By nightfall he suddenly realized that he was on the long road leading to his own gateway—the gateway of his youth—the city gate round which he had so long played.
"Ai-ya!" he exclaimed full of emotion, thinking of how his father had died and how his life had been changed by that. Then he remembered the old soothsayer's prediction.
... "Keng-tzu, the twenty-sixth year of the emperor." It had come just as had been foreordained: the old man had read the signs correctly. Everything from over the water had influenced him; unaccustomed things had come his way.
The gates were closed now. He knew it was too late to attempt to enter. Now an idea entered his head, a fantastic idea but one which he was determined to execute. Without haste he left the street of his youth; cut through half-forgotten shortcuts; and at length reached the Wall where he had smuggled wine with the wine smugglers years before.
The next morning he scaled the city wall with less confidence than he used to possess, and he noticed the fact. So instead of making the perilous descent, he crept to the nearest ramp and made his way down without danger since all the guard-houses were now deserted.
He drew a deep breath. He was at last in the city again—about four miles from his destination.
In the city there was dead quiet.
CHAPTER XXVIII
It was too early for there to be much movement in the streets; yet his expert ragamuffin eyes picked up signs which comforted him. He saw wheelbarrows full of country produce moving slowly under cover of the city wall, and there were vendors laden with empty baskets going to the markets to replenish their stocks.