the white city of Damascus stood out against a -background of dull red hills, the morning sun gleaming on its graceful -domes and slender towers. I passed on with the crowd, and was soon -swallowed up in “the street called Straight”—which isn’t. - - - - - CHAPTER X - CITIES OF OLD - - -The whistle of the locomotive is now heard in the suburbs of Damascus; -for, besides the railway to the coast, a new line brings to the ancient -city the produce of the vast and fertile plain beyond Jordan. A few -single telegraph wires, too, connect “Shaam” with the outside world, and -the whir of the American sewing-machine is heard in her long, -tunnel-like streets. But these few modern improvements make the ancient -ways of the city seem stranger still. - -Here is a man with a stone hammer, beating into shape a vessel of brass -on a flat rock. There a father and son are turning a log into wooden -shoes with a very old-fashioned buck-saw, the man standing on the log, -the boy kneeling on the ground beneath. Beyond them is a strange-looking -turning-lathe. The workman squats on the floor of his open shop, facing -the street; for no Damascan can carry on his business with his back -turned to the sights and sounds made by the passing crowd. With his -right hand he holds a sort of Indian bow which has its cord wound once -around the stick he is shaping. As he moves this bow back and forth, the -stick, whirling almost as rapidly as in a steam lathe, is whittled into -shape by a chisel which he holds with his left hand and his bare toes. - -Mile after mile through the endless rows of bazaars, such old-fashioned -trades are carried on. Every foot of space on either side of the narrow -streets is in use. Wherever the overdressed owners of great heaps of -silks and rugs have left a pigeonhole between their shops, sits a ragged -peddler of sweetmeats and half-inch slices of cocoanut. - -Stores selling the same kind of article are found together in one part -of the city, and nowhere else. In one section are crowded a hundred -manufacturers of the red fez cap of the Mohammedan. In another a colony -of brass-workers makes a deafening din. Beyond sounds the squeak of -hundreds of saws where huge logs are slowly turned into lumber by hand -power. The shopper who wants to buy a pair of slippers may wander from -daylight to dusk among shops overflowing with every other imaginable -ware, to come at last, when he is ready to give up, into a section where -slippers of every size, shape, and color are displayed on either side of -the street, as far as he can see. - -To try to make headway against the pushing crowd is much like attempting -to swim up the gorge of Niagara. Long lines of camels splash through the -human stream, caring nothing for the small boys under their feet. -Donkeys all but hidden under great bundles of fagots that scrape the -building on either side, asses bestraddled by shouting boys who guide -the beasts by kicking them behind the ears and urge them on by a queer -trilling sound, dash out of darkened and unexpected side streets. Not an -inch do they turn aside, not once do they slacken their pace. The -_faranchee_ who expects them to do so is sure to receive many a jolt in -the ribs from the donkey, or from his load, and to be sent sprawling—if -there is room to sprawl—as the beast and his driver glance back at him -with a wicked gleam in their eyes. - -Hairless, scabby curs, yellow or gray in color, prowl among the legs of -the throng, skulking through the byways, devouring the waste matter they -find, or lie undisturbed in the puddles that abound in every street. The -donkey may knock down a dozen foot travelers an hour; but he takes good -care to step over the dogs in his path. Often these beasts gather in -bands at busy corners, yelping and snarling, snapping their yellow -fangs, and raising a din that puts a stop to bargainings a hundred yards -away. If a by-stander wades among them with his stick and drives them -off, it is only to have them collect again five minutes after the last -yelp has been silenced. - -A _metleek_ is only a cent. Yet, as you pass through the streets of -Damascus, the constant calling for it sounds like a multitude searching -the wilderness for a lost child. “Metleek!” cries the seller of flat -loaves, on the ground at your feet. “Metleek!” screams the wandering -bartender, jingling his brass disks. The word is shouted commandingly -from the peddler whose novelty has attracted a crowd, fiercely from the -angry-looking fellow whose stand has been deserted, pleadingly from the -crippled beggar, who threads his way with astonishing swiftness through -the human whirlpool. Unendingly the word echoes through the openings and -windings of the bazaars. - -When night came on I was wandering dismally through the winding streets -where long lines of merchants were setting up the board shutters before -their shops. It mattered not in what European language I inquired for an -inn of those I met. Each one muttered, “M’abarafshee” (“I don’t -understand”), and hurried on. - -I sat down before a lighted tobacco booth and pretended I was asleep. -The proprietor came out to drive off the curs sniffing at my feet, and -led the way to a neighboring caravan inn, where the keeper spread me a -bed of blankets on the cobblestone floor. - -The next day I discovered the Hotel Stamboul, facing the stable that -serves Damascus as post-office. I went in with little hope either of -making my wants known or of finding the price within my means. The -proprietor, strange to say, spoke a little French, and, stranger still, -assigned me to a room at eight cents a day. - -I spent four days in Damascus before I began to make plans for getting -out of it. I had intended to strike southwestward through the country to -Nazareth. On the map the trip seemed easy. But I had found, on my -journey from the coast, that maps do not show the distance to be covered -in this little-known country. It was late in December, and the rainy -season was at hand. Several violent downpours that made me think of the -flood described in the Bible had already burst over Damascus. These -storms were sure to have made Palestine a muddy marsh, and to have -turned its summer brooks into roaring torrents. - -The trip, however, could not have been more difficult than it was to -find out about it. The people in the cities of Asia Minor are the most -incurable stay-at-homes on the globe. They know no more of the country a -few miles outside their walls than they do of the other side of the -earth. - -I spent a day inquiring about it, and learned nothing. Toward evening I -came across a French-speaking tailor who claimed to have made the first -few miles of the journey. Gleefully I jotted down his directions in my -note-book. An hour’s walk next morning brought me out on a wind-swept -stretch of grayish sand beyond the city. For some miles a faint path led -across the dreary waste. Wild dogs growled and snarled over the dead -bodies of horses and sheep that lined the way. The wind whirled on high -tiny particles of sand that bit my cheeks and filled my eyes. A chilling -rain began to fall, sinking quickly into the desert. The storm was -becoming violent, when the path ceased at the brink of a muddy torrent -that it would have been madness to try to cross. - -A lone shepherd was plodding along the bank of the stream. I pointed -across it and shouted, “Nazra?” The Arab stared at me a moment, tossed -his arms above his head, crying to Allah to note the madness of a roving -_faranchee_, and sped away across the desert. - -I plodded back to the city. In the iron-workers’ bazaar a sword-maker -called out to me in German, and I halted to ask him about the road to -Nazareth. The workman paused in his task of pounding a queer-looking -sword, to tell me that the tailor was a fool and that the road to -Nazareth left the city in exactly the opposite direction. “’Tis a broad -caravan trail,” he went on, “opening out beyond the shoemakers’ bazaar.” - -The next morning I struck out in the direction the sword-maker had -pointed out to me. The morning was cloudy and the air biting. Before I -had passed the last shoemaker’s shop a cold drizzle set in. On the -desert it turned to a wet snow that clung to bushes and rocks like -shreds of white clothing. The sword-maker certainly had played a joke on -me. A caravan track there was beyond the last wretched hovel—a track -that showed for miles across the bleak country. But, though it might -have taken me to Bagdad or to the steppes of Siberia, it certainly did -not lead to the land of the chosen people. - -I turned and trotted back to the city, cheered by the hope of sitting -before such a fire as roars up the chimneys of American homes on the -well remembered days of the first snow. The hope showed how little I -knew of Damascan customs. The hotel proprietor and his guests were -shivering over a pan of coals that could not have heated a doll’s house. - -I fought my way into the huddled group, and warmed first a finger and -then a toe. But the chill of the desert would not leave me. A servant -called the landlord to another part of the building. He picked up the -“stove” and marched away with it, and I left my shivering fellow guests -and went to bed, as the only possible place where I could get the chill -out of my bones. - -The next day I spent Christmas in a stuffy car on the cogwheel railway -over the Lebanon hills, and stepped out at Beirut shortly after dark, to -run directly into the arms of Abdul Razac Bundak. - -On the afternoon of December twenty-seventh I set out on foot for Sidon. -Here, at least, I could not lose my way, for I had but to follow the -coast. Even Abdul, however, did not know whether the ancient city was -one or ten days distant. A highway through an olive grove soon broke up -into several narrow paths. The one I chose led over low hills of sand, -where the misfit shoes that I had picked up in a pawn-shop of Beirut -soon filled to overflowing. I swung them over a shoulder and plodded on -barefoot. A roaring brook blocked the way. I crossed it by climbing a -willow on one bank and swinging into the branches of another opposite, -and plunged into another wilderness of sand. - -Toward dusk I came upon a peasant’s cottage on a tiny plain, and halted -for water. A youth in the much patched uniform of the Turkish soldier, -sitting on the well-curb, brought me a basinful. I had started on again, -when a voice rang out behind me: “Hé! D’ou est-ce que vous venez? Ou -est-ce que vous allez?” In the doorway of the hovel stood a slatternly -woman of some fifty years of age. I told her my nationality. - -“American?” she cried, this time in English, as she rushed out upon me. -“Oh, my! You American? Me American, too! Oh, my!” - -I could hardly believe her, for she looked decidedly like a Syrian, both -in dress and features. - -“Yes,” she went on. “I live six years in America, me! I go back to -America next month. I not see America for one year. Come in house!” - -I followed her into the cottage. It was the usual dwelling of the -peasant class—dirt floor, a kettle hanging over an open fire in one -corner, a few ears of corn and bunches of dried grapes suspended from -the ceiling. On one of the rough stone walls was pinned a newspaper -portrait of McKinley. - -“Oh, my!” cried the woman, as I glanced toward the portrait. “Me -Republican, me. One time I see McKinley when I peddle by Cleveland, -Ohio. You know Cleveland? My man over there”—she pointed away to the -fertile slopes of the Lebanon hills—“my man go back with me next month, -vote one more time for Roosevelt.” - -The patch-work youth poked his head in at the door. - -“Taala hena [Come here], Maghmood,” bawled the noisy Republican. “This -American man! He no have to go for soldier, fight long time for greasy -old Sultan. Not work all day to get bishleek, him! Get ten, fifteen, -twenty bishleek day! Bah! You no good, you! Why for you not run away to -America?” - -The woman kept a sort of lodging-house in a near-by stone hut, and -insisted that I spend the night there. Chattering about one thing and -another she prepared a supper of lentils, bread-sheets, olives, and -crushed sugar-cane, and set out a bottle of _beet_ (native wine). The -meal over, she lighted a cigarette, leaned back in a home-made chair, -and blew smoke at the ceiling with a far-away look in her eyes. - -“Oh, my!” she cried suddenly. “You sing American song! I like this -no-good soldier hear good song. Then he sing Arab song for you.” - -I undertook to play the wandering minstrel with uncertainty. At the -first lines of “The Swanee River” the soldier burst forth in a roar of -laughter that doubled him up as if he were having a fit. - -“You great fool, you,” shouted the woman, shaking her fist at the -property of the Sultan, who was lying at full length on the floor. “You -no know what song is! Shut up! I split your head!” - -This gentle hint made the youth sit up and listen most attentively, with -set teeth, until the concert of the Western world was ended. - -When his turn came, he struck up a mournful chant that sounded like the -wailing of a lost soul, and sang for nearly an hour on about three -notes, shaking his head from side to side and rocking his body back and -forth as his voice rose to an ear-splitting yell. - -The mournful tune was interrupted by a shout from the darkness outside. -The woman called back in answer, and two ragged, bespattered Bedouins -pushed into the hut. The howling and shouting that followed made me -wonder whether murder or merely highway robbery had been committed. The -men shook their fists, and the woman almost cried. The quarrel lasted -for a full half hour, and then there was quiet again. The woman took -from the wall a huge key, and stepped out, followed by the Bedouins. - -“You know for what we fight?” she demanded, when she returned. “They -Arabs. Want to sleep in my hotel. They want to pay only four coppers. I -say must pay five coppers—one _metleek_. Bah! This country no good.” - -Four fifths of a cent was perhaps as great a price as she should have -asked from any lodger in the “hotel” to which she led me a half hour -later. - -All next day I followed the faintly marked path that clung closely to -the coast. Here and there a care-worn peasant toiled behind the wooden -plow that the tiny oxen dragged back and forth across the fields. At -times, when the peasant turned to look at me, his plow struck a root or -a rock, and he was obliged to pick himself up out of the mire. Nineteen -showers flung their waters upon me during that day. Sometimes these -showers were separated from each other by periods of the brightest -sunshine. - -Late in the afternoon the sun was smiling bravely, when the path turned -into a well kept road winding through a forest of orange trees, where -countless natives were stripping the overloaded branches of their fruit. -I had reached the ancient town of Sidon. From the first shop in the -outskirts of the place, the bazaar was one long orange-colored streak. - -I spent the night at a caravan inn. The next day I went on southward, -guided by the booming of the Mediterranean. Mile after mile the way led -over slippery ridges of the mountain chain, through streams and across -marshes in which I sank half way to my knees. - -The gloomy day was drawing to a close when I began to look for shelter. -But I found none, and a gnawing hunger made me hurry on. I was crossing -a crumbling stone bridge that humped its back across a wandering stream -when an unhoped-for sight caught my eye. Miles away, at the end of a low -cape, rose the slender tower of a Mohammedan church, surrounded by a -jumble of flat buildings. I hurried toward it. - -Dusk turned to utter darkness. Far ahead twinkled a few lights, that -seemed to move on before me as fast as I tried to draw near them. The -flat sand gave way to rocks and boulders against which I barked my shins -repeatedly. - -I had almost given up trying to reach the village that night, when the -baying of dogs fell on my ear. - -In the dim moonlight I noticed a faintly marked path up the sloping -beach. I followed it across sand-hills, and came up against a fort-like -building, pierced in the center by a gateway. Two flickering lights -under the archway cast wavering shadows over a group of Arabs huddled in -their blankets near the gate. When I stepped before them out of the -blackness of the night, they sprang to their feet with excited cries. - -I pushed through the group, and plunged into crooked alleyways filled -with wretched hovels. All was silent in the bazaars; but the keeper of -one shop was still dozing over his pan of coals between a stack of aged -bread-sheets and a simmering kettle of sour-milk soup. I prodded him -until he was half awake, and gathering up the bread-sheets sat down in -his place. He dipped up a bowl of soup from force of habit; then, -catching sight of me for the first time, spilled the jelly-like mixture -over my outstretched legs. - -The second serving reached me in the proper manner. A group of Arabs -gathered outside in the circle of light cast by the shop lamp, and -watched me eat. I finished the bowl of soup and called for a second. -They stared, astonished. Again I sent the bowl back. The bystanders -burst into a roar of laughter, and the boldest stepped forward to pat -their stomachs mockingly. - -I inquired for an inn. A ragged giant stepped into the arc of light, and -crying “Taala,” set off to the westward. Almost at a trot he led the way -by cobbled streets, down the center of which ran an open sewer, up hill -and down. The corners we turned were so many that I could not count -them. - -We came, at last, to a brightly lighted café, where a dozen jolly Arabs -sat smoking cigarettes and drinking coffee. My guide began calling out -mournfully in the darkness, and drew me into the circle of light. A roar -went up from the men in the café, and they tumbled pell-mell out upon -us. - -My guide explained my presence in a trumpet-like voice. From every -dwelling around poured forth dark, half-dressed men who, crowding -closely about, began talking all together. Some one said that we ought -to go inside the café. We did so, and the keeper, with his best company -smile, placed a chair for me in the center of the room. The older men -grouped themselves about me on more chairs, and the younger squatted on -their heels around the wall. We were trying to talk in the language of -signs, when a native pushed into the circle and addressed me in French. -Through him they asked me where I came from, and why I was there, and -were not satisfied until I had told them the entire history of my -wanderings. - -I ended my story with the statement that I had left Sidon that morning. - -“Impossible!” shouted the one who could speak French. “No man can walk -from Sidon to Soor in one day.” - -“Soor?” I cried, recognizing the native name for Tyre, and scarcely -believing my ears. “Is this Soor?” - -“Is it possible,” gasped the native, “that you do not know you are in -the ancient city of Tyre? Yes, indeed, my friend; this is Soor. But if -you left Sidon this morning you have slept a night on the way without -knowing it.” - -I inquired about the men in the room. The interpreter introduced them, -one by one: the village clerk, the village barber, the village -carpenter, the village tailor, and—even thus far from the land of -chestnut trees—the village blacksmith. They every one decided that I -could not be allowed to continue on foot. Some days before, they said, -between Tyre and Acre, a white man had been found murdered by some blunt -instrument, and nailed to the ground by a stake driven through his body. -They told the story, leaving out none of the horrors. Then they told it -again to each other in Arabic, and acted it out for me. The village -carpenter was the white man, a fisherman and the clerks were the -assassins, and a piece of water-pipe was the stake. - -Midnight had long since passed. I promised the good citizens of Tyre to -remain in their city for a day, to think it over. The keeper offered to -let me sleep on a rush mat in a back room of the café. I accepted the -invitation, and the men put up the shutters and marched away. - -The ancient city of Tyre is to-day a collection of stone and mud huts -covering less than a third of the sandy point that was once filled with -the life of a great city. Its four thousand humble people are now -without education, art, or ambition. To the north, in the wretched -harbor, were a few old fishing-boats, far different from the fleets -whose sailors once made merry and sang in the streets of Tyre. Down on -the encircling beach, half buried under the drifting sands and worn away -by the lapping waves, lay the ruins of what must long ago have been -great business blocks. The Tyreans of to-day have carried away these -ruins, stone by stone, to build their own humble dwellings. Even as I -looked, half a dozen ragged Arabs were prying off the top of a great -pillar, and loading the pieces into an old sailing-vessel. - -The next morning I passed through the city gate and continued my journey -on foot. From a short distance the gloomy group of huts behind looked -pitifully small and mean, huddled together on the great plain near the -vast blue sea. - -I came to the “Ladder of Tyre,” a steep hill, which I climbed with many -bruises. Beyond, range after range of rock-covered hills stretched out -from the top of the ladder. Half climbing, half sliding, I went down the -southern slope, and struggled on across a trackless country in a -never-ceasing downpour. - -Night came on. The sun was settling to his bath in the Mediterranean. -Across the throbbing sea, stretched a wavering ribbon of orange and red. -Away to the eastward, in the valleys of the Lebanon, darkness already -lay. Here and there on the rugged peaks, a tree, swaying in a swift -breeze, stood out against the evening sky. Near by a lonely shepherd -guarded a flock of fat-tailed sheep. Beyond him lay a sea of darkness. -The level plain soon changed to row after row of low sand-hills, -unmarked by a single footprint, over which my path rose and fell with -the regularity of a tossing ship. - -The last glint of the blazing sun sank beneath the waves, leaving an -unbroken plain of black water. The swaying trees became dim; the very -peaks blended into the darkening sky of evening. It became difficult to -see where the hills ended and the trough began. - -I stumbled half way up every slope. The shifting sands made walking -difficult. On the summit of the ridges sounded the low moaning of the -wind, rising and falling like far-off sobbing. It was easy to imagine -the surrounding blackness peopled with murderous nomads. Somewhere among -these never-ending ridges the “staked _faranchee_” had been done to -death. - -Mile after mile the way led on. My path rose and fell so frequently that -it seemed like crossing the same sandy billow over and over. The rain -had ceased, but not a star broke through the darkened sky, and only the -hoarse boom of the sea guided my steps. - -Once, when coming down a ridge with my feet raised high at each step in -expectation of another hill in front of me, I plunged into a hole in -which I sank almost to my knees in the mire. From force of habit I -plowed on. The booming of the waves grew louder, and the wind from off -the sea blew stronger and more chilling. Suddenly there sounded at my -feet the rush of water. I moved forward cautiously, and felt the edge of -what seemed to be a broad river pouring seaward. I could not cross it on -a black night. I drew back from the brink, and, finding a spot that -seemed solid enough, threw myself down. - -But I sank, inch by inch, into the wet earth. Fearful of being buried -before morning, I rose and wandered toward the sea, stumbling over a -heap of cobblestones probably piled there by peasants. I built a bed of -stones on the side of the pile sheltered from the wind, tucked my camera -in a hole among them, and, pulling my coat over my head, lay down. A -patter of rain sounded on the coat; then another, and another, faster -and faster; and in less than a minute there began a downpour that lasted -all night. - -The heap of stones gave small protection against the piercing wind. My -bed was short and like a half-circle in shape, so that I had to lie -motionless on my right side, in order to protect my camera and films -beneath. The rain quickly soaked through my clothing and ran in streams -along my skin. The wind turned colder and whistled through the chinks of -the pile. Through it all the sea boomed constantly, and in the -surrounding marshes unwearying frogs croaked a dismal chorus. - -I was certainly awake at the first gleam of day. The new year was -peering over the Lebanon when I rose to my feet. My left leg, though -creaking like rusty armor, held me up all right; but I had no sooner -shifted my weight to my right than it gave way like a thing of straw and -let me down suddenly into the mud. After rubbing it for some time I -recovered the use of the limb: but even then an attempt to walk in a -straight line sent me round in a circle from left to right. - -Daylight showed the river to be lined with quicksands. Some distance up -the stream I managed to cross without sinking below my arm-pits. Far off -to the southeast lay a small forest. Thinking that a village might be -hidden in its shade, I pushed eagerly forward through a sea of mud. - -When I reached the forest I found it to be a large orange grove -surrounded by a high hedge and a ditch filled with water. There was not -a house in sight. The trees were loaded with fruit. I emptied my -knapsack, plunged through ditch and hedge, and tore savagely at the -tempting fare. With half-filled bag I got back to the plain, caught up -my scattered belongings, and struck southward, peeling an orange. The -skin was close to an inch thick; the fruit inside looked juicy enough to -make anybody hungry. Greedily I stuffed a large piece into my mouth, and -stopped stock-still, feeling as if I had been struck a sudden blow in -the back of the neck. The orange was as green as the Emerald Isle, its -juice more sour and bitter than half and half of vinegar and gall. I -peeled another, and another. Each was more sour and bitter than the -last. Tearfully I dumped the golden treasure into the mire and stumbled -on. - -In the early afternoon I fell in with a band of roving Bedouins, and -traveled on with them, splashing long hours through surf and stream -along the narrow beach. Night had fallen before we parted in the Haifa -market-place. - -At a Jewish inn in Haifa I made the acquaintance of a fellow countryman. -He was born in Nazareth, of Arab blood, and had never been outside Asia -Minor. But his grandfather had lived for a few years in New York, and, -though the good old gentleman had long since been resting in his grave, -his descendants were considered citizens of the United States in their -native land, and did not have to pay taxes to the Turkish officials. -They had the right to greet travelers from the new world as fellow -countrymen. Nazry Kawar was overjoyed at meeting a man from his own -country. He spent the afternoon drawing sketches of the routes of -Palestine for me, and took his leave, promising to write me a letter of -introduction to his uncle, a Nazarene dentist. - -Early the next morning I started out on the road to Nazareth. Toward -noon, in the lonely hills beyond the first village, two Bedouins, less -bloodthirsty than hungry, fell upon me while I ate my lunch by the -wayside. They bombarded me with stones from opposite sides; but they -threw like girls, and dodged like ocean liners, so that I caused more -injury than I received. Finally I started a race down the highway. They -were no mean runners; but, when over the hill, they caught sight of a -road-repair gang of bronze-faced and muscular women, and were forced to -stop. - -An hour later I reached the highest point of the route. Far beyond, -colored by the delicate blue air that trembled and wavered in the -afternoon sunshine, stretched a vast plain, walled by mountain ranges, -that seemed many miles away. I followed the route along the top of the -western wall, now passing between two mountain-peaks, now coming out on -a plateau; and, rounding at last a gigantic rock, I burst into Nazareth, -the city where Christ spent his boyhood. - -[Illustration: On the road between Haifa and Nazareth I met a road -repair gang, all women but the boss.] - -Nazareth was a mere village in the time of Christ. To-day it covers the -bowl-shaped valley in which it is built, and climbs to the summits of -the surrounding hills. Seen from a distance, it looks like the -amphitheater of a circus. - -I went on down into the city. In the crowded, babbling bazaars, I tried -in vain to find the dentist Kawar to whom my letter was addressed. When -my legs grew a-weary of wandering through the winding streets, and my -tongue could no longer misshape itself in attempts to pronounce the -peculiar sounds of the Arabic language, I sat down on a bazaar stand and -leaned back carelessly, knowing that I should soon be taken care of. -Near me on all sides rose a whisper, in the hoarse voice of squatting -shop-keepers, in the high-pitched voice of passing children: “Faranchee! -Fee wahed faranchee!” - -Hardly a moment had passed before a scared-looking boy stopped near by -to stare at me, in the manner of one ready to run in terror at the first -sign of an unfriendly move on the part of this strange creature, whose -clothes were so queer, whose legs were clothed in separate garments. -Here, surely, was one of those dread bogey men who are known to dine on -small Arabs, and so near that—perhaps he had better edge away and take -to his heels before—But no; here are a dozen men of familiar look -collecting in a half-circle back of him! And there comes his uncle, the -camel-driver. Perhaps the bogey man is not so fearful, after all, for -the men crowd close around, calling him _faranchee_ and _efendee_, and -appearing not in the least afraid. - -The camel-driver is doubly brave,—who would not be proud to be his -nephew?—for he actually begins to speak to the strange being, while the -crowd behind him grows and grows. - -“Barhaba!” says the camel-driver in greeting. “Lailtak saeedee! Where -does the efendee hail from? Italiano, perhaps?” - -“No; American.” - -“Amerikhano!” The word runs from mouth to mouth, and the faces of all -hearers light up with interest. “America?” Why, that is where Abdul el -Kassab, the butcher, went long years ago. It is said to be far away, -further than El Gkudis (Jerusalem) or Shaam (Damascus). But the -camel-driver has found out something else about this _faranchee_. -Listen: “Bahree! The faranchee is a bahree, a sailor, a man who works on -the great water, the ‘bahr’ that any one can see from the top of yonder -hill and on the shores of which this same camel-driver claims to have -been. It is even said that to reach this America one must travel on the -great water! Indeed, ’tis far away, and were the faranchee not a bahree, -how could he have journeyed from far-off America to this very Nazra?” - -But the few words of the Arabic that I knew were soon spent. I sat -there, unable to tell them more. To the simple Nazarenes I was as much -to be pitied as a deaf-mute, and they burst forth in pitying cries of -“Meskeen” (“poor devil”). The camel-driver was still trying to find out -more about me, when a well dressed native pushed through the crowd and -spoke to me in English. I held up the letter. - -“Ah,” he cried, “the dentist Kawar?” And he took the note out of my hand -and tore it open. - -“But here,” I cried. “Are you the dentist?” - -“Oh, no, indeed,” said the native, without looking up from the reading. - -“Then what right have you to open that letter?” I demanded, grasping it. - -The native gazed at me a moment, astonished and hurt. - -“Oh, sir,” he said, “the Kawar is my friend. If it is my friend’s letter -it is my letter. If it is my letter it is my friend’s letter. Arabs make -like that, sir. I am Elias Awad, cook to the British missionary and -friend to the dentist. Very nice man, but gone to Acre. But Kawar family -live close here. Please, you, sir, come with me.” - -Ten minutes later I had been welcomed by the family Kawar like a -long-lost friend. Their dwelling showed them to be people of Nazarene -wealth and importance. The father, keeper of a dry-goods store, had once -been sheik, or mayor, of Nazareth, and was a man of most agreeable -manners. He spoke only Arabic. His sons ranged from bearded men to a boy -of nine. They had been distributed among the different mission schools -of the town. Two of them spoke English; a third spoke German; the fourth -spoke French, and the fifth Italian; the youngest was already beginning -to learn Russian. While I was bombarded with questions in four -languages, I found a moment here and there to congratulate myself on my -ignorance of the tongue of the Cossacks. - -While the evening meal was preparing, the family, a small army of all -sizes, went forth to show me the sights. They pointed out Mary’s Well, -the workshop of Joseph, and other things that we read of in the Bible. - -After supper three of the sons of the family persuaded me to go to a -little church on the brow of the valley, although I was very tired. The -sermon was preached in Arabic, but I had heard the tunes of the hymns -before. The worshipers in the church behaved quite differently from any -I had seen. The men, who sat in the front pews, wore fezes in the latest -style; while the women, dressed all alike in white gowns, sat silently -in the back seats, scarcely daring to breathe. Now and then one of the -men kicked off his loose slippers and folded his legs on his seat. And -even the most religious among them could not keep from turning to stare -at a _faranchee_ who sat bare-headed in church. At the close of the -service the ladies hurried home, but not one of the men was missing from -the crowd that waited to greet us as we left the church. My companions -told them all they knew of me—and more. Among the hearers were two young -men, Shukry Nasr and Nehmé Simán, teachers of English in the mission -school. Being eager for a chance to practice talking the English -language, and touched with the curiosity of the Arab, they would not go -until I had promised to be their guest after my stay with the Kawars. - -The next day I learned something of the customs and ways of the -better-class Arab. Shukry Nasr and Nehmé Simán called early and led me -away to visit their friend, Elias, the cook. On the way, if I chanced to -want to buy something at the shops we passed, one or the other of my -companions insisted on paying for it. “You are our guest, sir,” said -Nehmé; “we are very glad to have you for a guest and to talk English. -But, even if we did not like, we should take good care of you; for -Christ said ‘Thou shalt house the stranger who is within thy gates.’” - -“Why,” said the cook, when we began talking about the same subject after -reaching the mission, “in the days of my father, for a stranger to pay -for a place to live would have been an insult to all. A stranger in -town! Why, let _my_ house be his—and _mine!_—and _mine!_ would have -shouted every honorable citizen!” - -“But Nazareth is getting bad,” sighed Shukry. “The faranchees who are -coming are very proud. They will not eat our food or sleep in our small -houses. And so many are coming! So some inns have been built, where they -take pay. Very disgraceful.” - -“Did you give any policeman a nice whipping?” asked Elias suddenly. - -“Eh?” I cried. - -“If a faranchee comes to our country,” he explained, “or if we go to -live in America and come back, the policeman cannot arrest.” - -“Yes, I know,” I answered. - -“If a policeman touches you, then, you must give him a nice whipping,” -continued the cook. “If my father had been to America I would give nice -whippings every day. Many friends I have the policeman dare not touch.” - -“If they only refuse to obey the soldiers,” said Nehmé, “that is -nothing. Everybody does that. But here is the wonderful! They do not -have even to give backsheesh!” - -“Do you have backsheesh in America?” demanded Shukry. - -“Ah—er—well, the name is not the same,” I stammered. - -“To-morrow,” said Shukry, as I stropped the razor which the cook had -invited me to use, “you are coming to live with me.” - -“Look out, sir!” said the cook; “you are cutting your moustaches.” - -“Why not?” I asked. - -“Aah!” shrieked the cook, as I scraped my upper lip clean. “Why -faranchees make that? So soon I my moustaches would shave, so soon would -I cut my neck.” - -The next morning, shod in a pair of Nazarene slippers, heelless and as -thin as Indian moccasins, I set out with the teachers for the home of -Shukry. It was a simple dwelling half way up a hill, and from its roof -spread out the bowl-shaped village at our feet. The death of the father -a short time before had left the youth to rule over the household. -Although he was only seventeen years old, he seemed like a man, boasting -already a bristling moustache, for human beings grow up early in the -East. - -It was January seventh, a holiday among the Greek churchmen, and a day -for visiting among all Christians. We had our shoes off, and were -sitting on a divan, when the guests began to appear. They were all men, -of course. Shukry stood erect in the center of the room, and bowed low -to each guest as he appeared. The visitor returned his bow. There was no -hand-shaking. After the greeting each arrival slid out of his slippers, -and squatted on the long divan. When all were firmly seated everybody -said “Naharak saeed” (“good evening”), and bowed again to everybody else -in turn. - -If the newcomer were a priest, Shukry’s small brother slid forward to -kiss his hand, and ran back to some out-of-the-way corner. After all the -greetings had been given, each guest was served with cigarettes and a -tiny cup of coffee. Visitors who attended the same church as Shukry -broke into a lively talk with him. Others—the Greek priests -especially—sipped their coffee in absolute silence, puffed at a -cigarette, and, with another “Naharak saeed” glided into their slippers -and departed. - -Later in the day we went to call on all the Christian families in the -village, finally stopping at the Kawar home. The former mayor, dressed -in _faranchee_ clothes, with a broad white vest, sat cross-legged in his -white stocking-feet, a fez perched on his head. He talked long and -pleasantly of things American, then wrote me four letters of -introduction to friends in towns I meant to visit. - -“Without these letters,” he explained, “you would not dare to stay in -Gineen or Nablous; for my friends are the only Christians there, and -those are very bad towns. My friends in Jerusalem and Jaffa—if you ever -get there alive—may be able to find you work.” - - - - - CHAPTER XI - THE WILDS OF PALESTINE - - -The sun rose clear and red the next morning. It was the best sort of day -for continuing my journey. The teachers set out to accompany me to the -foot of the Nazarene mountains. They struck off through the village as -the crow flies, paying no attention to the run of the streets. Down -through the market, dodging into tiny alleys, under covered passageways, -through spaces where we had to walk sidewise, they led the way. Where a -shop was in the way they marched boldly through it, stepping over the -merchandise and even over the squatting keeper, who returned their “good -morning” without losing a puff at his cigarette. On they went, stopping -for nothing, straight up the wall-like slope of a tall hill and out upon -a well marked path that led over the brow of the hill. - -At the foot of the mountain they paused. To the north rose a snow-capped -peak. Between the hills, to the west, peeped the sparkling -Mediterranean. Eastward, as far as the eye could see, stretched a wall -of mountains. We could see a dozen villages, tucked away in long, narrow -valleys clinging to steep slopes, or lying bent over sharp ridges like -broken-backed creatures. Shukry named these villages for me, and many of -them were places I had read of in the Bible. The teachers pointed out a -tall peak far across the trackless plain, which they said rose above the -bad town of Gineen, where all Christians were hated. Then, bidding me -good-by almost tearfully, they turned back up the mountain pass. - -Late in the afternoon I passed through a country that looked like a -garden, with graceful palms and waving pomegranates, and perfumed with -the fragrance of orange and lemon groves, which covered the lower slope -of the peak that had been pointed out to me. Back of the garden stood -the bad town of Gineen. When I appeared among its people I met with -scowls and curses. A few stones from a group of youngsters at a corner -of the bazaar rattled in the streets behind me. - -My letter was addressed in Arabic. The squatting shopkeeper to whom I -showed it scowled at me long and fiercely, but finally called a -passing-boy, and, mumbling a few words to him, bade me follow. The -urchin climbed up the sloping street, made several unexpected turnings, -and pointed out a large house surrounded by a stern-looking wall. Then -he scampered away as fast as he could go. - -I clanged the heavy knocker again and again, until the sound echoed up -and down the street. But, receiving no answer, I sat down on the curb. A -well dressed native wandered by. I showed him the letter. He glared at -it, muttered, “Etnashar saa” (“Twelve o’clock at night”), and went on -his way. From time to time visitors paused at neighboring gates or -house-doors, and, standing in the center of the street, lifted up their -voices in mournful wails, and the doors were finally opened to them. -Beggars came past, wailing longer and more mournfully than the others; -nor did they stop until a few bread-sheets or coppers were tossed out to -them. Bands of women, whose faces were covered, drew up in a circle -around me to talk about me and to fill me with the creepy feeling one -might experience at a visit of the Ku-Klux Klan. - -I had been squatting against the wall for fully two hours when an old -man in European dress came slowly down the street, mumbling to himself -as he ran through his fingers a string of yellow beads. He paused at the -gate and pulled out a key. I sprang to my feet and handed him the -letter. He read it with something of a scowl, and, motioning me to wait, -went inside. I waited a long time. - -At last the gate groaned and made way for the ugliest creature in the -Arab world. He was a youth of about twenty, as long as a day without -bread, and so thin that the light seemed to shine through him. His -shoulders were bowed until his head stuck out at right angles to his -body. Long yellow teeth protruded from his lips. In his one eye was a -wicked gleam. His behavior at once showed him to be one who hated -_faranchees_ with a deadly hatred. He wore the headdress of the Bedouin -and half a dozen long flowing garments, which hung from his lank form as -from a hat-rack. - -I understood enough of his snarling remarks to know that he was a family -servant, and that he had been sent to lead me to the servants’ quarters. -He led the way to a hovel on the opposite side of the street, unlocked a -battered door, and let me into a hut furnished with a moth-eaten divan -and a pan of live coals. A smartly dressed young native came in soon -after, and spoke to me in good French. - -“My family is in an unfortunate position,” he explained. “We are friends -of the Kawar, and so always the friends of his friends. As we are the -only Christians in Gineen, we can give you only servants’ quarters. But -you must not stay in Gineen to-night. If you wait until to-morrow you -will have to go on alone, and in the mountains are Bedouins who every -day catch travelers and fill their eyes and mouths and noses with sand, -and drag them around by a rope, and cut them up in small pieces and -scatter them all around. You must go to-night with the mail caravan. -Then you will be safe.” - -“I’ve tramped all day,” I answered; “I will find lodgings in the town if -I am troubling your family.” - -“Great heavens!” shrieked the young man. “There you would be cut to -pieces in an hour! Gineen hates Christians. If you stop here they will -beat my family.” - -He seemed so worried that I decided to do as he advised. He ordered the -crooked servant to bring me supper, and went out. - -The queer creature followed his master, and returned with a bowl of -lentils. He brought back with him two companions who did not look much -better than he did. No sooner had he placed the food on the floor than -all three squatted around it, and, clawing at it with both hands, made -way with the meal so rapidly that I had to go hungry. When the last -scrap had disappeared, the newcomers fell to licking the bowls. - -The long and crooked servant began the mournful wail that is the Arab -notion of a song. Rocking back and forth where he sat, and thrusting out -his long yellow teeth, he fixed a sidewise look upon me and howled for -an unbroken two hours. I could tell by the roars of laughter from his -mates that the words he sang were no compliment to _faranchees_. - -At about nine o’clock in the evening he turned the other two into the -street; then, motioning me to take up my knapsack, he dived out into the -night. I managed to keep at his heels, although he dodged among the -huts, and even ran around some of them twice in his efforts to shake me -off. At last we reached the station for caravans. The keeper of the inn -was a bitter enemy of unbelievers, and at first did not want to let me -in. He finally made way, however; but he shouted abusive language at me -as long as I remained in the building. The servant settled his misshapen -form on a heap of straw, and took up his song of mockery where he had -left off, while he cast sidelong looks of hatred at me. - -At last the caravan appeared. It was a train of four mules and three -drivers. The snarls of the servant and the keeper were friendly -greetings compared with the vicious language and looks cast toward me by -the newcomers when they were told I would go on with them. It looked to -me as if they were more to be feared than capture by sand-stuffing -Bedouins. - -One of the four mules was saddled with the mail-sacks, and, at a signal -from the leader, the drivers sprang astride the others. The caravansary -door opened, letting in a cutting draught of January air. I followed the -party outside, fully expecting to be offered a mount on one of the -mules. The train, however, kept steadily on. The hindmost Arab signed to -me to grasp a strap on the back of his mule; then he suddenly cut the -animal across the flanks dangerously near my fingers, and they started -off, while I trotted behind like a Damascus donkey-boy. I fancied I -heard several chuckles of delight, half smothered in loud curses. - -The night was as black as a Port Said coaling negro. In the first few -rods I lost my footing more than once, and barked my shins on a dozen -large rocks. The joke the drivers played upon me, however, was not -ended. Once, far enough from the caravansary to make return difficult, -the leader shouted an order, the three struck viciously at the animals, -and, with a rattle of small stones against the boulders, away went the -party at full gallop. I lost my grip on the strap, broke into a run in -an attempt to keep up, slipped and slid on the stones, struck up a slope -that I had not seen in the darkness, and, stumbling half way up it on my -hands and knees sprawled at full length over a boulder. - -I sat up and listened until the tinkle of the pack-mule’s bell died away -on the night air; then I rose to feel my way back to the caravansary. It -was closed and locked. Luckily, I managed to find my way to the street -in which the Christian lived, and pushed open the door of the hovel. No -one was in the room, although the lighted wick of a tallow lamp showed -that the servant had returned. I spread out three of the four blankets -folded on the divan, and lay down. A moment later the walking skeleton -entered, leaped sidewise as if he saw a ghost, and, spreading the -remaining blanket in the most distant corner, curled up with all his -flowing garments upon him. I rose to blow out the light; but the Arab -set up a howl of cowardly terror that might have been heard in Nazareth, -so I left it lighted. - -The next day I went on toward Nablous. The route was rocky and wild. I -crossed range after range of rocky peaks covered with tangled forests of -oak and turpentine trees. Here and there, against a mountainside, clung -a black-hide tent village of roving Bedouins. These were the tribes that -were believed to catch lone Christians and scatter their remains along -the wooded valleys. To-day, however, they were doing nothing more -terrible than tending a few flocks of fat-tailed sheep. - -Late in the morning I came in sight of the mud village of Dothan. It was -a crowded collection of hovels—made of mud and shaped like those of the -Esquimaux—perched on several shelves of rock that rose one above -another. The well marked path that I had been following for some time -led boldly up to the first hut, ran close along its wall, swung round -the building, and ended. There was no other path in sight. - -A score of giant dogs, coming down upon me from the hill above, gave me -little time to think. Luckily, there lay within reach a long-handled -kettle, which I grabbed for self-protection; and the unwashed population -that came tumbling down the slope after the dogs, to gaze upon the -strange sight of a lone _faranchee_ in their midst, saw him laying about -right merrily. Not one of the villagers made any attempt to call off the -curs. It was the usual case of every man’s dog no man’s dog. - -I went on up the slopes and shelves of rock. I could not find the path. -Wherever a narrow passage-way looked like the trail, I scrambled up the -jagged faces of the rock, only to find, after I had walked a long time, -that each passage brought me into back yards where several huts choked -the air with their smoke. - -At last I caught sight of a peasant astride an ass moving back and forth -across the slope, but mounting steadily higher. I followed him, and came -out upon a broad platform of rock. Beyond this was a path so steep that -it seemed almost straight up and down. But that path merely showed me -what the day’s journey would be like. I overtook the peasant in a narrow -valley; and not far beyond, a second horseman burst out of another cut -in the earth, and joined us. - -The peasant carried a club and a long blunt knife. He seemed quite -anxious to keep both in plain sight. The second horseman, who wore the -garb of a soldier, carried two pistols and a dagger in his belt, a sword -at his side, and a long slim gun across his shoulders. The countryman -offered to let me ride his beast; but, as the animal was too small, I -continued to trudge at its heels. - -About noon, on a narrow plateau, we came upon an open well surrounded by -a party of wicked-looking Bedouins. They scattered quickly at sight of -the officer. My companions tied their animals near a patch of grass, and -drew out their dinners. The officer knelt beside the well with a pot; -but he was so stout that he couldn’t reach the water. The peasant was a -Tom Thumb in size. So I reached down and dipped up the water for them. -They were both grateful to me, and thrust food upon me from both sides -so fast that I was unable to take it all. - -The officer seemed to be a man of wide experience. He did not appear -much astonished at the _faranchee_ way of eating; but, more than that, -he owned a strange machine at which the peasant gazed in speechless -wonder. The strange thing was an alcohol lamp! The peasant seemed afraid -of it, for he could not be coaxed within ten feet of it until the coffee -was prepared. Then, after he had once become bold enough to touch the -apparatus, he fell upon it like a child upon a strange toy, and examined -its inner workings so thoroughly that the officer spent half an hour in -fitting it together again. - -In the afternoon the peasant turned aside to his village, and not far -beyond the soldier lost his way. What a small chance I should have had -alone on a route that puzzled even a native acquainted with the country! -We had followed for some distance a wild cut between the mountains. -Suddenly this ended against the wall of another cliff. On one side of us -was an impassable jungle of rocks and trees, and on the other a slope -leading upward almost as steep as the side of a house, and covered for -hundreds of feet with loose slaty rock and rough stones. - -The officer dismounted and squatted contentedly at the foot of the -slope. For an hour at least he sat there without moving, except to roll -several cigarettes. At last a native, spattered with mud, appeared. The -officer asked him a question, and he replied by pointing up the wooded -slope. Three times the horse tried to climb up, only to slide helplessly -to the bottom. The officer handed me his gun: then, dismounting, he -tried to lead the steed up by walking back and forth across the slope. -Several times the animal fell on its haunches and tobogganed down the -hill, dragging the cavalryman after him. The gun soon weighed me down -like a cannon; but we reached the top at last, and were glad to stretch -ourselves out on the solid rock surface of the wind-swept peak. - -The officer spread out food before us. Far below, to the southward, lay -a wonderful scene. Two ranges of sharp and broken mountain-peaks raced -side by side to the southeast. Between these ranges lay a wild tangle of -rocks and small forests, through which a swift stream fought its way to -the Mediterranean Sea, bending far out of its course in its struggle to -get around the base of the mountain on which we stood. The place was as -silent and lonesome as if it were some undiscovered world. - -For an hour we followed the run of the stream far below, for we knew it -would finally lead us to lower, more level land. We rounded several -peaks, climbing down little by little. The path became somewhat more -plainly marked, but the scene remained wild and savage. Suddenly the -cavalryman, who had just rounded a monstrous rock before me, reined in -his horse with an excited jerk, grasped his sword, and pointed with it -across the valley. “Nablous!” he shouted. I hastened to his side. On a -small plateau far below us, backed by a rocky waste of mountains and -surrounded by a rushing river, stood a city, a real city, with straight -streets and closely packed stone buildings like those of the Western -world! - -We wound our way down the mountain path to an old stone bridge that led -directly into the city. At the gate a company of ragged, half-starved -Turkish soldiers tried to stop me; but my companion drove them off with -a wave of the hand. We plunged at once into the noisy, crowded streets -which were as narrow and as numerous as those of Damascus. They were -covered with arch-shaped roofs almost their entire length, so that we -seemed to be walking through a dark, cool tunnel. The shoes of the horse -rang sharply against the cobblestones as the animal plowed its way -through the jabbering crowd, and by keeping close at its heels I escaped -being jostled and pushed about. - -The shops looked very much alike. The cavalryman dismounted before one -of them, handed the reins to the keeper who came forward to meet him, -and, turning to me, earnestly invited me to spend the night in the inn -above. But my Nazarene friends had given me letters to one Iskander -Saaba, a Nazarene teacher, and I thought I ought to deliver them. - -I had a hard time finding the home of the teacher. In the cities of -western Asia the streets are not named, nor the houses numbered. Mr. -Smith, you learn, lives near the house of Mr. Jones. If you inquire -further you may be told that Mr. Jones lives not far from the house of -Mr. Smith, and so on; and you gain nothing by getting impatient or -angry. - -A short distance from the inn, a water-carrier and a baker’s boy struck -me in the ribs at the same time with the burdens they carried. A runaway -donkey, bestrided by a mean-looking fellow, ran me down. A tradesman -carrying a heavy beam turned the corner just in time to make me see a -starry sky in the covered passage-way. These things, of course, were -merely accidents. But when three stout rascals caught hold of the -knapsack across my shoulders, and hung on to it until I had kicked one -of them into a neighboring shop, and a corner street peddler went out of -his way to step on my heels, I could not so easily excuse them. As long -as I remained among the crowded shops these sneaking injuries continued. -Whenever I stopped, a crowd quickly gathered about me to show their -dislike by purposely jostling against me, by making insulting remarks -about my race, and even by spitting on my clothes. - -I found the home of Iskander Saaba at last, and spent a pleasant evening -there. The next morning a steady rain was falling, and the young teacher -urged me to stay over, with the old saying, “To-morrow is just as good -as to-day.” When I satisfied him that this was not a common saying in -the Western world, he set out to show me the way through the city. On -the way he stopped often to buy fruits, which he stuffed into my -knapsack. When I objected, he said: “It is far to Jerusalem, and some -day I will come to America.” - -Since the oldest times Nablous has carried on much trade with Jerusalem; -but only until very lately has the lazy Turk begun to build a road -connecting the two towns. That part of the road beyond the southern gate -was well built; but in this rainy season it was a river of mud, which -clung to my shoes in great cakes, and made walking more difficult than -it had been in the pathless mountains to the north. - -[Illustration: The shopkeeper and traveling salesman with whom I spent -two nights and a day on the lonely road to Jerusalem. Arabs are very -sensitive to cold, except on their feet and ankles.] - -About noon I came to the end of the highway. I had been warned that the -road was not finished. “It is all complete,” Shukry had said, “except -over the mountain, the highest mountain of Palestine, and over that it -runs not.” And it was true. Before me rose a high mountain almost as -steep as a wall. A path was cut diagonally to the top, but I had to -crawl up on my hands and knees with the greatest care, in the fear of -losing my footing. At the top I came again upon the road. It was wide -and well built, yet as it stood, it must have been utterly useless: for -no carriage or other wheeled vehicle could ever have been dragged up -that wall-like hillside; and the sure-footed ass which still carries -merchandise between the two cities would make the journey exactly as -well had the new road never been thought of. - -Long after nightfall I stumbled upon a lonely shop. Inside were the -keeper and a traveling salesman of tobacco. The building was no more -than a wooden frame covered over with sheet-iron; and soon after I had -gone to bed on one of the shelves that served as bunks, the rain began -to thunder on the roof near my head. This continued all through the -night. Sleep was as impossible as it would have been inside a bass drum -at a concert. In the morning a downpour more violent than I had ever -known held us prisoners; and, as the weather was bitterly cold, I stayed -on my shelf and listened to the roaring of the tin shack through the -longest day that ever rained or blew itself into the past tense. - -The next day the storm was not so bad; so I set out again. In all the -dreary country round I came across only one stone village. It was the -ancient Bethel, lying among the sharp hills. Beyond it the highway -side-stepped to the eastward. The air of Palestine was filled with -moisture that morning. The hills ahead were somewhat veiled by the mist; -in the valleys lay a thick gray fog; while overhead the sky was dull and -lead-colored. - -[Illustration: The Palestine beast of burden carrying an iron beam to a -building in construction.] - -Before me, well above the sky-line, hung a long, dark cloud. As I looked -at this cloud it began to take on the shape of a distant line of -buildings; yes, it was a city in the sky that I saw, with a wide strip -of sky beneath it. It grew plainer and plainer, until there appeared in -the heavens a dull gray city, a long city, bounded at one end by a great -tower, at the other shading off into nothing. Then suddenly it -disappeared. Black clouds, scurrying westward from across the Jordan -River, erased the image from the sky as if it had been a lightly -penciled line. - -Yet it was Jerusalem that I saw. Miles beyond, the fog lifted and showed -the city plainly, and it was that same long city bounded on the east by -a great tower; but this time it had footing on the solid earth—on a -dull, drear hill that sloped to the west. I went on down the highway, -and across the hills and the dreary fields,—past the tombs of the Kings -and Judges, where to-day shivering shepherd boys seek shelter from the -winds,—and on into the crowded bazaars of the city where Christ was -crucified. - -Great, howling crowds swept me through markets dirtier than those of -Damascus, up and down slimy stone steps, jostling, pushing, trampling -upon me at every turn. They did not do this because they wanted to be -disagreeable to me: It was merely carelessness on their part, for they -had seen so many _faranchees_ that they did not notice me when I got in -their way. But I was very tired from my long day’s tramp; so when I -reached the end of a street I turned to an open doorway in order to get -out of the crowd. Through the doorway I caught a glimpse of a long -stretch of green grass and of a great mosque, or Mohammedan church. - -I had no sooner stepped inside this yard than a shout arose from a -rabble of men and boys at one side of the square. But that did not -surprise me, for in Damascus the people had shouted every time I entered -the grounds belonging to a mosque. So I marched on, pretending I did not -notice that they were howling at me. The shouting became louder. Men and -boys came down upon me from every direction, howling like demons, and -firing stones at me from every side. Some of them struck me on the legs; -others whistled dangerously near my head. I left hurriedly. - -Later in the day I learned that I had trespassed into the sacred grounds -of the mosque of Omar. It is named for Caliph Omar, the leader of the -Mohammedans who captured Jerusalem from the Christians in the year 1636. -One who does not worship Mohammed may not enter this mosque or the -grounds belonging to it without a guard of paid soldiers. - -I got back into the crowded streets, and was pushed and jostled as -before. To escape this I went down more slimy steps and along a narrow -alley until I came to a towering stone wall. Here I saw a strange sight. -Hebrews, rich and poor, some dirty and ragged, others wearing diamonds, -by turns kissed and beat with their fists the great blocks of stones, -shrieking and moaning with tears streaming down their cheeks. I did not -have to be told where I was. This time I had fallen upon the “Jews’ -Wailing Place.” - -I wandered here and there, and at noonday remembered that a sum hardly -equal to forty cents jingled in my pockets. It was high time to look for -work. So I turned toward the office of the American consul. If there -were work to be had by _faranchees_ in the city, the consul, surely, -would know it. I fought my way through the gazing crowd of doorkeepers -and others into the outer office. A moment later I was admitted to the -inner office. The kindly white-haired consul asked me to give him a full -account of my journey in Palestine. - -“I shall give you a note to the Jewish hotel across the way,” he said, -when I had finished, “and you may pay the bill when you earn the money. -For you will find work, you may be sure. See me again before you leave -the city.” - -I mounted an outdoor stairway on the opposite side of David Street to a -good inn. From the window of the room assigned to me there was a -far-reaching view. To the north, east, and south spread a jumble of -small buildings, with their dome-shaped roofs of mud or stone outlined -against a few houses covered with red tiles. Here and there rose the -slender minarets or steeples of Mohammedan mosques, and in about the -center of the city was the great Christian Church, which is said to be -built to cover the spot where the Saviour was buried. At the farther -edge of the city, yet so near that I could see it from base to dome, -stood the beautiful mosque of Omar where I had but recently caused so -much excitement. Back of it was a forest of olive trees, and farther on -the Mount of Olives. Beyond, miles of dreary hills stretched away to the -great wall of the mountains of Moab. - -While I was taking a walk after dinner, I came upon an Englishman who -lived in Jerusalem. The Englishman wanted some letters translated into -French. I began on them at once, and worked late into the night. For the -three days following I spent my time in writing and in sight-seeing. The -bazaars were half deserted at this period; for on Friday the Mohammedans -held a festival, Saturday was the Jewish Sabbath, and Sunday the day of -rest for Christians. So among them all there was little going on in the -business section during those three days. - -On Saturday, at the hotel, there was nothing to eat but meat. It was -served cold, for what Jew could order his servants to build a fire on -the Sabbath? The day grew wintry cold, however. The hotel-keeper sent -for a servant, and gave orders in a language that sounded much like -German, ending with the unnecessary remark: “I believe this is one of -the coldest days we have had this year.” - -The servant scratched his moth-eaten head, shuffled off, and returned -with a bundle of twigs that were soon crackling in the tiny sheet-iron -stove. - -On Sunday I had nothing much to do; so I pushed through the howling mob -of peddlers at the gate of the city, and strolled southward along a road -from which I could see, now and then, the sparkling waters of the Dead -Sea. A few hours later I climbed into the wind-swept village of -Bethlehem. - -Standing like a fortress at the center of the town is the Church of the -Nativity, built over the site of the manger where Christ was born. The -rough stone walls on each side of the low doorway of this church are so -blackened by the hands of centuries of pilgrims that the entrance looks -like a huge rat-hole. Had it been Christmas Eve while I was there, I -should have seen a great procession of priests, clergymen, and Turkish -soldiers carrying waxen candles and marching to the basement of the -church, where a waxen baby to represent the infant Jesus lies in a -marble manger, on cushions of red silk with a layer of straw beneath. I -should have heard the oldest priest of the procession sing the story of -Christ’s birth, while outside in the streets the people feasted and sang -merry songs until morning. As it was, however, I went inside to see -nothing more exciting than Christians of many beliefs worshiping in -different parts of the church. - -That afternoon I returned to Jerusalem. The Englishman came next morning -with another letter, which I wrote in French and returned to him at -noon. Then, having paid my bill at the hotel, I went to tell the consul -that I was about to leave the city. - -“How much money have you?” he asked. - -“About two dollars.” - -“Good! Now, my lad, take my advice. There is a steamer leaving Jaffa for -Egypt to-night. Take the afternoon train,—ten francs will more than pay -your fare,—and once in Jaffa perhaps you can get work on the steamer to -pay your passage across. Ask the American consul there to give you his -assistance.” - -“I can save money by walking,” I had the courage to say. - -“Impossible!” cried the consul. “It is forty miles to Jaffa. The ship -leaves at noon, and there is not another for ten days. Take the train; -you can’t walk there in time.” - -In spite of the consul’s advice, I spent half my money for a roll of -films, and struck out on foot to the coast. Long after dark I found a -place to sleep in Latron, the home of the thief who was crucified with -Christ. - -I put off again before daylight, in a pouring rain, across a marshy -plain. It was nearly noon when I reached port; but the sea was running -mountain-high, and the task of loading the steamer was going on slowly. -A native offered for a few coppers to guide me to the American consul. -Together we rushed through the streets, ankle-deep in soft mud, and -stopped at last before a large hotel. I dashed into the office and -called for the consul. - -“Impossible!” cried the clerk. “The consul is at dinner.” - -I started toward the dining-room. The clerk snatched wildly at my -dripping garments, and sent a servant to tell the consul I wanted to -speak to him. - -A moment later a very tall American consul stood framed in the doorway -before me—though, to be sure, the frame was a good six inches too short -and wrinkled the picture sadly. He was a Frenchman, and so excited -because he had been disturbed “before the wine” that he could think of -no words but those in his own language. While he scolded me violently he -tore at his hair. It was long before I could induce him to listen to me. -When he finally understood that I wanted merely a note to the ship’s -agent, he became more friendly and said he would write it at once. - -A moment later the clerk handed me an unfolded note, and I rushed away -to the wharf a half mile distant. The ship was still there. I hurried to -the office window, and thrust the letter through the opening. Even in my -hurry I could not fail to notice that the agent who peered out at me -wore a glass eye—and a celluloid nose! - -His face puckered up as he read the note. “Ah!” he said, drawing a -ticket from the rack. “Very well! The fare is twelve francs.” - -“The fare? But doesn’t the consul ask you to let me work for my passage -as a sailor?” - -He pushed the note toward me. It was in French. I heard a warning -whistle from the harbor! The letter was written in a scrawl: - - _Dear Friend:_ - - The bearer, Harris Franck, is an American sailor who wishes to go - to Egypt. Will you kindly sell him a ticket and oblige your - humble, etc., etc. - - —— ——, - _American Consular Agent_. - -A letter giving the company the right to sell me a ticket that it would -have been delighted to sell to any sort of man or ape that had the -money! It was of no value whatever. - -Caring nothing for the rain, I sat down against a pillar outside the -office. Only four miserable francs rattled in my pocket. I now saw that -I would have to spend long, penniless days on the Jaffa beach. The -loading and unloading of the steamer were still going on. Boatmen were -struggling to row across the mountain-like waves. Now and then a giant -billow overturned a freight-filled rowboat high on the beach. Barefooted -natives waded into the surf with tourists in their arms. Each warning -whistle seemed to thrust Egypt farther and farther away. If only— - -I felt a tap on the shoulder. A young native in the uniform of the -ship’s company was bending over me. - -“Go on board anyway,” he advised me. - -“Eh?” I cried. - -“The captain is English. If you are a sailor he will give you work.” - -“But I can’t get on board,” I answered. - -For reply the native pointed to his company’s boat, loaded with baggage -and mails, at the edge of the wharf. I snatched up my belongings and -dropped into it. - -The steamer was about to start when I scrambled on board. I fought my -way through a jumble of tumbled baggage, seasick natives, and shouting -seamen, and tried to make my way to the captain. A huge seaman pushed me -back. When darkness fell on an open sea I had not yet succeeded in -reaching him. Squirming natives covered every spot on the open deck. I -crawled under a canvas, used my bundle for a pillow, and fell asleep. - -In what seemed about half an hour later I awoke to find the ship gliding -along as smoothly as on a river. I crawled out on deck. A bright morning -sun was shining, and before my astonished eyes lay Port Said. - -The ship glided on. It was bound for Alexandria. I went to find the -captain once more—and once more was pushed back by the brawny seaman. - -I returned to the deck and sat down. To my horror, the Arabian purser -began to collect the tickets. He came near me and held out his hand. - -“Where can I see the captain?” I demanded. - -“M’abarafshee” (“I cannot understand”), he answered in Arabic, shaking -his head. “Bilyeto!” (“ticket!”) - -Certainly I must give some excuse for being on board without a ticket. I -rummaged through my pockets for the consul’s note, spread it out, and -laid it in the purser’s hand. Its yellow color looked disturbingly out -of place on the collection of dark blue tickets. The officer poured -forth his astonishment in a torrent of Arabic. - -“M’abarafshee!” I mocked. - -He opened his mouth to send forth another torrent, paused, scratched his -head, and, with a shrug of his shoulders, went on gathering _bilyetos_ -from the native passengers. - -Some time later he climbed down from the upper deck, and, beckoning to -me, led the way to the captain. The latter, a huge Briton, stormed back -and forth across the ship, striving to give orders to the native crew in -such Arabic as he could call to mind—but breaking into violent English -with every fourth word to rage at the sailors for their stupidity. His -eye fell upon me. - -“Here!” he roared furiously. “What is all this?” And he waved the now -ragged note in my face. - -“Why, that’s a note from the American consul in Jaffa, sir. I asked him -to write that I wanted to work for my passage to Egypt.” - -The purple anger on the skipper’s face, caused partly by the strain of -trying to make himself understood in Arabic, disappeared somewhat at the -sound of his own language. - -“But,” he went on more quietly, “this note asks the company to _sell_ -you a ticket. It’s written in French, and this is what it says—” And he -translated it. - -“American sailor, are you?” he went on. - -I handed him my papers stating that I had been a sailor. - -“I’m ready to turn to with the crew, sir,” I put in. - -“N—no. That’ll be all right,” said the skipper, stuffing the note into -his pocket, as he turned to see what the seamen on the deck below were -about. - -“Cover that hatch before a sea fills her!” he shouted. - -Early next morning I went ashore in Alexandria. - - - - - CHAPTER XII - CAIRO AND THE PYRAMIDS - - -In all of north Africa there was no place that I wanted to visit more -than Cairo. I had heard, too, that I might find work there easily. At -any rate, I felt that I must get there soon, before my money was -entirely gone. - -I went to the railway station in Alexandria, and found that the fare to -Cairo was just three piasters more than I had. Should I go by train as -far as my money would take me, and finish the journey on foot and -penniless? Or should I save the few coins I had for food on the way, and -tramp the entire distance? - -While I was thinking it over I dropped on a bench in a park, and fell to -whittling a stick. A countryman in fez cap and gown, strolling by, -stopped and stared at me. Then he sat down on the far end of my bench, -and watched my movements closely. Inch by inch he slid along the bench. - -“Very good knife,” he murmured. - -“Aywa” (“Yes”), I answered, tossing away the stick and closing the -knife. - -The Arab gave a gasp of delight. - -“But it shuts up like a door,” he cried. - -I opened and closed it several times for him to see, then slid down in -my seat, my thoughts elsewhere. - -“You sell it?” grinned the peasant. - -“What?” I gasped, sitting up in astonishment. - -[Illustration: A woman of Alexandria, Egypt, carrying two bushels of -oranges.] - -“I give you five piasters,” he coaxed. - -“Take it!” I cried, and, grasping the coin he held out to me, dashed -away to the station. - -Half an hour later I was speeding southward across the fertile delta of -the Nile. How different was this land from the country I had so lately -left behind! Every few miles the train halted at a busy city. Between -these cities were the mud villages of the Egyptian peasant, and many -well cultivated fields. Inside the car, which was much like our own in -America, well dressed natives read the latest newspapers with the easy -manners of Paris business men. There were several half blind Egyptians -in the car, victims of an eye disease common in this country; but even -they leaned back in their seats contentedly. An eyeless one in one -corner roared with laughter at the lively talk of his companions. Far -more at ease was he, for all of his misfortune, than I, with neither -friend nor acquaintance in all the length and breadth of the continent. - -Evening came on. The changing scenery grew dim. The land near and far -was so flat that in the dusk I could hardly tell the difference between -a far-off village and a water-buffalo lying down near at hand. The -western sky turned red for a moment, dulled to a brown, and then the -darkness that suddenly spread over the land left me to stare at my own -face beyond the window. The sight was not encouraging. Who would give -work to the owner of such a face and figure? The lights that began to -twinkle here and there over the black plain were of villages where -strangers were very probably disliked and unwelcome. Every click of the -wheels brought me nearer to the greatest city of Africa, of which I knew -little more than the name. Yet I would soon be wandering alone there in -the darkness, with only ten cents in my pockets! Perhaps in all Cairo -there was not another penniless adventurer of my race! Even if there -were, and a lodging for vagabonds somewhere in the great city, what -chance had I of finding it? For who would understand my words, and even -if they did who could direct me to such an out-of-the-way place? - -The train halted in a vast domed station. A great crowd swept me through -the waiting-rooms and out upon a brightly lighted square. There the -screaming mass of hackmen, porters, donkey-boys, and hotel runners drove -me to seek shelter behind a station pillar. I swung my knapsack over my -shoulder, and gazed at the human sea about me, hopelessly undecided as -to what to do or where to go. - -[Illustration: An abandoned mosque (Mohammedan church) outside the walls -of Cairo, and a caravan off for a trip across the desert.] - -Suddenly a voice sounded above the roar: “Heh! Landsmann, wohin?” -(“Comrade, where are you going?”) I stared eagerly about me. Under a -near-by arc-light stood a young man of sunburned face, in a stout, -somewhat ragged suit, and a cloth cap. When he saw me look at him he -dived into the crowd and fought his way to my side. - -“Ah!” he shouted in German. “I knew only one of the boys would blow into -town with a knapsack and a corduroy suit! Just got in from Zagazig -myself. How long have you been away? Business any good down at the -coast? Don’t believe it is. Cairo’s the place for easy winnings.” - -As he talked we left behind the howling crowd. No need to ask where he -was taking me. - -“You’ll meet all the comrades where we’re going,” continued my -companion. - -We crossed a corner where street-cars clanged their way through a great -crowd, and turned down a street faced by brightly lighted shops. - -“This street is the Moosky,” said the German. “Good old lane. Many a -piaster I’ve picked up in her.” - -He dodged into a side alley, jogged over a street, and entered the -lodging of “the comrades.” It was a wine-shop with a kitchen in the -rear, on the lowest floor of a four-story building. A shuffling Jew was -drawing beer and wine for several groups of noisy Europeans at the -tables. The Jew kept up a continual jabber in Yiddish, to which the -drinkers replied now and then in German. A woman wandered in from the -back room with a steaming plate of meat and potatoes. - -“The place has lodgings,” said my companion, pointing at the ceiling. -“They cost three piasters. You can still eat a small piaster worth.” For -I had told him how much money I had. - -By the time I had finished eating, the “comrades” were demanding that I -tell them who I was and where I came from. As all the party spoke -German, I gave them a short account of myself in that language. - -“And what countryman are you?” asked a youth at the next table. - -“I am an American.” - -The entire party, including the Jew, burst into a roaring laugh so -suddenly that two black boys who had been peering in upon us scampered -away down the street. - -[Illustration: An Arab café in Old Cairo.] - -“Amerikaner! Ja! Ja!” shrieked the merry-makers. “Certainly! We are all -Americans. But what are you when you tell the truth to your good -comrades? Amerikaner! Ha! Ha!” - -The first speaker beat a tattoo on the table with his cane, and the -others became quiet. Plainly he was the leader of the company. - -“Now, then,” he cried, as if I had the right by the rules of “the union” -to give two answers, “what country are you from?” - -I repeated that I was an American. - -“So you are an American really?” he demanded suddenly in clear English. - -He thought I would not understand him; but a long reply in my own -language proved that I did. The others, however, grinned unbelievingly -and fell to chattering again. - -“Why doesn’t the crowd believe me?” I asked of the youth who had spoken -to me in English. - -“Ah!” he burst out, “here in Cairo all the boys are Americans. We have -Germans, Austrians, Poles, Hungarians, Norwegians—all sorts—in our -union; and every one is an American—except when they are together. And -not one of them ever saw the United States! It is because, of all the -foreign travelers in Egypt, the Americans are most ready to give -money—to their own countrymen, of course. The Germans will help us. Yes! -but how? By giving us a loaf of bread or an old pair of shoes or two -piasters. Bah! But the Americans—they give pounds and whole suits! The -tourists are your rich harvest, mein Freund! If you are a real -Amerikaner, you can live in Cairo until you grow a beard!” - -So I had fallen among the beggars of Cairo! It was too late, however, to -find another lodging-place. I leaned back, and finally fell asleep amid -the fumes of tobacco that filled the room. - -A whining voice sounded in my ear: “H’raus, hop!” (“Wake up!”) I opened -my eyes to find the Jew bending over me. The room was almost empty, but -the youth who had spoken to me in English still sat there. I paid my -lodging, and followed him up a narrow winding stairway at the back of -the shop. On the third floor he pushed open a door which was much like -the drop of a home-made rabbit-trap. This let us into a small room -containing six beds. Four of these were already occupied. It needed only -one long-drawn breath to prove that the bed-clothes had not seen the -wash-tub for months. But he who is both penniless and particular should -stay at home. I took the bed beside that of the German, and soon fell -asleep. - -The next morning I arose early, hoping to find work before noon. But my -new acquaintance of the evening before was awake. He asked me where I -was going. - -I told him I was going to look for work. - -“Work!” he shouted, springing to his feet. “A fellow who can talk -English—and German too—wants to _work_ in Cairo? Why, you—you’re a -disgrace to the union.” - -I went down to the street and set out to look for a job. Long after -dark, footsore and half starved, covered with the dust of Cairo, I -returned to the lodging-place of the comrades, and sat down at one of -the tables. It was easy to see that the comrades were not footsore. They -had told a hard-luck story somewhere, and returned with enough money to -enable them to sit around for the rest of the day. Apparently that was -all they expected or cared to do for the rest of their lives. - -The leader of the union watched me, with a half-smile on his face, for -some time after I had entered. “Lot of work you found, eh?” he began. -Then he raised his cane and rapped on the table for silence. - -“Ei! Good comrades!” he cried. “I have something to show you! Look once! -Here is a comrade who is an American—do you hear?—a real American, not a -patched-up one. And this real American—in Cairo—wants to work!” - -“_Work?_” roared the chorus. “_Work_ in Cairo—and a real American—Ist’s -denn ein Esel?” (“Is he a jackass?”) - -I ate a tiny supper and crawled away to bed. For two days following I -tramped even greater distances, without success. But, in a side street -in which sprawled and squalled so many Arabian babies that I couldn’t -count them, I came upon the mission building called the Asile Rudolph. -Glad to escape from the beggar colony at last, I tugged at a bell-rope -that hung from a brick wall. A bare-legged Arab let me in. The -superintendent, seated in the office, welcomed me. He was a lively -Englishman about fifty years old. He had long been a captain on the -Black Sea, and was still known to everybody as “Cap” Stevenson. - -There was something more than bed and board for the lucky lodgers of the -Asile Rudolph. The mission had a new shower bath! It was closed during -the day; but, as I was never the last to finish the evening meal, I -would get inside the wooden closet first; and it was only the argument -that the stream could be put to even better use among my companions that -saved me from a watery grave. - -I looked for work for five days longer. No tourist ever peeped into half -the strange corners to which my wanderings led me. I learned the Arabic -language rapidly, too; for the servants of Cairo seemed to hate workmen -of my race; and the necessity of speaking my mind to them made me learn -new words every day. - -Rich or penniless, however, there must be something wrong with any one -who does not enjoy the winter in Cairo. Here one never has to change his -plans on account of the weather, for Egypt is always flooded with joyous -sunshine. There is much to see, too, in this city of the Nile. If you -take a walk to the Esbekieh Gardens, you can hear a band concert at any -time, and Arabians are always performing queer tricks out there. At all -hours of the day, people of great wealth are driving about in the -gardens, while the crowds stand watching them. At times the Khedive and -his guard thunder by. Now and then the shout of Cairo’s most famous -runner tells us that the Khedive’s master, Lord Cromer, is coming near. -There is always enough to see—but not enough to eat. - -[Illustration: Carriage runners of Cairo, clearing the streets for their -master.] - -One day, while wandering sadly away across the city, I stumbled upon the -offices of the American ambassador. I managed to fight my way into the -presence of the consul-general himself, and told him of my experiences -in Cairo. - -“If you are willing to do any kind of work,” he said, “I can give you -employment at once.” - -I told him that any kind of work would be welcome. - -The consul chose a card from his case, turned it over, and wrote on the -back: - - _Tom_: Let Franck do it. - -“Take this,” he said, “to my home; it is opposite that of Lord Cromer, -near the Nile. Give it to my butler.” - -“Tom,” the butler, was a young American. I came upon him dancing blindly -around the ball-room of Mr. Morgan’s residence, and shouting himself -hoarse in Arabic at the servants under his charge. The consul, I was -told, was to give a dinner, with dancing, to the society people -wintering in the city. In the two days that were left before the evening -of the party, the ball-room floor must be properly waxed. Twelve Arabic -workmen had been puttering around in the dance-hall doing almost nothing -since early morning. About them was spread powdered wax; in their hands -were long bottles; above them towered the dancing butler. - -“Put some strength into it!” he shouted, as I stepped across the room -toward him. - -A thirteenth “workman,” who had been hired to squat in a far corner and -furnish musical encouragement, began to sing. For the next three strokes -the dozen bottles, moving together in time with the tune, nearly crushed -the powdered wax under them. But this unusual show of energy did not -last long. - -I delivered the written message. Tom read it. “I’ll fire ’um!” he -bellowed. The Arabs bounded half across the room at his shriek. “I’ll -fire ’um _now!_ An American? I’m delighted, old man! Get after this job -while I chase these fellows downstairs. Had any experience at this -game?” - -I thought of a far-off college gymnasium, and nodded. - -“Take your own time, only so you get it done,” cried the butler, chasing -out the fleeing Arabs. - -I tossed aside the bottles, and fixed up a tool of my own with which to -rub the floor. By evening the polishing was half done. When I turned my -attention to the dust-streaked windows, late the next afternoon, the -ball-room floor was too slippery to be safe for any but sure-footed -dancers. - -[Illustration: An Arab gardener on the estate of the American consul of -Cairo, for whom I worked two weeks.] - -On the evening of the entertainment I helped to look after the dinner. -We were separated only by a Japanese screen from the guests of the -evening. Among them were Lord Cromer and the ex-Empress Eugénie, once -Queen of France, who was driven from the throne by the Germans in 1870; -the Crown Prince of Sweden was there, and the brother of the Khedive, -ruler of Egypt. - -It was long after midnight when I returned to the Asile. Captain -Stevenson let me in. I found the inmates there still, all up and awake -at that late hour, waiting for me. They were as excited as so many -schoolgirls, and asked me question after question about whom I had seen -at the party, what they had done, how they had danced, what they had -talked about. I was sorry I did not have something interesting to tell -them. As it was, the dancing had not been especially graceful, and the -conversation of the great people had been commonplace. By arrangement -with Tom, I continued to “do it” long after the ball. The food at the -servants’ table was excellent, and I kept my cot at the Asile at a cost -of two piasters a day. - -One evening while sitting in the office at the mission I saw in a Cairo -newspaper the following paragraph: - - Suez, February 2nd, 1905. - - The French troop-ship ——, outward bound to Madagascar with five - hundred recruits, reports that while midway between Port Said and - Ismailia, on her way through the Canal, five soldiers who had been - standing at the rail suddenly sprang overboard and swam for shore. - One was carried under and crushed by the ship’s screw. The others - landed, and were last seen hurrying away into the desert. All five - were Germans. - -I showed the paragraph to the superintendent. “Aye,” said Cap; “I’ve -seen it; that happens often. They’ll be here for dinner day after -to-morrow.” - -They arrived exactly at the hour named, the four of them, sunburned and -bedraggled from their swim and the tramp across the desert. Two of the -four were very friendly fellows. I was soon well acquainted with them. -One of the two had spent some months in Egypt before. - -On the Friday after they arrived, the one who had been in Egypt on a -former occasion met me at the gate of the Asile as I returned from my -day’s labor. - -“Heh! Amerikaner,” he began, “do you get a half holiday to-morrow?” - -“Yes,” I answered. - -“I’m going to take Hans out for a moonlight view of the Pyramids. It’s -full moon, and all the companies are sending out tally-ho parties. Want -to go along?” - -I did, of course. The next afternoon I left the Asile in company with -the two. At the door of the office I stopped to pay my lodging for the -coming night. - -“Never mind that,” said Adolph, the man who had invited us. “We’ll sleep -out there.” - -“Eh?” cried Hans and I. - -[Illustration: Egypt—A young Arab climbing down the pyramid.] - -Adolph pushed open the gate, and we followed. - -“Suppose you’ll pay our lodging at the Mena House out there?” grinned -Hans, as we crossed the Kasr-el-Nil bridge. - -“Don’t worry,” cried Adolph. - -We pushed through the throng of donkey-boys beyond the bridge. There was -a street-car line running along an avenue lined with trees, out to the -Pyramids in the desert; but we covered the eight miles on foot. - -Darkness fell soon after we reached the place, and with it arose the -moon, large and red. The Pyramids were monstrous. They looked like -mountains. Adolph led the way in and out among them, and pointed out the -most charming views, like a guide. We climbed to the top of the Pyramid -of Cheops. Cheops was once a king of Egypt, you know. The Pyramid that -was built for his tomb still covers thirteen acres. It seems to run to a -peak when viewed from a distance, but we found the “peak” three yards -square when we reached the top. Some of the huge blocks of stone that we -had to pull ourselves over, in making the climb, weigh over fifty tons. - -[Illustration: On top of the largest pyramid. From the ground it looks -as sharply pointed as the others.] - -The desert night soon turned cold. We climbed down again. The tourist -parties strolled away to the great hotel below the hill, and Hans fell -to shivering. - -“Where’s this fine lodging you were telling about?” he chattered. - -“Just come here,” said Adolph. - -[Illustration: I take a camel ride while visiting the pyramids.] - -He picked his way over the huge blocks of limestone that had tumbled -from the ancient monuments toward the third Pyramid, climbed a few feet -up its northern side, and disappeared in a black hole. We followed, and, -doubled up like balls, slid down, down, down a steep tunnel about three -feet square, into utter darkness. As our feet touched a stone floor, -Adolph struck a match. The flame showed two small cave-like rooms, and -several huge stone coffins. - -“Beds waiting for us—you see?” said Adolph. “Probably you’ve chatted -with the fellows who used to sleep here. They’re in the British museum -in London.” - -He dropped the match, and climbed into one of the coffins. I chose -another, and found it as comfortable as a stone bed can be, though a bit -short. Our sleeping-room was warm, somewhat too warm, in fact, and Hans -began to snore. The noise echoed through the vaults like the beating of -forty drums. When we awoke it was still as dark as midnight, but our -sense of time told us that morning had come. We crawled upward on hands -and knees through the tunnel, and out into a sunlight that left us -blinking painfully for several minutes. - -A crowd of tourists and Arabian rascals were surging about the -monuments. Four British soldiers in khaki uniforms kicked their heels on -the forehead of the Sphinx, puffing at their pipes as they told the -latest garrison jokes. We fought our way through the Arabs who clung to -us, took a look at the sights, and then strolled back to Cairo. - - - - - CHAPTER XIII - A TRIP UP THE NILE - - -One fine morning, some two weeks after my introduction to Tom, I left my -post in the consul’s household, and set about making plans for a journey -up the Nile. For I knew that if I once journeyed up or down this river -with open eyes, I would know all there is to know about this long and -narrow country. - -I left Cairo on foot, and, crossing the Nile, turned southward along a -ridge of shifting sand beyond the village of Gizeh. There was an -irrigating ditch near the ridge. Scores of natives, moving with the -regularity of machinery, were ceaselessly dipping the water that gives -life to the fields of Egypt. Between the canal and the sparkling Nile, -groups of Egyptian farmers, called fellahs, deaf to the fiery sunshine, -set out sugar-cane, or clawed the soil of the dry plain. On the desert -wind rode the never-ceasing squawk of the Egyptian water-wheel. - -Beyond the Pyramids of Sakkara I found shelter in the palm groves where -the ancient city of Memphis once stood, and took my noonday sleep on the -statue of King Rameses which lies at full length there. When I was -returning to the sandy road, a whole village of dark-faced people came -running up, and tried to head me off and make me give them baksheesh. -They forced me to run a gauntlet of outstretched arms. It is the -national song of Egypt, this cry of baksheesh. Workmen at their labor, -women bound for market, children rooting in the streets, drop everything -to crowd around the traveler who may be coaxed to “sprinkle iron” among -them. Even the unclothed infant astride a mother’s shoulder thrusts -forth a dimpled hand to the passing white man, with a gurgle of -“sheesh.” - -[Illustration: “Along the way shadoofs were ceaselessly dipping up the -water that gives life to the fields of Egypt.”] - -As darkness came on I reached the town of Magoonza. I spent the night in -a railway station. The next day I took the third-class coach, and halted -near noonday in the wind-swept village of Beni Suef. A young Englishman -who was called “Bromley, Pasha, Inspector of Irrigation,” agreed to meet -me on the bank of the canal beyond the village. Long after dark he -appeared on horseback, attended by two natives who carried flaming -torches. After being ferried across the canal, he led the way toward his -_dahabeah_ (winged house-boat), which was anchored at the shore of the -Nile. - -“I fancied I’d find something to put you at,” he explained, turning his -horse over to a jet-black servant who popped up out of the darkness. -“But I didn’t, and the last train’s gone. I’ll buy you a ticket to -Assiut in the morning.” - -“I have a ticket,” I put in. - -“Oh,” said the Englishman. “Well, you’ll stay with me here to-night, -anyway.” - -He led the way across the plank into his floating residence. The change -from the windy plain of African sand to this floating palace was as -strange as if Bromley, Pasha, had been the owner of Aladdin’s lamp. -Richly turbaned servants in spotless white gowns sprang forward to greet -their master; to place a chair for him; to pull off his riding-boots and -to put on his slippers; to slip the Cairo “daily” into his hands; and -then to speed noiselessly away to finish preparing the evening meal. - -Breakfast over next morning, I returned to the village, and left on the -south-bound train. The third-class coach was packed with natives huddled -together with unmanageable bundles. Three gloomy Arabs, who had no room -to squat on the floor, perched themselves on a bench at the side of the -car like fowls on a roost. The air that swept through the open car was -almost wintry. Only the faces of the men were uncovered. The women, -wrapped like mummies in fold after fold of black gowns, crouched on the -floor, so motionless that one could hardly tell which were women and -which were bundles. - -At every station peddlers of food swarmed around the train. Dates, -boiled eggs, baked fish, oranges, and soggy bread-cakes—enough to feed -an army—were thrust upon all who dared to look outside. From the -neighboring fields came workmen loaded down with freshly cut bundles of -sugar-cane. They looked like a forest in motion. Three great canes, as -long and unmanageable as bamboo fishing-rods, sold for a piaster, and -almost every native in the car bought at least a half dozen. - -The canes were broken into pieces two feet long; and each native, -grasping a piece in his hands, bit into it and, jerking his head from -side to side like a bulldog, tore off a strip. Then, with a suckling -that could be heard above the roar of the train, he drew out the juice -and cast the pulp on the floor about him. The pulp dried rapidly, and by -noonday the floor of the car was carpeted with a sugar-cane mat several -inches thick. - -I spent the night at the largest city in upper Egypt—Assiut. Long before -daylight next morning I rose and groped my way back through the darkness -to the station. A ticket to Luxor took less than half my money. I -boarded the train and once more started south. At break of day the -railway crossed to the eastern bank of the river, and at the next -station the train stood motionless while engineer, trainmen, and -passengers went outside and performed their morning prayers in the -desert sand. Beyond, the chimneys of great sugar factories puffed forth -dense clouds of smoke, and at every stopping-place shivering small boys -offered for sale cone-shaped lumps of sugar, dark-brown in color. - -The voice of the south spoke more clearly with every mile. We were now -coming to the district where rain and dew were unknown. The desert grew -more dry and parched; the whirling sand became finer, until it sifted -through one’s very clothing. The natives, already of a darker shade than -the cinnamon-colored Cairene, grew blacker and blacker. The chilling -wind of two days before turned warm, then piping hot; and before we drew -into Luxor, Egypt lay, as of old, under her glittering covering of -gleaming sunshine. - -Before me were two great European hotels filled with tourists. And close -by the station was an inn for penniless wanderers. It was a tumble-down -shack wherein, dreaming away his old age over a cigarette, sat Pietro -Saggharia. Pietro was a wanderer once. His stories of “the road,” -collected during forty years of roaming about in Africa, and told in -almost any language the listener may choose, are to be had for a kind -word. - -I left my knapsack in Pietro’s keeping, and struck off toward Karnak. -Tourists go to Karnak to see what is left of many temples there. The -principal temple is that built in honor of Ammon, a being that the -Egyptians once worshiped. Ammon was an imaginary creature with the body -of a man and the head and horns of a ram. He was supposed to be very -wise and able to answer any question asked of him. His temple was once -magnificent, having immense columns, carvings, sculptures, and -paintings, placed there by his worshipers. - -I did not expect to see the inside of the famous temples, for I had no -ticket. The price of such a ticket is little short of a vagabond’s -fortune. I journeyed to Karnak, therefore, with my mind made up to be -content with a view of her row of sphinxes and a walk around her outer -walls. - -Natives swarmed about me, calling for “baksheesh.” Before I had shaken -off the last screeching youth I came upon a great iron gate that shut -out the un-ticketed, and paused to peer through the bars. On the ground -before the gate squatted a sleek, well fed native. He arose and told me -he was the guard, but made no attempt to drive me off. - -As I turned away he said in Arabic: “You don’t see much from here. Have -you already seen the temple? Or perhaps you have no ticket?” - -“No; no ticket,” I answered in Arabic. “Therefore I must stay outside.” - -“Ah! Then you are no tourist?” smiled the native. “Are you English?” - -“Aywa,” I answered, for the Arabic term “Inglesi” means all who speak -that language; “but no tourist, merely a working-man.” - -“Ah,” sighed the guard: “too bad you are an Inglesi, then; for if you -spoke French the superintendent who has the digging done is a good -friend of working-men. But he speaks no English.” - -“Where shall I find him?” - -“In the office just over the hill, there.” - -I went in the direction pointed out, and came upon a small office before -which an aged European sat motionless in a rocking-chair. About him were -scattered many kinds of statues, broken and whole. - -“Are you the superintendent, sir?” I asked in French. - -The aged Frenchman frowned, but answered not a word. I repeated the -question in a louder voice. - -“Va t’en!” shrieked the old man, grasping a heavy cane that leaned -against his chair, and shaking it feebly at me. “Go away! You’re a -beggar. I know you are.” - -I told him I had mistaken him for the superintendent. The aged Frenchman -watched me with the half-closed eyes of a cat, clinging to his stick. - -“Why do you want to see the superintendent?” he demanded. - -“To work, if he has any. If not, to see the temple.” - -“You will not ask him for money?” - -“Certainly not.” - -“Well! It is there. Maghmood!” he coughed. - -A native appeared at the door of the shanty. - -“My son is the superintendent,” said the old man, showing a maze of -wrinkles meant for a smile. “Follow Maghmood.” - -The son, a polite young Frenchman clothed in the thinnest of white -trousers and an open shirt, was bowed over a small stone covered with -ancient Egyptian figures. I told him why I had come. - -“Work?” he replied. “No. Unfortunately, the society allows us to hire -only natives. I wish I might have a few Europeans to look after the -digging. But I am pleased to find a workman interested in the ruins. You -are as free to go inside as if you had a ticket. But it is midday now. -How do you escape a sunstroke, with only that cap? You had better sit -here in the shade until the heat dies down a bit.” - -I assured him that the Egyptian sun did not trouble me, and he stepped -to the door to shout an order to the well fed gate-keeper just out of -sight over the hill. That official grinned knowingly as I appeared, -unlocked the gate, and, pushing back with one hand several small black -boys who were racing about, let me in to the noonday quiet of the forest -of pillars. - -As the shadows began to grow long, a flock of sheep rushed into the -sacred place, and, stumbling through the ruins, awoke the sleeping -echoes with their bleating. They were trying to get to their shepherds, -who were calling to them in voices that sounded like phonographs. After -they had left, there came more peaceful beings weighed down with cameras -and note-books. Everybody was interested in one lively corner of the -place. There, in the latest hollow dug, an army of men and boys toiled -at the machines that raised the sand and the water which had been poured -into the pit to loosen the soil. Other natives, naked, groped in the mud -at the bottom, eager to win the small reward offered to the discoverer -of each ancient treasure buried in the earth. - -One such prize was captured in the afternoon. A small boy, half buried -in mud and water, suddenly stopped wallowing about, and uttered a shrill -shriek of joy. He came dangerously near being trampled out of sight by -his fellow workmen. In a twinkling half the band, amid a mighty roar of -shouting and splashing, was tugging at some heavy object hidden from -view in the mud. - -They raised it at last—a woman’s figure in blue stone, about four feet -in length. The news of the discovery was quickly carried to the shanty -on the hill. In a great white helmet that made him look like a walking -toad-stool, the superintendent hurried down to the edge of the pit, and -gave orders that the statue be carried to a level space, where a crowd -of excited tourists lay in wait with open note-books. There it was -carefully washed with sponges, while the tourists stood gazing eagerly -at it. Then it was placed on a car of the tiny railway laid among the -ruins. Crowds of natives grasped the long rope attached to the car, and, -moving in time to a wild Arabic song of rejoicing, dragged the new find -through the temple and placed it at the feet of the aged Frenchman. - -As evening fell I turned back to my lodging-place. Several lodgers had -gathered, but neither they nor Pietro could tell me anything about the -land across the Nile, which I meant to visit next day. - -There is another ruined temple near Luxor. Although it is a mile north -of Karnak, it was once connected with the temples of that town by an -avenue bordered on either side with ram-headed sphinxes. The temple is -of sandstone, and until the digging for it was begun in 1883 it was -entirely buried in sand and rubbish. About it six enormous statues of an -Egyptian king are still standing. - -No one at the inn could tell me anything about the ruins that the -tourists came to see. The Greek keeper of the inn knew nothing of the -ruins of Thebes except the story of a man who had once stopped at his -hotel. This man had tried to make the excursion, and had returned wild -with thirst, mumbling a confused tale of having floundered about in a -sea of sand. - -“For our betters,” said Pietro, in the softened Italian in which he -chose to address me, “for the rich ladies and gentlemen who can ride on -donkeys and be guarded by many guides, a visit to Thebes is very well. -But common folk like you and me! Bah! We are not wanted there. They -would send no army to look for _us_ if we disappeared in the desert. -Besides, you must have a ticket to see anything.” - -I rose at dawn the next morning, and hastened away to the bazaars to get -food for the day’s trip—bread-cakes for hunger and oranges for thirst. A -native boatman tried to charge me ten piasters for rowing me to the -other side; but when I refused to pay him that much, he accepted one -instead, and set me down on the western bank. The shrill screams of a -troop of donkey-boys, who were crossing the river with their animals, -greeted the rising sun. A moment later a party of tourists, wearing -veils and helmets, stepped ashore from a steamer, and, mounting the -animals, sped away into the trackless desert. It was an interesting -sight. The half-mile train of donkeys that trailed off across the desert -was bestridden by every kind of European, from thin scholars and slender -maidens to heavy women and mighty masses of men, who had to beat their -animals continually to make them keep up with the rest. - -The sharp climb to the Tomb of the Kings was more difficult to an -overburdened ass than to a man on foot. I kept pace with the band, and -even got ahead of the stragglers, often stopping to shake the sand from -my shoes. Even though the jeering donkey-boys kept pushing me into the -narrow gorges between the rocks, it was I who reached the gate first. An -Arabian policeman was on hand to help the keeper take tickets. But he -spoke Italian, and was so delighted to find that he could talk with me -without being understood by the rest of the crowd that he gave me -permission to enter. - -I was now so used to such places that I was able to find my way about -alone. I left the party and struck southward toward a steep cliff of -stone and sand. To go past this, those on donkeys had to make a circuit -of many miles; but I made up my mind to climb over it. Clinging to sharp -edges of rock, I began the climb. Half way up, a roar of voices sounded -from the plain below. I felt for a safer hand-hold and looked down. -About the policeman at the foot of the cliff was grouped the party of -Europeans, gazing upward—certain now, no doubt, of their earlier belief -that I was a madman who had escaped from his guardians. Before they had -gone one fourth the distance around the mountain, I had reached the top, -while they had still many a weary mile to travel. - -The view that spread out from the top of that mountain was one that -might have awakened the envy of the tourists below. North and south -stretched sand-colored hills, deep and brilliant vermilion in the -valleys, the highest peaks splashed blood-red by the sunshine. Below lay -the plain of Thebes, its thick green carpet weighted down by a few farm -villages and the great heavy playthings of an ancient people. As I -looked off before me, an old saying came to my mind: “Egypt is the -Nile.” Clinging tightly to the life-giving river, easily seen in that -clear air for a hundred miles, the slender hand of Egypt looked like a -spotless ribbon of richest green, following every curve of the Father of -Waters. All else to the east and to the west was nothing but an endless -sea of choking yellow sand. - -[Illustration: The Egyptian fellah dwells in a hut of reeds and mud.] - -I climbed down, and spent the afternoon among the ruins at the edge of -the plain. I had examined almost everything before the tourists, worn -out and drooping from a day in the saddle, overtook me, and I went on -before them to the bank of the river. There they shook me off, however. -The guides in charge of the party snarled in anger when I offered to pay -for crossing the river in the company boat. There was nothing else for -me to do, much as I disliked the idea, but to be ferried over with the -donkeys. - -I left next day on the train for Assuan, and reached that place in time -to hear the afternoon concert. I was now nearly six hundred miles from -the last “hotel” for homeless wanderers, and I was again obliged to go -to a native inn and to put up with the companionship of half-savage -Arabians. But my bedroom on the roof was airy, and the bawling of the -priest who stood on the balcony of a Mohammedan church steeple calling -out the hour of prayer awoke me early enough to see the glorious sunrise -of a new day. - -Some miles beyond Assuan lay the new dam, where there was work for any -one who wanted it. Just how far, I could not know; neither did I know -that it was connected with the village by rail. From morning till high -noon I clawed my way along the ragged rocks overhanging the weakened -falls of the river, before I came in sight of the great dam that had -robbed them of their waters. - -This dam was built by the British for the purpose of irrigating the -surrounding country. Among the rocks in what was once the bed of the -Nile sat a dozen wooden shanties for the workmen. But I had arrived too -late. The superintendent of the work told me that the dam had been -completed that very day, and he and his men were going back to England -in the morning. - -I still had left fifty piasters, so I decided to push on up the Nile. - -I came to the end of the railway. But steamers left twice a week from -Shellal, a town above the dam. At the landing a swarm of natives were -loading a rickety old barge, and a native agent was dozing behind the -bars of a home-made ticket-office. - -“Yes,” he yawned, in answer to my question; “there is to-night leaving -steamer. Soon be here. The fare is two hundred fifty piasters.” - -“Two hundred!” I gasped. “Why, that must be first-class.” - -“Yes, very first-class. But gentleman not wish travel second-class?” - -“Certainly not. Give me a third-class ticket.” - -The Egyptian jumped to his feet and stared at me through the bars. - -“What say gentleman? Third-class! No! No! Not go third-class. -Second-class one hundred thirty piasters very poor.” - -“But there is a third-class, isn’t there?” - -“Third-class go. Forty piasters. But only for Arabs. White man never go -third-class. Not give food, not give sleep, not ride on steamer; ride on -barge there, tied to steamer with string. All gentlemen telling me must -have European food. Gentlemen not sleep with boxes and horses on barge? -Very Arab; very bad smell.” - -“Yes, I know; but give me a third-class ticket,” I interrupted, counting -out forty piasters. - -The native blinked, sat down sadly on his stool, and with a sigh reached -for a ticket. Suddenly his face lighted up, and he pushed my money back -to me. - -“If white man go third-class,” he crowed, “must have pass. Not can sell -ticket without.” - -“But how can I get a pass?” - -“There is living English colonel with fort the other side of Assuan. Can -get pass from him.” - -I hurried away to the railroad station. The fare to Assuan was a few -cents, and one train went each way during the afternoon. But it made the -up trip first! I struck out on foot down the railroad, raced through -Assuan, and tore my way to the fort, which was three miles below the -village. A squad of black men dressed in khaki uniforms flourished their -bayonets uncomfortably near my ribs. I bawled out my errand in Arabic, -and an officer waved the guard aside. - -“The colonel is sleeping now,” he said; “come this evening.” - -“But I want a pass for this evening’s steamer.” - -“We cannot wake the colonel.” - -“Is there no one else who can sign the order?” - -“Only the colonel. Come this evening.” - -Pass or no pass, I would not be cheated out of a journey into the -Soudan. I threw my knapsack over my shoulder again, and pranced off for -the third time on the ten-mile course between Assuan and Shellal. Night -was falling as I rushed through Assuan. When I stepped aside to let the -down train pass, my legs wabbled under me like two rubber tires from -which half the air had escaped. The screech of a steamboat whistle -resounded through the Nile valley as I came in sight of the lights of -Shellal. I broke into a run, falling now and then on the uneven ground. - -The sky was clear, but there was no moon, and the night was black in -spite of the stars. The deck-hands were already casting off the shore -lines of the barge, and the steamer was churning the shallow water. I -pulled off my coat, threw it over my head after the fashion in which the -Egyptian fellah wears his gown after nightfall, and dashed toward the -ticket office. - -[Illustration: Soudan steamer on the Nile: A Soudanese cavalry soldier -with whom I shared a blanket on the way up to Wady Haifa.] - -“A ticket to Wady Haifa,” I gasped in Arabic, trying to imitate the -timid tone of the Egyptian peasant. - -For once, I saw a native hurry. The agent glanced at the money, snatched -a ticket, and thrust it through the bars, crying: “Hurry up; the boat is -go—” But the white hand that clutched the ticket showed him who I was. -He sprang to the door with a howl: “Stop! It’s the faranchee! Come -back—” - -I caught up my knapsack as I ran, made a flying leap at the slowly -moving barge, and landed on all fours under the feet of a troop of -horses. - -An Arab who stood grinning at me as I picked myself up seemed to be the -only man on the craft who had noticed how suddenly I had boarded the -vessel. He was dressed in native clothes, save for a tightly buttoned -khaki jacket which he wore over his gown. His legs were bare, his feet -thrust into red slippers. About his head was wound a large turban of red -and white checks: on each cheek were the scars of three long gashes; in -the top of his right ear hung a large silver ring. - -The scars and ring showed him to be a Nubian; the jacket, an officer of -cavalry; the bridle in his hand showed him to be care-taker of the -horses; and of course his name was Maghmood! - -We became great chums, Maghmood and I, before the journey ended. By -night we shared the same blanket; by day he would have divided the lunch -in his saddle-bag with me had I been without food. But the black men who -trooped down to each landing with baskets of native food kept me -supplied with all I needed. Maghmood told me tales of the time he was in -the battle-field with Kitchener, in a clear-cut Arabic that even a -_faranchee_ could understand; and, except for the five periods each day -when he stood barefoot at his prayers, he was as pleasant a companion as -any one from the Western world could have been. - -When morning broke I climbed a rickety ladder to the upper deck. It was -so closely packed from rail to rail with Arabs huddled together that a -poodle could not have found room to sit on his haunches. I climbed still -higher, and came out upon the roof of the barge. No one else was there. -From that height I could view the vast moving picture of the Nile. - -[Illustration: Arab passengers on the Nile steamer. Except when saying -their prayers, they scarcely move once a day.] - -There was nothing growing on its banks. The fertile strips of green fed -by the dippers and the squawking waterwheels had been left behind. -Except for a few tiny oases, the desert had pushed its way to the very -water’s edge, here sloping down in beaches of the softest sand, there -falling sheer into the stream in rugged, rocky cliffs. Yet somewhere in -this yellow wilderness a hardy people found a living. Now and then a -dark-faced peasant waved a hand or a tattered flag from the shore, and -the steamer ran her nose high up on the beach to pick up the bale of -produce that he rolled down the slope. At every landing a troop of dark -barbarians sprang up from a sandy nowhere, making in the gorgeous -sunlight wild-looking shadows as black as their leathery skins. - -We tied up at Wady Haifa after nightfall. I landed the next morning. In -two days I saw everything there was to see in Wady Haifa, and decided to -return to Cairo. - -On a Monday morning I boarded the steamer _Cleopatra_ as a deck -passenger, and drifted lazily down the Nile for five days, landing here -and there with the tourists of the upper deck to visit a temple or a mud -village. In Cairo, at the Asile Rudolph, Captain Stevenson welcomed me -with open arms. A day later I called on the superintendent of the -railway, and, armed with a pass to Port Said, bade the capital farewell. - - - - - CHAPTER XIV - STEALING A MARCH ON THE FAR EAST - - -All through that month of February in Cairo I studied the posters of the -steamship companies to learn what ships were sailing eastward; for I -hoped to get work on one of them as a sailor, and continue my trip -around the world. While I was in the train on my way to Port Said, I saw -four giant steamers gliding southward through the canal, so close that I -could read from my window the books in the hands of the passengers under -the awnings. How fortunate those people seemed to me! They were already -on their way east, while I was still crawling slowly along the edge of -the desert. Gladly would I have exchanged places with the dirtiest -workman on board. - -I wanted to go to Bombay; but I should have been glad to escape from -that neck of sand in almost any direction. Not that there weren’t ships -enough—they passed the canal in hundreds every week. But their sailors -were yellow men or brown, and they anchored well out in the middle of -the stream, where a white sailor might not go to ask for work. - -All this I thought of as I crawled through the African desert behind a -wheezing locomotive. But one solemn promise I made to myself before the -first hut of Port Said bobbed up across the sand—that I would escape -from this place somehow, on something, be it coal-barge or raft, before -its streets and alleys became such eye-sores as had once those of -Marseilles. - -I reached Port Said. After dinner I hurried away to the shipping -quarter. As I had expected, no sailors were wanted. I went to ask advice -of the American consul. - -“A man without money in this place,” he said, “is here to stay, I fear. -We haven’t signed on a sailor since I was sent here. If you ever make a -get-away, it will be by hiding on one of the steamers. I can’t advise -you to do it, of course. But if I were in your shoes I’d stow away on -the first boat homeward bound, and do it at once, before summer comes -along and sends you to the hospital.” - -Early the next morning I saw a great steamer nosing her way among the -smaller boats that swarmed about the mouth of the canal. She looked so -much like the _Warwickshire_ that I half expected to see my former -mess-mates peering over her rail. I made out the name on her bow as she -dropped anchor in the middle of the canal. Then I turned to a near-by -poster to find out more about her. - -“_S. S. Worcestershire_,” ran the notice. “Largest, fastest steamer -sailing from England to British Burma. First-class passengers only. Fare -to Colombo, one hundred eighty dollars.” - -A sister ship of the vessel that had brought me from Marseilles! The -very sight of her made me think of the prime roasts we had had while -crossing the Mediterranean. I hurried down to the landing-stage, and -spoke to the officers as they left the ship with the tourists for a run -ashore. - -“Full up, Jack,” answered one of them. - -I thought of the advice the American consul had given me. A better craft -to hide on would never drop anchor in the canal. Bah! I could never get -on board. The blackest night could not hide such rags as mine! Besides, -the steamer was sure to load on coal and be gone within a couple of -hours. - -A native fair was going on at the far end of town. I became so -interested in watching the snake-charmers and dancers that I soon forgot -all about the ship I had seen that morning. - -Darkness was falling when I strolled back toward the harbor. At the shop -where mutton sold cheaply I stopped for supper; but the keeper had put -up his shutters. Hungrily I wandered on toward the main street that -bordered the canal, and stopped stock-still in astonishment. There -before me, cutting off the view of the buildings across the canal, the -vast bulk of the _Worcestershire_ was still standing. - -What a chance—if I could once get on board! Perhaps I might! But an -official would be sure to halt me if I tried to do it. I must have some -good excuse to offer him for being rowed out to the steamer. If only I -had something to be delivered on board: a basket of fruit, or—exactly!—a -letter of introduction. - -Breathlessly I dashed into the reading-room of the Catholic Sailors’ -Home, snatched a sheet of paper and an envelope, and scribbled a letter -asking for work of any kind on board the ship. Then I sealed the -envelope and addressed it in a bold hand to the chief steward of the -ship. - -But my knapsack? Certainly I could not carry that on board! I dumped its -contents on the floor, snatched my camera and papers, and thrust them -into an inside pocket. There was nothing else. With my faded clothes in -the shadow, I would look like one of the passengers. Many an English -lord, traveling in the East, wears a cap after nightfall. - -In high excitement I rushed down to the dock. The _Worcestershire_ was -still there. Two Arab boatmen squatted under a torch on one corner of -the landing-place, waiting to row passengers out to the steamer. They -charged sixpence. I had three. It cost me some precious moments to beat -down one of them. He stepped into his boat at last, and pushed off -cautiously toward the row of lighted port-holes. - -As we drew near the steamer I made out a figure in uniform on the lowest -step of the ship’s ladder. The game was lost! I certainly could not pass -this bridge officer. - -My oarsman swung his boat against the ladder with a sweep of the oar. I -held up the note. - -“Will you kindly deliver this to the chief steward?” I asked. “The -writer wants an answer before the ship leaves.” - -“I really haven’t time,” apologized the mate. “I’ve an errand ashore, -and we leave in fifteen minutes. You can run up with it yourself, -though. Here, boatman, row me to the landing.” - -I sprang up the ladder. Except for several East Indian workmen who -jumped aside as I appeared, there was no one on the deck. From somewhere -below came the sound of waltz music and the laughter of merry people. I -strolled carelessly around to the other side of the deck, and walked aft -in the shadow of the upper cabins. For some moments I stood alone in the -darkness, gazing at the streaks of light from the lower port-holes -sparkling in the canal. Then a step sounded behind me—a heavy British -step that came toward me for several paces, and then halted. One could -almost tell by his walk that he was an officer of the ship; one could -certainly hear it in the gruff “Ahem!” with which he cleared his throat. -I waited in fear and trembling. - -A minute passed, then another. I turned my head, inch by inch, and -peered over my shoulder. In the dim light stood a man in faultless -evening dress, gazing at me through the darkness between us. His dress -looked like that of a passenger, but the very set of his feet on the -deck proved that he was no landsman. It was the captain himself, surely! -What under officer would dare appear out of uniform on a voyage? - -I turned away my head again, determined to bear the coming blow bravely. -The dreaded being cleared his throat once more, stepped nearer, and -stood for a moment without speaking. Then a hand touched me lightly on -the sleeve. - -“Beg pahdon, sir,” murmured a very polite voice; “beg pahdon, sir, but -’ave you ’ad dinner yet? The other gentlemen’s h’ all been served, sir.” - -I swallowed my throat and turned around, laying a hand over the place -where my necktie should have been. - -“I am not a passenger, my man,” I replied scornfully; “I have a message -for the chief steward.” - -The servant stretched out his hand. - -“Oh, I cawn’t send it, you know,” I objected. “I must deliver it myself, -for it requires an answer before the ship leaves.” - -“Goodness, you can’t see _’im_,” gasped the Briton; “we’re givin’ a -dance, and ’e’s in the ball-room.” - -The sound of our voices had attracted the quartermaster on duty. Behind -him appeared a young steward. - -“You’d best get ashore quick,” said the sailor; “we’re only waitin’ for -the fourth mate. Best call a boatman or you’ll get carried off.” - -“Really!” I cried, looking anxiously about me. “But I must have an -answer, you know!” - -“I couldn’t disturb _’im_,” wheezed the older steward. - -“Well, show me where he is,” I argued. - -“Now, we’re off in a couple o’ winks,” warned the quartermaster. - -“’Ere, mate,” said the youth; “I’ll take you down.” - -I followed him to the deck below, and along a lighted passageway. My -make-up would never stand the bright glare of a ball-room. I thrust the -note into the hands of my guide. - -“Be sure to bring me the answer,” I cautioned. - -He pushed his way through a group of his mess-mates and disappeared into -the drawing-room. A moment later he returned with the answer I had -expected. - -“So you’re on the beach?” he grinned. “’Ard luck. The chief says he has -enough sailors, and the company rules don’t allow ’im to take on a man -to work ’is passage. S’y, you’ve made a mistake anyway, though, ayn’t -you? We’re not ’omeward bound; we’re going out. You’d best rustle it and -get ashore.” - -He turned into the cook-room of the ship. Never had I dared to hope that -he would let me out of his sight before I left. His carelessness was -due, probably, to his certainty that I had “made a mistake.” I dashed -out of the passageway as if fearful of being carried off; but, once -hidden in the kindly night, I paused to peer about me. - -Where was there a good place to hide? Inside a mattress in the steerage? -But there was no steerage. The ship was first-class only. Down in the -hold, where the cargo was stored? The doors covering the stairways -leading to it were all nailed down. In the coal-bunkers? That would do -very well in the depth of winter, but would be sure death in the heat of -this country. In the forecastle, where the sailors live? Sure to be -found in a few hours by tattletale natives. In the chain-locker? The -anchor and chain might be dropped anywhere in the canal, and I should be -dragged piecemeal through the hawse-hole. - -Still thinking rapidly, I climbed to the spot where I had first been -seen. From the starboard side, forward, came the voice of the fourth -mate, clambering on board. In a few moments officers and men would be -flocking up from below. Noiselessly I sprang up the ladder to the -highest deck. There was no one in sight. I crept to the nearest -life-boat, and dragged myself along the edge that hung well out over the -canal. I tugged at the canvas cover on the boat for a minute that seemed -a century before I succeeded in making an opening. When it had loosened -for a space of four feet, I thrust my head through. Inch by inch, I -squirmed in, fearful of making the slightest noise. Only my feet -remained outside when my hand struck an oar inside the boat. Its rattle -could have been heard in Cairo. Drenched with perspiration, I waited for -my discoverer. But the music, it seemed, held the attention of everybody -on the ship. I drew in my feet by doubling up like a pocket-knife, and, -thrusting a hand through the opening fastened the canvas cover back in -place. - -The space inside was too small. Seats, kegs, oars, and boat-hooks left -me barely room to stretch out on my back without touching the canvas -above me. Two officers brushed by, and called out their orders within -six feet of me. I heard the rattle of the anchor-chain, and knew that -the long trip through the canal had begun. - -When I could breathe without opening my mouth at every gasp, I was -forced to remember that I had had nothing to eat that afternoon. Within -an hour my hunger was forgotten. The sharp edge of a keg under my back, -the oars under my hips, the seat that my shoulders barely reached, began -to cut into my flesh, sending sharp pains through every limb. I dared -not move for fear of sending some unseen article clattering. Worst of -all, there was hardly room for my head, while I kept my neck strained to -the utmost. The tip of my nose touched the canvas. To have stirred that -ever so slightly would have landed me back on shore at the first canal -station. - -The position grew more painful hour by hour; but after some time my body -grew numb and I sank into a half-conscious state that was not sleeping. - -Daylight did not help matters, though in the sunshine that filtered -through the canvas I could see the objects about me. There came the -jabbering of strange tongues as the sailors quarreled over their work on -the deck. Now and then there was a shout from a canal station that we -were passing. Passengers climbing to the upper deck brushed against the -life-boat as they took their walks. From time to time I heard them -talking—telling what they were going to do when they reached India. - -It became so hot that all but the officers returned to the shade below. -By noon the Egyptian sun, pouring down upon the canvas, had turned my -hiding-place into an oven. A raging thirst had long since silenced my -hunger. In the early afternoon, as I lay motionless, there sounded a -splash of water close at hand. Two natives had been sent to wash the -life-boat. For an hour they dashed bucketful after bucketful against it, -splashing, now and then, even the canvas over my head. - -The gong had just sounded for afternoon tea when the ship began to rock -slightly. Then came a faint sound of waves breaking against her side. A -light breeze moved the canvas ever so little, and the throb of the -engines became louder. Had we passed out of the canal? I was about to -tear at the canvas and bellow for water. But had we really left the Suez -Canal behind? Was this, perhaps, only the Bitter Lakes? Or, if we had -reached the Red Sea, the pilot might still be on board! To be set ashore -now would mean an endless tramp back through the burning desert to Port -Said. - -I held myself quiet, and listened intently for any word that might show -me our whereabouts. None came, but the setting sun and falling darkness -brought coolness. The ship did not pitch as it did in the open sea. I -made up my mind to wait a little longer. - -With night the passengers came again, to lean against my boat and tell -their secrets. A dozen schemes, ranging from a plan for making -Christians of all the Indias to the arrangement of a tiger hunt in the -Assam hills, were told within my hearing during that motionless evening. -But when music sounded from below they left the deck deserted, and I -settled down to listen to the faint tread of the second mate, who paced -the bridge above me. - -The night wore on. Less fearful, now, of being discovered, I moved, for -the first time in thirty hours, and, rolling slowly on my side, fell -asleep. It was broad daylight when I awoke to the sounding of two bells. -The ship was rolling and pitching, now, in a way that indicated plainly -that we were on the open sea. I tugged at the canvas cover and peered -out. My muscles were so stiff that I could not move for some moments. -Even when I had wormed myself out, I came near losing my grip on the -edge of the boat before my feet touched the rail. Once on deck, I waited -to be discovered. No land-lubber could have mistaken me for a passenger -now. - -Calmly I walked toward the stairway, and climbed down to the second -deck. A score of bare-legged brown men were “washing down.” Near them, -their overseer, in all the glory of embroidered jacket and rubber boots, -strutted back and forth, fumbling at a silver chain about his neck. I -strolled by them. The low-caste fellows sprang out of my way like -startled cats; their overseer gazed at me with an uncertain smile. If -they were surprised they did not show it. Probably they were not. What -was it to them if a _sahib_ (white man) chose to turn out in a ragged -hunting costume in the early morning? Stranger things than that they had -seen among these queer beings with white skins. For some time I paced -the deck without catching sight of a white face. At last a small son of -Britain clambered unsteadily up the stairway, clinging tightly to a pot -of tea. - -“Here, boy,” I called. “Who’s on the bridge—the mate?” - -“Yes, sir,” stammered the boy, sidling away; “the mite, sir.” - -“Well, tell him there’s a stowaway on board.” - -“W’at’s that, sir? You see, sir, I’m a new cabin-boy, on me first trip—” - -“And you don’t know what a stowaway is, eh?” - -“No, sir.” - -“If you’ll run along and tell the mate, you’ll find out soon enough.” - -The boy mounted to the upper deck, clutching now and then at the rail. -Judging from the grin on his face as he came running back, he had added -a new word to his vocabulary. - -“The mite says for you to come up on the bridge quick. ’E’s bloomin’ -mad.” - -I climbed again to the hurricane-deck. The mate’s anger had so overcome -him that he had left his post and waited for me at the foot of the -bridge-ladder. He was burly and heavy-jawed, bare-headed, bare-footed, -his hairy chest showing, his duck trousers rolled up to his knees, and -his thick tangle of disordered hair waving in the wind. With a ferocious -scowl and set jaw, he glared at me in silence. - -“I’m a sailor, sir,” I began. “I was on the beach in Port Said. I’m -sorry, sir, but I had to get away—” - -The mate gave no other sign of having heard than to push his heavy jaw -farther out. - -“There was no chance to sign on a ship there, sir. Not a man shipped in -months, sir, and it’s a tough place to be on the beach—” - -“What has that got to do with me and my ship!” roared the officer, -springing several yards into the air, and coming down to shake his -sledge-hammer fist under my nose. “I’ll give you six months for this -directly we get to Colombo. You’ll stow away on my ship, will you? Get -down off this deck before I brain you with this bucket!” - -Not certain as to what part of the _Worcestershire_ he wanted me to go, -I started forward. Another bellow brought me to a halt. - -“You—” But never mind what words he used. The new order was that I was -to wait in the waist until the captain had seen me. - -I went down, snatched a swallow of lukewarm water at the pump, and -leaned against the side of the ship. Too hungry to be greatly terrified, -I had already taken new heart at the mate’s words. “Colombo,” he had -said. Until then I had feared that the _Worcestershire_, like most ships -bound for East India, would put in at Aden in Arabia, and that I would -be set ashore there. - -An hour, two hours, three hours, I stood in the waist, returning the -stares of everybody on board, Hindu or English, who passed by me. With -the sounding of eight bells a steward came by with a can of coffee. Once -started, an endless procession of bacon, steaks, and ragoûts filed by -under my nose. It was almost more than I could bear. To snatch at one of -the pans would have been my undoing. I thrust my head over the railing, -where the sea breezes blew, and stared at the sand billows on the -Arabian coast. Not until the last of the dishes had passed by did I dare -to turn around once more. - -“Peggy,” the steward’s cook, peered cautiously out upon me. “Eh, mite,” -he whispered; “’ad anything to eat yet?” - -“Not lately.” - -“Well, come inside. There’s a pan o’ scow left to dump.” - -Very little of it was dumped that morning. - -I had barely returned to my place when four officers came down a ladder -to the waist. They were led by the mate, carefully dressed now in a -snow-white uniform. His language, too, had improved. A “sir” falling -from his lips showed me which of his companions was the captain. My -hopes rose at once at sight of the latter. He was a very different sort -of man from his first officer. Small, neat, and quick of movement, his -iron-gray hair gave setting to a face that showed both kindliness and -strength. I knew I should be treated with fairness. - -The officers pretended they didn’t see me. They mounted the ladder and -strolled slowly along the deck, examining as they went. Peggy came to -the door of the kitchen with the dish-cloth in his hands. - -“Morning h’inspection,” he explained in a husky whisper. “They’ll be -back here directly they’ve looked over the other side. The little -feller’s the captain. ’E’s all right.” - -“Hope he lives out the voyage,” I muttered. - -“The fat jolly chap’s the chief steward,” went on Peggy. “Best man on -the ship. The long un’s the doctor.” - -The officers continued examining the ship for things that needed -repairing. They came back toward the waist, and halted several times -within a few feet of me to look over some part of the ship’s machinery -or furnishings. When the scuppers had been ordered cleaned and the pump -had been pronounced in proper condition, the mate turned to the captain -and pointed angrily at me: - -“There he is, sir.” - -“Ah,” said the captain. “What was your object, young man, in stowing -yourself away on this vessel?” - -I began the story I had tried to tell the first officer. The captain -heard it all without interrupting me. - -“Yes, I know,” he said, when I had finished. “Port Said is a very -unfortunate place in which to be left without money. But why did you not -come on board and ask permission to work your passage?” - -“I did, sir!” I cried. “That’s just what I did! I brought a letter to -the chief steward. That’s how I came on board, sir.” - -“That’s so!” put in the “fat jolly chap”; “he sent a note to me in the -drawing-room. But I sent back word that we had all the men we needed.” - -“I see,” replied the captain thoughtfully. “You’re the first man that -ever stowed away on a vessel under my command,” he went on almost sadly. -“You make yourself liable to severe punishment, you know?” - -“I’d put him in irons and send him up, sir,” burst out the mate. - -“N—no,” returned the captain; “that wouldn’t be right, Dick. You know -Port Said. But you know you will have to work on the voyage,” he added, -turning to me. - -“Why, certainly, sir,” I cried, suddenly beginning to fear that he might -see through my coat the camera that contained a likeness of his ship. - -“You told the chief officer you were a sailor, I believe?” - -“A. B., sir—and steward.” - -“Have you anything you can put him at, Chester?” he asked the steward. - -“I’ve more men than I can use now,” replied the steward. - -“Beg pardon, sir,” put in the mate; “but the chief engineer says he can -use an extra man down below.” - -He was a kindly fellow, was the mate. He wanted to force me to shovel -coal into the furnace. Not only was the place an oven in that climate, -but the Hindu firemen would have made life very disagreeable for me had -I been sent to work among them. - -“No, no,” answered the commander. “The man is a sailor and a steward; he -is not a stoker. You had better take him on deck with you, Dick.” - -He started up the ladder. - -“Huh,” muttered the mate, “I know what I’d do with him if I was in -command.” - -“Take him on board with you, Dick,” repeated the captain, from above. -“Get something to eat now, my man, and report to the chief officer, -forward, when you have finished.” - -“I’ll send you down a couple of cotton suits,” whispered the steward, -before he followed the captain up the ladder; “you’ll die with that -outfit on.” - -I stayed in the kitchen long enough to eat breakfast, and then hurried -forward. The mate, scowling, began asking me question after question as -rapidly as he could. Perhaps he wanted to find out whether I had told -the truth when I said I had been a sailor. - -“Box the compass,” he snarled suddenly. - -I did so. For an hour he gave me a severe examination. - -“Umph!” he growled at last. “Take that holy-stone with the handle”—it -weighed a good thirty pounds—“and go to polishing the poop. You’ll work -every day from six in the morning till seven at night, with a half-hour -off for your meals. From four to six in the morning, and from eight to -ten at night, you’ll keep watch in the crow’s-nest, and save us two -natives. On Sunday you’ll keep watch from four to eight, nine to twelve, -two to seven, and eight to ten. Look lively now, and see that the poop -begins to shine before I get there.” - -From that time on, the mate rarely gave me a word. Without a break I -toiled at the task he had given me as long as the voyage lasted. The -holy-stone took on great weight, but the view I had from the crow’s-nest -of every tropical sunrise and sunset I would not have exchanged for a -seat at the captain’s table. My mess-mates were good-hearted, and the -chief steward was friendly and kind. But the Hindu crew tried to make -life unpleasant for me. Few were the moments when a group of the brown -rascals were not hovering about me, chattering like apes and grinning -impudently. The proudest man on board was the overseer; for it was -through him that the mate sent me his orders. Since the days when he -rolled naked and unashamed on the sand floor of his native hut, he had -dreamed of no greater happiness than the power to give commands to a -_sahib_. - -Ten days the _Worcestershire_ steamed on through a motionless sea, under -a sun that became more torrid every hour. The kitchen became too hot to -live in. Men who had waded through the snow on the docks of Liverpool -two weeks before took to sleeping on the deck in the thinnest of -clothing. On the eleventh evening we were certain that there was an odor -of land in the air. Before morning broke I had climbed again to the -crow’s-nest. With the first gray streak of dawn I could see the dim -outline of a low mountain range, colored by the gleam of sunrise behind -it. Slowly the mountains faded from view as the lowlands beneath them -rose up to greet us. - -By eight bells we could see a score of naked black-brown islanders -paddling boldly seaward in their queer outrigger canoes. The -_Worcestershire_ glided past a far-reaching break-water, and, steaming -among a school of smaller boats and vessels, rode to an anchorage in the -center of the harbor. A crowd swarmed on board, and in the rush and -noise I left my stone and hurried below to pack my “shore bundle.” -Through the kindness of the chief steward, I was well supplied with -cotton suits. I returned to the captain, got his permission to leave, -tossed my bundle into the company launch, and, with one English -half-penny jingleless in my pocket, set foot on the green island of -Ceylon. - - - - - CHAPTER XV - IN THE LAND OF THE WANDERING PRINCE - - -The scenery that met my gaze as I moved through the streets of Colombo -seemed much like that of some great painting. The golden sunshine, the -rich green, the dark bodies moving here and there among figures clad in -snowy white, were more colorful than I had ever imagined. At noonday the -fiery sun beat down on me so unmercifully that I sought shelter in a -neighboring park. There I dreamed away my first day’s freedom from the -holy-stone. A native runner awoke me toward nightfall, and thrust into -my hands a card. On it was printed an advertisement of a “Sailors’ -Boarding House of Colombo, Proprietor Almeida.” I found it easily. It -was a two-story building, with stone floor, but otherwise of the -lightest wooden material. The dining-room, in the center of the -building, had no roof. Narrow, windowless rooms in the second story -faced this open space. These housed the sailors who stayed there. - -Almeida, who kept the boarding-house, was a Singhalese who belonged to a -higher class or caste than certain other natives of Ceylon. In proof of -this he wore tiny pearl earrings and a huge circle comb. His hair was -gray, and being thin did not hold the comb in position very long at a -time. It dropped on the floor behind him so often that he had a little -brown boy follow him about all day with nothing else to do but to pick -it up for him. Almeida wore a white silk jacket decorated with red braid -and glistening brass buttons, and a skirt of the gayest plaid. His feet -were bare, and his toes spread out so that they pointed in five -different directions. - -I signed a note promising to pay for my room and board after I had -earned the money, and was made a guest in the Sailors’ Boarding House. -Four white men and as many black leaned their elbows on the board used -for a table, and waited for the evening meal. In a cave near by, two -brown men were sitting on their heels, stirring something in a kettle -over a fire of sticks. After a time they ceased stirring, and began -chattering like monkeys in high, squeaky voices. Suddenly they became -silent, dashed through the smoke in the cave, and dragged the steaming -kettle forth into the dining-room. One of them scooped out the steaming -rice and filled our plates. The younger ran back into the smoky cave and -snatched up a smaller pot containing chopped fish. Besides this, we had -bananas and drinking water that was saltish, discolored, and lukewarm. - -The cooks gave us each a tin spoon, then filled a battered basin with -rice, and, squatting on their heels, began eating their own supper with -their fingers. The wick that floated in a bottle of oil lighted up only -one corner of the table, and the rising moon, falling upon the naked -figures, cast strange shadows across the uneven floor. - -I laid my head on a hand to show that I was getting sleepy, and one of -the cooks led the way to the second story and into one of the narrow -rooms. It was furnished with three low wooden tables having queerly -curved legs. I asked for my bed. But the cook spoke no English, and I -sat down and waited for my room-mates. - -A long hour afterward two white men stumbled up the stairs. The first -carried a candle high above his head. He was lean, gray-haired, and -clean-shaven. The other man was a heavy, yellow-haired Swede. - -“Oho! Ole,” grinned the older man, “here’s a new bunkie. Why don’t you -turn in, mate?” - -“I haven’t found my bed yet,” I answered. - -[Illustration: A Singhalese woman stops often to give her children a -bath.] - -“Your bed!” cried the newcomer. “Why, you’re sitting on it.” - -I followed the example of the others—undressed and put on a thin garment -that I found hanging over my “bed.” Then, using my bundle of clothing -for a pillow, I lay down upon the table and sweated out the night. - -Over the tea, bananas, and cakes of ground cocoanut that we had for -breakfast, we told each other how we happened to be in that part of the -world. The Swede was merely a sailor. But the older man was an Irishman -named John Askins, once a professor in the Dublin University, who had -been obliged to give up his work because of poor health. - -Before many days had passed I had found work. An Englishman had -advertised for a carpenter, and for three days following I superintended -the labors of a band of coolies in laying a hardwood floor in his -bungalow. - -After the work was finished I set off early one morning for a trip into -the interior of the island. At about noon I reached the open country. -Tropical plant life ran wild over all the land. In the black shadows -swarmed naked human beings. But the highway was wide, as well built as -those in Europe, and closely bordered on both sides by thick forests of -towering palm trees. Here and there bands of coolies repaired the -roadway or fought back the war-like vegetation with ax-like knives. - -Clumsy, heavy-wheeled carts, covered like a gypsy wagon, creaked slowly -by behind humped oxen. At first sight the roof seemed made of canvas, -but as the vehicle came nearer I saw that it was made of thousands of -leaves sewn together. Under it the scrawny driver grinned cheerily and -mumbled some strange words of greeting. The glare of sunshine was -dazzling; a wrist uncovered for a moment was burned as red as if it had -been branded, and my face shone browner in the mirror of each passing -stream. - -In the forest there were the slim bamboo, the broad-leafed banana tree, -and most of all the cocoanut-palm. Natives armed with heavy knives -clasped the trees like monkeys and walked up the slender trunks. Then, -hiding themselves in the bunch of leaves sixty feet above, they chopped -off the nuts, which struck the soft spongy earth and rebounded high into -the air. All through the forest sounded this dull, muffled thump, thump, -thump of falling cocoanuts. - -In the middle of the afternoon, as I lay resting on a grassy slope under -shady palms, I heard a crackling of twigs; and, turning around, I met a -pair of eyes peering wonderingly at me. I nodded encouragingly. A -native, dressed in a ribbon and a tangle of oily hair, stepped from -behind a great drooping banana leaf and came slowly and timidly toward -me. Behind him tiptoed about twenty naked men and boys. They moved -toward me smilingly like stage dancers, but pausing often to make signs -meant to encourage one another. How different was their behavior from -that of the quarrelsome Arab! It seemed as if a harsh word or cross look -on my part would send these simple countrymen scampering away through -the forest. A white man is a tin god in Ceylon. - -When they saw that I was not ill-natured, the natives gurgled some words -of greeting and squatted in a half-circle at the foot of the slope on -which I lay. We chatted in the language of signs. They seemed to be -interested in my pipe. When it had burned out I turned it over to the -leader. He passed it on to his companions. To my horror, they began -testing the strange thing by thrusting the stem half way down their -throats and sucking fiercely at it. After that they fell to examining -the articles in my knapsack. When I took my camera from them, they -begged me with tears in their eyes to allow them to open it. To turn -their attention from it I began inquiring about their tools and -betel-nut pouches. They offered to give me every article that I asked to -see; and then sneaked round behind me to carry off the gift while I was -examining another. - -I rose to continue my way, but the natives burst out begging me to stay, -and, sending three boys on some unknown errand, squatted about me again -and fell to preparing new chews of betel-nuts. The boys soon returned, -one carrying a jack-fruit, another a bunch of bananas, and the third -swinging three green cocoanuts by their rope-like stems. The leader laid -the gifts, one after another, at my feet. Two men with jungle knives -sprang forward, and, while one hacked at the hard jack-fruit, the other -caught up a cocoanut, chopped off the top with one stroke, and invited -me to drink. The milk was cool and refreshing, but the meat of the green -nut was as tough as a leather strap. The jack-fruit, which looked much -like a watermelon, was at last split into long slices. These in turn -split sidewise into dozens of parts like those of an orange. The meat -itself was white and rather tasteless. The bananas were small, but -delicious. When I had sampled each of the gifts, I distributed them -among the givers and turned down to the highway. - -Night had no terrors for me in Ceylon. When it grew too dark for -tramping, I had only to lie down on the grass under my feet, sleep -peacefully in the warm breeze that blew over me, and rise refreshed with -the new dawn. - -I was twenty miles from the city when I rose from my first forest -lodging and set out on my second day’s tramp before the country people -were astir. Now and then the road left the encircling palm trees and -crossed a small rolling plain. I came upon little villages with every -mile—rambling two-row hamlets of bamboo. Between them lonely cottages -with roofs made of grasses and reeds peeped from beneath the trees. - -As the sun climbed higher, grinning groups of countrymen pattered by. -Half the houses along the way offered the fruits of the forest and tea -and cocoanut cakes for sale. Before every hut, however wretched, stood -an earthenware vessel of water, beside which hung, for use as a -drinking-vessel, the half of a cocoanut-shell. So I did not have to go -hungry or thirsty long at a time. - -Bathing seemed to be the national sport of Ceylon. Every stream I passed -was alive with splashing natives. Mothers, walking from one village to -another, halted at every stream to roll a banana leaf into a cone-shaped -bucket and pour gallons of water on their sputtering babies, crouched -naked on the bank. Travelers on foot or by oxcart took a dip every hour -or so along the way. The farmer left his plowing often to plunge into -the nearest water-hole. His wife, instead of calling on her neighbors, -met them at the brook, and gossiped with them as she splashed about in -cool and comfort. The men, wearing only a loin-cloth, paid no attention -to their clothing. The women, wound from their knees to their arms in -sheets of snowy white, came out of the water, and after turning -themselves round and round in the blazing sunshine, marched home in dry -garments. - -On the third day I came to foot-hills covered with tea plantations. -Beyond these hills the highway climbed up some low mountains. At the top -I paused at a little wayside shop built of rubbish picked up in the -forest. A board, stretched like a counter across the open doorway, was -heavily laden with bananas. Near at hand a brown woman was spreading out -grain with her feet. Unfortunately, I had forgotten to ask my friends at -the Sailors’ Boarding House the Singhalese words for “How much?” I -pointed at the fruit and tossed on the counter a coin. It was a copper -piece worth one and three fourths cents—enough surely, to pay for half a -dozen bananas, I thought. The woman carefully picked up the coin, and, -turning it over and over in her hand, stared at me with wide-open eyes. -Had I been stingy? I was thrusting my hand into my pocket for another -copper, when the woman motioned to me to open my knapsack. Then she -dropped into it three dozen bananas, paused a moment thoughtfully, and -added another bunch. - -[Illustration: The yogi who ate twenty-eight of the bananas at a -sitting.] - -A short distance beyond, I sat down in the shade and began eating the -fruit in order to lighten my burden. An old man, blacker than anybody I -had met that day, came wandering past. A strip of cloth covered with red -and yellow stripes was wrapped round his waist and fell to his knees. -Over his head was folded a sheet of orange color. In each hand he -carried a bundle tied with green vines. The upper part of his face -looked shy. The lower half was totally covered with a heavy tangled -beard deeply streaked with gray. - -He limped painfully to the roadside, and squatted on his heels at the -edge of the shade. Plainly, he too was “on the road.” - -“Have a bite?” I invited, pushing the fruit toward him. - -A child’s voice squeaked within him. Gravely he rose to his feet and -began bowing, expressing his thankfulness in every motion possible -except that of standing on his head. This over, he fell to eating with -both hands so willingly that, with never a pause or a choke, he made -away with twenty-eight bananas. Small wonder he slept awhile in the edge -of the shade before going on. - -I rose to plod on, and he would not be left behind—far behind, that is. -I could not induce him to walk beside me; he pattered always two paces -in the rear. From the motions and signs he made in answer to my -questions, I learned that he was journeying to some place of worship in -the mountains. Two hours beyond our meeting-place, he halted at a branch -road, knelt in the highway, and, before I knew what he was going to do, -pressed a loud kiss on the top of one of my Nazarene slippers. Only a -quick movement on my part saved the other from the same fate. He stood -up slowly, almost sadly, as if he were grieved to part from good -company,—or bananas,—shook the dust of the road out of his beard, and, -turning into the forest-choked path, was gone. - -Night falling over the mountains overtook me just as I came near a -thatched roof at the roadside. The owner took no pay for my lodging, and -the far-off howling of dogs lulled me to sleep. - -With dawn I was off once more. Sunrise waved greetings over the leafy -trees as I entered the ancient city of Kandy. - -Hundreds of years ago this mountain city was the seat of the native -king. To-day the ruler of Ceylon is a bluff Englishman who lives in a -stone mansion within sight of the harbor of Colombo. Nevertheless, a -descendant of the native king still lives in the capital of his -forefathers. But his duties have narrowed down to that of keeping alive -the religion of Gautama, the Buddha, or the wandering prince. - -This prince lived more than twenty-four hundred years ago. He taught -that if men are not very good indeed while living, after death they will -have to live again and again in the shape of some animal, and later of -some human being, until they at last learn to be pure. For thousands of -years the natives of Ceylon and India have followed his teaching. That -explains why they worship animals, and why there are so many classes or -castes of people in India. - -Although Buddha did not consider himself holy, his followers have built -temples in his honor and worshiped him since his death. Hundreds of -years ago, it is said, there was found in Burma one of the teeth of this -prince. This was sent a long distance to the egg-shaped island of -Ceylon, and over it was built the famous “Temple of the Tooth.” It was -this temple that I had come to visit, although I was not sure that I -should be allowed to enter. - -[Illustration: The thatch roof at the roadside, under which I slept on -the second night of my tramp to Kandy.] - -The keeper of the inn where I stopped had two sons who spoke English. -The older was a youth of fifteen. We became friends at once. - -“Have you, I wonder, visited our Temple of the Tooth?” he asked. - -“Outside,” I answered. “Are sahibs allowed to enter?” - -“Surely!” cried the youth. “We are joyed to have white men visit our -temples. To-night we are having a service very important in the Temple -of the Tooth. With my uncle, who keeps the cloth-shop across the way, I -shall go. Will you not forget your religion and honor us by coming?” - -“With pleasure,” I answered. - -Two flaring torches threw fantastic shadows over the chattering crowd of -natives that lifted us bodily up the broad stairway to the outer temple. -At the top of the stairs surged a noisy multitude, each and every one of -them carrying a candle, a bit of cardboard, or the lotus-flower, to lay -in the lap of his favorite statue. From every nook and corner, the image -of the wandering prince looked on with sadness. - -Of all the crowd I alone was shod. I dropped my slippers at the landing, -and, half expecting a stern command to remove my socks, walked into the -brighter light of the interior. - -A whisper arose beside me, and swelled louder as it passed quickly from -mouth to mouth: “Sahib! sahib!” I had dreaded lest my coming should -cause them to turn angrily upon me; but Buddha himself, arriving thus -unexpectedly, could not have won more boisterous welcome. The worshipers -swept down upon me, shrieking gladly. Several thrust into my hands the -blossoms they had meant for Buddha. One pressed upon me a badly rolled -cigar of native make. From every side came candles and matches. - -At the tinkle of a far-off bell the natives fell back, leaving a lane -for our passing. Two priests in yellow robes, smiling and bowing low at -every step, advanced to meet me, and led the way to a balcony -overlooking the lake. - -In the dim light of a corner, three natives in scanty breech-clouts and -great turbans squatted before what appeared to be large baskets. I -remained near them with the priests, and waited for “the service very -important.” - -Suddenly the three in the corner, each grasping two weapons that looked -like clubs, stretched their hands high above their heads and brought -them down with a crash that made me jump to my feet. What I had taken -for baskets were tom-toms! Without losing a single beat, the drummers -began to blow vigorously on long pipes from which came a sad wailing. I -spoke no more with my guide, for the “musicians” made noise that drowned -all other sounds for the next two hours. - -I marched on with the monks, who had given me a place of honor in their -ranks, from one statue to another. Behind us surged a murmuring -multitude who fell on their knees again and again. No one sat during the -service, and there was nothing like a sermon. The priests spoke only to -the dreamy-eyed Buddhas. - -It was late when the service ended. The boiler-factory music ceased as -suddenly as it had begun, the worshipers poured forth into the soft -night, and I was left alone with my guides and a dozen priests. - -“See,” whispered the innkeeper’s son. “You are honored. The head man of -the temple comes.” - -An aged father drew near slowly. In outward appearance he looked exactly -like the other priests. A brilliant yellow robe was his only garment. -His head was shaved; his arms, right shoulder, and feet were bare. -Having joined the group, he studied me a moment in silence, then said -something to me in his native language. - -“He is asking if you are liking to see the sacred tooth?” translated my -guide. - -I bowed my thanks. The high priest led the way to the innermost room of -the temple. In the center of this room he halted, fell on his knees, -and, muttering a prayer, touched his forehead to the stone floor three -times. The attendant priests imitated every movement he made. - -He then rose and drew forth a large gold casket. From it he took a -second a bit smaller, and handed the first to one of his companions. -From the second he drew a third, and from the third a fourth. This was -kept up until nearly every priest held a casket, some fantastically -carved, some inlaid with precious stones. With the opening of every -third box, all those not holding anything fell on their knees and -repeated their prayers and bowings. Finally the head priest came to the -innermost casket, not over an inch in length and set with diamonds and -rubies. At sight of this all fell on their knees and murmured prayers. -Then the head priest opened it carefully. Inside, yellow with age, was a -tooth that certainly never grew in any human mouth. The fitting together -of the box of boxes required as much ceremony as was necessary in taking -them apart. - - - - - CHAPTER XVI - THE MERRY CIRCUS DAYS - - -I returned to Colombo by train, reaching the city in the late afternoon. -I made my way at once to Almeida’s. In the roofless dining-room sat -Askins and the Swede, highly excited over the news that Colombo was to -be visited by a circus. - -“That means a few chips a day for some of us,” said Askins. “Circuses -must have white workmen. Natives won’t do.” - -“Huh! Yank,” roared the Swede half a minute later, “you get burn some, -eh, playing mit der monkeys in der jungle? Pretty soon you ban -sunstroke. Here, I make you trade.” He pointed to a helmet on the table -before him. “He ban good hat,” went on Ole proudly; “I get him last week -from der Swede consul. Min he too big. What you give?” - -I went upstairs, and returned with a cotton jacket that I had left in -the keeping of Askins. - -“How’s this?” I demanded. - -“He ban all right,” answered Ole, slipping into it; “der oder vas all -broke by der sleeves.” - -I put on the helmet, and strolled down toward Gordon Gardens, where I -had taken up sleeping quarters. It was a park rich in fountains, gay -flowers, and grateful shade. Under the trees the night dew never fell, -the ocean breeze was the coolest in Colombo, the fountains were good -bathrooms, and the ground was a softer bed than any short-legged table -could be. - -One by one, there drifted into Colombo four fellow countrymen of mine, -who, following my example, took up their lodgings in Gordon Gardens. It -soon became known as the “American Park Hotel.” One of the newcomers was -Marten, from Tacoma, Washington. He was a boy who had spent two seasons -in the Orient, diving for pearls. - -Another American in our party claimed New York as his birthplace. He -said that if we wanted a name for him, “Dick Haywood” would do well -enough for a time. But I will tell more of him later. - -One day, as dawn was breaking, I climbed the fence of the “American Park -Hotel,” and strolled away toward the beach for a dip in the sea, to take -the place of breakfast; for my last coin was spent. As I lay stretched -on the sands after my bath, I heard someone shout my name. I sprang up, -to see the Swede rushing toward me, waving his arms wildly above his -head. - -“Circus!” he cried. “Der circus is coom, Franck! Creeket-ground!” And, -turning about, he dashed off faster than most white men dare to run in -Ceylon. - -I dashed after the flying Norseman, and overtook him at the entrance to -the public playground. - -The center of the cricket-field was a wild jumble of animal-cages, rolls -of canvas, scattered tent-poles, clowns, jockeys, snake-charmers, and -everything else that goes to make up a traveling show. Around it a -growing crowd of natives were peering, pushing, chattering, falling back -in terror when the angry circus men shook their tent-stakes at them, but -sweeping out upon the scattered trappings again as soon as the latter -had passed. - -We fought our way through the crowd into the center of the mass. “Do you -want help?” we shouted to the circus manager. He was a powerful -Irishman, with a head like a cannon-ball, and a face and jaw that looked -as if he were ready for a fight. Tugging at a heap of canvas, he peered -at us between his outstretched legs and shouted: “Yes! I want four min! -White wans! If ye want the job, bring two more.” - -We turned to look at the sea of faces about us. There was not a white -man in the crowd. - -“Ve look by Almeida’s!” shouted the Swede, as we battled our way through -the mob. Before we could escape, however, I caught sight of a familiar -slouch hat well back in the crowd. A moment later Askins stood beside -us. Behind him came Dick Haywood. The four of us dashed back to the -boss. - -“Well!” he roared, “I pay a quid a week! Want it?” - -“A pound a week,” muttered Askins. “That’s more’n two chips a day. Aye! -We’ll take it.” - -“All right! Jump on to that center pole an’ get ’er up. If these natives -get in the way, thump ’em with a tent-pole. Step lively, now!” - -We soon had a space roped off. The boss tossed a pickax at me and set me -to grubbing holes for the poles that were to hold up the seats. -Carefully and evenly I swung the tool up and down, like an old lady; for -the natives pressed around me so closely that the least slip would have -broken a Singhalese head. To them the sight of a white man doing such -work was as astonishing as any of the wonders of the circus. Few of them -had ever before seen a European using heavier tools than a pen or -pencil. Within an hour the news spread through the city that the circus -had brought some “white coolies” to town; and all Colombo and his wife -did without the afternoon nap and trooped down to the cricket-field to -gaze upon the odd sight of white men doing muscular labor. - -The mob followed me as I went from hole to hole. My mates, too, were -hindered in their work by the crowd as they carried seat-boards, or -sawdust for the ring. Haywood, of the untamed temper, taking the boss at -his word, snatched up a tent-pole and struck two natives. Even after -that they still crowded around him. - -I heard two natives at my elbow talking in English: - -“This sight is to me astounding!” shrieked a high-caste youth to his -older companion. “I have never before known that Europeans can do such -workings.” - -“Why, indeed yes!” cried his companion. “In his home the sahib does just -so strong work as our coolies; but he is play cricket and tennis he is -doing even stronger. He is not rich always and sitting in shade.” - -“But do the white man not losing his caste when he is working like -coolies?” demanded the youth. “Why is this man work at such? Is he -perhaps prisoner, that he disgraces himself lower than the keeper of the -arrack-shop?” - -“Truly, my friend, I not understand,” admitted the older man a bit -sadly; “but I am reading that in sahib’s country he is make the workings -of coolie and yet is not coolie.” - -There were others besides the natives who stood in the crowd watching -the “white coolies.” Here and there I caught sight of a European -scowling darkly at me. I wondered what I had done to displease them. - -When night fell all was in readiness for the show. The circle of seats -was built; the tents were stretched; rings, ropes, and lights were ready -for use. Half a thousand chairs had been placed for Europeans. We had -worked so hard under the blazing sun that we agreed we would not dare to -do so more than once a year, not even for “more than two chips.” The -boss gave a last snarl, called a ’rickshaw, and drove off to his hotel. -We went to a shop across the way, ate our curry and rice, and returned -to stretch out on the grass near an entrance. - -That night, at the circus, we found greater amusement in watching the -people on the circle of benches than in watching the ring. First we -acted as ushers. The crowds that swarmed in upon us belonged to every -caste on the island. In seating them we had to settle important -questions that never trouble circus men of the Western world. It was -difficult to determine where to put them. A company of priests wearing -cheesecloth robes began to scream at us because we seated them where -there was no room for their betel-nut boxes. Light-colored islanders -began to shout angrily when we tried to seat them near darker natives. -Merchants refused to sit in the same section with shop-keepers. -Shop-keepers cried out in rage when we made the mistake of placing them -near clerks. Clerks cried out hoarsely when we seated them among -laborers. Skilled workers screamed in frenzy whenever we tried to make -room among them for common coolies. - -The lowest class native, called the sudra, who wears nothing but a scant -cloth about as big as a pocket handkerchief, is the most despised of -all. When I ushered in one of these, row after row of natives raised an -uproar against him as he passed. He shrank timidly behind me as we -journeyed through the tent, looking for a seat. Most of the natives -refused to sit as circus seats are meant to be sat on, but squatted on -their heels, hugging their scrawny knees. We had much trouble trying to -keep tricky ’rickshaw runners from crawling in among the chairs when we -weren’t looking. And through it all certain native youths, in order to -show that they understood English, kept bothering us by asking -unnecessary and unanswerable questions. - -Toward the last, when the Europeans came in, quiet and proud in manner, -the natives began to behave themselves a little better. And when the -bicyclers appeared for the first act, they forgot that the despised -_sudra_ sat under the same tent with them. The mixed crowd settled down -into a motionless sea of strained, astonished faces. When “The Wonderful -Cycle Whiz” was over, we hurried to pull down the bicycle track and -carry the heavy pieces outside the tent. While we lowered a trapeze with -one hand, we placed and held the hurdles with the other. We had to make -tables and chairs for a “Hand Balancing Act” appear as if by magic. -Breathlessly we led the trick ponies on, cleared the ring for the -performing elephant, set it up again for the “Astounding Bareback -Rider,” and cleared it again for the “Hungarian Horses.” - -Then “Mlle. Montgomery” capered out into the ring to perform her “Daring -Horsemanship Act.” We did our best to strike the fair rider squarely on -the head with paper hoops—not so much because we wished to charm the -audience with our skill as to escape the words of scorn that -“mademoiselle” flung back at us when we blundered. - -Away with hoops and ribbons! We rushed to get the place ready for the -clown act. After the clowns came an act to show “The Wonderful Power of -Man Over Ferocious Beasts,” during which a thin and moth-eaten tiger, -crouched on a horse, rode twice around the ring with a sad and -hen-pecked expression on his face. - -Then came ten minutes’ recess that was no recess for us: for we had to -bring on more hoops and rings of fire, tables and chairs, performing -dogs that had to be held in leash, and at last to set up the elephant’s -bicycle and drive the lion out for a spin on the huge animal’s back. How -we did work! We must have left streams of sweat behind us. Although our -tasks were not finished by the time the last stragglers left the tent, -we lost no time in tearing off the heavy uniforms the boss had provided -for us. - -When everything had been put away, we made our beds by setting several -chairs side by side, and turned in. Although we were disturbed in the -night by prowling natives, we slept part of the time. - -The circus had been nearly a week in Colombo when I was unexpectedly -advanced to a position of importance. It was in an idle hour late one -afternoon. The four of us were showing what tricks we could perform in -the empty ring, when the ring-master and the manager walked in upon us -and caught me in the act of “doing a hand-stand.” I quickly righted -myself. - -The ring-master looked me over from my shaved head to my bare feet, -turned to scowl at the manager a moment, and then began talking to me in -a voice that sounded as if it came from a phonograph: - -“Know any other stunts?” - -“One or two,” I answered. - -“Where’d ye learn ’em?” snapped the ring-master. - -I told him I had been a member of a gymnasium for a few years. - -“Gymnasium on shipboard?” asked the owner. - -“Why, no, sir; on land.” - -“Could you do a dive over that chair into the ring, a head-stand, a -stiff-fall, and a roll-up?” rasped the ring-master. - -I heard my companions chuckle and snort behind me. They seemed to think -it was funny. - -“Yes, sir; I can work those,” I stammered. - -“You’re a sailor?” - -“Yes, sir.” - -“Then a few tumbles won’t hurt you any. Can you hold a man of twelve -stone on your shoulders?” - -My fellow workmen snorted again. - -I figured it up quickly: twelve times fourteen pounds—one hundred and -sixty-eight pounds. - -“Yes,” I answered. - -“Well,” snapped the ring-master savagely, “I want you to go on for -Walhalla’s turn.” - -“Whaat!” I gasped. “Walha—!” I was so astonished that I almost took to -my heels. Walhalla and Faust were our two funniest clowns, who kept the -natives roaring with delight for more than an hour each day. My -companions were so overcome that they laughed aloud behind me. - -“Here, you!” cried the ring-master, whirling upon them. “Go over and -brush the flies off that elephant! An’ keep ’em brushed off! D’ye hear -me!” - -“Now, then, Franck,” he went on to me, “Walhalla has a fever. Now—” - -“But I’m no circus man!” I argued. - -“Oh, nonsense!” said the ring-master. “You’ve been with us long enough -to know Walhalla’s tricks, and you can learn how to do them in a couple -of rehearsals.” - -“There’ll be ten chips a day in it,” put in the manager. - -“Eh—er—ten rupees!” I choked. (That was more than three dollars and a -quarter.) “All right, sir. I’ll make a try at it.” - -“Of course,” said the manager. “Now go and get tiffin, and be back in -half an hour. I’ll have Faust here for a practice.” - -I sprang for the door, but stopped suddenly as a thought struck me. - -“But say,” I wailed, “we’re aground! The clothes—!” - -“Stretch a leg and get tiffin!” cried the ring-master. “Walhalla’s rags -are all here.” - -That evening, before the show began, I worked feverishly with Faust. We -practiced jokes, tumbles, tripping each other up, pretending we were -knocked down, and so on, while the manager tried to give us more time by -holding back the audience. When the natives finally stormed the tent and -forced their way inside, I scurried away to the dressing-tent to put on -my clown’s outfit and have my face painted. - -We had to leave out some of the acts until the next day gave more time -for practice; but the natives didn’t seem to notice it, and the -Europeans didn’t care, so I got through the performance with nothing -worse happening to me than one rather bad fall that was a little too -real. - -We gave two performances a day because the natives enjoyed our act. But -one day, while back in the dressing-tent where I scraped dried paint off -one side of my face, while my fellow clown daubed fresh colors on the -other, while I was jumping out of one foolish costume into another more -idiotic, turning the place topsy-turvy in a mad scramble to find my -dunce-cap and a lost slap-stick, I began to lose my love for the clown’s -life. - -And when I went to bed on my row of chairs that night, I found myself -wishing that the time would soon come when I could earn my living in -some other way. - -One long week I wore the cap and bells on the cricket-field of Colombo. -Then the day dawned when our tent was quickly taken down and bundled -into the hold of a ship by naked stevedores. On the forward deck the -moth-eaten tiger peered through the bars of his cage at the jungle -behind the city and rubbed a watery eye; at the rail an unpainted Faust -stared gloomily down at the water. But we four wanderers shed no tears -as we stood at the far end of the break-water and watched the circus -carried off until it sank below the sky-line. As we straggled back at -dusk to join the homeless wanderers under the palms of Gordon Gardens, I -caught myself feeling now and then in the band of my trousers for the -money I had sewed there. - - - - - CHAPTER XVII - THREE WANDERERS IN INDIA - - -The merry circus days had left me so great a fortune that I decided to -sail to the peninsula of India at once. Marten, of Tacoma, offered to go -with me, and I agreed; for the ex-pearl-fisher could speak the Hindu -language freely and he knew the country well. - -On the morning of April fourth we bought our tickets for passage on the -afternoon steamer, and set out to bid farewell to our acquaintances in -the city. It was almost time to sail, when Haywood burst in upon us at -Almeida’s. - -“I hear,” he shouted, “that you fellows are off for India.” - -We nodded. - -“I’m going along,” he declared. - -We scowled. We didn’t want him to go with us. But how could we stop him? -He had the same right to travel on that steamer that we had. We kept -silent, therefore; and, determining to shake off our unwelcome companion -as soon as we landed, marched down to the dock with him, and tumbled -with a crowd of coolies into a barge that soon set us aboard the -steamship _Kasara_. - -We landed in the early morning in a village of mud huts and bamboo -bazaars. Here we waited only long enough to catch the train that, -rumbling through the village, carried us northward. - -I settled back in my seat and looked out of the window at the flying -landscape. It was not much like the country of Ceylon. On either hand -stretched treeless flat-lands, as parched and brown as Sahara, a desert -blazed by a fiery sun, and unwatered for months. A few naked farmers -toiled over the baked ground, scratching the dry soil with worthless -wooden plows. A short distance beyond, we flew past wretched mud huts, -too low to stand in, where the farmers burrow by night and squat on -their heels by day. - -[Illustration: I take a last ’rickshaw ride before boarding the steamer -for India.] - -A hundred miles north of the sea-coast we halted to visit the famous -Brahmin temple of Madura. Brahminism is another religion of India—older -than Buddhism and much like it. Its followers believe in caste. In -ancient times they inflicted severe punishment on themselves for the -purification of the soul. - -The temple proved to be a great stone building surrounded by a massive -wall. Four thousand statues of Hindu gods—so our guide-book told -us—adorned each gateway. They were hideous-faced idols, each pouring -down from four pairs of hands his blessings on the half-starved humans -who crawled and lay flat on the ground to worship them. - -Inside the gates swarmed crowds of pilgrims wearing rags as a punishment -for their sins. A sunken-eyed youth wormed his way through the crowd and -offered to guide us through the temple for a coin or two. We followed -him down a narrow passage to a lead-colored pond in which not very neat -pilgrims washed away their sins. Then he led us out upon an open space -from which we could see the golden roofs. - -“High up within one of those domes lives a god,” whispered the youth, -while Marten translated. But when I asked him to lead us up so that we -could see the god, he said that white men were never allowed to enter -the temple. - -He took us, instead, to see the sacred elephants. Seven of the monsters, -each chained by a foot, thrashed about over their supper of hay in a -roofless stable. They were as ready to accept a tuft of fodder from a -heathen _sahib_ as from the dust-covered native pilgrim who had tramped -many a burning mile to offer it, so that the holy beast would forgive -him his sins. Children played in and out among the animals. The largest -was amusing himself by setting the little ones, one by one, on his back. - -In a far corner stood an elephant that even the clouted keepers avoided. -He was the most sacred of them all, our guide said, for he was mad, and -he visited a terrible punishment on any who came within reach of his -angrily twisting trunk. Yet the sunken-eyed youth explained to us that -if a man were killed by one of these holy animals he was very fortunate: -for “if a coolie is killed in that way he will be a farmer when he is -born again,” he said; “the peasant will become a shop-keeper, the -merchant a warrior, in his next life.” But those present must have been -satisfied to remain what they were in life, for we noticed that even the -despised _sudra_ was careful to keep away from that far corner. - -“And how about a white man?” asked Haywood, when our guide had finished -his explanation. - -“A sahib,” said our guide, “when he dies, becomes a crow. Therefore are -white men afraid to die.” - -We rode all night, and arrived at the station of Trichinopoly early the -next morning. The city was some miles distant from the station. We -called out to the driver of a bullock-cart, offering four annas for the -trip to town. (An anna is equal to a cent.) The cart was a heavy -two-wheeled affair. When two of us tried to climb in behind, we almost -lifted the tiny, raw-boned bullock in mid-air. A screech from the driver -called our attention to the danger his beast was in. We jumped down, and -allowed him to tell us how to board the cart. While Haywood and the -driver went to the front of the vehicle Marten and I stayed at the back. -Then, drawing ourselves up on both ends of it, all at the same time, we -managed to keep it balanced until we were aboard. The wagon was about -four feet long and three wide, with an arched roof. It was too short to -lie down in, and too low to sit up in. Haywood crouched beside the -driver, sitting on the knife-like edge of the board in front. With his -knees drawn up on a level with his eyes, he held on by clinging -desperately to the edge of the roof. Marten and I lay on our backs under -the roof, with our legs extending out at the rear. - -At first the bullock would not move; but after much shouting from the -driver he set out with little mincing steps, like a man in a sack race—a -lame man at that. The driver screamed shrilly, struck the animal a dozen -heavy whacks with his long pole, and forced him into a trot that lasted -just four paces. Then the animal slowly shook his head from side to -side, and fell again into a walk. This was repeated several times during -the trip—always with the same result. The cart had no springs, and the -road was like an empty stone-quarry. We were bounced up and down during -the whole trip, until we fancied our bones rattled. - -We grew very hungry, and Marten ordered the driver to take us to an -eating-shop. The native grinned to himself and drove toward a _sahib_ -hotel. We called out to him, telling him that that place was too -high-priced for us. He shook his head mournfully, and said that he knew -of no native shop where white men were allowed to enter. We bumped by -more than a dozen restaurants, but all bore the sign, “For Hindus Only.” - -At last, in a narrow alley-way, the bullock fell asleep before a -miserable hut. The driver screeched, and a scared-looking coolie tumbled -out of the shanty. Then he, Marten, and the driver began to talk -excitedly in the language of southern India. For a time the coolie -refused to sell us food, because if he touched anything that we touched -he would become something lower than a coolie in his next life. But when -we offered him the princely sum of three annas each he agreed to risk -losing caste to get us something to eat. So we climbed down off the cart -and squatted on his creaking veranda. - -The bullock crawled on. The coolie ran screaming into the hut, and came -out again with three banana-leaves, a wife, and many naked children, -each of whom carried a cocoanut-shell filled with water or curries. They -put these on the floor of the veranda. The native spread the leaves -before us, and his wife dumped a small peck of hot rice into the center -of each of them. When the meal was over we arose to go; but the native -shrieked with terror, and insisted that we carry the leaves and shells -away with us, as no member of his family dared touch them. - -[Illustration: “Haywood” snaps me as I am getting a shave in -Trichinopoly.] - -Our dinner had been generous enough, but it did not seem to satisfy our -hunger. Within an hour I caught myself eyeing the food spread out in the -open shops on all sides. There were coils of rope-like pastry fried in -oil, lumps, balls, cakes of sweetmeats, brittle bread-sheets, pans of -dark red chillies, potatoes cut into small cubes and covered with a -green curry sauce. - -I dropped behind my companions, and aroused a shop-keeper who was sound -asleep among his pots and pans. For months, while traveling through -countries where I could not speak the language, I had been in the habit -of picking out my own food; but no sooner had I laid a hand on a -sweetmeat than the merchant sprang into the air with a wild scream that -brought my fellow countrymen running back upon me. - -“What’s that fellow bawling about, Marten?” demanded Haywood. - -“Oh, Franck’s gone and polluted his pan of sweets.” - -“But I touched only the one I picked up,” I explained, “and I’m going to -eat that.” - -“These fellows won’t see it that way,” replied Marten. “If you put a -finger on one piece, the whole dish is polluted. He’s sending for a -low-caste man now to carry the panful away and dump it. Nobody’ll buy -anything while it stays here.” - -The keeper refused angrily to talk to me when I offered to buy the whole -dish, and we went on. - -Wherever we went, the people were afraid to come near us. The peddler of -green cocoanuts begged us to carry away the shells when we had drunk the -milk; passing natives sprang aside in terror when we tossed a -banana-skin on the ground. When we bought slices of watermelon of a -fruit-seller, he watched anxiously to make sure that we didn’t drop a -seed on his stand. If we had done so he would have thrown away his -entire stock to save himself from losing caste. - -As we turned a corner in the crowded market-place, Haywood, who was -smoking, and who was not at all neat in his habits, carelessly spat upon -the flowing gown of a turbaned passer-by. - -“Oh, sahib!” screamed the native in excellent English. “See what you -have done! You have made me lose caste. For weeks, now, I may not go -among my friends or see my family. I must stop my business, and wear -rags, and sit in the street, and pour ashes on my head, and go often to -the temple to purify myself.” - -“Stuff!” said Haywood. - -But the weeping Hindu turned back the way he had come. - -This strange belief makes India a land of unusual hardship for a man who -cannot afford to stop at the great European hotels. He not only has -difficulty in buying food and lodging, but, worse than that, he cannot -get water. And in a hot country like India water is an absolute -necessity. For this reason the English rulers have made a law to help -travelers who find themselves stranded far in the interior of the -peninsula. India is divided into states or districts, and each district -is ruled by a governor, called a commissioner, who lives in the largest -city of his district. The law provides that if a European finds himself -penniless and unable to buy food, he may apply to any commissioner, who -must give him a third-class ticket to the capital of the next district, -and enough money, called _batter_, to buy food on the way. - -We had not been in Trichinopoly long when Marten, who had tossed his -last anna to a beggar, decided to pay a visit to the district -commissioner. I agreed to accompany him, for I wanted to see a -commissioner’s bungalow and to make the acquaintance of so important a -personage as the governor himself; and wherever we went Haywood was sure -to follow. Thus it happened that, as noonday fell over Trichinopoly, -three cotton-clad Americans walked out of the native town and turned -northward toward the governor’s bungalow. - -Heat-waves hovered like a fog before us. Here and there a tree cast its -slender shadow, like a splash of ink, across the white highway. A few -coolies, whose skins were safe from sunburn, shuffled through the sand -on their way to the town. We spoke to one to ask our way; but he sprang -with a side jump to the farthest edge of the roadway, in terror of our -touch. - -“Commissioner sahib keh bungalow kéhdereh?” (“Where is the -commissioner’s bungalow?”) asked Marten. - -“Hazur hum malum neh, sahib” (“I don’t know, sir”), stammered the -native, backing away as we stepped toward him. - -“Stand still, you fellows,” shouted Marten; “you’re scaring him so he -can’t understand. Every coolie knows where the governor lives. -Commissioner sahib keh bungalow kéhdereh?” - -“Far down the road, O protector of the unfortunate.” - -We came upon the low, rambling building in a grove among rocky hillocks. -Along the broad veranda crouched a dozen servants (called -_punkah-wallahs_), pulling drowsily at the cords that moved the great -velvet fans (called _punkahs_) that hung from the ceiling within. Under -the _punkahs_, at their desks, sat a small army of native secretaries -and clerks, looking rather grand in their flowing gowns, great black -beards, and the bright-colored turbans of the high-class Hindu. Servants -swarmed about the writers, and fell on their knees with their faces to -the ground each time an official gave a command. White men there were -none. - -The official wearing the brightest turban rose from his cushions as we -entered, and addressed us in English: - -“Can I be of service to you, sahibs?” - -“We want to see the commissioner,” said Marten. - -“The commissioner, sahib,” replied the Hindu, “is at his bungalow. He -will perhaps come here for a half hour at three o’clock.” - -“But we want tickets for the one o’clock train,” Haywood blurted out. - -“I am the assistant governor,” answered the native. “What the governor -sahib can do I can do. But it takes a long time to get the ticket, and -you cannot, perhaps, catch the one o’clock train. Still, I shall hurry -as much as possible.” - -In his breathless haste he returned to his seat, carefully folded his -legs, rolled a cigarette with great care, blew smoke at the _punkahs_ -for several moments, and, pulling out the drawers of his desk, examined -one by one the books and papers within them. He seemed unable to find -that for which he was looking. He rose slowly to his feet, inquired -among his dark-faced companions, returned to his cushions, and, calling -a dozen servants around him, sent them on as many errands. - -“It’s the book in which we enter the names of those who ask for -tickets,” he explained; “it will soon be found.” And he lighted another -cigarette. - -A servant came upon the book at last—plainly in sight on the top of the -assistant’s desk. That officer opened it slowly, read half the writing -it contained, and, carefully choosing a native pen, prepared to write. -He was not trying to provoke or tease us: he really thought that he was -moving with all possible haste. - -Slowly his sputtering pen wrote down whatever Marten and Haywood told -him in answer to his questions. Then he laid the volume away in a -drawer, locked it, and called for a time-table. He studied it dreamily -before dragging forth another heavy book. But his pen refused to write -smoothly; he couldn’t find the keys to the strong box for a time; and -when he did find them they refused to fit the lock. He gave up at last, -and, promising that a servant would meet us at the station in the -evening with the tickets, he bade us good day. - -As we rose to depart, Marten asked for water. The native officials -scowled. They cried out in horrified chorus when Haywood stepped toward -a _chettie_ in the corner of the room. - -“Don’t touch that, sahib!” shrieked the governor’s assistant. “I shall -arrange to give you a drink.” - -Among the servants within the building were none low enough in caste to -be assigned the task of bringing us water. The assistant sent for a -_punkah-wallah_. One of the great folds of velvet fell motionless, and -there sneaked into the room the lowest of human creatures. The assistant -gave a sharp order. The _sudra_ dropped to a squat, raised his clasped -hands to his forehead, and shuffled off toward the _chettie_. - -Picking up a heavy brass goblet, he placed it, not on the table, but on -the floor in the middle of the room. The officials nearest the spot left -their desks, and the entire company formed a circle around us. Haywood -stepped forward to pick up the cup. - -“No, no,” cried the natives; “stand back!” - -The coolie slunk forward with the _chettie_, and, holding it fully two -feet above the goblet, filled the vessel, and drew back several paces. - -“Now you may drink,” said the assistant. - -“Do you want more?” he asked, when the cup was empty. - -“Yes.” - -“Then leave the lota on the floor and stand back.” - -The _punkah-wallah_ filled it as before. - -“Good day,” repeated the assistant, when we had acknowledged ourselves -satisfied; “but you must carry the lota away with you.” - -“But it cost a good piece of money,” suggested Haywood. - -“Yes,” sighed the Hindu; “but no one dares touch it any more.” - -A native clerk met us at the station with the tickets. - -We boarded the express that thundered in a moment later, and in the -early morning of the next day stopped at a station just outside the city -of Madras. It was here that Haywood’s bad temper so overcame him that he -rushed out upon the platform and struck an impudent fruit peddler who -had sold him some spoiled bananas. Shortly afterward a native policeman -arrested him, and we were rid of our fiery-tempered companion at last. -The train sped on, and a few minutes later drew up in the station of -Madras. - -We turned away toward the Young Men’s Christian Association building. - -“I’ll pick you up in a day or two,” said Marten, at the foot of the -steps. “I’ve got an uncle living in town, and I always go to see him -when I land here.” - - - - - CHAPTER XVIII - THE WAYS OF THE HINDU - - -It was my good fortune to find employment while in Madras. The job was -the easiest I had yet had, and it brought me three rupees a day. All I -had to do was to sit in street-cars and watch the Hindu conductors poke -the fares paid into the cash-registers they wear around their necks, and -to make sure they did not make a mistake and put some of the coppers -into their pockets instead. For the Hindu makes many mistakes, and is -naturally so careless that he has even been known to forget to collect -fares from his friends on the car. - -Thus for merely sitting on different cars all day, and reporting to the -street railway company any conductor who made such mistakes, I was paid -three rupees a day. It gave me an excellent chance to see Madras. - -As I was riding through the city I noticed that there were almost no -horses there. Their place was taken by leather-skinned, rice-fed -coolies. These natives were hitched to heavy two-wheeled carts, which -squawked horribly as they were drawn through the streets. Perhaps the -natives did not know that axle-grease would make them run more smoothly. -Yet two of these thin, starved-looking coolies will draw a wagon loaded -with great bales from the ships, or a dozen steel rails, for miles over -hills and hollows, with fewer breathing spells than a truckman would -allow a team of horses. - -One day I came upon a sight that surprised me. At a corner where the car -in which I sat swung toward the harbor, a gang of coolies was repairing -a roadway. That in itself was no cause for wonder. But among the -workmen, dressed like the others in a ragged cloth around the hips, -swinging his hammer as dully, gazing as stupidly at the ground as his -companions, was a white man! There could be no doubt of it. Under the -tan of an Indian sun his skin was fiery red, and his eyes were blue! But -a white man doing such work, in company with the most miserable, the -lowest, the most despised of human creatures! To become a _sudra_ and -ram stones in the public streets, dressed in nothing but a clout! -Suppose that I were obliged to come to such an end! A terror came upon -me, a longing to flee while there was yet time from the unfortunate land -in which a man of my own flesh and blood could fall to this. - -Again and again my rounds of the city brought me back to that same -corner. The fallen one toiled slowly on, bending hopelessly over his -task, never raising his head to glance at the passers-by. Twice I was -about to get off the car and speak to him, to learn his dreadful story. -But the car had rumbled on before I gathered courage. Leaving the office -as twilight fell, I passed that way again. A _babu_ (educated Hindu) -standing near the edge of the sidewalk began talking to me in English, -and I asked him about the white laborer. - -“What! That?” he said, following the direction of my finger. “Why, -that’s a Hindu albino” (colorless Hindu). - -One day I decided to have my clothes washed by a Hindu laundryman, -called a _dhoby_. The _dhoby_ is a hard-working man. High above his head -he swings each streaming garment, and slaps it down again and again on -the flat stone at his feet, as if he were determined to split it into -bits. When his strength gives out, he flings down the tog, and jumps up -and down on it as if he had lost his reason. His bare feet tread wildly, -and when he can dance no longer he falls upon the helpless rag, and tugs -and strains and twists and pulls as if determined that it shall come to -be washed no more. Flying buttons fill him with glee. When he can beat -and tramp and tug no longer, he tosses the shreds that are left -scornfully into the stream. Yet he is strictly honest: at nightfall he -takes back to its owner the dirt he carried away and the threads that -hold it together. - -The cook of an eating-shop offered, for three _annas_, to wash all that -I owned except my shoes and helmet. In a colder land I should have had -to go to bed until the task was done. But not so in India. The roadsters -gathered in the dining-room of the shop saw nothing strange in my -costume as I sat down to pass the time in writing letters. - -From the back yard, for a time, came the shrieks of my maltreated -garments. Then all was silent. In fear and trembling, I stole out to -take a look at the remains. But as a _dhoby_ the cook was a failure. -There were a few tears in the garments hanging in the blazing sunshine, -a button was missing here and there; but that was all. An hour’s work -with a ship’s needle sufficed to heal the wounds, though not the scars, -of battle. - -We left Madras on the train early the next morning. Two days later we -were on our way to Puri, the city of the god Juggernaut. Puri lies on -the shores of the Bay of Bengal, about two hundred miles south of -Calcutta. It is here that the car of the god makes its yearly trip from -one temple to another about two miles distant. The car, weighing many -tons, is set up outside the temple, and the god Juggernaut, a -hideous-faced idol is placed on his throne within. Hundreds of natives -rush around the place, screaming and struggling for a chance to pull at -the long ropes attached to the car; and, to the sound of strange prayer -and song, the procession starts. The great road, fully an eighth of a -mile wide, stretches away straight and level to the smaller temple. -There was a time, it is said, when natives threw themselves and their -children under the great car and let it crush them to death, so that -they might win favor with the god; but such events were probably -accidents. - -We left the train at Khurda Road, and bought tickets to the sacred city. -The long train that we boarded was so crowded with natives that there -was scarcely room for us. - -Night was falling when we stepped off at Puri. The station stood in the -open country, and we started off on a tramp to the city fully two miles -away. Natives, coming upon us in the darkness along the road of -sacrifice, sprang aside in terror and shrieked a long-drawn “Sahib hai!” -to warn others to keep away from us. Nearer the city, a hundred families -who had come from far had pitched their tents at the edge of the great -road. - -In the city we were hardly able to buy food. Merchants cried out in -anger when they saw us coming toward their tumble-down shacks, and only -with much coaxing could we draw one of them out into the street to sell -us sweetmeats and fruits. Half the shops sold nothing but _dude_, which -is to say, milk—of bullocks and goats, of course; for the cow is a -sacred animal in India. The Hindu thinks the soul of a human being lives -in the body of the cow. - -We stopped at one shack to buy some of this _dude_. A wicked-looking -youth took our coin cautiously and filled two dishes that looked like -flower-pots. I drank the liquid in mine, and stepped forward to put it -back on the worm-eaten board that served as counter. The youth sprang at -me with a scream of rage and fear; but before the pot had touched the -counter Marten knocked it out of my hand and shattered it to pieces on -the cobblestones, then smashed his own beside it. - -There was not a native hut in Puri that we could enter, and we had -nowhere to spend the night. We returned to the station, and asked the -agent if we could sit in the two wicker chairs in the waiting-room. He -would not let us, but told us of an empty car near the station. We -stumbled off through the railway yards, and came upon a first-class -coach on a side-track. It was the best “hotel” of our Indian trip—a -parlor car containing great couches covered with the softest leather. -There were bright copper lamps that we could light after the heavy -curtains had been drawn, large mirrors, and running water. No wonder we -slept late the next morning. - -We were not allowed to go inside the great temple built to house the god -Juggernaut, but much could be seen from without. The temple rises in -seven domes one above another like the terraced vineyards of the Alps. -The steps that wind up and around these domes are half hidden by the -horrible-looking statues of gods and misshapen animals. Above them -towers the Juggernaut’s throne-room, looking like a cucumber standing on -end. Perhaps the builder, when his task was completed, was doomed to -lose his hands, like so many successful architects of Asia, so that he -could not build anything more wonderful for others. - -While we were walking around the temple we came upon one of the sacred -bulls starting out on his morning walk past the straw-roofed shops of -Puri. He was a sleek, plump beast, with short, stumpy horns and a hump. -He seemed as harmless as a child’s pet poodle. We kept him company. - -Starting for the nearest shop, he walked proudly along, shouldering his -way through the crowd, pushing aside all who stood in his path, not -rudely, but firmly. Natives threw themselves flat on the ground before -him; street peddlers stepped aside with muttered prayers; scores of -women fell on their knees and elbows in crowded streets, bowed their -heads low in the dust, and ran to kiss his flanks. - -Marching boldly up to the first booth, the bull chose a morsel of green -stuff from the stand, and, chewing it daintily, strolled on to the next -stall. He selected something from each of the long rows of shops, -stopping longest where the supplies were freshest. The keepers did not -like this, but they did not say much against it. For how may a Hindu -know that the soul of his grandfather does not look out through those -calm eyes? At any rate, he is just so much more sure of heaven for every -leaf and stalk that he loses. Now and again Marten told me what the -storekeeper was saying. - -“Hast thou not always had they fill, O holy one!” prayed one native, -rocking his body back and forth in time to his prayer. “I would -willingly feed thee. Hast thou not always found welcome at my shop? But -I am a poor man, O king of sacred beasts. I pray thee, therefore, take -of the goods of my neighbor, who has great wealth. For I am very poor, -and if thou dost not cease to-morrow I may not be here to feed thee.” - -As if in answer to the prayer, the animal moved on to the booth of the -neighbor, who showed no sign of the great wealth that had been charged -against him. His stock was fresh, however, and the bull ate generously -in spite of the keeper’s prayer. A second and a third time the keeper -begged him to stop, but he would not. Then the Hindu, picking up a -bamboo stick, murmured the prayer into it. - -“Thou canst not hear the prayer of a poor man, O sacred one, through -thine ears,” wailed the merchant. “Listen then to this.” And, rising in -his place, he struck the animal sharply over the nose with the bamboo -stick. The bull turned to gaze on the sinner, looked reproachfully at -him for a moment through half-closed eyelids, and strolled slowly away. - -We saw many widows among the swarming thousands of Puri. There was a -time when, on the death of her husband, the Hindu woman had to mount the -funeral pyre and be burned with his dead body. But since the British -have taken possession of India they have made a law against such -cruelties. Now, on the death of her husband, the Hindu woman must merely -shave her head and dress in a snow-white sheet, and she must never marry -again. - -There were other women in the crowd. Most of them wore jewelry. We met -some who wore rings on every finger and toe and bracelets on both arms -from wrists to elbows. It was not unusual to meet a woman with rings in -the top, side, and fleshy part of each ear, or women wearing three -nose-rings, one of which pierces the left nostril and swings back and -forth against the cheek of the wearer. - -That afternoon we left by train for Calcutta. The express rumbled into -Khurda Road soon after we reached the main line. To rest our bones we -strolled along the platform, stepped into another car—and fell back in -astonishment. Swinging from a peg near the ceiling was a helmet we had -seen before. It was none other than Haywood’s. And beneath it, lying at -full length on a bench, was Haywood himself. He had been released from -prison, and had lost no time in taking the north-bound express—to -overtake us, very likely. - -His joy at meeting us once more was greater than ours. We were unable to -look pleased, and Marten grumbled under his breath at the luck that kept -us in such harmful company. - -In the early morning the train stopped at Howrah, a suburb of Calcutta, -and Haywood alighted with us at the station. We crossed the Hoogly River -on a floating bridge that connects Howrah with Calcutta, meeting crowds -of coolies tramping to a day of toil in the city. The Hoogly was alive -with natives sporting in the muddy waters. Below the bridge scores of -ships lay at anchor; native barges darted here and there among them; -from the docks came the rattle of machinery and the shrill chatter of -men loading freight on the boats. Here, at last, was a real city, with -all its familiar uproar. My companions started off to visit some -missionary, and I plunged aimlessly into the stream of people that -surged through the dusty streets. - - - - - CHAPTER XIX - IN THE HEART OF INDIA - - -Late that afternoon we met at the Sailors’ Home. It was not long before -Marten and I decided that we must rid ourselves of Haywood once for all. -Go where we would, he was ever at our heels, bringing disgrace upon us. -Picking pockets was his glee. When there was no other excitement, he -took to filching small articles from the stores along the way. As we -were returning to the Home along a crowded street on our second day in -Calcutta, his behavior became unbearable. The natives of the big city -did not spring aside when they came near a white man, as those in the -country had done. Instead they were more likely to push him aside. To be -jostled by a coolie was more than Haywood could stand. He started -striking at those who pushed him, but could not reach them, for the -street was crowded, and the higher-caste natives who annoyed us carried -umbrellas. - -Suddenly he thought of a way to get even with them. Opening his -pocket-knife, he marched boldly through the crowd, slashing wickedly at -every sun-shade whose owner crowded against him. An angry murmur rose -behind us. Before we had reached the Home, a screaming mob of tradesmen -surged around us, waving ruined umbrellas in our faces. Certainly it was -time to be rid of such a companion. It was useless to tell him of his -faults. There was nothing left but to skip out when he wasn’t looking. - -Haywood ate heartily that evening. His plate was still heaped high with -curry and rice when Marten and I left, to sit on a bench in the garden -of the Home. - -“Look here, mate,” said Marten in a stage-whisper, as soon as we were -seated, “we must get away from that fellow. The police will be running -us in along with him some day.” - -I nodded. A seaman came to stretch himself out in the grass near at -hand, and we fell silent. Darkness was striding upon us when a servant -of the Home came to close the gate leading to the street. - -Suddenly Marten raised a hand and called to the gateman. - -“Wait!” - -“Let’s get out,” he said to me. - -“Where?” I asked. - -“Up country.” - -“All right,” I answered, springing to my feet. - -We slipped out through the gate, walked across a park among the statues -of _sahibs_ who had made history in India, past old Fort William, and -down to the banks of the Hoogly. The tropical night had fallen, and -above the city behind blazed a shining mass of stars. For an hour we -tramped along the docks, jostled now and then by black stevedores and -native seamen. The cobblestones under our feet gave way to a soft -country road. A railway crossed our path, and we stumbled along it in -the darkness. Out of the night rose a large two-story bungalow. - -“Trainmen’s shack,” said Marten. - -A freight train stood on the near-by track. A European in the uniform of -a brakeman ran down the steps of the bungalow, a lantern in his hand. -Behind him came a coolie, carrying his lunch-basket. - -“Goin’ out soon, mate?” bawled Marten. - -“All ready to start,” answered the Englishman, peering at us a moment -with the lantern high above his head, and hurrying on. - -“Think we’ll go along,” shouted Marten. - -The brakeman was already swallowed up in the darkness; but his voice -came back to us out of the night: - -“All right!” - -A moment later the British engine shrieked, and the freight screamed by -us. We grasped the rods of a high open car and swung ourselves up. On -the floor, folded to the size of a large mattress, lay a waterproof -canvas. We lay down on it. A cooling breeze, sweeping over the moving -train, lulled us to sleep. Once we were awakened by the roar of a -passing express, and peered over the edge of the car to find ourselves -on a switch. Then our train rattled on, and we stretched out again. A -second time we were awakened when our train was turned off on to a -side-track; and the brakeman, passing by, called out that he had reached -the end of his run. We climbed out, and, finding a grassy slope, lay -down and slept out the night. - -The morning sun showed a large forest close at hand. A red, sandy -roadway, deep-shaded by thick overhanging branches, led into the woods. -We followed it. Here and there, in a tiny clearing, a scrawny native -cooked a small breakfast over a fire of leaves and twigs before his -grass hut. Above us sounded the song of a tropical bird. The pushing -crowds and dull, ugly roar of Calcutta seemed hundreds of miles away. - -The forest opened and fell away on both sides, and we paused on the high -grassy bank of a broad river that glistened in the slanting sunlight. -Below, in two groups, natives, men and women, were bathing. Along a road -near the river stretched a one-row town of low huts, above which stood a -government building and a little church. - -“Thunder!” snorted Marten. “Is this all we’ve made? That old train must -have been side-tracked half the time we slept. I know this burg. It’s -Hoogly, not forty miles from Calcutta. But there’s a commissioner here. -He’s the right kind—ticketed me to Calcutta four years ago. Don’t -believe he’ll remember me, either. Come on.” - -We strolled on down the road. Before the government building a score of -prisoners, with belts and heavy anklets of iron connected by chains, -were piling cobblestones. - -We turned in at the gate of the park-like grounds, and followed a -graveled walk toward a great white bungalow with windows overlooking a -distant view of the sparkling Hoogly and the rolling plains beyond. From -the veranda, curtained by trailing vines, richly clothed servants -watched us, as we came near, with the half-ferocious, half-curious -manner of faithful house-dogs. I did not intend to ask for a ticket, so -I dropped on to a seat under a tree. A chatter of Hindustanee greeted my -companion; a stout native rose from his heels and went inside the -bungalow. - -Then something happened that I had never experienced before in all my -Indian travels. A tall, fine-looking Englishman, dressed in the whitest -of ducks, stepped briskly out on to the veranda, and, seeming not to -notice that we were mere penniless wanderers, called out: - -“I say, you chaps, come inside and have some breakfast.” - -I should have been less astonished had he suddenly pointed a gun in our -direction. I looked up, to see Marten leaning weakly against a post. - -“I have only come with my mate, sir,” I explained. “It’s he who wants -the ticket. I’m only waiting, sir.” - -[Illustration: The Hindu street-sprinkler does not lay much dust.] - -“Then come along and have some breakfast while you wait,” returned the -Englishman. “Early risers have good appetites, and where would you buy -anything fit to eat in Hoogly? I’ve finished, but Maghmood has covers -laid for you.” - -We entered the bungalow on tiptoe, and sat down at a flower-decked -table. Two turbaned servants slipped noiselessly into the room and -served us with food from other lands. A _punkah-wallah_ on the veranda -kept the great fans in motion. Upon me fell a strange feeling of having -been in a scene like this before—somewhere—hundreds of years ago. Even -here, then, on the banks of the Hoogly, men ate with knives and forks, -from delicate chinaware, wiping their fingers on snow-white linen rather -than on a leg of their trousers, and left fruit peelings on their plates -instead of throwing them under the table. It seemed as if I were in a -dream. - -“I told you,” murmured Marten, finishing his steak and a long silence, -and mopping his plate dry with a slice of bread plastered with butter -from far-off Denmark; “I told you he was the right sort.” - -Maghmood entered to tell us we were to follow the commissioner to his -office, two miles distant. - -An hour later we were journeying contentedly northwestward in a crowded -train that stopped at every village and cross-road. Marten had received -a ticket to Bankipore. In order to reach this city we had to change at -Burdwan. We alighted at this station three hours before the night -express. A gazing crowd gathered around us as we halted to buy -sweetmeats in the bazaars, and, flocking at our heels, quickly drew the -attention of the native police to us. - -At that time Russia was at war with Japan, and the Indian government, -for some reason, was on the lookout for Russian spies. The police were -ordered to watch all foreigners in the country. The native policemen, -who wanted to please the English officers, were very anxious to discover -such spies. So they asked questions of every sahib stranger they met. - -Two lynx-eyed officers hung on our heels, and, following us to the -station as night fell, joined a group of railway police on the platform. -They talked together for a long time; then they all lined up before the -bench on which we were seated, and a sergeant drew out one of the small -books that the government uses for recording facts about traveling -Europeans. - -“Will the sahibs be pleased to give me their names?” coaxed the sergeant -in a timid voice. - -I took the book and pencil from his hand, and wrote the answers to -printed questions on the page. - -“And you, sahib?” said the officer, turning to Marten. - -“Oh, go chase yourself!” growled my companion. “I ain’t no Roossian. You -got no business botherin’ Europeans.” - -“The sahib must answer the questions or he cannot go on the train,” -murmured the native. - -“How will you stop me from goin’?” demanded Marten. - -The officer muttered something in his own language to his companions. - -“You would, would you?” shouted Marten. - -“Ah! The sahib speaks Hindustanee?” gasped the sergeant. “What is your -name, please, sir?” - -“Look here,” growled Marten; “I’ll give you my name if you’ll promise -not to ask any more fool questions.” - -The native smiled with delight, and raised his pencil. - -“And the name, sir?” - -“Higgeldy Piggeldy,” said Marten. - -“Ah! And how is it spelled, please, sahib?” - -The sergeant wrote the words slowly and solemnly as my companion spelled -them for him. - -“And which is the sahib’s birthplace?” he coaxed. - -“Look here, now,” roared Marten; “didn’t you say you wouldn’t ask -anything else?” - -“Ah! Yes, sahib,” said the _babu_; “but we must have the informations. -Please, sir, which is your birthplace?” - -“If you don’t chase yourself I’ll break your neck!” roared Marten, -springing to his feet. - -The officers fell over each other in their haste to get out of Marten’s -way. My companion returned to the bench and sat down in ill-tempered -silence. The sergeant, urged forward by his fellow officers, came toward -us again, and, standing ready to spring, addressed me in gentle tones: - -“Sahib, the police wish, please, sir, to know why the sahibs have come -to Burdwan.” - -“Because the local train dropped us here, and we had to wait for the -express.” - -“But why have you not take the express all the time?” - -“We were at Hoogly. It doesn’t stop there.” - -“Then why have you not stay in the station? Why have you walk in the -bazaars and in the temples?” - -“To see the sights, of course.” - -“But there are not sights in Burdwan. It is a dirty village and very -poor and very small. Europeans are coming to Benares and to Calcutta, -but they are not coming in Burdwan. Why have the sahibs come in Burdwan, -and the sun is very hot?” - -“I told you why. The sun doesn’t bother us.” - -“Then why have the sahibs bought sweets and chappaties in the bazaars?” - -“Because we were hungry.” - -“Sahibs are not eating native food; they must have European food. Why -have you bought these?” - -“For goodness’ sake, hit that fellow on the head with something!” burst -out Marten. “I want to sleep.” - -The sergeant moved away several paces and continued his examination: - -“And why have the sahibs gone to the tem—?” - -The shriek of an incoming train drowned the rest, and we hurried toward -the European compartment. - -“You must not go in the train!” screamed the sergeant, while the group -of officers danced excitedly around us. “Stop! You must answer—” - -We stepped inside and slammed the door. - -“The train cannot be allowed to go!” screeched the _babu_, racing up and -down the platform. “The sahibs are not allowed to go. You must hold the -train, sahib!” he cried to a European conductor hurrying by. - -“Hold nothing,” answered the conductor. “Are you crazy? This is the -Bombay mail.” And he blew his whistle. - -The sergeant grasped the edge of the open window with one hand, and, -waving his note-book wildly in the other, raced along the platform -beside us. - -“You must answer the questions, sahibs—” - -The train was rapidly gaining headway. - -“Get down, sahibs! Come out! You are not allowed—” - -He could keep the pace no longer. With a final shriek he let go his -hold, and we sped on into the night. - -We halted late at night in Buxar, and took a slower train next morning -to the holy city of Benares. The train was closely packed with wildly -excited natives. Every window framed eager, longing faces straining for -the first glimpse of the holy city. - -To many of our fellow travelers this trip was one they had dreamed of -for years, and this twentieth of April would be the greatest day of -their lives. For if they merely looked at the holy city, and at the -river that flowed past, they believed the sight helped to purify them of -their sins, and assured them of a higher caste in their next life on -earth. - -As we came round a low sand-hill a murmured chorus of outcries sounded -above the rumble of the train. We went to the open window to see what -had caused the excitement. There, a half mile distant, the holy river -Ganges swept round from the eastward in a graceful curve and flowed on -southward across our path. On the opposite shore, bathing its feet in -the sparkling stream, sprawled the holy city. - -The train rumbled across the railway bridge, and halted on the edge of -the city. We plunged into the narrow, crooked streets, and almost lost -sight of each other as we were swallowed up in a great whirlpool of -people. We pushed our way forward only a short distance before we were -tossed aside among the goods placed in front of the shops. Here we -paused for breath, and then tried to go on. When we came to a corner, -pushing crowds carried us down side streets where we had not chosen to -go. People of all shades and castes, and from every part of India, -swarmed through the streets. - -Holy bulls shouldered us aside as if they cared nothing for the color of -our skins. Twice great elephants crossed our path. On the fronts and -roofs of Hindu temples, monkeys, wearing glittering rings on every -finger, scampered and chattered daringly. No wonder the natives thought -that the souls of men lived in the bodies of these bold and lively -beasts. - -We had been tossed back and forth through the winding streets for more -than an hour, when a wild beating of drums and a wailing of music from -pipes burst on our ears. - -“Religious procession!” screamed Marten, dragging me after him up the -steps of a temple. “We’ll have to stand here till it gets by. How are -those for glad rags?” - -Below us the street quickly filled with a parade of Hindus wearing -strange costumes of all kinds and colors. To the wild, screaming music a -thousand marchers kept uncertain step. One bold fellow was “made up” to -look like an Englishman. He was dressed in a suit of shrieking checks -that fitted his thin body as tightly as a glove; on his feet were shoes -with great, thick soles in which he might without harm have walked on -red-hot coals. His face was so covered with flour that he was far paler -than the palest of Englishmen. Over his long hair he wore a -close-cropped wig of sickly yellow; and the helmet on his head was big -enough to give shade to four men. He was smoking a pipe, and he swung a -queer-looking cane gaily back and forth as he walked. Every dozen yards -he pretended that he had become very angry, and danced about madly, -rushing toward the other paraders and striking wildly about him with his -fists. In these fits of anger he never once opened his lips. The natives -looking on laughed with delight. They thought he was acting just like a -sahib. - -We fought our way onward to the center of the town, and climbed down the -great stone stairway of another temple, where we could watch the -pilgrims wash away their sins in the holy waters. Up and down the banks -of the river Ganges, groups of thinly dressed natives, dripping from -their baths in the holy waters, smoked bad-smelling cigarettes in the -shadow of the temple, or bought holy food from the straw-roofed shacks. - -Bathing in the holy waters were men wearing almost no clothing, and -women wearing winding sheets. From time to time bands of pilgrims -covered with the dust of travel tumbled down the stairways and plunged -eagerly into the river. For the Hindu believes that, no matter how badly -a person has behaved, his sins can be washed away in the Ganges at the -foot of Benares. - -The river did not look as if it could make one pure. Its waters are so -muddy that a ray of sunshine will not pass through a glassful of it. I, -for one, would be afraid to bathe in that fever infected flow of mud. -Yet the native pilgrims splashed about in it, ducking their heads -beneath the surface and dashing it over their faces; they rinsed their -mouths in it, scraped their tongues with sticks dipped in it, and blew -it out of their mouths in great jets, as if they were determined to get -rid of all the sin in their bodies. - -[Illustration: I do a bit of laundry work washing my coat in the Ganges -below the city and at the same time keeping a good lookout for -crocodiles.] - -We went through the city, and reached the station in time for a -“wash-up.” Twice that day we had been taken for Eurasians (a Eurasian is -a person who is half European and half Asiatic); so we thought it was -about time to wash our faces. The station stood at the end of the city. -Beyond it stretched a flat, sandy plain. Armed with a lump of soap of -the color of maple-sugar, we slid down the steep bank below the railway -bridge, with a mass of loose sand and rolling stones. When we reached -the spot, however, Marten decided that he was “too tired” to turn -_dhoby_, and stretched out in the shade on the bank. I waded out into -the river, sinking half way to my knees in the mud. It would not have -been impolite or out of place to undress at once, but there would -certainly have been a sadly sunburned sahib ten minutes afterward. So I -scrubbed my jacket while wearing my shirt, and the shirt while wearing -the jacket, and wrapped the jacket around me while I soaked my trousers -in waters filled with Hindu sins. - -“Say, mate,” drawled Marten, as I daubed my trousers with the -maple-sugar soap, “you’ll surely go to heaven fer scrubbin’ your rags in -that mud. There’s always a bunch of Hindu gods hangin’ around here. I -don’t want to disturb a honest workin’-man, o’ course, but I’d be so -lonesome if you was gone that I’m goin’ to tell you that there’s one -comin’ to take you to heaven now, and if you’re finished with livin’—” - -I looked up suddenly. Barely ten feet away, the ugly snout of a -crocodile was moving toward me. - -“Stand still!” shouted Marten, as I struggled to pull my legs from the -clinging mud. “He’s a god, I tell you. Besides, he’s probably hungry. -Don’t be so selfish.” - -The trousers, well aimed, ended his speech suddenly as I reached dry -land. After that I worked with wide-open eyes; and before I was through -with my washing I saw as many as fourteen of the river gods of India. - -We reached the station in time for the train, and arrived in Allahabad -late that night. After walking half a mile from the station we found -“The Strangers’ Rest,” a home for wanderers, closed. But the Irish -superintendent was a light sleeper, and we were soon weighing down two -_charpoys_ under the trees. - -After breakfast the next morning I set out to explore the city alone, -while my companion called on the commissioner. When evening came I was -again sitting under the spreading trees near the “Rest,” when I looked -up and saw Marten turning slowly and sorrowfully in at the gate. He had -been to ask the commissioner for a ticket. According to our plan, he had -promised to ask for a pass to Kurachee, a city at the mouth of the Indus -River. But he had made a mistake and had blurted out the familiar name -of Bombay. He had received, therefore, a ticket to the city on the west -coast. - -Marten did not want to go to Bombay, because I had refused to go there -with him. But he had the ticket, and the law required that he leave by -the first train. Even if it had not, there was no one else to whom he -could apply. He felt very sad about it—so much so, indeed, that he began -to cry. To dry his tears I agreed to accompany him to the capital of the -next district, where he could ask for a ticket that would take him my -way. - -Before the night was over we had reached the town of Jubbulpore, where -we passed a sharp-cornered rest in the station. Marten told a carefully -worded story to the commissioner of that district, and received a ticket -to Jhansi. To get there he had to take a train southward until he -reached the main line, where he could change cars and go northwest. I -wished to go by another line that would take me through a wilder part of -India. So we separated, promising to meet again at Bina. - -The train on which I traveled was run by a Eurasian driver, who gave me -a compartment in the car all to myself. The country we passed through -was covered with hills and ridges, over which the train rose and fell -like a ship crossing the waves of the ocean. On both sides of the track -stretched a jungle where the vines and trees grew so thick and close -together that even the sunshine could not pierce its way into the woods. -The villages we passed were merely clusters of huts behind the railway -station. Every time our train stopped at one of these places, the people -flocked to the station to greet us. Now and then, as we went on, I -caught sight of some kind of deer bounding away through the shrubbery; -and once I saw that dreaded beast of India—a tiger. He was a lean, -lively beast, more dingy in color than those we see in cages. He moved -toward the track rapidly, yet cautiously, vaulting over the low jungle -shrubbery in long, easy bounds. On the track he halted a moment, gazed -scornfully at our slowly moving engine, then sprang into the thicket and -was gone. - -We halted at noon at the station of Damoh. Never thinking that anyone -would enter my compartment, I left my knapsack on a bench, and went to -eat lunch in the station buffet. When I returned a strange sight greeted -my eyes. Before the door of my compartment was grouped the population of -Damoh. Inside stood a Hindu policeman, in khaki uniform and red turban. -Under one arm he held my guide-book, a spool of film, and my lunch -wrapped in a leaf, that he had taken from my knapsack. The sack itself, -half a dozen letters, and my camera cover lay on the floor at his feet. -In some way he had found the springs that opened the back of the camera, -and, having laid that on the bench beside him, was cheerfully turning -the screw that unwound the ruined film while his fellow countrymen -looked on with delight. All the pictures I had taken on that trip were -lost to me because of his meddling. - -The natives fled when they saw me coming, and the policeman dropped my -possessions on the floor and dashed for the shelter of the -station-master’s office. I followed after to make complaint, and came -upon him cowering behind a heap of baggage, with his hands tightly -clasped over the badge that bore his number. - -“He says,” explained the Eurasian station-agent, “that it is his duty to -look in empty compartments for lost articles, but that he has not taken -the littlest thing, not even a box of matches, and asks that you forgive -him. If you cannot put the queer machine together again, he will.” - -I went on to Bina, where I stayed three days without seeing anything of -Marten. For some time I supposed he had failed to find me there and had -gone on without me. But three days later, when I arrived in Agra, I -found in a letter-rack at the station a post-card across which my name -was misspelled in bold blue letters. On the back was scrawled this -simple message: - - Godawara, India, April 25th. - - _Felow beech comer:_ - - Missed the train to Bina becaze I knoked the block off a black - polisman. They draged me down hear and the comish finned me - fifteen dibs and then payed the fine and put me rite as far as - Agra. I will pick you up ther on the 27th. yours, - - BUSTED HEAD. - -The twenty-seventh was past. The ex-pearl-fisher must have gone on, for -I saw him no more. - -The next afternoon I went to see the wonderful Taj Mahal, a great white -marble building erected by a king as the burial-place of his wife. Then -I took the night train to Delhi. In that city I found almost an Arab -world. I began to fancy that I was back in Damascus, the stores and -people were so much like those of “Shaam.” The calls to prayer, the fez -headdress, the lean-faced Bedouins with their trains of camels, even the -stray dogs, reminded me that there was a time when the followers of -Mohammed ruled a large part of India. But there were also many Arab -eating-shops where the keepers were not afraid to let me pause to choose -my food from the steaming kettles that stood near the doorway. - -It was these signs of a Western world, perhaps, that soon brought to my -mind that my side trip “up country” had carried me a thousand miles out -of my way. I awoke one morning with my mind made up to turn eastward -once more. I spent that day perspiringly as chief ball-chaser for the -Delhi Tennis Club, fagging three games for the district commissioner and -as many more for his friends. They did not reward me at once, however, -and at twilight I turned back penniless toward Delhi, four miles -distant. - -[Illustration: A lady of Delhi out for a drive in a bullock cart.] - -The stillness of the summer night was broken only by the murmuring hum -of insects, or by the leaves moving softly in the gentle breeze. Now and -then I heard the patter of native feet along the dusty roadway. Once I -was startled by a loud chorus of men’s voices that burst out suddenly -from the darkness in words of my own language; and a moment later a -squad of English soldiers trooped by me, arm in arm, singing at the top -of their lungs, “The Place Where the Punkah-wallah Died.” Plainly they -were returning to their barracks after spending a merry afternoon on -leave. They disappeared down the road, and I tramped on into the silence -of the night. - -I had to find lodging somewhere; for, although the weather was warm, -Hindu thieves were numerous. As I crossed the railway tracks I recalled -the fine “hotel” we had occupied in Puri. The next moment I slid down -the bank into the broad railroad yards. Head-lights of puffing switch -engines sent streaks of bright light through the blackness of the night. -I wandered here and there, looking for an empty car. There were freight -cars without number, an endless forest of them; but they were all closed -or loaded with goods. Passenger cars there were none. I struck off -boldly across the tracks toward the lighted station. Coming into the -blinding glare of a head-light, I suddenly felt myself falling down, -down, into space. Long after the world above had disappeared, I landed -in utter darkness, unhurt except for the barking of my nose. Near at -hand several live coals gleamed like watching eyes. I had walked into a -cinder-pit on the track near the engine-house. - -Giving a cat-like spring from the top of the largest heap of ashes, I -grasped the rail above and pulled myself out. Beyond the station lay a -thickly wooded park known as Queen’s Gardens. I climbed over the railing -and stretched out in the long grass. But the foliage overhead offered no -such shelter as had the trees of equatorial Ceylon, and I awoke in the -morning dripping wet from the falling dew. - -That afternoon I received a ticket and two rupees for chasing the -tennis-balls, and I returned to Calcutta Saturday night. - - - - - CHAPTER XX - BEYOND THE GANGES - - -Two hours after my arrival in Calcutta, there was seen making his way -through the streets of that city a youth who had been turned away from -the Sailors’ Home by a hard-hearted manager because he had once left -that place without permission for a trip “up country.” In his pocket was -a single rupee. His cotton garments were threadbare rags through which -the torrid sun had reddened his once white skin. Under one arm he -carried a tattered, sunburned bundle of the size of a camera. In short, -’twas I. - -Later, with much trouble, I gained entrance into the Seamen’s Mission. -It was here that I made the acquaintance of the only guest of the place -who paid his expenses. He was a clean, strong young man of twenty-five, -named Gerald James, from Perth, Australia. He had been a kangaroo-hunter -in his native land, and later a soldier in South Africa. After the war -there he had turned northward with two companions. In Calcutta his -partners had become policemen; but James, weary of bearing arms, had -taken a position as salesman in a department-store. - -Four days after my arrival a chance meeting with a German traveler who -spoke no English raised my wealth to seven rupees. I had also made the -acquaintance of a conductor who promised to let me ride as far as -Goalando, a city on the banks of the Ganges. It was on the day following -that I decided to escape from Calcutta and continue my journey eastward. - -As I lay stretched on the roof of the building, that night, the man -beside me rolled over in his blanket and peered at me through the -darkness. - -“That you, Franck?” he whispered. - -The voice was that of James the Australian. - -“Yes,” I answered. - -“Some of the lads,” came the answer, “told me you were going to hit the -trail again.” - -“I’m off to-morrow night.” - -“Where away?” - -“Somewhere to the east.” - -The Australian fell silent a moment, and his voice sounded as if he were -apologizing when he spoke again: - -“I quit my job to-day. There’s the plague and the summer coming on, and -they expected me to take orders from a _babu_ manager. - -“I’d like to leave Calcutta and go to Hong-Kong. Do you think you’ll -come anywhere near there?” - -“I expect to be there inside of a couple of months.” - -“How if I go with you?” murmured James. “I’ve had some experience -tramping round Australia after kangaroos.” - -“Agreed,” I answered; for, of all those at the institute, there was no -one I should sooner have chosen as a partner for the rough days to come -than James. - -“How’ll we make it?” he inquired. “It’s a long jump.” - -“I’ll set you right to Goalando,” I replied. “We can go down on the -Ganges boat to Chittagong. From there I think we can beat our way -through the jungle to Mandalay. Then we’ll drop down to Rangoon. They -say shipping is good there. But let’s have it understood that when we -reach Hong-Kong each one goes where he likes.” - -“All right,” said the Australian, lying down once more. - -Thursday passed quickly in looking over our belongings; and, having -stuffed them all into James’s carpet-bag, we set off at nightfall for -the station. - -“What! Two?” cried the conductor, when I had introduced James. “Well, -pile on.” - -He passed on, and, as the train started, James tumbled into an empty -compartment after me. When daylight awakened us, our car stood alone on -a side-track at the end of the line. - -Goalando was a village of mud huts, perched on a slimy, sloping bank of -the Ganges River, like turtles ready to slip into the stream at the -first sign of danger. - -Two days later we reached Chittagong after dark night had fallen. - -As the sun was setting the next afternoon, we climbed the highest of the -green hills in Chittagong to seek information from the district -commissioner; for the natives in the city knew nothing of the route to -Mandalay. The governor, aroused from a Sunday afternoon nap on his -vine-curtained veranda, received us kindly, even delightedly, and, -having called a servant to look after our thirst, went inside to -astonish his wife with the news that he had European callers. That lady, -after being properly introduced, consented to play upon the piano for -us. - -White men do not often come to Chittagong. Chatting like old -acquaintances, with the district ruler stretched out in a reclining -chair between us, we came near to forgetting, for a time, that we were -mere beach-combers. - -“And now, of course,” said the governor, when James had told him about -our journey from Calcutta, “you will wait for the steamer to Rangoon?” - -“Why, no, Mr. Commissioner,” I answered; “we’re going to walk overland -to Mandalay, and we took the liberty of calling on you to—” - -“Mandalay!” gasped the Englishman, dropping his slippered feet to the -floor. “_Walk_ to Man—Why, my dear fellow, come here a moment.” - -He rose and stepped to a corner of the veranda, and, raising an arm, -pointed away to the eastward. - -“That,” he said almost sadly, “is the way to Mandalay. Does that look -like a country to be crossed on foot?” - -It certainly did not. Beyond the river lay an unexplored wilderness. -Range after range of bold hills and rocky mountain chains lay beyond the -forest, rising higher and higher until they were lost in the blue and -haze of the eastern sky. At the very edge of the river began a -vine-choked tropical jungle, covering hill and valley as far as the eye -could see, and broken nowhere in all its extent by a clearing, or even -by the beginning of a pathway. - -“There,” went on the commissioner, “is one of the wildest regions under -British rule. Tigers abound; snakes sun themselves on every bush; wild -animals lie in wait in every thicket. The valleys are full of wild men, -savage outlaws that even the government fears; and the spring floods -have made the mountain streams raging torrents. There is absolutely -nothing to guide you. If you succeeded in traveling a mile after -crossing the river, you would be hopelessly lost; and, if you were not, -what would you eat and drink in that wilderness?” - -“Why,” said James, “we’d eat the wild animals and drink the mountain -streams. Of course we’d carry a compass. That’s what we do in the -Australian bush.” - -“We thought you might have a map,” I put in. - -The commissioner stepped into the bungalow. The music ceased and the -player followed her husband out to the veranda. - -“This,” said the commissioner, spreading out a chart he carried, “is the -latest map of the region. You mustn’t suppose, as many people do, that -all India has been mapped out. You see for yourselves that there is -nothing between Chittagong and the Irawaddy River but a few wavy lines -to show mountain ranges. That’s all any map shows, and all any civilized -man knows of that part. Bah! Your scheme is idiotic. You might as well -try to walk to Llassa.” - -He rolled up the map and dropped again into his chair. - -“By the way,” he asked, “why don’t you stop at the Sailors’ Home -to-night?” - -“I never imagined for a moment,” I replied, “that there was a Home in a -little town like this.” - -“There is, and a fine one,” answered the commissioner; “and just waiting -for someone to occupy it.” - -“No place for us,” retorted James. “We’ve spent our last coin.” - -“Nothing to do with it,” cried the Englishman. “Money or no money, -you’ll stop there while you’re here. I’ll send word to the manager at -once.” - -The Sailors’ Home of Chittagong was a wonder in comfort and beauty. The -city itself was a garden spot. The Home was a white bungalow set in the -edge of the forest on a river-bank. The parlor was carpeted with mats, -the dining-room furnished with _punkahs_. In another room stood a -pool-table and—wonder of wonders—a piano! - -Three native servants, housed in a near-by cottage, were ready to come -when called and wait on us. For, though weeks had passed since a sailor -had stopped at the Home, everything was as ready for our accommodation -as if the manager had been expecting us. - -An hour after we had moved into the bungalow, we were resting in veranda -chairs with our feet on the railing, watching the cook chasing one of -the chickens that later appeared before us in our evening curry, when a -white man turned into the grounds and walked lazily toward us, swinging -his cane and striking off a head here and there among the tall flowers -that bordered the path. When he reached the shade of the bungalow, he -sprang up the steps with outstretched hand, and, having expressed his -joy at the meeting, sat down beside us. Whoever he was, he was an expert -story-teller, and entertained us with tales of life in the army until -the shades of night fell. Suddenly he stopped at the most interesting -point of a story to cry out: - -“The commissioner sent for me this afternoon.” - -“That so?” asked James. - -“Yes. He thinks you fellows are going to start to Mandalay on foot. -Mighty good joke, that”; and he fell to chuckling, while he glanced -sidewise at us. - -“No joke at all,” I put in. “We _are_ going on foot, just as soon as we -can find the road.” - -“Don’t try it!” cried the Englishman, raising his cane on high. “I -haven’t introduced myself, but I am chief of police for Chittagong. The -commissioner has given orders that you must not go. The police have been -ordered to watch you, the boatmen forbidden to row you across the river. -Don’t try it.” With that, he said no more about it, and began telling -another yarn. - -Late that night, when James had finally agreed to leave off making -strange noises on the piano, we made a surprising discovery. There was -not a bed in the Home! While James hurried off to ask a servant about -it, I went carefully through each room with the parlor lamp, peering -under tables and opening drawers, in the hope of finding at least a -ship’s hammock. I was still searching when the Australian returned with -a frightened native, who assured us that there had never been a bed or a -_charpoy_ in the Home. Just why, he could not say. Probably because the -manager babu had forgotten to get them. - -So we turned in side by side on the pool-table, and took turns in -falling off at regular intervals through the night. - -With the first gray light of morning we slipped out the back door of the -bungalow and struck off through the forest toward the uninhabited -river-bank beyond. For, in spite of the warning of the chief of police, -we had decided to try the overland journey. - -To get past the police was easy; to escape the jungle, quite a different -matter. A full two hours we tore our way through the undergrowth along -the river without finding a single spot in the wall-like eastern bank -that we dared to swim for. James grew peevish and cross; we both became -painfully hungry. And finally we turned back, promising ourselves to -continue hunting for an opening in the forest beyond the river on the -following day. - -The servants at the Home, knowing that _sahibs_ often take early morning -strolls, grinned cheerfully when they saw us returning, and told us -breakfast was ready. While we were eating, the chief of police bounded -into the room, told a new story, and said that the commissioner wished -to see us at once; then bounded away again, complaining that he was -being worked to death. - -When we reached his bungalow on the hilltop, we found the ruler of the -district pacing back and forth between rows of native secretaries and -assistants. - -“I have given orders that you are not to start for Mandalay,” he began -shortly. - -“But how shall we get out any other way?” demanded James. - -“If you were killed in the jungle,” went on the governor, as if he had -heard nothing, “your governments would blame me. But, of course, I have -no intention of keeping you in Chittagong. I have arranged, therefore, -with the agents of the weekly steamer, to give you deck passages, with -European food, to Rangoon. Apply to them at once, and be ready to start -to-morrow morning.” - -In a blinding tropical shower we were rowed out to the steamer next -morning. For four days following we lolled about the winch (a crank for -raising weights) on which the Chinese stewards served our European -“chow.” The steamer drifted slowly down the eastern coast of the Bay of -Bengal, and, rounding the delta of the Irawaddy River on the morning of -May thirteenth, dropped anchor three hours later in the harbor of -Rangoon. - - - - - CHAPTER XXI - TRAMPING THROUGH BURMA - - -At the time we reached Rangoon, that town was filled with sailors who -had been looking for a chance to “sign on” for months past, with no -success. Moreover, they assured me that there was no work ashore, that -the city was suffering from the plague, and that we had fallen upon the -most unlucky port in the Orient. - -Nevertheless, we were there, and we had to make the best of it. We -struck off through the city to see the sights. The native town, -squatting on the flat plain along the river, had streets as wide and -straight as those of Western cities. There were no sidewalks, of course. -People on foot walked among the wagons and carts, and disputed the way -with donkeys and human beasts of burden. A flat city it was, with small -two-story huts built on stilts. Above it gleamed a few golden pagodas, -and high above all else soared the pride of Burma, the Shwe Dagón -pagoda. - -There are probably as many pagodas in East India and China as there are -churches in our own country. A pagoda is a temple containing idols or -statues of gods which the people worship. We climbed the endless -stairway up into the great Shwe Dagón in company with hundreds of -natives carrying their shoes in their hands. We watched them wandering -among the glittering statues, setting up lighted candles or spreading -out blossoms before them, bowing until their faces touched the floor, -but puffing all the time at long cigars. While we gazed, a breathless -woman with closely cropped hair pushed past us, and laid before an idol -a braid of oily jet-black hair. - -Outside once more, we stood looking up until our necks ached at the -towering Shwe Dagón, which was covered from peak to swollen base with -brightest gold. It was all too brilliant in the blazing sunlight. When -we turned aside and looked into the shadows to rest our eyes, tiny -pagodas floated before our vision for a long time afterward. - -“Mate,” said James, later in the day, as we stood before a world map in -the Sailors’ Home, “it looks to me as if we’d come here to stay. There’s -nothing doing in the shipping line here, and not a chance to earn the -price of a deck passage to Singapore. And, if we could, it’s a long jump -from there to Hong-Kong.” - -“Aye,” put in a grizzled seaman, limping forward; “ye’ll be lucky lads -if ye make yer get-away from Rangoon. But once ye get on the beach in -Singapore, ye’ll die of ould age afore iver ye see ’Ong-Kong, if that’s -’ow yer ’eaded. Why, mates, that place is alive with sailors that’s been -’ung up there so long they’d not know ’ow to eat with a knife if iver -they got back to a civilized country. Take my word for it, and keep away -from Singapore.” - -“It would seem foolish, anyway,” I remarked to James, “to go to -Singapore. It’s a good nine hundred miles from here, a week of loafing -around in some old tub to get there, and a longer jump back up -north—even if we don’t get stuck there.” - -“But what else is there for us to do?” objected James. - -“See how narrow the Malay Peninsula is,” I went on, pointing to the map. -“Bangkok is almost directly east of here. We’d save miles of travel by -going overland, and run no risk of being tied up for months in -Singapore.” - -“But how?” demanded the Australian. - -“Walk, of course.” - -The sailors grouped about us burst out in a roar of laughter. - -“Aye; ye’d walk across the Peninsula like ye’d swim to Madras,” chuckled -one of them. “It’s bats ye have in yer belfry from a touch o’ the sun.” - -“But Hong-Kong—” I began. - -“If it’s ’Ong-Kong, ye’ll go to Singapore,” continued the seaman, “or -back the other way. There’s no man goes round the world in the north -’emisphere without touching Singapore. Put that down in yer log.” - -“If we walk across the Peninsula,” I went on, still addressing James, -“it would—” - -“Yes,” put in an old fellow, “it would be a new and onusual way of -committin’ suicide—original, interestin’, maybe slow, but blamed sure.” - -“Now look ’ere, lads,” said the old seaman, almost in tears, “d’ye know -anything about that country? There’s no wilder savages nowhere than the -Siamese. I know ’em. When I was sailin’ from Singapore to China, that’s -fourt—fifteen year gone, we was blowed into the bay, an’ put ashore fer -water. We rowed by thousands o’ dead babies floatin’ down the river. We -’adn’t no more’n stepped ashore when down come a yelpin’ bunch o’ -Siamese, with knives as long as yer arm, an’ afore we could shove off -they’d kilt my mate an’ another and—chopped ’em all to pieces. Them’s -the Siamese, an’ the wild men in the mountains is worse.” - -In short, the “boys” had so much to say against such a trip that we were -forced to go out into the street to continue our planning. For, in spite -of their jeers, I still believed the overland trip was possible, and it -would be more interesting to travel through a wilderness that had never -before been explored. - -James told me he was “game for anything,” and we began studying maps for -trails and rivers. Natives who had lived in Rangoon all their lives -could tell us nothing whatever of the wilds seven miles east of the -city. - -Late one afternoon, as we were lounging in the Home talking it over, an -Englishman in khaki uniform burst in upon us. - -“Are you the chaps,” he began, “who are talking of starting for Bangkok -on foot?” - -“We’ve been asking the way,” I answered. - -“Well, save yourselves the trouble,” returned the officer. “There _is_ -no way. The trip can’t be made. You’d be killed, and your government -would come back at us for letting you go. I have orders from the chief -of police that you are not to leave Rangoon except by sea, and I have -warned the police on the east side of the city to head you off. Thought -I’d tell you.” - -“Thanks,” muttered James; “but we’ll hold down Rangoon for a while yet, -anyway.” - -But of course we could not give up the plan. One afternoon, as the -manager of the Home was sleeping, we laid hold on the knapsack we had -left in his keeping, and struck off through the crowded native town. - -“This is no good,” objected James. “All the streets leading east are -guarded.” - -“The railroad to Mandalay isn’t,” I replied. “We’ll run up the line out -of danger, and strike out from there.” - -The Australian halted at a tiny drug-store, and, awakening the -bare-legged clerk, bought twenty grains of quinine. “For jungle fever,” -he muttered as he tucked the package away in his helmet. That was our -“outfit” for a journey that might last one month or six. In the knapsack -were two cotton suits and a few ragged shirts. As for weapons, we had -not even a penknife. - -A mile from the Home we entered a small station, bought tickets to the -first important town, and a few minutes later were hurrying northward. -James settled back in a corner, and fell to singing to himself: - - “On the road to Mandalay, - Where the flying-fishes play—” - -About us lay low rolling hills, deep green with tropical vegetation. -Behind sparkled the golden tower of the Shwe Dagón pagoda, growing -smaller and ever smaller, until the night, falling quickly, blotted it -out. We fell asleep, and, awakening as the train pulled into Pegu, spent -the rest of the night in two willow rockers in the waiting-room. - -Dawn found us already astir. A fruit-seller in the bazaars, given to -early rising, served us breakfast. We did not know the directions, -however, and had to wait for the rising sun to show us which way was -east. When we saw it peering boldly over the horizon, we were off. - -A sandy highway led forth from the village, but soon swung northward; -and we struck across an untracked plain. Far away to the eastward were -rocky hills, deep blue in color, foot-hills of wild mountain chains that -we would have to cross later. But around us lay a stretch of sandy -lowlands, dull and flat, with never a hut or a human being in sight. - -Ten miles of plodding, without even a mud-hole in which to quench our -thirst, brought us to a crowded village of bamboo huts hidden away in a -tangled wood. A pack of dogs came leaping toward us, barking noisily. We -drove them off and drank our fill, while the natives stood about us, -staring curiously. As we started on again, a _babu_ pushed his way -through the group and invited us to his bungalow. He was employed on the -new railway line that was being built from Pegu to Moulmein, and which -when it was completed was to bring him the title of station-master in -his own town. In honor of his future position he was already wearing a -brilliant uniform, designed by himself, which made his fellow townsmen -gaze in wonder. - -We squatted with him on the floor of his open hut, and made away with a -dinner of rice, fruit, bread-cakes, and—red ants. No Burmese lunch would -be complete without the last. When we offered to pay for the meal, the -_babu_ rose, chattering with anger, and would not pardon us until we had -patted him on the back and put our thin pocket-books out of sight. - -A few miles beyond the village we came upon a gang of men and women at -work on the new railroad. There were at least three hundred of them, all -Hindus, for the Burman scorns coolie labor. There was no machinery. A -few scooped up the earth with shovels in the shallow trenches; the -others swarmed up the embankment in endless line, carrying flat baskets -of earth on their heads. - -Nightfall found us still plodding on in a lonely jungle. We had heard -that a division engineer lived just across the Sittang River, and we -were determined to reach his bungalow before midnight. Not long -afterward we were brought to a sudden halt at the bank of the river. -Under the moon’s rays the broad sheet of water showed dark and -dangerously rough, racing by with the swiftness of a mountain stream. A -light twinkled high up above the opposite shore nearly half a mile -away—too far to swim in that rushing flood. I tore myself free from the -entangling bushes, and, making a trumpet of my hands, bellowed across -the water. - -For a time only the echo answered. Then a faint cry was borne to our -ears, and we caught the Hindustanee words, “Quam hai?” (“Who is it?”) - -I took a deep breath and shouted into the night: - -“Do sahib hai! Engineer sampan, key sampan key derah?” - -A moment of silence. Then the answer came back, soft, yet distinct, like -a near-by whisper: - -“Acha, sahib” (“All right”). Even at that distance, we could tell that -it was the humble voice of a timid Hindu coolie. - -A speck of light moved down to the level of the river; then, rising and -falling in regular time as if someone were carrying a torch, it came -steadily nearer. We waited eagerly; yet half an hour passed before there -appeared a flat-bottomed sampan rowed by three struggling Hindus whose -brown skins gleamed in the light of a dickering lantern. Evidently they -thought we were railway officials. While two wound their arms around the -bushes to hold the boat steady, the third sprang ashore with a -respectful greeting, and, picking up our knapsack, dropped into the boat -behind us. - -With a shout the others let go of the bushes, and the three grasped -their oars and pulled with all their strength. The racing current -carried us far down the river; but we swung at last into more quiet -water under the shadow of a bluff, and, creeping slowly up the stream, -reached the other side. A boatman stepped out with our bundle, and, -zigzagging up the side of the hill, dropped the bag on the veranda of a -bungalow at the top, shouted a “sahib hai,” and fled into the night. - -The next moment an Englishman flung open the door with a bellow of -delight. He was a noisy, good-hearted giant, who insisted on our -stopping at his bungalow for the night. I dropped my bespattered -knapsack on the top step and followed my companion inside. When our -thirst had been quenched, we followed the Englishman to the bath-room, -where we plunged our heads and arms into great bowls of cool water, and, -greatly refreshed, took our places at the table. - -We learned that our host was an engineer of the new line, a soldier of -fortune who had “mixed” in everything from railway building to battles -and wars on three continents, and who knew more geography than can be -found in an atlas. His bungalow was a palace in the wilderness; he said -that he earned his money to spend, and that he paid four rupees a pound -for Danish butter without wasting a thought on it. - -We slept on the veranda high above the river, and, in spite of the -thirty-two miles in our legs and the fever that fell upon James during -the night, we rose with the dawn, eager to be off. As we took our leave -the engineer held out to us a handful of rupees. - -“Just to buy your chow on the way, lads,” he smiled. - -“No, no!” protested James, edging away. “We’ve taken enough from you -already.” - -“Nonsense!” cried the adventurer. “Don’t be a dunce. We’ve all been in -the same boat, and I’m only paying back a little of what’s fallen to -me.” - -When we still refused to take it, he called us cranks and no true -soldiers of fortune, and took leave of us at the edge of the veranda. - -Sittang was a mere bamboo village with a few grass-grown streets that -faded away in the surrounding wilderness. At one time we lost the path -and plunged on aimlessly for hours through a tropical forest. Noonday -had passed before we broke out upon an open plain where the railway -embankment began again, and satisfied our screaming thirst in the hut of -a _babu_ employed by the railway company. - -Beyond, walking was less difficult. The wildly scrambling jungle had -been laid open for the railroad that was to be built; and where the -tangled vegetation pressed upon us, we had only to climb to the top of -the newly made bank and plod on. The country was not the lonely waste of -the day before. Where bananas and cocoanuts and jack-fruits grow, there -are human beings to eat them, and now and then a howling of dogs told us -that we were near a cluster of native huts tucked away in a fruitful -grove. - -Every few miles we came upon gangs of coolies, who fell to chattering -excitedly when we came into view, and, dropping shovels and baskets, -squatted on their heels, staring until we had passed, paying no -attention to the maddened screaming of their high-caste bosses. Good -bungalows for engineers were being built on high places along the way. -The carpenters were Chinamen, who seemed to work faster than the Hindus. - -We saw more and more of these wearers of the pig-tail as we continued -our travels on into Burma. Many of them kept stores. They were shrewd, -grasping fellows. - -We came to the end of the embankment for the new railroad, and tramped -on into an open country where there were many streams through which we -had to wade or swim. We were knee-deep in one of these when there -sounded close at hand a snort like the spouting of a whale. I glanced in -fright at the weeds growing in the river about us. From the muddy water -were thrust a dozen ugly black snouts. - -“Crocodiles!” screamed James, turning tail and splashing by me. - -“But hold on!” I cried, before we had reached the bank. “These things -seem to have horns.” - -The creatures that had so startled us were harmless water-buffaloes, -which, being freed from their day’s labor, had plunged into the muddy -stream to escape from flies and the blazing sun. - -From there the route turned southward, and the red sunshine beat in our -faces throughout the third day’s tramp. We passed several villages of -brown-skinned natives, and the jungle was broken here and there by -thirsty rice-fields. - -As the day was dying, however, we tramped along a railway embankment -between two dark and unpeopled forests. We were almost ready to lie down -and sleep out of doors, when we came upon a path leading into the -forest. Hoping to find some empty shack left by a railway gang, we -turned aside and tumbled down the bank. The trail wound away through the -jungle, and brought us, a mile from the line, to a grassy clearing in -the center of which stood a bungalow. - -It was one of the public rest houses kept by the British government for -_sahibs_ traveling through the wilds. This one seemed to be deserted, -for there were no servants about. We climbed the steps, and, settling -ourselves in veranda chairs, stretched our weary legs and listened to -the humming of countless insects. We might have fallen asleep where we -were, had we not been hungry and choking with thirst. - -Like every house in British India, the bungalow stood wide open. I rose -and wandered through the building, lighting my way with matches and -peering into every corner for a bottle of water or a sleeping servant. -In each of the two bedrooms there were two canvas _charpoys_; in the -main room a table littered with tattered books and magazine leaves in -English; in the back room several pots and kettles. There was plenty of -water also—a tubful of it in a closet opening out of one of the -bedrooms. But who could say how many travel-stained _sahibs_ had bathed -in it? - -I returned to the veranda, and we took to shouting our wants into the -jungle. Only the jungle replied, and we climbed down the steps and went -around the building, less in the hope of finding any one than to escape -the temptation of the bath-tub. Behind the bungalow stood three ragged -huts. The first was empty. In the second we found a snoring Hindu -stretched on his back on the dirt floor, close to a dying fire of -sticks. - -We woke him. He sprang to his feet with a frightened “Acha sahib, pawnee -hai,” and ran to fetch a _chettie_ of water—not because we had asked for -it, but because he well knew the first need of travelers in the tropics. - -“Now we would eat, O chowkee dar,” said James in Hindustanee. “Julty -karow” (“Hurry up”). - -“Acha, sahib,” repeated the cook. - -He tossed a few sticks on the fire, set a kettle over them, emptied into -it the water from another _chettie_, and, catching up a blazing stick, -trotted with a loose-kneed wabble to the third hut. There sounded one -long-drawn squawk, a muffled cackling of hens, and the Hindu returned, -holding a chicken by the head and swinging it round and round as he ran. -Catching up a knife, he slashed the fowl from throat to tail, snatched -off skin and feathers with a few skilful jerks, and in less than three -minutes after his awakening our supper was cooking. - -We returned to the veranda, followed by the _chowkee dar_, who lighted a -crippled-looking lamp on the table within and trotted away. He came back -soon after to clear away the plates and chicken-bones. After paying him -the last of our coppers, we rolled our jackets and shoes into pillows, -and turned in. - -We slept an hour, perhaps, during the night. A flock of roosters crowed -every time they saw a new-born star, and dozens of lizards made the -night miserable. There must have been a whole army of these pests in the -bungalow. They were great, green-eyed reptiles from six inches to a foot -long. Almost before the light was blown out, one on the ceiling struck -up his song; another on the wall beside me joined in; two more in a -corner gave answering cry, and the night concert had begun: - -_She-kak! she-kak! she-kak!_ - -Don’t fancy for a moment that the cry of the Indian lizard is the gentle -murmur of the cricket or the tree-toad. It sounds more like the -squawking of an ungreased bullock-cart: - -_She-kak! she-kak! she-kak!_ - -To try to drive them off was worse than useless. The walls and ceiling, -being made of grasses and reeds, offered more hiding-places for creeping -things than a hay-stack. When I fired a shoe at the nearest, a shower of -branches and rubbish rattled to the floor; and, after a moment of -silence, the song was resumed, louder than before. Either the creatures -were clever dodgers or they could not be wounded; and there was always -the danger that anything thrown swiftly might bring down half the roof -on our heads. - -_She-kak! she-kak! she-kak!_ - -Wherever there are dwellings in British India, there are croaking -lizards. I have listened to their shriek from Colombo to Delhi; I have -seen them darting across the carpeted floor in the bungalows of -commissioners; I have awakened many a time to find one dragging its -clammy way across my face. But nowhere are they in greater numbers or -more loud-voiced than in the jungle of the Malay Peninsula. There came a -day when we were glad they had not been driven out—but I will tell of -that later. - -Early the next morning we came to a broad pathway that led us every half -hour through a grinning village, between which were many lonely huts. We -stopped at all of them for water. The natives showed us marked kindness, -often waiting for us with a _chettie_ of water in hand, or running out -into the road at our shout of “Yee sheedela?” - -This Burmese word for water (_yee_) gave James a great deal of -amusement. Ever and again he would pause before a hut, to call out in -the voice of a court crier: “Hear ye! hear ye! hear ye! We’re thirsty as -Hottentots!” Householders young and old understood. At least, they -fetched us water in abundance. - -The fourth day afoot brought us two misfortunes. The rainy season burst -upon us in fury not an hour after we had spent our last copper for -breakfast. Where dinner would come from we had not the least idea; but -we did not waste our strength in worry. - -The first shower came suddenly. One sullen roar of thunder, the heavens -opened, and the water poured. After that they came often. At times we -found shelter under some long-legged hovel. Even when we scrambled up -the bamboo ladders into the huts, the squatting family showed no anger. -Often they gave us fruit; once they forced upon us two native cigars. It -was these that made James forever after a firm friend of the Burmese. - -Frequently we plodded on in a blinding down-pour that, in the twinkling -of an eye, drenched us to the skin. The storm lasted only about five -minutes. With the last dull growl of thunder the sun burst out, hotter -than before, sopping up the pools in the highway as if with a giant’s -sponge, and drying our dripping garments before we had time to grumble -at the wetting. The gorgeous beauties of the surroundings gave us so -much to look at that the ducking we had received was quickly forgotten, -and the next down-pour took us as completely by surprise as if it were -the first of the season. - -It was still early in the morning when, down the green-framed roadway, -came a funeral procession on its way to the place where the body was to -be burned. There came, first of all, dozens of girls dressed as if for a -holiday. About their necks were garlands of flowers; in their jet-black -hair, red and white blossoms. Each carried a flat basket heaped high -with bananas of the brightest yellow, with golden mangoes and great -plump pineapples, for the dead. The girls held the baskets high above -their heads, swinging their bodies from side to side and tripping -lightly back and forth across the road, the long line performing a -snake-dance as they came. The strange music that rose and fell in time -with their movements sounded like a song of victory; now and again a -singer broke out in merry laughter. - -The coffin was a wooden box gayly decked with flowers and trinkets, and -three of the eight men who carried it on their shoulders were puffing at -long native cigars. Behind them more men, led by two yellow-robed -priests, pattered through the dust, chattering like schoolgirls, or now -and then adding their harsh voices to the singing. - -We reached the village of Moulmein late at night, and went home with a -Eurasian youth who had invited us to sleep on his veranda. There we -threw ourselves down on the floor, and, drenched and mud-caked as we -were, sank into corpse-like slumber. - - - - - CHAPTER XXII - IN THE JUNGLES OF BURMA - - -The next morning we went to call on an American missionary. He lived in -a handsome bungalow set in a wooded park on a hill just outside the -town. The first persons we saw when we reached the place were a native -gardener clipping away at the shrubbery on the grounds, and another -servant following two very little girls who drove about the house a team -of lizards harnessed together with reins tied to their hind legs. - -When we told the missionary that we were looking for work, he quickly -found something to put us at. Among other things, I repaired the floor -and several windows, and made two kitchen benches. James put a new cover -on the missionary’s saddle, cleaned and oiled his fire-arms, put new -roosts in his hen-house, and set his lumber-room in order. - -We found some work in the city also, and, with some four dollars in -silver and copper, set off once more. A jungle trail led eastward -through a dark forest. We walked as fast as we could, for the hour was -late and the next village was fully fifteen miles distant. Not a hut or -a human being did we pass on the journey; only the path showed that -someone had been there before us. - -Black night had fallen when we reached Kawkeriek. The town was only a -collection of those same one-story bamboo huts standing in uneven rows -in the square clearing which its inhabitants had won after a hard fight -with the wilderness. - -We had heard that a commissioner lived at Kawkeriek. We wandered among -the huts, asking passers-by to direct us to his bungalow. The few whom -we came upon in the darkness listened with trembling limbs to our -question, grunted something that we couldn’t understand, and hurried -noiselessly away. - -The hour was late when we came upon one who must have been made of -bolder stuff than his fellow townsmen, for he agreed to guide us. Beyond -the last row of huts, he plunged into a pathway that led into the woods, -and, climbing a low hill, stopped before a bungalow almost hidden in the -trees. We turned to thank him, but found that he had slipped silently -away. - -The commissioner was reading in his study. To our surprise, he was a -brown man—a Burman from “over Mandalay way.” He said he had not dined, -and for that we were thankful; for to have missed the dinner that he -invited us to share would have been a misfortune indeed. - -We watched the commissioner with interest; for it is not often that -England honors a brown man by making him a ruler over one of her -districts. In appearance he was like other Burmans of the wealthier -class. He wore the usual flowing robe, though his legs were dressed and -his feet were shod. His long, thick black hair was caught up at the back -of his head in a graceful knot. But in manners and speech he was like an -educated European. He spoke English so well that if we had entered the -bungalow blindfolded we should never have suspected that his skin was -brown. We were much surprised to learn that he was still a bachelor; for -people of Asia usually marry when they are very young. When we gave -expression to our astonishment, he answered: “I have been too busy in my -short life to give attention to such matters.” - -[Illustration: The chief of a jungle village agrees to guide us for one -day’s journey.] - -There was a dak bungalow in Kawkeriek. The commissioner’s servant showed -us the way, prepared our bath, and arranged the sleeping-rooms for us. -In the morning we took breakfast with the governor. Later that morning -he called together his council of eight wise men for no other purpose -than to talk over with them our plans for traveling to Siam on foot. -Toward noon they called us in to tell us what they thought about it. One -speaker said that the country east of the city was a trackless jungle -overrun with savages, poisonous snakes, and man-eating tigers. Even the -people of Kawkeriek dared not go far into it. However, if we were -determined to risk our lives and go, there was outside the door a “wild -man,” chief of a jungle village, who was going our way, and he would -guide us for one day’s journey. - -We answered that we must start immediately. A servant stepped out on to -the veranda and summoned the _boh_, as they called the “wild man.” He -came into the council-chamber, a tall, thin, bony, awkward wild man. His -skin was a leathery brown, his hair short and standing up like bristles -all over his head. His eyes were small, and moved about so restlessly -that he made us think of a leopard. His cheek-bones were high and his -forehead sloped backward to his hair. The chewing of betel-nuts had made -his teeth jet-black. We began to fancy that we had seen him before, -playing and chattering in the tree-tops. - -His clothes, nevertheless, were brilliant. Around his head was wound a -strip of pink silk; an embroidered jacket, having no buttons, left his -chest bare to the waist-line; his hips and legs were clothed as far as -the knees in many yards of bright red stuff draped to look like -bloomers. Below the knees he wore nothing. At his waist was fastened a -bag for betel-nuts. He carried a leather sack of the shape of a -saddle-bag, and—an umbrella. - -He spoke a Burmese so different from that used by the commissioner and -his council that their words had to be translated for him by another -native. We knew that they were telling him that he was to be our guide -through the jungle. He listened carefully, and gave a grunt now and then -to show that he understood, bowing so low each time he spoke that his -head all but touched his knees. From time to time, when he wished to -show unusual politeness, he sat down on his heels. When he left, he -backed toward the door, bowing almost to the floor with every step, and -forgetting his leather sack until he was called back by a member of the -council. - -The brilliant clothes that this jungle chieftain wore while calling on -the governor were not his traveling costume, of course. As soon as we -were outside the city, he signed to us to wait, and stepped inside a -hut. When he came out again we hardly knew him. His fine clothes had -been packed away in his sack. The broad strap of this sack was his only -covering save a strip of cotton which he wore about his hips. - -He turned at once into the jungle, moving with little mincing steps, -while we stumbled along awkwardly over the uneven ground. The path was -so narrow that the outstretching branches whipped us in the faces. It -was overgrown with tough creepers that entangled our feet. None but a -human being who had lived in the jungle all his life could have followed -that wandering, often hidden path through the thick maze of vegetation. -Had we been alone we should certainly have lost it. Flocks of -brilliantly colored birds flew away before us, screaming shrilly; now -and then we heard a sudden crashing in the underbrush as some wild -animal fled from our path. - -Our guide was the most silent of creatures. Never once during the day -did a sound escape him. Where the path widened a bit, he raised his -umbrella and trotted steadily forward. Even swollen streams did not stop -him—he hardly seemed to notice them. With never a pause, he splashed -through the first as if there were nothing in his way, and galloped -carelessly on along the branch-choked path. We hallooed to him as we sat -down to pull off our shoes. If we let him get out of our sight we should -be hopelessly lost in the jungle. He halted a moment, but set off again -before we had waded ashore. We shouted once more, and he turned to stare -open-mouthed while we put on our shoes. He could not understand why we -strange creatures should wear garments on our feet, or why we should -stop to put them on when there were other streams to wade through. When -we had overtaken him, he made signs to show us that we should do better -to toss aside the foolish leather things that made it necessary for us -to stop so often. He could not understand that a mile over sharp stones -and jagged roots would have left us crippled. - -As we neared the mountains we came across stream after stream, rushing -past with increased swiftness. By the time we had waded through -thirty-six of these we grew tired of halting every hundred yards to pull -off our shoes and shout after the _boh_, who always forgot to wait for -us. - -When we reached the next stream, James tried crossing it on a few -stepping-stones without removing his shoes. But he slipped, lost his -balance, and sprawled headlong into the water. I followed more -carefully, and reached the other bank without falling. After that we -waded through streams that for the most part were over knee-deep, and -marched on with the water gushing from our shoe-tops. It mattered little -in the end, for a sudden storm burst upon us. - -He who has never bowed his back to a tropical storm at the height of the -rainy season cannot know how violent they are. With a roar like the -explosion of a powder-mill, a furious clap of thunder broke above us; -then another and another, in quick deafening blasts. Flaming flashes of -lightning continuously chased each other across the heavens, blinding us -with their sudden glare. We half expected to see the mass of plant life -about us burst into flame. - -In the falling sheets of water we plunged on; the biggest trees could -not have sheltered us from it. The _boh_ had raised his umbrella. It -kept the storm from pounding him, but could not save him a drenching. -What cared he, dressed only in a cloth the size of a handkerchief? The -water ran in little rivers down his naked shoulders and along the -hollows between his outstanding ribs. Between the crashes of thunder the -thud, thud of the storm drowned all other sounds. Only by speaking into -my companion’s ear as into a trumpet, and shouting at the top of my -lungs, could I make him hear me. - -The storm died down slowly at first, then suddenly, and all seemed quiet -except our voices, which continued to be shrill and loud. Quickly the -sun burst forth again, to blaze fiercely upon us—though not for long. -All that day the storms broke upon us one after another so rapidly that -we had no idea of their number. More often than not, they caught us -climbing a wall-like mountainside by a narrow, clay-bottomed path down -which an ever-increasing brook poured, washing us off our feet while we -clutched at overhanging bushes. - -The _boh_ led us on by zigzag routes over two mountain ranges before the -day was done. At sunset we were climbing down into another valley, when -we came suddenly upon a tiny clearing in the jungle, and a tinier -village. “Thenganyenam,” the natives called it. There were four bamboo -huts and a dak bungalow, housing thirty-one “wild men” and one tame one. -It was easy to see how many there were, for the natives poured forth -from their hovels to meet us before we had crossed five yards of the -clearing. - -At their head trotted the tamed human being. Among all the shrieking, -staring band of men, women, and children, there was no other that wore -clothing. He was a babu, the “manager” of the public rest house. With a -low bow, he offered us welcome, turned to wave back the gazing crowd, -and led the way to the dak bungalow. - -“Look here, babu,” I began, as we sank down into wicker chairs on the -veranda. “This is a splendid little surprise to find a dak rest bungalow -and a man who speaks English here in the jungle. But we’re no -millionaires, and the government fee is two rupees, eh? Too strong for -us. Can’t you get us a cheaper lodging in one of the huts?” - -“The government,” returned the babu, pronouncing his words very -carefully, “the government have made the _dak_ bungalow for Europeans. -Why, you may not ask me. In two years and nine days that I am living in -Thenganyenam there are come two white men, and one have only rested and -not sleep. But because the dak bungalow is make, all sahibs coming in -Thenganyenam must stop in it. When I have see you coming by the foot and -not by the horses I must know that you have not plenty money. Every day -we are not everybody rich. How strong you have the legs to come from -Kawkeriek by the feet. The two rupees you must not pay. If you can give -some little to the cook, that he make you a supper—” - -“That’s the word,” burst out James. “Of course we pay for our chow. -Where’s the chowkee? Tell him to get busy.” - -“But,” apologized the _babu_, “this is a very jungly place and we have -not proper food for Europeans.” - -“Great dingoes!” shrieked the Australian. “European food? We haven’t had -anything to eat for a day! Bring a pan of rice, or a raw turnip, or a -fried snake—anything. Ring up the chowkee.” - -“The other day,” said the _babu_ dreamily, “there was a chicken in -Thenganyenam; I shall send the cook to hunt him.” - -A few minutes later we saw the population of Thenganyenam chasing the -lone fowl. He was finally run to earth with a great hubbub, and put to -death while the crowd looked on. After that all was quiet for so long a -time that we became uneasy, wondering if some one else was enjoying our -dinner. Finally, when our overgrown hunger had become very painful -indeed, the chicken appeared before us as tongue-scorching curry in a -generous setting of hard-boiled rice. - -Meanwhile we had pulled off our water-soaked rags, rubbed down with a -strip of canvas, and put on our extra garments. The change was most -agreeable. It was not until then that we knew how useful those squares -of oil-cloth were. They had kept our baggage dry. Supper over, we -stretched out on the canvas cots and tried to sleep. - -The swamps and streams through which we had plunged that day had swarmed -with leeches, commonly called bloodsuckers. One of these had fastened -itself in a vein of my right ankle. I could not pull it out. A tiny -stream of blood trickled along my toes. When I awoke in the morning I -seemed to be fastened to the cot. The blood, oozing out during the -night, had grown hard, gluing my right leg to the canvas. - -Before I had dressed, the Hindu cook and care-taker wandered into the -room, and, catching sight of the long red stain, gave one shriek and -tumbled out on to the veranda. James, who was sleeping in a room next to -mine, was awakened by the scream, and, hearing the Hindustanee word for -“blood,” sprang to his feet in the belief that I had been murdered while -he slept. I was explaining the matter to him when the cook, looking very -frightened, returned with the book in which we had written our names the -night before. Waving his arm now at the book, now at the cot, he danced -about us, screaming excitedly. We could not understand his chatter, so -we stepped past him out to the veranda. The “manager” was just coming up -the steps. - -“Here, babu,” demanded James, “what’s wrong with our friend from the -kitchen?” - -The Hindu turned to the manager, talking so rapidly that he almost -choked over his words. Tears were streaming down his yellow-brown -cheeks. - -“He says,” cried the babu, when the cook became silent at last, “in the -charpoy is much blood. Have you become wounded?” - -“It was only a blood-sucker,” I explained; “but what does he say about -the book?” - -“The cook asks that you will write all the story of the blood in it, -very careful.” - -“What nonsense!” I answered, when James had stopped laughing. “I’ll pay -for the damage to the charpoy.” - -“Oh! It is no dam-magé,” protested the babu, “no dam-magé at all. He is -not ask for pay. But when the inspector is coming and seeing the much -blood in the charpoy, he is thinking the cook have kill a man who have -sleep here, and he is taking him to Kawkeriek and making him shot. Very -bad. So cook cry. Please, sir, write you the story in the register -book.” - -I sat down at the veranda table and wrote a long story for the visiting -inspector. Only when I had filled the page below our names, and half the -next one, was the Hindu cook satisfied. He then carried the book away -for safe keeping. - -We wrapped our dry garments in the oil-cloth once more, and put on the -rags and tatters we had stretched along the ceiling the evening before. -They were still clammy wet. As for our shoes, we almost gave up the hope -of getting into them. When we managed to pull them on at last we could -hardly walk. Our feet were blistered and swollen to the ankles, the -shoes wrinkled and shrunken until the leather was as hard and unbendable -as sheet-iron. However, we hobbled down the veranda steps and away. For -the first hour we walked as if we were crossing a field of hot coals. -Once James slipped and stumbled over the stones like a man learning to -skate. We suffered at every step of our journey from Thenganyenam to -Siam. - - - - - CHAPTER XXIII - IN SIAM - - -The distance to the free state was not great. When we reached the -boundary we came upon a camp of native soldiers. Here we stopped, as was -our duty before crossing into Siam. The soldiers were simple, -good-hearted fellows who showed their astonishment and their sorrow at -the condition of our feet through the language of signs, and did their -best to prepare us a good dinner from the rice and jungle vegetables -they had. It was fortunate for us that they were so generous, for there -were no stores in the jungle land. - -The native lieutenant showed a strong curiosity to know what had brought -us so far into the wilds. We tried to motion out our reasons for coming, -but failed to make him understand. Finally he ordered a soldier to guide -us to the first Siamese village, where he was to explain our presence to -the head man. - -When the sun had begun to set and the latest storm had ceased, we left -the camp and Burma behind. The river that marked the boundary between -the two countries was not very wide and only waist-deep. We waded across -it easily, and climbed the sandy eastern bank—in Siam at last. - -We knew that the first village was no great distance off, so we strolled -easily on through the jungle, pausing to rest in shady thickets so often -that the native soldier left us and went on alone. Two hours later we -met him on his homeward journey. He paused to tell us by signs that he -had delivered his message and that the village was waiting to receive -us. - -[Illustration: A freight carrier crossing the stream that separates -Burma from Siam.] - -The day was not yet done when we came in sight of the first clearing in -Siam. We were met at the edge of the jungle by a Siamese with ape-like -countenance, who led us to the hut of the village head man. - -Picture to yourself a very fat, important-looking brown man, with a face -like an Alaskan totem-pole and the general appearance of a wild man in a -circus, a skin the color of a door-mat that has been in use for many -years, dressed in a castoff dish-cloth, and you have an exact image of -the ruler of this Siamese village. He received us in a misshapen bamboo -shack, sitting with folded legs on a grass mat in the middle of the -floor. Around the walls squatted several of his chief men, dressed like -himself. Through the network partition that separated the city hall from -the family chamber peered a leathery-skinned woman and a troop of dusky -children. - -If we had waited for an invitation to be seated we might have remained -standing all night. These Siamese did not appear at all friendly toward -us. We made ourselves comfortable on the floor, with our backs to the -wall. For more than an hour the head man and his advisers sat -motionless, staring fixedly at us, and mumbling in a low tone without -once turning their heads toward those to whom they were speaking. - -The sun sank into the jungle, and swift darkness fell. The -leathery-skinned woman drifted into the room and set on the floor an oil -torch that gave a dim, flickering light. I had learned a few Siamese -words from the _babu_ of Thenganyenam. When the talking ceased for a -moment, I put these words in use by calling for food. The head man -growled, and the woman floated in once more and placed at our feet a -small wash-tub of boiled rice. - -But I was tired of eating rice. I dragged out my note-book and again ran -my eyes down the list of Siamese words. I had failed to write down the -words for chicken or curry. The only word that appeared to be of any -value at the time was “sugar.” Sugar would make my rice less tasteless. -I shouted the word at the head man. He stared open-mouthed until I had -repeated it several times. - -“Sugar?” he echoed, showing great astonishment. - -“Yes, sugar,” I cried, sprinkling an imaginary handful over the rice. - -The law-makers gazed at each other with wondering eyes, and the word -passed from mouth to mouth: “Sugar!” - -“Sure, sugar!” cried James, taking up the refrain. - -A man rose slowly to his feet, marched across to us, and squatted before -the dish. - -“Sugar?” he inquired, peering into our faces. “No, no!” - -He took a pinch of the food between his fingers, put it into his mouth, -and munched it slowly as if he were trying to examine the taste. Then he -shook his head forcefully and spat the mouthful out on the floor. - -“No; no sugar, no!” he cried. - -[Illustration: My companion, Gerald James of Perth, Australia, crossing -the boundary line between Burma and Siam.] - -“Of course there’s no sugar!” shouted James. “That’s why we’re making a -holler. Sugar, you thick-headed mummy.” James thought it was not -necessary to be polite, since they couldn’t understand him. - -The official taster went back to his place; a silence fell over the -company. We continued to shout. Suddenly a light of understanding -brightened the face of the head man. Could it be because we _wanted_ -sugar that we were raising such a hubub, not because we had fancied some -had been accidentally spilled on our supper? He called to the woman. -When she appeared with a joint of bamboo filled with muddy brown sugar, -the council men rose gravely and grouped themselves about us. I -sprinkled half the sugar on the rice, stirred it in, and began to eat. - -At the first mouthful such a roar of laughter went up from the group -that I choked in astonishment. Whoever would have guessed that these -gloomy-faced great ones could laugh? The chief fell to shaking as with a -fit; his advisers doubled up with laughter. They shrieked until they -were heard in the neighboring huts. Wild-eyed Siamese tumbled into the -shack. Within two minutes half the village had flocked into the room to -see those strange beings who ate sugar with their rice. - -The head man stopped laughing, then became stern and drove all but the -high and mighty among his people forth into the night. Among those who -stayed was a _babu_. He was a Siamese youth who had been educated in -Rangoon. To satisfy the head man he questioned us as to our plans, and -later told the chief and his followers what we had replied. The company -then talked it over for about two hours. At the end of that time they -told us what they thought of the trip we had planned. They said the -jungle to the eastward was so wild, entangled with undergrowth, and -pathless that even the natives did not try to get through it. Certainly -white men would not be able to make their way through such a place. We -must not try it. There was in the village a squad of soldiers who were -going to Rehang in a week or ten days—we could travel with them. Until -then we must stay in the village. - -James and I said we certainly could not wait for so long a time. The -head man replied that we should stay, whether we liked it or not. As it -was late at night, we pretended that we were willing to do as they said, -and told them we were sleepy. The village chief lighted us into one of -the small rooms of his palace, and left us to sleep on the bamboo floor. - -We fell asleep at once. Early the next morning, long before the sun was -up, we awoke, grasped our oil-cloth baggage, and tried to get away -before anyone saw us. Softly we entered the council-chamber. But the -chief was already astir. We hurried toward the door, thinking that he -would try to stop us. All he did was to shout at us as we stepped out -into the dripping dawn. - -At the eastern end of the town began a faint path; but it soon faded -away, and we pushed and tore our way through the jungle, guided only by -our pocket compass. The war-like vegetation battled against us, tore our -rags to bits, and cut and gashed us from head to ankles. The -perspiration ran in stinging streams along our bleeding skins and -dripped from our faces. Though we fought the undergrowth tooth and nail, -we did not cover two miles an hour. - -The sun was high when we reached a spot showing that someone had passed -that way before. It was a clearing not more than six feet square, in the -center of which was a slimy pool, with a few joints of bamboo that -looked as if they had been cut only a short time. With these we drank -our fill of the lukewarm water, and then threw ourselves down in the -shade. - -Suddenly we heard human voices. We sprang to our feet, half expecting to -be attacked by murderous savages. Then our fright left us as there burst -into the clearing a squad of little brown soldiers. - -There were seven in the party, a sergeant and four common soldiers armed -with muskets, and two coolie carriers, each bowed under the weight of -two baskets that hung from the pole on their shoulders. When they saw us -they gasped in astonishment. Then they rushed for the bamboo cups beside -the water-hole, while the servants knelt to set their baskets on the -grass. For a time we thought they had been sent to bring us back; but -when they let us handle their weapons we knew that we had nothing to -fear. They were on their way to Rehang, but why they had left the -village so much earlier than the time set we could not find out. - -They looked like boys playing war. The sergeant, larger than the others, -did not come to James’s chin—and the Australian was not tall. The rest -were weak-looking little runts. An average American school-boy could -have tied any one of them into a knot and tossed him aside into the -jungle. There was nothing war-like in their manners or their babyish -faces. They were dressed in the regular khaki uniform, except that their -trousers came only to their knees, leaving their scrawny legs bare. From -their belts hung bayonets; and around the waist of each was tied a -stocking-like sack of rice. - -We talked with them some time by signs. I tried to tell the sergeant -that my own country owned the Philippine Islands, which were not far -from his country. He thought I meant that my country owned Siam. He -sneered at me most cuttingly. The very idea that the white man had any -claim on the free country of Siam! How foolish! He told his soldiers -about it. They scoffed at us, and even the carriers grinned scornfully. -When they had eaten a jungle lunch the soldiers stretched out for their -noonday nap, and we went on alone. - -It was long hours afterward that we came to a break in the jungle. -Through the undergrowth we made out two miserable huts. We dashed -eagerly toward them, for we had had nothing to eat since the night -before and our tramp had made us very hungry. - -Two thin brown women, dressed in short skirts and broad-brimmed hats -made of big leaves, were scratching the mud of a tiny garden before the -first hut. I called for food and shook a handful of coppers in their -faces; but, although they must have understood us, they would not -answer. We danced excitedly about them, shrieking all the Siamese names -for food that we knew. Still they stared with half-open mouths, showing -uneven rows of black teeth. We had expected this. Even far back in -Moulmein, we had been warned that the jungle folk of Siam would not sell -food to travelers. Far off in this howling wilderness among the -mountains, the people had never used money and did not know that our -coins had any value. - -We went on, and just at sunset burst into the scattered village of -Banpáwa. About forty howling storms had poured upon us during the day, -and we had waded through an even greater number of streams. My jacket -was torn to ribbons; my back and shoulders were painfully sunburned; in -a struggle with a stubborn thicket I had lost a leg of my trousers. And -the Australian looked about as pretty as I. - -Near the center of the village was a large roof of grass upheld by -slender bamboo poles. Under it were huddled about twenty -freight-carriers, surrounded by bales and bundles. They were the human -freight trains of the Siamese jungle—cross, silent fellows, who, though -they stared open-mouthed when we appeared, would not have anything to -say to us. - -They were strong-looking, with great knots of muscles standing out on -their glistening brown bodies. A small rag was their only clothing. -Above it the skin was thickly tattooed to the neck with strange figures -of beasts. Among these the form of a fat pig seemed to be the favorite. -Below the hip-cloth the figures were blue, even more closely crowded -together, but stopping short at the knees. - -We tried to buy food from our sulky companions. They growled for answer. -Like the soldiers, each of them wore at his waist a bag of rice. A few -were preparing supper over bonfires at the edge of the shelter; but not -a grain of rice would they sell. A raging storm broke while we were -wandering from one to another offering them our money. When the storm -began to die down, we hobbled out into the night to try to buy from the -villagers. - -There were about twenty huts in the clearing. We climbed into one after -another of them, in spite of our aching legs. But it was useless: nobody -would sell. Too hungry to care what happened to us, we climbed boldly -into the last hut, and caught up a kettle, intending to cook our own -supper. - -The householder shrieked wildly, and, before we had kindled a fire, a -mob of his fellow townsmen swarmed into the shack and fell upon us. They -were not the fiercest of fighters—we shook and kicked them off like -puppies. But when the last one had tumbled down the ladder we saw that -they had carried off every pot, pan, and eatable about the place. -Besides the bare walls there remained only a naked brown baby, that -rolled about the floor, howling uproariously. - -The people of the village were screaming around the shanty in a way that -made us glad we had a prisoner. James sat down, gazed sadly at the -wailing infant, and shook his head. - -“No good,” he sighed. “Not fat enough. Anyway, there’s no kettle to cook -it in. Let’s get out of this.” - -We turned toward the door. A man was peering over the edge of the -veranda. By the silken band around his brow we knew that he was a Burman -and also that he spoke Hindustanee. We understood enough of his excited -chatter to know that he had come to lead us to a place where food was -sold. As we reached the ground the crowd parted to let us pass; but the -furious natives danced about us, screaming and shaking sticks and clubs -in our faces. A few steps from the hut one bold spirit struck me a -resounding whack on the back of the head. It was a heavy blow, but the -weapon was a hollow bamboo stick and caused no damage. When I turned to -fall upon my assailant the whole crowd took to their heels and fled into -the night. - -“All I’ve got to say,” panted James, as we hurried on after our guide, -“is, I’m glad that’s not a crowd of Irishmen. Where would the pioneer -beach-combers of the Malay Peninsula be now if that collection of -dish-rags knew how to scrap?” - -The Burman led us through half a mile of mud and brush, and a stream -that was almost waist-deep, to a hut a long distance from Banpáwa. He -went in with us, and sat down to keep us company until our rice and fish -had been boiled. He was quite clever in understanding the few words and -the motions we made. Suddenly he began to wish that he had a tropical -helmet to wear in place of the band around his brow. He pointed at the -one James wore and held up one finger. - -“One rupee! Say yes, sahib?” he coaxed. - -“Can’t sell it,” growled the Australian. “Think I want to get -sunstroke?” - -The Burman shrugged his shoulders, then rose and went sadly forth into -the night. - -We turned in soon after on a sort of platform, with nine youngsters who -amused themselves by walking and tumbling over our outstretched forms. A -lizard chorus sang loud and gaily. We slept a little by snatches. - -When daylight came the Burman appeared again. This time he pointed at -James’s helmet and held up two fingers. James still refused to sell. - -“Then yours, sahib,” begged the fellow in Hindustanee. “One rupee!” - -“Only one?” I cried. “Two rupees.” - -“One!” he shrieked. “Two for the sahib’s which is new. One for yours.” - -The Burman gave in at last, however, and, dropping two coins in my hand, -marched proudly away with my old helmet set down over his ears. - -I handed one of the coins to the head of the family, and we hit the -trail again. Out of sight of the hut, we halted to put on the extra -suits in our bundles. From the rags and tatters of my old suit I made a -band to wind around my head, after the fashion of Burma. Even with the -top of my head uncovered to the sun and rain, I did not suffer. - - - - - CHAPTER XXIV - HUNGRY DAYS - - -The territory beyond Banpáwa was more savage than any we had yet seen. -Everywhere the climbing and creeping plant life was so thick and -interwoven that our feet could not reach the ground. Often, when we -tried to plunge through a thicket, we were caught as if in a net. It was -impossible to get through, and we crawled out with torn garments and -bleeding hands and faces to fight our way around the spot. We were now -in the very heart of the mountains. Range after range appeared, covered -with unbroken jungle. From the top of every mountain there spread out -before us an endless forest of teak and bamboo matted together with the -wildest undergrowth. Mountains that were just blue wreaths in the -morning climbed higher and higher into the sky—and beyond them were more -mountains, all covered with a mass of waving tree-tops. Every valley was -choked with vegetation. - -Often, while climbing, we lost our footing and went plunging headlong -through thorn-bristling thickets. There were no level spaces. No sooner -had we reached the bottom of a narrow valley than we found ourselves at -the base of another higher mountain, which we climbed hand over hand as -a sailor climbs a rope. In our ears sounded the continual hum of -insects; now and then a snake squirmed off through the bushes; more than -once we heard the roar of some beast. Monkeys swarmed in the thick -network of branches overhead, and fled screaming away, as we came near, -into the dark depths of the forest. - -At every mud-hole we halted to drink; for within us burned a thirst such -as no man knows who has not suffered it in the jungle. Chocolate-colored -water we drank, water alive with squirming animal life, in pools out of -which wriggled brilliant green snakes. Often I rose to my feet to find a -blood-sucker clinging to my lower lip. - -As the day grew, a raging hunger fell upon us. In a sharp valley we came -upon a tree on the trunk of which hung a dozen or more jack-fruits -within easy reach. We grasped one and tried to pull it down. The short, -tough stem was as stout as a manila rope, and knife we had none. We -wrapped our arms around the fruit and tugged with the strength of -despair; we might as well have tried to pull up a ship’s anchor by hand. -We chopped at the stem with sharp stones; we hunted up great rocks and -attempted to split the fruit open on the tree, screaming with rage and -bruising our fingers. Streams of perspiration raced down our -sun-scorched skins; our hunger and thirst grew maddening; and still -nothing came of it. When we finally gave up and plunged on, our violent -attack on the fruit had hardly scratched its stony rind. - -Weary and half starved, matted with mud from crown to toe, and bleeding -from countless cuts and scratches, we were still struggling with the -entangling vegetation well on in the afternoon, when James, who was -ahead of me, uttered a shriek of victory. - -“A path! A path!” he cried. “And a telegraph wire!” - -Certain that hunger and the sun had turned his brain, I tore my way -through the thicket that separated us. He was not mad. A path there was, -narrow and steep: and overhead a sagging telegraph wire, running from -tree to tree. - -After following it for about a half-hour we came to a little plain -crossed by a swift stream, in which swam a covey of snow-white ducks. On -the western bank stood a weather-beaten bungalow. Above it the telegraph -wire disappeared. We drank from the river until we were thirsty no more, -and then mounted the narrow steps and shouted to attract attention. -There was no answer. We pushed open the door and entered. The room was -about eight feet square and entirely unfurnished. In one corner hung an -unpainted telephone instrument. It was home-made and very crude. A -spider had spun his web across the mouth of the receiver, and there were -no signs that anyone had ever lived in the hut. - -“There is nothing worth while here,” said James. “Let’s swim the creek.” - -On the opposite bank was a bamboo rest house, the floor of which was -raised some feet above the damp ground. Back of it, among the trees, -stood a cluster of seven huts. We went to all of them, trying to buy -food, but returned to the rest house with nothing but the information -that the village was called Kathái Ywá. Nine freight-carriers had -arrived. Among them were several we had seen the evening before. They -had, perhaps, some secret hatred against white men; for they not only -refused to sell us rice, but scowled and snarled when we drew near them. -The day was not yet done. We should have pushed on had not James fallen -victim to a burning jungle fever. - -While there was plenty of water at hand, our hunger became unbearable. -For a time we kept ourselves cheerful by thinking that perhaps the next -carrier who wandered into the place would be more friendly. But each new -arrival was more stupid and surly than the others. The sun touched the -western tree-tops. James lay on his back, red-eyed with fever. Eat we -must, if we were to have strength to go on in the morning. I made the -round of the huts a second time, hoping to bully the inhabitants into -selling me food. The people rose in a mass and swarmed upon me. The men -carried long, overgrown knives; the women, clubs. I returned hastily to -the rest house. - -The sight of the telephone wire awakened within me the senseless notion -that I might call for help from some neighboring village. I left my -shoes and trousers in charge of the Australian, and dashed through the -stream and into the government bungalow. At the first call I “got” -someone. Who or where he was I could not guess. I bawled into the -receiver English, French, German, and all the Hindustanee I could think -of. When I paused for breath the unknown subscriber had “rung off.” I -jangled the bell and shook and pounded the instrument for five minutes. -A glassy-eyed lizard ran out along the wire and stared down upon me. His -mate in the grassy roof above screeched mockingly. Then another voice -sounded faintly in my ear. - -“Hello!” I shouted. “Who’s this? We want to eat. D’you speak English? Do -sahib hai, Kathái Ywá. Send us some—” - -A flood of meaningless jabber interrupted me. I had rung up a Burman; -but he was no babu. - -“English!” I shrieked. “Anyone there that speaks English? We’re sahibs! -Hello! Hello, I say! Hello—” - -No answer. Central had cut me off again. I rang the bell until my arm -was lame, and listened breathlessly. All was still. I dropped the -receiver and tumbled out of the hut, determined to throttle one of the -freight-carriers. In the middle of the stream I slipped on a stone and -fell on my knees, the water up to my arm-pits. The startled ducks ran -away before me. I snatched up a club, and ran after them through the -village and back to the creek again. The inhabitants ran screaming -behind me. I threw the weapon at the nearest fowl. It was only a joint -of bamboo, and fell short. The ducks took to the water. I plunged in -after them, and once more fell sprawling. - -Before I could scramble to my feet, a shout sounded near at hand. I -looked up to see the squad of soldiers breaking out of the jungle. They -halted before the government bungalow, and watched me with deep-set -grins as I came toward them. The sergeant, understanding the motions I -made, offered us places around the common rice heap. I returned to the -rest house for my garments. The villagers were driving their panting -ducks homeward. The Australian struggled to his feet and waded the -stream once more, joining the soldiers on the veranda of the government -bungalow. Their porters brought huge wet leaves to protect the floor, -and built a fire within. Half an hour later the troopers rose to their -feet, shouting, “Kin-kow! Kin-kow!” (“Eat!”) We followed them into the -smoke-choked building. In a civilized land I would not have tasted such -fare as was spread out on that banana leaf in the center of the floor, -to win a wager. At that moment it seemed food fit for a king. - -We slept with the soldiers in the telephone bungalow. James’s fever -burned itself out, and he awoke with the dawn, ready to push on. For the -first few miles we followed a path below the telephone wire. In -stumbling over the uneven ground my shoe-laces broke again and again. -Well on in the morning I halted to replace them with stout vines. The -Australian went on ahead. Before I had overtaken him the path divided -into two paths, and the wire disappeared in the forest between the two -trails. I hallooed to my companion; but the rain was coming down in -torrents, and the voice does not carry far in the jungle. I struck into -one of the paths; but in less than an hour it faded and was lost. I -found myself alone in a trackless wilderness. - -[Illustration: The sort of jungle through which we cut our way for three -weeks. Gerald James, my Australian companion, in the foreground.] - -Here was a misfortune indeed. The Australian had carried off the -compass; our money was in my bundle. What chance was there of finding -each other again in hundreds of miles of untraveled wilds? - -I set a course by the sun, and for three hours fought my way up the -wall-like face of a mountain. To crash and roll down the opposite slope -took me less than a third of that time. In the valley, tucked away under -soaring teak trees, was a lonely little hut. A black-toothed woman in a -short skirt squatted in the shade under the cabin, pounding rice in a -hollowed log. The jungle was humming its sleepy tune. I climbed to the -veranda and lay down, certain that I had seen the last of James, the -Australian. Under the hut sounded the _thump_, _thump_, _thump_ of the -pestle. - -But it was not by loafing in the shade that I should beat my way through -to civilization. I soon rose to my feet and arranged the things in my -bundle again. If I could only hire a guide. Hark! The sound of a human -voice came faintly to my ear. No doubt the owner of the hut was -returning from a morning hunting trip. I listened attentively. Then off -to the right in the jungle rang out a familiar song: - - “Oh, I long to see my dear old home again, - And the cottage in the little winding lane. - You can hear the birds a-singing, - And pluck the roses blooming; - Oh, I long to see my dear old home again!” - -It was the Australian’s favorite ballad. I shouted at the top of my -lungs, and, springing to the ground, with one leap crashed into the -jungle. A thicket caught me in its tough grasp. I tore savagely at the -entangling branches. The voice of the Australian rang out once more: - - “Oh, why did I leave my little back room, out in Bloomsburee? - Where I could live on a quid a week in such luxuree—” - -He was farther away now. I snatched myself loose and plunged on after -him, leaving a sleeve of my jacket in the thicket. - -“Hello, James! Hello!” I bellowed. - -He was singing so loudly that the sound of his own voice filled his -ears. I opened my mouth to shout again, and fell through a bush into a -clearly marked path. Above it sagged the telephone wire, and just in -sight through the overhanging branches plodded the Australian. - -“Goodness, but you’re slow,” he laughed, when I had overtaken him. - -“When’d you find the path?” I demanded. - -“Haven’t lost it,” he answered. “Why? Did you?” - -“Haven’t seen it for five hours,” I replied. - -“Great dingoes!” he gasped. “Thought you were close behind, or I’d have -felt mighty little like singing.” - -We had no difficulty in keeping to the path for the rest of the day, and -passed several freight-carriers traveling westward. With never a hut on -the way, we went hungry. Yet, had we but known it, there was food all -about us. What a helpless being is civilized man without the tools of -civilization. - -Faint from hunger, we had halted at the edge of a mountain stream well -on in the afternoon, when we were overtaken by the little brown -soldiers. They had packed away their uniforms and wore only loin-cloths -and caps. - -“Kin-kow? Kin-kow?” (“Are you hungry?”) asked the sergeant, placing his -hand on his stomach. - -We nodded sadly. He chuckled to himself, and waved his arms about him as -if to say there was food all about us. We shrugged our shoulders -unbelievingly. He laughed gleefully, and turned to say something to his -men. Two of the soldiers picked up clubs, and, returning along the path -to a half-rotten log, began to move back and forth on both sides of it, -striking it sharp blows here and there. They came back with a half-dozen -lizards—those great, green reptiles that sing their _she-kak!_ all night -long in the grassy roofs of the Indian bungalows. - -Meanwhile two others of the company were kneeling at the edge of a -mud-hole. From time to time they plunged their bare arms into it, -drawing out frogs and dropping them, still alive, into a hollow bamboo -stick. The sergeant took his long, heavy knife, or _dah_, and cut down a -small tree at the edge of the jungle. One servant dug some reddish-brown -roots on the bank of the stream, while the other started a fire by -rubbing two sticks together. - -In a few minutes all were gathered beside us. The lizards were skinned, -cut up with lumps of red curry in an iron pot, and set to boiling. A -servant drew out the frogs, one by one, struck them on the head with a -stick, and tossed them to his companion. The latter rolled them up -inside mud balls and threw them into the fire. The sergeant split open -his tree, pulled out a soft spongy stuff from the center of it, cut it -into slices, toasted them on the point of his _dah_, and tossed them on -to a large leaf spread out at our feet. The reddish roots were beaten to -a pulp on a rock and sprinkled over the toasted slices. Rice was boiled. - -The soldiers, grinning at one another, began saying, “Kin-kow? Kin-kow?” -and the meal began. Before it was finished we thought better of both the -jungle and its people. Taken from their shell of mud, the frogs were -found to be baked in round balls and tasted like fried fish. The toasted -pith from the tree tasted like pickled beets. Best of all was the lizard -curry. James and I ate more than our share, and we told each other that -we wished the pair sent to pound the old tree-trunk had remained longer -at their task. - -We went on with the soldiers, halting after dark at the bank of the -largest stream we had yet faced. There was no village here, but the -government had built a rest house for soldiers on the bank. In this we -spent the night with the troopers, after eating a frog-and-lizard -supper. - -Beyond there were not so many mountains and the path was well marked; -but the river beside which we had left the soldiers was deep and swift, -and wound back and forth, crossing our route again and again. In the -first few morning hours we swam it no less than fourteen times. It was -the ninth crossing that gave us the most trouble. Reaching the narrow, -sandy bank a bit before my companion, I pulled off my clothes, tied the -bundle to my head, and plunged in. James began to disrobe as I reached -the other shore. Without removing his ragged shirt or his helmet, he -fastened on his bundle as I had done, and struck out. - -Being an excellent swimmer, he glided along easily, with long, swift -strokes. Unfortunately, he did not take care to keep his head pointed -up-stream. The powerful current caught him suddenly and dragged him -under. He righted himself quickly, but in that short struggle lost both -his bundle and his helmet. He tried to save them, but caught only his -helmet. His bundle raced down-stream. I sprang to my feet and dashed -along the sandy shore after it. But the stream was far swifter than I. -The tangled undergrowth brought me to a sudden halt, and the -Australian’s possessions were swallowed up in the jungle. - -I returned to find him sitting unhappily on the bank. - -[Illustration: Myself after four days in the jungle, and the Siamese -soldiers who invited us to eat a frog and lizard supper.] - -With the bundle had gone his shoes, trousers, jacket, the odds and ends -he had picked up on his travels, his military and citizenship papers, -and the pocket compass; in short, everything he owned except a helmet -and a tattered shirt. - -But James was not a man to be long discouraged by little things. He tied -the shirt about his loins and we went on. As he had nothing to carry, he -marched more easily and crossed the streams with far less difficulty -than I. But in less than an hour his shoulders, back, and legs were -painted a fiery red by the unmerciful sun; and the stones and jagged -brambles tore and bruised his feet until he left a blood-stain at every -step. - -We were again overtaken by the soldiers about noonday, and halted for -another jungle meal. Off once more, we pushed ahead, but found it wise -to wait for the troopers to lead the way; for the route was beset by -unexpected pitfalls—as once when, in fighting our way along the bank of -the river, we crashed headlong through the bushes into a dry, stony bed -of a branch river fifteen feet below. This accident left little of my -clothing, and made the Australian look worse than before. - -So we waited for the soldiers, and followed them along a wider path. The -higher mountain ranges fell away; but the foot-hills were very steep, -and the slopes were often bare and covered with deep mud. At the top of -such a hill we overtook a troop of horsemen returning from some village -off to the southwest. Burdened with huge packsaddles, the horses began -the dangerous downward climb unwillingly. Suddenly three of them lost -their footing, sat down on their haunches, and rolled over and over, -their packs flying in every direction. James laughed loudly and slapped -me on the back. The blow made me lose my balance. My feet shot from -under me, and slipping, sliding, rolling, clutching in vain for -something to hold to, I pitched down the five-hundred-yard slope and -splashed head-first into a muddy stream at the bottom several seconds -before the horses got there. - -Another mile left me bare-footed and nearly as naked as my companion. -Now and again we overtook a band of freight-carriers; one a young -Buddhist priest in tattered yellow, attended by two servants. We had -seen him somewhere a day or two before, and remembered him not only by -his dress, but on account of the bold and impudent expression of his -face. He joined our party without being invited, and tramped along with -us, puffing at a long _saybully_, and chattering loudly and -continuously. The soldiers roared with laughter at everything he said, -and winked at us as if they thought we could understand his remarks. We -were more sorry than ever that we did not understand the Siamese tongue. - -James was complaining that he could not go on another yard, when we came -most unexpectedly to the edge of the jungle. Before us stretched a vast -rice-field, deeply flooded. The soldiers led the way along the tops of -the ridges toward a thick wood two miles away. At least a hundred curs -began howling as we drew near, and as many chattering brown people -swarmed about us when we stopped to rest in a large, deeply shaded -village at the edge of a river fully a mile wide. It could be no other -than the Menam—the “great river” of Siam. Along the low eastern bank -stretched a real city with white two-story buildings, before which were -anchored large native boats. It was Rehang. The soldiers told us so with -shouts of joy, and ran away to put on their uniforms. - -We threw off what was left of our garments, and plunged into the stream -to wash off the blood and grime of the jungle. When we had finished, the -soldiers were gone. We asked the villagers to set us across the river. -They refused. We pushed out one of a dozen dugout logs drawn up along -the shore, and the village swarmed down upon us in a great landslide of -men, women, children, and yellow curs. Catching up two paddles, we beat -them off. In two minutes we were alone. - -We pushed the dugout into the stream, and were climbing in when two -ugly, wrinkled brown women ran down the bank and offered to ferry us -across. They pointed the craft up-stream and fell to paddling. They were -expert water dogs, and crossed the swift stream without accident, -landing us at a crazy wooden wharf in the center of the town. - -On nearer sight Rehang was disappointing. The white two-story buildings -were poor, rickety things. The roads between were not much better paved -than the jungle paths, and deeper in mud. There was no health -department, it seemed, for here and there a dead dog or cat had been -tossed out to be trampled underfoot. There were great crowds of people, -but the passing throng was merely a larger gathering of those same -strange “wild men” of the jungle villages. The fear of being arrested -for having no clothes soon left us. James in national costume attracted -much less attention than I in the remnants of jacket and trousers. - -We were glad, however, to be in even this tumble-down city on the bank -of the Menam; at least, it was a market town. James dashed into the -first store with a whoop of delight, and startled the keeper out of his -wits by demanding a whole three cents’ worth of cigarettes. He splashed -on through the muddy streets, blowing great clouds of smoke through his -nostrils, and forgetting for a time even the smarting of his torn and -sun-scorched skin. - -Half the merchants of the town were Chinamen. We stopped at a shop kept -by three wearers of the pig-tail, and, seating ourselves before a bench, -called for food. One of the keepers, moving as if he disliked having us -there, set canned meat before us, and after a long time brought us as a -can-opener, a hatchet with a blade considerably wider than the largest -can. - -When we rose to go, the Chinese demanded ten tecals. The market price of -the stuff we had eaten was certainly not worth one. I gave them two. -Three screams split the air, and half a dozen Chinamen bounded into the -shop and danced wildly about us. One caught up the hatchet and swung it -high above his head. James snatched it from him, kicked him across the -room, and threw the weapon among the heaped-up wares. We fought our way -to the street. The keeper nearest us gave one loud bellow that was -answered from every side. Chinamen stumbled out through every open -doorway, out of every hole in the surrounding shop walls; they sprang up -from under the buildings, dropped from the low roofs, swarmed out of the -alleyways, for all the world like rats, screaming, yelping, snarling, -clawing the air as they ran, their pig-tails streaming behind them. In -the twinkling of an eye the mob at our heels had increased to a hundred -or more. We refused to disgrace ourselves by running. The crazed yellow -men scratched us savagely with their overgrown finger-nails, caught at -our legs, spattered us with mud. Not one of them used his fists. When we -turned upon them they bounded away as if from a squad of cavalry, and we -could get even only by catching a flying pig-tail in either hand, to -send a pair of yellow-skinned rascals sprawling in the mud. They came -back at us after every stand before we had taken a dozen steps. Our -backs were a network of finger-nail scratches. We cast our eyes about us -for some weapon, and found two muddy sticks. Before we could use them -the Chinamen turned and fled, still screaming at the top of their lungs. - -Not far beyond, we turned in at the largest building in the town—the -Rehang barracks for soldiers. Among the half hundred little brown -soldiers lounging about the porch were our comrades of the few days -past. It was plain that they had told our story. The recruits gathered -about us, laughing and asking questions in the deaf-and-dumb language. -How had we liked lizard curry? What had turned our dainty skins so -blood-red? What ignorant and helpless creatures were white men, were -they not? - -Suddenly, while they were chattering, I thought I heard someone say that -there was a white man on the floor above. We sprang toward the stairway -at the end of the porch. The soldiers shrieked in alarm and snatched at -my rags. We must not go up; it was strictly against barrack rules. A -guardsman on duty at the foot of the stairs held his musket out before -him and feebly shouted a command. James caught him by the shoulder and -sent him spinning along the veranda. We dashed up the steps. Two doors -stood partly open. James sprang to one, while I pushed open the other. - -“Hello!” I shouted. “Where’s the white—” - -A roar of delight from my companion sent me hurrying after him. He was -dancing gleefully just inside the second door, and shaking a white man -fiercely by the hand—an astonished white man in khaki uniform with -officer’s stripes. I reminded the Australian of his costume, and he -became quiet. The European invited us inside, and sent a servant for -tea, biscuits, and cigars. Our host was commander of the soldiers—a Dane -who spoke English well. That we had been wandering through the jungle he -could see all too plainly without our telling him; but that we had come -overland from Burma was a tale he could not believe until the sergeant -had been called in to prove that what we said was true. Forgetting his -military duties, the commander asked us wondering questions until dusk -fell, and then ordered three of his soldiers to find us a place to spend -the night. - -On the veranda the soldiers spread a pair of army blankets. We were for -turning in at once. They would not hear of it. For a half-hour they -trotted back and forth between our bungalow and that of the commander, -carrying steaming dishes. The table they had set up was groaning under -its load before the sergeant signed to us to begin. There were broiled -fish, a mutton roast, a great steak, a spitted fowl, and fruits and -vegetables of many kinds. - -We spent the night on the veranda. We did not sleep there. Our -sun-scorched skins would not permit it. Even had they burned less -fiercely, we could not have slept. One would have fancied the place a -gigantic hen-yard during the hours of darkness. After every shower the -unveiled moon was greeted with a din of crowing that was awful. In the -moments of quiet between, we tossed about wide awake on our hard couch, -listening to the musical tinkling of pagoda bells. - -When dawn came the Dane sent for us. We hurried to his bungalow and -joined him at breakfast. He had gathered together two pairs of shoes and -four khaki uniforms. They were from his own tailor in Bangkok, still -very useful, though fitting us a bit too tightly and chafing our -blistered skins. Rolling up our extra garments and swinging them over -our shoulders, we bade our host farewell. - - - - - CHAPTER XXV - FOLLOWING THE MENAM RIVER TO BANGKOK - - -The path to Bangkok, such as it was, lay on the eastern bank of the -Menam River. This time we crossed the stream in a dugout canoe fully -thirty feet long, which held, besides ourselves and four paddlers, -twenty-two natives, chiefly women. All day we tramped through jungle as -wild as that to the westward, following the course of the river. We -passed many bamboo villages, and for every hut at least a half dozen -yellow curs added their yelpings to the uproar that greeted us as we -came near. - -The inhabitants were careless “wild men” like those of the mountains, -content to live and die in their nests of jungle rubbish, with never a -peep at the outside world. Both the men and the women wore their dull -black hair some two inches long and dressed in a bristling pompadour -that made them look like startled porcupines. Both had jet-black teeth. -The children were strong and healthy little animals. - -On the way we had to swim across many branches of the Menam River. -Sometimes they were swift and deep. What we dreaded more were the almost -motionless streams through which we must wade waist-deep in acres of -green slime where poisonous snakes lay in hiding. - -The sun was still high when we reached a handsome large bungalow set in -the center of a clearing on the bank of the Menam, with a half circle of -huts roundabout and at some distance from it. The bungalow was the home -of the “jungle king,” as he was called; his servants lived in the huts -about it. - -We had heard of the king at breakfast that morning. The Dane had told us -of a white man from Sweden who was manager for a lumber company dealing -in teak forests, and that he was called the king on account of the style -in which he lived. - -We found the royal person sitting on the veranda of his palace, gazing -peacefully out across the clearing. He was a white man who must have -weighed nearly a quarter ton. The servants who moved about near him -looked like manikins in his presence. We stopped at the foot of the -veranda and asked for a drink of water. He looked at us without a sign -of surprise, and with a calm wave of his hand ordered a servant to bring -it. One would have thought white men passed his palace every hour. He -watched us silently as we drank, asked from us where we came and where -we were going, and that was all. He was not enough interested in our -doings to ask more. - -“I can let you stay in one of my bungalows,” he said, “if you have -planned on stopping here.” - -We were of half a mind to push on. It was an hour before sunset, and, to -tell the truth, we were a bit disappointed at his coolness of manner. In -the end we swallowed our pride and thanked him for the offer. It was -fortunate for us that we did so. - -The “king” waved a hand once more, and a servant in a scarlet uniform -stepped forth and led us to one of the half circle of bungalows. Five -servants were sent to look after our wants. They put water for us in two -bath-tubs, and stood ready with crash towels to rub us down. Our skins -were so painfully sunburned and scratched, however, that we had to do -without that service. When we had changed our garments, a laundryman -took charge of those we had worn. By this time a servant had brought a -phonograph from the palace and set it in action. How we did enjoy it! -For weeks we had heard no music save the shrill croaking of lizards. - -Then came our evening feast. For days afterward James could not speak of -that without a trembling of his voice. It made the supper of the night -before seem like a penny lunch in comparison. - -We had just settled down in our bungalow to talk matters over, when a -sudden hubbub burst forth. I dashed out upon the veranda. Around the -palace fluttered half the people of the place, squawking like excited -hens; and the others were tumbling out of their bungalows in their hurry -to join the crowd. - -The palace was afire. From the back of the building a mass of black -smoke wavered upward in the evening breeze. When we had pushed our way -through the frightened crowd, a slim blaze was licking at a corner of -the back veranda. It was not hard to guess how it had started. At the -foot of a bamboo post lay a sputtering kettle over a heap of burning -sticks. Around it the natives were screaming, pushing, tumbling over one -another, doing everything except putting out the fire. A dozen of them -carried buckets. Twenty yards away was a stream. But they stood or -rushed about helplessly waiting for someone to tell them what to do. - -James snatched a bucket and ran for the creek. I caught up the kettle -and dumped the half-boiled rice on the flame. The Australian’s first -bucketful lowered the blaze somewhat, and after that it took us only a -moment to put it out entirely. When the last spark had disappeared a -native arrived with water from the stream. Behind him stretched a long -line of servants with overflowing buckets. They fought with each other -in their eagerness to flood the blackened corner of the veranda. Those -who could not reach it dashed their water on the surrounding crowd and -the real firemen; then ran for more. We were obliged to pull the buckets -out of their hands to save ourselves from drowning. - -[Illustration: An elephant, with a native dozing on his head, was -advancing toward us.] - -As the last native was running across the clearing, I looked up to see -the “king” gazing down upon us. He showed not a sign of excitement. - -“These wild men are a useless lot of animals,” he said. “I’m glad you -turned out.” Then he waddled back into his palace. - -We returned to our bungalow and started the phonograph again. Fully an -hour afterward the “king” walked in upon us. He carried what looked like -a great sausage, wrapped in thick brown paper. - -“I’m always glad to help a white man,” he said breathlessly, “especially -when he has done me a service.” - -I took the parcel in one hand, and nearly lost my balance as he let it -go. It weighed several pounds. By the time I had recovered from my -surprise he was gone. I sat down and unrolled the package. It contained -fifty silver tecals. - -Four days later we were miles beyond the place, on our way toward the -mouth of the Menam. As we lay resting in a tangled thicket, a crashing -of underbrush brought us anxiously to our feet. We peered out through -the maze of branches. An elephant was coming toward us. We jumped back -in terror. A second glance showed us, however, that a native sat dozing -on his head. Behind him came another and another of the great, heavy -animals, fifteen in all, some with armed men on their backs. We stepped -out of our hiding-place in time to meet the chief of the company, who -rode between the seventh and eighth elephants on a stout-limbed pony. He -was an Englishman, a manager for the Bombay-Burma Lumber Company, who -had spent fifteen years in wandering through the teak forests of Siam. -Never before, he declared, had he known white men to travel through -these forests alone and without guns. He urged us to turn back and spend -the night with him. When we declined, he warned us to keep a sharp -lookout in the forest beyond, declaring that he had killed two tigers -and a murderous savage within the past week. - -For miles we struggled on through the tangle of vines, bushes, and -branches. Nowhere was there a sign that anyone had been there before us. -The shadows lengthened eastward; twilight fell and thickened to -darkness. To travel by night was utterly impossible. We tried to do so, -but lost our way and sank to our knees in a slimy swamp. When we had -dragged ourselves out, we found that we could not remember in which -direction we had been traveling. With raging thirst and gnawing hunger, -we threw ourselves down in the depths of the wilderness. The ground was -soft and wet. In ten minutes we had sunk until we were half buried. I -pulled my bundle loose and rolled over to another spot. It was softer -and wetter than the one I had left. - -“Hark!” whispered James suddenly. “Is that a dog barking? Perhaps -there’s a village near.” - -We held our breath and listened. A far-off howl sounded above the dull -humming of the jungle. Perhaps some dog was baying at the faint face of -the moon. Or possibly it was the roar of some beast roaming about in -search of prey. “Tigers abound,” the Englishman had said. So must snakes -in the undergrowth of this damp spot. A crackling of twigs close beside -me sent an electric shock along my spine. I opened my mouth to call to -James, but found I couldn’t speak. The noise had been made by the -Australian himself moving past me. He spoke before I could. - -“Hello!” he whispered. “Say, I’ll get a fever if I sleep in this mud. -Let’s try that big tree.” - -It was a giant of a tree. The lowest of its wide-spreading branches the -Australian could reach from my shoulders. He pulled me up after him, and -we climbed higher. I sat astride a great limb, tied my bundle above me, -and, leaning against the trunk, sank into a doze. - -I was awakened suddenly by a blow in the ribs. - -“Quit it!” cried James angrily, thumping me again. “What are you tearing -my clothes off for?” - -I opened my mouth to tell him I was not doing anything of the kind, when -I was interrupted by a noisy chattering in the branches above as a band -of monkeys scampered away at the sound of our voices. They soon -returned. For half the night those jabbering, clawing little brutes kept -us awake, and ended by driving us from the tree. We spent the hours of -darkness left on the ground at its foot, caring nothing for either -snakes or tigers. - -When daylight came we found the river again within a few hundred yards -of our resting-place. A good hour afterward we stumbled, more asleep -than awake, into a village on the northern bank. The place had a shop -where food was sold. In it we made up for the supper we had gone without -the night before. - -Almost before we had finished eating we were in the center of a village -fight. It was all the fault of the natives. We offered them money to row -us across the river, but they turned scornfully away. When we stepped -into one of the boats, made of dugout logs, that were drawn up on the -bank, they charged down upon us. For a moment I thought we would end our -wanderings in that very village. - -In the thick of the fight a howling fellow, swinging a great knife, -bounded suddenly into the boat. James caught him by an arm and a leg, -and a glistening body flashed high in the air, gave one long-drawn -shriek, and sank in the black water some distance behind us. When he -came to the surface again he had lost his knife and we had pushed off -from the shore. - -“Beastly savages!” growled the Australian, catching up a paddle. “Serve -’em right if we kept their old hollow log and went down to Bangkok in -her. What say we do?” he cried. “My feet are nothing but two blisters.” - -For answer I swung the boat half round, and we glided out and down the -Menam. A boat-load of natives put out behind us; but, instead of -following directly after us, they paddled across the river and down the -opposite bank. We stretched out in the bottom of the dugout, and, -drifting with the current, let them get ahead of us. Far down the stream -they landed and ran off into a grove of trees above which rose a white -building. I dozed a moment, and then sat up suddenly with a shout. They -had come back and were pushing off in the boat again, while behind them -came a second canoe bearing six khaki-clothed soldiers armed with -muskets. The white building was a military post, and a part of the -terrible Siamese army was after us. - -“Swing her ashore,” shouted James, grasping his paddle. “No naval -battles for me.” - -Our dugout ran aground near the bank. Between the jungle and the water’s -edge was a narrow open space. Throwing our bundles over our shoulders, -we set off down the bank at an easy walk. The “wild men” pulled their -boats up on the beach near the dugout, and dashed after us, shouting -angrily. When they came near enough, the soldiers drew up in a line and -leveled five guns at us. Their sergeant shouted the Siamese words for -“Ready! Fire!” An icy chill ran up and down my spine, but we marched -steadily on without a pause. They did not fire. When we had gone on a -few yards, the troop ran after us and drew up once more in firing line. -The sergeant bellowed in very loud tones; but the guns did not go off. - -Seven times this move was repeated. We were already a half mile from the -landing-place. Suddenly a villager snatched a gun from a soldier, ran -close up on our heels, and took a careful aim at us. He looked like a -bold, bad man. My flesh crawled, in expectation of the sting of the -bullet. I caught myself wondering what part of my body it would -puncture. But the fellow merely aimed, and shrieked in anger; he dared -not pull the trigger. - -Finding that we paid no attention when they attempted to frighten us, -the sergeant tried a new plan. One by one, the bare-footed soldiers -slipped up behind us and snatched at our packs and jackets. When we -turned on them they fell back wild-eyed. They continued to pester us in -this way until we lost all patience. - -“Tell me when you see the next one trying it,” said James. - -Out of a corner of an eve I watched a soldier steal up to my companion -and reach for his small bundle. - -“Now!” I shouted. - -The Australian whirled and caught the trooper’s gun in both hands. The -fellow let go of it with a scream, and the whole crowd—sergeant, -soldiers, villagers, and bold, bad man—turned tail and fled. - -Miles beyond, we met two lone soldiers wandering northward, and, knowing -that they would stop at the white building, we made them take the gun -with them. - -We plodded on. Once more we spent the night in the jungle, and again the -ground was wet and spongy and the trees alive with monkeys. On the -following day, for all our sleepiness and blistered feet, we tramped a -full thirty miles, and spent that night in a strongly scented bamboo -hut. - -Forty-eight hours later we came upon an unfinished railroad that a -German company was building in Siam. It was the only railroad in the -country. We struck out along the top of it in the early afternoon, and -with no thorny bushes or tangled vines to hinder, we got on faster than -we had for weeks past. Long after dark we reached the house of the -German superintendent of the line. He gave us permission to sleep in a -neighboring hut in which were stored several tons of dynamite. - -An hour’s tramp next morning brought us to the work train. Hundreds of -Chinese laborers, in mud-spattered trousers and leaf hats three feet -wide, swarmed upon the flat cars as they were unloaded. We climbed on to -one of these cars, and were jolted away with the Chinese coolies through -the sun-scorched jungle. - -Ten miles south the train turned on to a side-track and stopped near a -helter-skelter Chinese village. A heavy storm drove us into a shop where -Chinese food was sold. We spent the whole morning talking about the -nature of the yellow race while the store-keepers quarreled over their -cards, and, when they tired of this, tossed back and forth about the -room a dozen boxes of dynamite. At noon they set out on those same boxes -a generous dinner of pork, duck, and rich wine, and invited us to join -them. We did so, for we were very hungry; but we feared that we would -have to part with most of our money when the time came to pay the bill. -Throughout the meal the Chinamen were most polite, helping us to -everything good to eat. When it was over they rolled cigarettes in -wooden wrappers for us. They themselves smoked these all the time, even -while eating. - -“Suppose they’ll want all our cash, now,” groaned James, as I drew out -my purse to pay them. But, to our great surprise, they refused to take a -copper. - -“Now, what do you suppose their game is?” gasped the Australian. -“Something tricky or I’m a dingo. Never saw a pig-tail look a coin in -the face yet without grabbing for it.” - -The head shop-keeper, an old fellow with a straggly gray queue and -shifting eyes, swung suddenly round upon us. - -“Belly fine duck,” he grinned. - -Our faces froze with astonishment. - -“Dinner all light?” he went on. “Belly good man, me. No takee dollies -for chow. Many Chinyman takee plenty. You find allee same me. No blamed -fear. One time me live ’Flisco by white man, allee same you, six year. -Givee plenty dollies for joss-stick. Me no takee dollies for chow.” - -The rest of the company had grouped themselves about us, laughing -gleefully at the surprise which the old man had sprung on us. Of the -eight Chinamen in the hut, six spoke English and had understood every -word we had said. - -We spent the afternoon there while those jungle merchants taught us the -Chinese names of things we would be likely to need. At dusk they -prepared a second feast, after which two of them shouldered our packs -and led the way through the wilderness to a place on the railroad where -the engine of the work-train would stop on its way south. - -Freed of its burden of flat cars, the engine raced like a thing of life -through the cool, silent night, turning around the curves so swiftly -that it almost tipped sidewise. We sat high up, chatting with the -Eurasian driver, who allowed the engine to rush madly on until the -station lights of a large village flashed up out of the darkness. - -At noon the next day we boarded a passenger train and rumbled across -flooded rice-fields, stopping often at excited bamboo villages. Then -towering pagodas rose slowly above the southern sky-line, the jungle -died away, and at five o’clock the daily train of Siam pulled in at the -Bangkok station. By that time we did not look like white men. Until we -had shaved and washed in a barber’s shop we did not dare introduce -ourselves as such to any innkeeper of the Siamese capital. - - - - - CHAPTER XXVI - ON THE WAY TO HONG-KONG - - -Spread out in the low, flat valley of the Menam, Bangkok was a dull city -of rambling rows of cottages. Her poorly paved streets were crossed by -many canals, on which low-roofed boats and floating houses set on bamboo -rafts were rising and falling with the tide. - -The people of the city were dull and careless. They had the black teeth, -the bristling pompadour, and they wore no more clothing than their -brothers of the trackless bush. There were many Chinamen and some -Europeans. - -We found that deck passage to Hong-Kong cost next to nothing, and four -days after our arrival we went to buy tickets at the steamship offices. -The next afternoon a “wild woman” paddled us lazily across the Menam in -a raging downpour, and set us aboard a small steamer that was officered -by five Germans and manned by a hundred Chinese seamen, stokers, and -stewards. When the Germans and Chinese talked together they spoke -English. - -Three hours after we boarded the vessel she cast off her shore lines and -slipped down over the sand-bar at the mouth of the river. Never before -had she carried white men as deck passengers. The Chinese thought the -deck belonged to men of their race, and that we had no business there. -They glared at us with scowls and snarls when we came on board, and -tried their best to get in our way and to bump against us while about -their work. We laughed at their unfriendly acts, and, choosing a place -back of the wheel-house, took our coats off and settled down for a long -and tiresome voyage. - -[Illustration: Bangkok is a city of many canals.] - -On the afternoon of our second day aboard, about thirty Chinese stewards -marched to our end of the vessel with their bowls of rice, and squatted -in a half circle about us. We paid no attention to them. One of them sat -down on the bundle containing my camera. When I motioned for him to get -off, the fellow leered at me and refused to move. I pushed him off, and -picked up my bundle. In his fall he dropped and broke his rice-bowl. The -entire crowd sprang to their feet. - -“Kang kweitze!” (“Kill the foreigners!”) screamed the chief of the -stewards suddenly. With a roar the Chinamen surged forward. A heavy -piece of timber struck me a stunning blow on the back of the head, and I -landed face down among some chains near the railing. - -When I came to enough to realize what had happened to me, a dozen -Chinamen were beating me with bamboo clubs. I struggled to my feet. -James was laying about him right merrily. Inch by inch we fought our way -around the deck, and had almost freed ourselves, when James stumbled and -fell headlong. A score of Chinamen rushed at him; every man of them -struck him blow after blow with some weapon. A Chinaman struck at me -with a long thin knife. I threw up my right hand, grasping the blade. It -cut my palm and slashed my wrist; but the fellow let go of the weapon. I -snatched hold of it with my other hand and with its help fought our way -forward, where four of the German officers stood huddled together like -frightened sheep. - -We washed our wounds in salt water and bound them up as best we could. -The captain armed himself with two revolvers and marched down the deck -to restore order among his seamen. He pretended that it had not been -much of a fight, and tried to laugh it off; but he turned over to us an -unfurnished cabin and left us to spend a feverish and painful night on -the wooden slats of the narrow bunks. In the morning there was not a -spot the size of a man’s hand on either of our bodies that was not black -and blue. - -Eight weary days the creaking old tramp of a ship wheezed past the many -bays that cut into the southern coast of French Indo-China. Early one -gray morning, one year after my departure from Detroit, two small -islands rose from the sea on our left. Several queer-looking Chinese -boats, manned by evil-faced, unshaven yellow men, bobbed up out of the -dawn, and, hooking the rail of our vessel with grappling-irons, floated -along beside us, while their crews shouted to the passengers, offering -to help them with their baggage. Greener islands appeared, and when we -slipped into the horseshoe-shaped harbor of Hong-Kong it was still half -shaded by the forest that incloses it. - -A Chinese house-boat containing a large family set us ashore. We made -our way to the Sailors’ Home. My hand had healed, but James was still so -badly injured that we tried to secure entrance for him at the city -hospital. For several days he was turned away; but at last, when he had -become much worse, he was admitted, and I turned my attention to -outgoing ships, eager to be off, though sorry to leave behind the best -companion with whom I had ever shared the joys and miseries of the open -road. - -The next morning I boarded an English freight steamer about to sail for -Shanghai, and asked for work to pay for my passage. - -“Sure, lad,” cried the good-natured British mate. “Come on board -to-night and go to work. The old man will be glad to give you a few bob -for the run.” - -At midnight we sailed. Four days later we were steaming slowly up the -dark river between flat banks and warehouses. Our ship stopped close by -the Sailors’ Home. - -I saw many Americans and Europeans in Shanghai. In fact, the city is -filled with blocks of great buildings where business is carried on -solely by European merchants. Outside the European section lies many a -square mile of two-story shanties that crowd one another in an effort to -stand upright. The maze of narrow foot-paths winding among these -buildings are aglow with the brilliant signboards of gay Chinese shops, -and swarm with sour-faced yellow men who scowl fiercely at the white -foot traveler, or mock his movements and make faces at him. Cackling -peddlers zigzag through the crowd; wealthy Chinamen in gay robes and -carefully oiled queues pick their way along the narrow meandering lanes. -Great, muscular runners, carrying on one shoulder a Chinese lady who -cannot walk, jog in and out among the shoppers. - -After spending three days in Shanghai I awoke one morning to find it -raining dismally. To spend a day indoors was too much for me, and I -began to think of continuing my journey. So I packed my belongings -hurriedly, and an hour later was slipping down the plank on board a -Japanese steamer. Among several hundred third-class passengers I was the -only European; but I was treated kindly by my fellow-travelers. Our -sleeping quarters consisted of two shelves sloping toward the wall and -running along half the length of the ship. In my ignorance, I neglected -to apply for a place on this shelf until every foot of it had been -claimed. But I lost nothing thereby; for no sooner was it noised about -among the Japanese that an American was aboard without a place to sleep -than a dozen crowded round to offer me their places. I joined a party of -four students returning from Pekin, and, by packing ourselves together -like spoons, we found room without robbing any other of his rest. - -On the second morning out, the rolling green hills of Japan rose slowly -above the sun-flecked sea. My companions cried out joyfully when they -caught sight of their native land, and tried to make me believe that it -was the most beautiful spot on the globe. We soon steamed into the -harbor of Nagasaki. From the water’s edge rose a brown-roofed town that -covered low green mountains like a wrinkled brown carpet, and faded away -into the blue wreaths of hillside forests. - -The port was busy and noisy. House-boats, in which stood Japanese -policemen in snow-white uniforms, scurried toward us. Close to our -vessel two dull gray battle-ships scowled out across the harbor. -Doctors, custom officers, and armed policemen crowded on board. By -blazing noonday I had stepped ashore. - - - - - CHAPTER XXVII - WANDERING IN JAPAN - - -“Set me down at the Sailors’ Home,” I ordered, stepping into the first -’rickshaw to reach me. - -“No good,” answered the runner, dropping the shafts. “Sailor Home be -close.” - -[Illustration: My ’rickshaw man whose picture I took from my seat in the -’rickshaw while seeing the sights of Tokio.] - -However, I found a hotel beside a canal down near the harbor. The -proprietor, awakened from a doze, gurgled a welcome. He was an American -who had lived for some years in Nagasaki. The real manager of the hotel -was his Japanese wife, a lively woman who seemed to have a better head -for business than her husband. They had two interesting children, a boy -and a girl of twelve and ten. No American children could have been more -quick to see and act, or more whole-heartedly busy at their work and -play; no Japanese more polite of behavior. Already the father asked his -son’s advice in business matters of importance; and the mother depended -upon her daughter to look after the flower garden and the wardrobe. - -[Illustration: Numadzu: A view of the fishermen along the river. Rows of -huge fish can be seen on the bank.] - -I was given an airy chamber where I could have slept late next morning -had I not been awakened at daybreak by what seemed to be several shots -from a revolver. I sprang to the window, wondering what had happened. In -the yard below squatted the American-Japanese children, with a stick of -“punk” and a great bundle of fire-crackers. I had forgotten the date. It -was the Fourth of July, and Nagasaki was celebrating. All through the -day shots and explosions were heard about the city; nor was the racket -made entirely by Americans. - -On other days the boy and girl of the hotel dressed exactly like their -playmates, and no sooner turned their backs on their father than they -began at once to speak the Japanese language. But on this American day -the boy wore a knickerbocker suit and leather shoes; his sister had laid -aside her kimono and wooden sandals to wear a short skirt and long -stockings. Instead of the fancy coil on top of her head, her jet-black -hair hung in two braids over her shoulders; and all that day they spoke -nothing but the English language. - -Two days later I hunted up the railway station and took third-class -passage for Hiroshima. The train wound through a rolling country, here -circling the base of a thickly wooded hill, there clinging close to the -shore of a sparkling bay. Farm crops grew in every valley and on every -hillside. Peasants toiled in the fields; their neat cottages dotted the -landscape as far as the eye could see. We passed through village after -village. The stations were well built and bore the name of the town in -both Japanese and English. - -The trains were like those of America, but every car was a smoker; for -tobacco is used by almost every man and woman in Japan. There were -ladies seated in the car, smoking pipes that looked like long -lead-pencils with bowls that held much less than the smallest thimble. -There were no dining-cars. At nearly every station boxes containing -rice, several boiled and pickled vegetables, one baked fish, and a pair -of chop-sticks only half split in two, were sold. The contents were -always the same; the price surprisingly low. - -I reached Hiroshima at twilight, and left the train in company with two -English-speaking Japanese youths who had taken upon themselves the task -of finding me a lodging. The keeper of a hotel not far from the station -said that he had never housed a white man, but that he would for a -change. I bade my new acquaintances farewell. - -[Illustration: Some street urchins near Tokio.] - -The hotel office was paved with small stones from which a broad stairway -led upward. The keeper shouted a word of command. A smiling woman, short -and fat, with a wide sash wound round and round her waist, appeared on -the landing above and beckoned me to climb up. I caught up my bundle; -but before I had mounted two steps the proprietor sprang forward with a -scream, and, clutching at my coat-tails, dragged me back. Half a dozen -servant-girls tumbled wild-eyed into the office and joined the landlord -in scolding me. I had dared to start up the stairway without removing my -shoes! - -I pulled them off. The keeper, grinning at their weight, added them to a -line of wooden sandals placed along the wall; and the stout woman led me -to a small room with a balcony opening on the street. Everything about -the place made me feel as if I were a giant among pigmies: the low -ceiling, covered with gayly painted dragons; the walls, mere sliding -screens of paper stamped with flowers and strange figures; the highly -polished floor of such light boards that they bent under my feet with -every step. With a flying start I could have run straight through the -house and left it a wreck behind me. - -[Illustration: Osaka: One of her many canals.] - -The room was entirely unfurnished. My hostess placed a cushion for me in -the center of the floor, and clapped her hands. A servant-girl slipped -in, carrying a tray on which was a tiny box of live coals, several -cigarettes, a joint of bamboo standing upright, and a pot of tea with a -cup and saucer. Having placed her burden at my feet and touched her -forehead to the floor, the maid handed me a cigarette, poured out tea, -and remained kneeling a full half hour, filling the tiny cup as often as -I emptied it. - -When she was gone I picked up the joint of bamboo, fancying it contained -sweetmeats. It was empty, however, and I was left to wonder until the -hostess returned. When she understood my motions, she began to explain -by talking rapidly; but I shook my head. Then, with a wry face, she -caught up the hollow joint and spat into it. The thing was merely a -Japanese spittoon. - -A maid soon served supper. She brought first of all a table some eight -inches high; then a great wooden bucket brimming full of hard-packed -rice; and, lastly, several little paper bowls. One held an oily liquid -in which floated the yolk of an egg; another a small boiled turnip; a -third a sample of some native salad; at the bottom of a fourth lay, in -dreary loneliness, a pitiful little minnow. Of rice there was enough for -a squad of soldiers, but without it the meal could not have satisfied a -hungry canary. - -As I ate, the girl poured out tea in a cup that held a single swallow. -Fortunately, I had already learned how to use chop-sticks, or I should -have been forced to eat with my fingers. As it was, it took a great deal -of skill to possess myself of the swimming yolk; and he who fancies it -is easy to balance a satisfying mouthful of rice on the ends of two -slivers has only to try it to discover his mistake. - -I fancied I might have to sleep on the polished floor; but the -hotel-keeper’s wife glided in once more, and asked, by resting her head -in the palm of her hand, if I was ready to go to bed. I nodded, and at -her signal a servant appeared with a quilt of great thickness, which she -spread in the center of the floor. This seemed of itself a soft enough -resting-place; but not until six pudding-like covers had been piled one -on top of the other was the landlady content. Over this couch, that had -taken on the form of a huge layer-cake, the two of them spread a -coverlet,—there were no sheets,—and backed out of the room. They -returned shortly after dragging behind them a great net. While the -matron fastened the four corners of the top to hooks in the ceiling, the -maid tucked the edges under the stack of quilts, so that the net formed -a sort of tent over my bed. I crawled under it, and was soon asleep. - -[Illustration: Horses are rare in Japan. Men and baggage are drawn by -coolies.] - -How surprised I was when I awoke in the morning! It was broad daylight. -The sun was streaming in across the balcony, and the constant scraping -of wooden clogs sounded from the street below. But the room in which I -had gone to bed had entirely disappeared! I sat up with bulging eyes. -Under me was the stack of quilts, but all else was changed. The net was -gone, and I sat alone and deserted in the center of a large hall, the -front of which for its entire length opened on to the public street. The -change was no magician’s trick, though it was several moments before I -was sufficiently wide awake to understand what had happened. The -servant-girls had merely pushed together the screens that made the -walls. - -[Illustration: Japanese children playing in the streets of Kioto.] - -Later I managed to find the highway that led out of Hiroshima. It led -the way between bright green hedgerows, through village after village, -past many farm-houses and rice-fields. The air was fresh and cheering, -and I was often within sight of the bright blue arm of old ocean that -wound in and out along the coast. Now and then an ocean liner, awakening -memories of far-off lands, glided by. In shallow bays unclad fishermen, -too brown to sunburn, disentangled their nets and heaped high their -catches in wicker baskets. - -It needed a very few hours on the road to teach me that the country -people of Japan are very curious—even more so than the Arab. I had only -to pass through a village to cause all business to stop. Workmen dropped -their tools, children forgot their games, girls left their pitchers at -the fountain, even gossips ceased their chatter—all to stare wide-eyed -if I passed on, to crowd around me if I paused. - -[Illustration: Women do most of the work in the rice-fields of Japan.] - -Wherever I stopped for a drink of water, the town rose in a mass to -watch my strange action. When I set the cup down they passed it -wonderingly from hand to hand. To stop for a lunch was almost dangerous, -for the crowd that collected at the door of the shop threatened to do me -to death under their trampling clogs. In the smaller villages the whole -population, men, women, and children, followed me out along the highway, -leaving the place as utterly deserted as if the dogs of war had been -loosed upon it. Once I passed a school at the recess hour. Its two -hundred children trailed behind me for a long mile, paying no attention -to the jangling bell and the shouts of their excited masters. - -Partly by foot and partly by rail, I finally reached Kyoto, where I -spent a day. At the station next morning four yen were more than enough -for a ticket to Tokyo, with stopovers anywhere I chose. At Maibara a -squad of Russian prisoners, clothed in arctic cloaks and fur caps, -huddled in a sweltering group on the station platform. As long as the -train stood there not a sound of mockery rose from the crowd, and the -towns-people came in a continual procession to offer the silent fellows -baskets of fruit, packets of tobacco, and all manner of delicacies. - -From Nagoya the railway turned southward, following the coast, so that -again I caught frequent glimpses of the ocean as we sped along, passing -through a country filled with rice-fields, where peasant women wallowed -in the water, clawing with bare hands the mud about the roots of the -rice plants. On slopes too steep to be flooded, long rows of tea bushes -stretched from the railway to the wooded tops of the hills. - -I reached Yokohama at night, and stopped at the Sailors’ Home, certain -that in this city I could soon get work on some vessel going to my -native land. I squandered the seven yen I had left, and on a morning -late in July wandered down to the port to ask for work on some ship. - - - - - CHAPTER XXVIII - HOMEWARD BOUND - - -It was Saturday, nearly two weeks after my arrival in Yokohama, that I -saw a chance to escape from Japan. The American consul had promised to -speak for me to the captain of a fast mail steamer to sail a few days -later. - -Early the following Monday, the last day of July, I turned in at the -American consul’s office just as two men stepped out. One was the -vice-consul; the other, a large man of some fifty years, wearing -thick-rimmed spectacles and a broad-brimmed felt hat. His black hair was -unusually long. I supposed he was a missionary, and stepped aside to let -him pass. The vice-consul, however, catching sight of me as he shook the -stranger’s hand, beckoned to me. - -“By the way,” he said, speaking to the stranger; “here is an American -sailor who wants to work his passage to the States. Can’t you take him -on, captain?” - -Captain, indeed! Of what? The fast mail steamer, perhaps. I stepped -forward eagerly. - -“Umph!” said the stranger, looking me over. “On the beach, eh? Why, yes; -he can come on board and I’ll set him at work.” - -“Good!” cried the vice-consul. “There you are! Now don’t loaf and make -us ashamed to ask a favor of the captain next time.” - -“Go get something to eat,” said the captain, “and wait for me on the -pier.” - -I raced away to the Home to invite one of the “boys” I had met there to -a farewell luncheon, then returned to the place of meeting. The day was -stormy, and a dozen downpours drenched me as many times during the seven -hours that I waited. Toward nightfall the captain drove up in a -’rickshaw, and we stepped into his launch. - -Ten minutes later I should have given much to have been able to spring -back on the wharf. The launch raced at full speed out across the harbor, -past the last steamer riding at anchor, and turned toward the open sea. -Where in the name of Father Neptune was she bound? I wiped the water -from my eyes and gazed in astonishment at the fast disappearing shore. -The last ship was already behind. The higher waves of the outer bay -caught our tiny boat as she slipped through the mouth of the -break-water, and sent me waltzing about the slippery deck. Was the -long-haired captain a lunatic who had chosen a launch for a sea voyage? -Then all at once I understood, and gasped with dismay. Far off through -the driving rain appeared the towering masts of the sailing-vessels, and -that one toward which we were headed had her sails bent, ready for -starting. That vice-consul had sentenced me to work my way home on a -sailing-vessel! - -Dusk was settling over the harbor when the launch bumped against the -ship’s side. Several seamen, sprawling about the deck, sprang to their -feet as I poked my head over the bulwarks. - -“Hooray!” bawled a loud voice. “A new shipmate, lads. Turn out an’ see.” - -Sailors dressed and half dressed stumbled out on the deck; and in the -twinkling of an eye I was surrounded by all hands and the cook. - -The cook gave me leave to dry my uniform in the galley, and I went to -the forecastle to tell my story to the excited crew. - -[Illustration: When I arrived in Yokohama I found the city decorated in -honor of Secretary Taft’s party, which, with Miss Roosevelt, arrived -July 25, 1905. The arch through which they drove to the station is made -of evergreens.] - -“It’s a ragged deal t’ ’ave t’ work your passage ’ome on a wind-jammer,” -cried one of the seamen, when I had finished. “Howsomever, ’ere you are, -an’ it’s no use kickin’ after you’re ’ung. - -“This tub?” he went on, in answer to my question about the ship. “She’s -the _Glenalvon_, English built, as you can see wi’ your eyes shut, solid -enough, being all iron but ’er decks; but that’s all can be said for -’er. This crowd shipped on ’er from England two years ago with loaded -saltpeter for Yokohama, and she’s bound now for the States all right—to -load wheat for ’ome, like ’nough. Maybe it’ll take a month to get -there.” - -By the time my clothes were dry the second mate came forward to tell me -what my work was to be, and I turned in with my new mess-mates. It -barely seemed possible that I had fallen asleep, when there came a -banging on the iron door of the sailors’ room and a noisy shout of: - -“All hands! Up anchor, ho!” - -With only five minutes to jump into our clothes, we tumbled out -hurriedly. Twenty-two men and boys, their heads still heavy with sleep, -grasped the bars of the capstan—the wheel that pulled up the anchor. For -four hours we marched round and round the creaking thing. One man at a -proper machine could have raised the anchor in ten minutes; but the -_Glenalvon_ had not so much as a donkey-engine. - -Dawn found us still treading around in a circle in time to a mournful -song sung by long-winded members of the crew. The sun rose, and the -sweat ran in streams along the bars. Hunger gnawed us inwardly. The -captain went ashore for his morning outing, a steamer slipped by us, and -I caught myself gazing sorrowfully away across the bay at the city we -were about to leave behind. - -Then all at once the second mate, peering over the side, raised a hand. - -“Shake ’em out!” he bellowed. “All hands! Man the wheel!” - -The crew sprang into the rigging and climbed the masts. We loosened a -dozen sails, and, leaving a man on each mast to fasten the ropes, slid -down on deck again. Then came a harder task, to raise the upper -topsail-yards—timbers that kept the sails stretched out to their full -width. Every man on board pulled on the rope; even then we were not -enough. The heavy iron yard rose, but only inch by inch; and every pull -seemed to yank our arms half out of their sockets. - -It was finally fastened in place, however. Then, breaking up into -smaller groups, the crew raised more timbers, and, when we turned in for -breakfast an hour late, weak and ugly from hunger, the _Glenalvon_ was -ready to sail. - -“At least,” I told myself, rubbing my aching arms between mouthfuls of -watery soup, “we’re off, and the worst is over.” - -Which only proved how little I knew of the queer ways of “wind-jammers.” - -Refusing to hire a tug, our captain was determined to beat his way out -of Tokyo harbor by tacking back and forth against the wind that blew -steadily in at the mouth of the bay. A bellow called us on deck before -breakfast was half over, to go about ship again. A few more mouthfuls, -and we were at it again. But it was of no use. The wind blew stronger -and held us back; the bay was narrow. On the third time across the -captain moved too near the shore, lost his head, and roared out an -order: - -“Let go the anchor!” - -The anchor dropped with a mighty roar and rattle of chain; sails came -down with a run; ropes screamed through the blocks; the topsails fell -with a crash; sails swelled out and snapped in the breeze with the boom -of cannon; blocks fell about our heads; ropes and chains of every size -threshed about the decks, snatching us off our feet and slashing us in -the face; men and goats sprawled about the deck. It seemed as if an -earthquake had struck us, and in three minutes the work of five toilsome -hours had been utterly undone. - -When the uproar ceased we began the work of restoring things to order -again—furled the sails, raised yards, coiled up the thousand and one -ropes that carpeted the deck, attended to many other tasks. To most -people this would have seemed work enough for one day. But after less -than a half hour for dinner we were called out once more and sent over -the side with our paint-pots. - -Exactly the same thing happened to us the next day, and the next. Day -after day the wind blew steadily in at the mouth of the harbor, holding -us there. - -A week went by. A ship that had long ridden at anchor near the -_Glenalvon_ was towed out to sea and sailed away. The fast mail steamer -glided by so close that one of the “boys” whom I had known at the -Sailors’ Home waved to me from her deck. A dozen ships went in and out, -and still the white cone of Fujiyama gazed down upon us. The harbor of -Yokohama came to be a sight hateful to all on board. The crew was worn -out in body and spirit, and I began to give up hope of ever again -setting foot on land. - -But our skipper was forced to hire a tug at last. On the morning of -August eleventh we turned out to raise the anchor for the tenth time. -The skipper had been rowed ashore the afternoon before, and a tug was -waiting to take us out of the harbor. Late in the day she dropped us -outside the narrows, and when night fell the _Glenalvon_ was tossing on -the open sea. - -We had no time to feel dull on the trip across. First of all, the breeze -that had held us bottled up in the harbor for twelve days increased to a -heavy gale. For more than a week it blew steadily from the same -direction. Rain poured constantly. Lashed by the storm, the sea rose -mountain high, and the ship reared like a cow-boy’s broncho, or lay on -her side like a mortally wounded creature. - -[Illustration: A Yokohama street decorated for the Taft party.] - -There was no standing on the deck. The best pair of sea legs failed to -do it. We moved like mountain goats on a mountain-peak, springing from -post to railing and from railing to stairway, or dragging ourselves hand -over hand along the ropes. After a time the wind changed in direction so -often that every square of canvas had to be furled, rolled up, and -shaken out again a dozen times a day. The bellow ordering us about was -forever ringing in our ears. We lived in the rigging, like apes in -tree-tops. - -The wind, the pouring rain, and the sudden gales continued for weeks. -The weather turned bitter cold. Unable to hold her course, the -_Glenalvon_ ran “by the wind” far to the north. One night in the second -week out, a goat froze to death. With only my khaki uniform, I should -have suffered the same fate had it not been for the kindness of a -shipmate who allowed me to use a “dead man’s gear” which he was afraid -to wear. - -To tell of all the hardships and misfortunes that befell us during that -voyage would make this story too long. We slept in wooden bins on sacks -filled with bits of straw and lashed ourselves fast to keep from being -thrown out on the deck. The kind of beds we had mattered little, though, -for we were not in them much of the time. The food fell so low that we -had to get along on half rations; which was well, perhaps, for what was -left had been on board more than two years. The biscuits in one cask -opened toward the end of the voyage, were stamped with the date of 1878. - -Looking forward to an easy passage, the captain had rigged out the ship -in her oldest suit of sails. One by one, the fury of the wind tore them -to ribbons. The bursting of canvas sounded above the roar of every -storm. As each sail went, new ones of double-weight canvas were dragged -from the locker and raised on high to the top of the mast. It was -dangerous work to hang on away up there while bending a sail on the icy -poles, with the wind howling about you, the foot-rope slippery, and -every line frozen stiff, while the ship swung back and forth far below -like a cork on the end of a stick. Every old sail was carried away -before that unchanging wind, and even the new canvas was sometimes -split. - -On the eighth of September we found that, after all our work, we had -covered just sixty miles! But on that day the wind changed, and our -vessel caught the breeze on her beam and raced homeward like a steamer. - -On the nineteenth day of September some one said that we were nearing -port. Several of the seamen declared that the voyage was not half over; -but, for all that, everybody began to get excited. In the middle of the -afternoon the mate gave an order to get the anchor over the side. He did -not have to repeat the command. The men rushed to the work, laughing -childishly. In a short time the anchor swung in place, and we waited -impatiently for signs of land. - -But the best pair of eyes could not have made out a mountain a ship’s -length away in the fog that enveloped us. For two days we beat up and -down the coast, not knowing just where we were, while the crew nibbled -stale biscuits in helpless rage. - -On the twenty-first the gale died down to a quieter breeze, and in the -early afternoon the fog thinned and lifted, and a mighty cheer from the -watch brought every man tumbling from his bunk. A few miles off before -us a rocky highland rose slowly, throwing off the gray mist like a giant -freeing himself of a flowing garment. A tug hovering near the shore -spied the flapping canvas of the _Glenalvon_, and darted out to meet us. -We were near the entrance to Puget Sound. - -All night long the tug strained at the ropes of our vessel. In the -afternoon we dropped anchor in a quiet bay close off a wooded shore -decorated by several wigwams. - -The next morning I began work with the crew as usual, and toiled from -daylight to dark. No hint that I was to be freed from duty having -reached me by the next afternoon, I marched forward and asked for my -discharge. - -“What’s your hurry?” demanded the captain. “I’ll sign you on at full -wages and you can make the trip home in her.” - -“Thank you kindly, sir,” I answered, “but I’m home now, once I get -ashore.” - -“Aye!” snorted the captain. “And in three days you’ll be on the beach -and howling to sign on again. Turn to with the crew until she’s tied up -in Tacoma, and I’ll give you your discharge.” - -I told him plainly that I could not wait. I wanted to go ashore at once. - -“Huh! That’s it!” growled the master. “Every man jack of you with the -price of a drink coming to him is ready to desert if a shift of work -turns up. Well, to-morrow is Sunday. I’ll get some money when I go -ashore, and pay you off on Monday morning. But I’ll have to set you down -on the records as a deserter.” - -“Very good, sir,” I answered. - -Fifty-seven days after boarding the _Glenalvon_ I bade farewell to her -crew. Dressed in a khaki uniform and an ancient pair of sea-boots that -had cost me four messes of plum-duff, I landed with the captain at a -rocky point on the farther side of the bay. He marched before me until -we reached the door of a lonely tavern, then turned and dropped into my -hand seven and a half dollars. - -“You must be back on board by to-morrow night,” he said. - -“Eh!” I gasped. - -“Oh, I have to tell you that,” snapped the skipper, “or I can’t set you -down as a deserter,” and, pushing aside the swinging doors before him, -he disappeared. - -I plodded on toward the city of Victoria. The joy of being on land once -more—above all, of being my own master—was so keen that it was with -difficulty that I kept myself from cutting a caper in the public street. - -I was really in a foreign land still; yet how everything about made me -think of the fatherland from which I had been so long absent. The wooden -sidewalk drumming under my boots; the cozy houses, roofed with shingles -instead of tiles, and each standing far back from the street on its own -green lawn; the tinkle of cow-bells in neighboring pastures—a hundred -little unimportances, that I had hardly noticed when I lived among them, -stood forth to call up memories of the years gone by. In Victoria each -passer-by seemed like a long-lost friend, so familiar did each look in -face, clothing, and actions. All that day, as often as I heard a voice -behind me, I whirled about and stared at the speaker, utterly astonished -that he should be speaking English. - -I caught the night boat for Seattle, and landed at midnight in my native -land, after an absence of four hundred and sixty-six days. - -For two days following I did little but sleep. Then I boarded a train -one evening to continue eastward, landing in Spokane the second night -thereafter. My wages as a seaman being nearly spent, I stopped a week in -Spokane, where I helped build cement sidewalks. At the end of that time -I shipped as a railway laborer to Paola, Montana. - -The train halted at midnight at the station named ——, a lonely shanty in -a wild mountain gorge. - -The next morning I went on to Havre. While stepping from one of its -restaurants, a ranchman accosted me. He put me in charge of seven -carloads of cattle, and when night fell I was speeding eastward again. - -Six days later I turned the animals over to the tender mercies of a -packing-house in Chicago, and on the morning of October fourteenth -walked into the home of my parents. - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES - - - 1. Changed “Sidra” to “Sidon” on p. 92. - 2. Silently corrected typographical errors. - 3. Retained anachronistic and non-standard spellings as printed. - 4. Enclosed italics font in _underscores_. - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Working my Way Around the World, by -Lena M. 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