Held by Chinese Brigands

"And the money has not come?" asked Frank.

"It is coming," said Ling. "That is why I awakened you."

"It is coming now!" The boy sprang to his feet.

Ling pointed to the west, in the direction of the river. There, sure enough, about half-a-mile down-stream, was a small white launch, similar to those which may be seen by the score in Hong-Kong harbour, heading straight for the southern bank, for the Glade of Children's Tears.

Like a great vulture in the heavens that soars higher and higher in a series of concentric circles, Ling from the top of the tower looked down upon his prey. After the manner of a vulture, he did but bide his time.

The launch ran into a narrow creek, and for a moment was hidden from view by the trees of the little wood. Shortly after, it appeared again, and both Frank and Ling watched the Chinese sailors tie her up to a stunted tree that overhung the water. On board were three Europeans, dressed in white ducks and wearing sun-helmets. The launch was too far away for Frank to recognise these men.

And then they witnessed a sight that made the dark eyes of the great Honanese glitter with triumph and greed; his wide mouth expanded in a smile. A plank was thrown from the launch to the shore. Across this gangway bag after bag was carried, each one so heavy with silver that it required two men to lift it.

At last the task was ended. The Europeans, who had superintended the discharging of this precious cargo, returned to the launch, which presently turned slowly round and made off down-stream. In the red light of the setting sun, on the surface of the water, they could see the convergent lines of ripples spreading from the bows of the launch.

Ling laughed.

"Come!" he cried, seizing Frank by a wrist and dragging him out into the open. "The ripe harvest awaits the reaper; the honey-comb is full. Come, come, my little junk rat, let us hasten to the feast. Wisdom and prudence are always triumphant. The victory is ever to the strong."

As the words left his lips, there came from the direction of the glade the report of a revolver, and a bullet, speeding upon its way with a soft, shrill whistle, cut off the lobe of one of the great Chinaman's ears. On the instant Ling fell flat upon his face, and Frank was not slow to follow his example.

CHAPTER XXIV-HOW THE TIGER VANISHED IN THIN AIR

They had thrown themselves down upon the ground in a place where the grass was long enough to screen them from view. The light was fading rapidly. It would soon be quite dark. A heavy mist was gathering in the valley.

Frank looked at his companion. He could see blood flowing profusely down the man's neck. For all that, the expression upon Ling's face did not suggest that he suffered pain. He was grinning.

He held in his hand the loaded revolver he had taken from Yung How in Ah Wu's opium den. It was manifest that every sense was alert. Screwing his eyes, he endeavoured to pierce the gloom of the thickets immediately in front of them.

Nothing was to be seen. No sound disturbed the silence of the evening. Slowly and stealthily Ling began to move forward through the long grass, after the manner of a snake, never for a moment lifting his chin more than a few inches from the ground.

Frank followed him. There was no reason why the boy should have done so, and without doubt he had been wiser had he remained behind in safety. But he was consumed by an overmastering desire to see the matter out, to follow to the bitter end the fortunes of the mighty Ling.

He followed in the man's wake, Ling in his progress was making a kind of pathway through the grass. Frank was careful not to show himself. He realised that the exposure of any part of his body would, in all probability, immediately be greeted by another shot from the glade.

Ling was making for a great boulder that lay upon the outskirts of the wood, about twenty yards from a place where the undergrowth was exceedingly dense. He gained this without any mishap; and there, a moment later, he was joined by Frank.

"You have followed me?" he asked, in a whisper.

The boy nodded his head, not venturing to speak.

"Then you have done so at your own risk. I am not responsible for your life."

Very cautiously, Ling peered round the boulder behind which they lay in hiding. Almost at once, a single shot from a revolver was fired from the thickets immediately before them.

Ling did not draw back, nor did he flinch. On the contrary, he drew himself forward until at least half his body was exposed to view.

Then came another shot from the wood; Frank saw a bullet strike the ground not three inches from the man's head. At that moment Ling himself fired. Three revolver shots rang out in quick succession, and then, with a roar like that of a charging tiger, the man rose to his feet and plunged into the wood.

Frank saw the flash of a long knife he carried in his left hand. In his right he still held his revolver. He crashed into the undergrowth like a wild bull, and the darkness swallowed him up.

The boy waited an instant; then, as nothing happened, he rose to his feet and followed after Ling.

He was able to see very little of his surroundings. He found himself in twilight. Trees arose on every side of him like gaunt spectres, twisted and deformed. Dark shadows upon the ground seemed to be moving, floating here and there like silent ghosts.

Knowing not which way to go, for a few seconds the boy remained quite motionless. Then suddenly there came a loud shout, in which Frank recognised the voice of Ling. This shout was followed by an uproar, a noise that bore no small resemblance to the crackling of green wood upon a mighty fire. Branches were broken; dry sticks and twigs were trampled under the feet of excited, hastening men.

Frank, running forward, found himself, before he had gone thirty yards, upon the skirting of the Glade of Children's Tears. Here there was more light. The boy could see the great broken idols, overgrown with moss and lichen, lying upon the ground; he could see the ruins of the ancient temple and the great red stone beneath which the treasure had been hidden. Then, on a sudden, he became conscious of the figure of a man crouching behind a rock, not ten yards away.

Though he was well in the shadow, there was sufficient light to enable the boy to make quite sure that the man in front of him was not Ling. One could not fail to identify the gigantic proportions of the Honanese; and this was a thin, small man. Moreover, he did not wear the long robe of the upper classes in China, but a short jacket, reaching not far below the waist; and so far as Frank could make out, this coat was red. Also, the man was bareheaded, whereas Ling had been wearing the buttoned hat of a mandarin.

Frank remained silent and motionless, scarcely daring to breathe. On hands and knees the man moved a few paces forward, which brought him into the light. The boy recognised at once the shrunken, evil features of Cheong-Chau, the brigand chief.

He could have been given no greater cause to regret the fact that he was altogether unarmed. In this conflict, the sympathies of the boy were wholly on the side of Ling. That Cheong-Chau was more evil than Ling was not to be doubted, since the brigand was never to be trusted. Ling, on the other hand-so far as Frank's experience went-was not likely to go back upon his word. He was pitiless and wholly unscrupulous; but at the same time, he had in his own way certain estimable virtues. The boy considered that the worst calamity that could, at this juncture, possibly befall him and his friends was for Cheong-Chau to regain possession of his hostages. If the brigand overpowered Ling, he would possess himself of the ransom money, he would recapture his own junk, setting free the crew which Ling had bound hand and foot; and then, it was more than probable, he would seek satisfaction in the murder of his victims.

Frank therefore was eager to render all the assistance he could to Ling. But since he had upon him neither fire-arms nor weapons of any sort, he could do nothing but lie still and await the tide of events. Cheong-Chau continued to move forward on hands and knees. He turned his head rapidly first one way and then another. The boy was well able to see that the brigand was armed to the same extent as Ling; in other words, he carried in one hand a revolver of European manufacture, and between his teeth a long Chinese knife.

It was plain that the man was searching in all directions for his adversary. He was still not many yards away from Frank. On a sudden, he lay quite still, seeming to flatten himself into nothing, just as a cat does when it lies in ambush. He had evidently seen something.

Frank, straining his eyes, observed another man, visible as a mere shadow, moving slowly and silently amidst the undergrowth on the other side of the glade. This man was steadily approaching. Cheong-Chau did not stir.

When the two men were not fifteen paces away from each other, Cheong-Chau raised his revolver, and was evidently about to fire, when suddenly he brought it down again.

"Tong!" said he, in a loud whisper.

"Is that you, Cheong-Chau?" came back the answer.

"It is myself. And have you seen aught of the tiger?"

By then the two men were together lying side by side behind a fragment of the ruined temple wall. They were so close to Frank that, though they spoke to one another in whispers, it was easy for him to hear every word that they said.

"I thought you were he," said the man who had answered to the name of Tong.

"And I too," said Cheong-Chau. "I was about to fire when I saw that you were too small to be Ling."

"That is fortunate," said the other, "fortunate-for me."

"And where is Chin Yen?" asked the brigand chief.

"He is close behind me," said the man. "He is here."

Indeed, at that moment they were joined by a third man, who crept forward from out of the midst of the shadows. The night was descending rapidly; it was already almost dark. Frank, however, had no doubt as to the identity of these two men. He remembered very well hearing their names when he was in the opium den of Ah Wu. Chin Yen was the man who had fallen down upon his knees beside an opium couch, holding his head between his hands. Tong was the unfortunate individual who had been struck down with the paraffin lamp. It was subsequently discovered that the third man never recovered from his injuries.

"Well, Chin Yen," said Cheong-Chau, "where is the tiger? Have you seen nothing of him?"

"Nothing at all," came the answer. "Three minutes ago I saw him standing on the edge of the glade. I was about to fire, when suddenly he disappeared. I think he fell upon his face."

"He is somewhere here," said Cheong-Chau. "He is too big to hide himself. We shall find him sooner or later. He cannot have been spirited away."

Tong shivered-or rather there was a tremor in his voice.

"I don't like this business," said he. "Presently, without a moment's warning, the tiger will spring upon us from out of the darkness. And then, woe betide him into whom he digs his claws."

"You are a coward," said Cheong-Chau. "We are three to one, and we are all armed with revolvers. What is there to fear, if we keep together? Ling's strength will avail him nothing."

"That is true," said Chin Yen.

All the same the tone of his voice carried not the least conviction. He was obviously just as frightened of his opponent as his comrade. Cheong-Chau himself was the most courageous of the three.

"Obey my orders," said he, "and remain at my side. We will search the place thoroughly. He lies somewhere in hiding. Keep as close to the ground as possible. He will fire the moment he sees us."

"He may have escaped," said Tong.

"He has done nothing of the kind," said Cheong-Chau. "For two reasons: first, we must have heard him; secondly, it is not the custom of Ling to run away."

"Let us go first to the junk," said Chin Yen. "We shall then be ten to one."

"Fool!" exclaimed Cheong-Chau. "We should never get there. Ling would shoot us in the open. Come, we do but waste time talking. The glade must be searched."

As he said the words, he began to move forward, straight toward the place where Frank was hiding.

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

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

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

Chin Yen peered into the boy's face.

"This is not Ling!" he exclaimed.

Cheong-Chau came out with a brutal oath.

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

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

CHAPTER XXV-AND HOW CHEONG-CHAU VANISHED ALTOGETHER

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Cheong-Chau made no answer.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You will not torture me?" he asked.

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

"What do you mean?" asked the other.

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

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

"Are you safe?" he asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

CHAPTER XXVI-OF GREED OF GOLD

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I had no such thought," said Frank.

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

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