"Um," said the priest, "and how many such coins have you with you?"
Wang the Ninth took several steps backwards so that if needs be he could run for it. There was a note in the priest's voice that he did not like. He was quite capable of trying to rob him. Already he regretted his indiscretion.
"How many coins? Ho—ho, I am a bad hand at calculating." He took a few more steps backward. "Are you discontented with my generosity?—well, I cannot help it." With a swift movement he bent down and picked up the bundle of corn which he had made. "The day is waning, I cannot waste more time. Lao-hoshang, I am about to leave you." And with this lightly and quickly he sprang away and then through the narrow door on to the roadway.
The priest followed him. On his face there was a sharp struggle. Had he been able to do so, he would have rushed at him. But the chances of success were poor having in view his feebleness and the boy's agility. So sullenly he watched Wang the Ninth walk away looking over his shoulder as he went, and beginning the song, "Every priest is only a thief with a shaven pate," which is known to every urchin in the land.
CHAPTER XXI
In the cool of the evening he walked on steadily hour after hour thinking of the priest, and sometimes wondering why he met no soldiers. He began to believe that things would not be so hard as he had pictured them. Here at least was no trace of battle or tumult.
The long July day faded slowly away and still he walked. Now that the capital was far behind him, occasionally there were village people to be seen tending their fields: yet it was plain that they watched the roads and feared every movement on them. Still the mere presence of people reassured him. Immediate danger there could be none: otherwise not a human being would he have seen. Even the lack of travellers could be easily explained. How could people travel when there were no conveyances for hire? Every mule or horse was certainly hidden away as a measure of precaution, soldiers always seizing these first.
Still, in spite of his growing confidence, whenever he saw a village marked out like an island in the midst of the cultivation by the dense groves of trees,—he wasted many minutes walking far around so as to avoid all danger. He greatly feared to go into them, and see the red cloth and the mystic signs on the lintels which proclaimed adhesion to the dread cult. Once, when he was thinking of these things, he came right upon a man lying half-asleep on a grassy bank—which so startled him that he ran into the fields and hid for many minutes before he dared resume his journey. What he feared most was detention—being seized and held indefinitely for his working-value if for no other reason. Knowing his own people to the bottom of their hearts, he realized how easily such enslavements could be carried out—particularly in troubled times. A week's time lost might spell ruination. At all costs he must avoid being made a slave.
Meanwhile he travelled on. Guided by the marvellous sense of direction which the Chinese possess in common with savage races, he bore steadily towards the southeast where his goal lay. No twists or turns confused him; after the longest detour he recovered the exact direction as if a compass were set before him, never faltering or pausing an instant, but always hastening on at the same quick gait.