[CHAPTER VI--HOW CHEONG-CHAU STATED HIS TERMS]
The situation in which the judge and his companions found themselves was certainly not of the pleasantest. It so happened that Sir Thomas knew nothing of the reputation of the redoubtable Cheong-Chau. However, the man's character was made evident upon every feature of his face.
Standing in the centre of the hall, gesticulating wildly, he harangued his audience for the better part of twenty minutes without once pausing for breath. Sir Thomas was sufficiently acquainted with the Cantonese language to follow the drift of the man's speech, whereas Frank was able to understand every word. Mr Waldron, of course, comprehended nothing.
The American was under the impression that he was about to be put to death. He regarded, with a kind of timorous curiosity, the murderous weapons of the bandits and the villainous facial contortions of Cheong-Chau. The man held forth in the flowery language of the Chinese of the southern provinces. He talked a great deal about his own power and cruelty. He did not seem to care in the least whether or not anyone listened to him. He boasted in regard to his past crimes; he spoke of his courage and audacity; he uttered innumerable threats. And in the end the captives were led away into one of the smaller rooms that gave upon the great hall of the temple.
There they remained until late the following evening, when the whole party--with the exception of Yung How, who returned to Canton--set out across the mountains, traversing the narrow pass from above which Frank Armitage had first beheld the brigands. They entered, at dead of night, the bleak, desolate valley extending towards the north. Cheong-Chau himself led the way, following a path, carrying in his hand a large Chinese lantern suspended from a pole about six feet long.
Daylight found them still upon the line-of-march. They had by then ascended to a high altitude, where the atmosphere was both cold and damp. The crests of the mountains were wreathed in a thin white mist, similar to that which is found in Scotland, which drenched them to the skin.
They were brought to a halt at the mouth of a certain cave, in a very desolate, inhospitable region--a country of sheer barren slopes, rugged peaks and turbulent mountain streams that descended thousands of feet in series of roaring cataracts. They had been conducted to a spot upon the globe's surface where, in all probability, no white man had ever been before.
The entrance to the cave was hidden behind an enormous boulder, almost as big as a fair-sized house, which balanced itself upon the very brink of a steep slope that descended at an angle of about forty-five degrees. Upon these slopes a few withered shrubs were growing: leafless, twisted things, tortured by the bitter east winds that swept those cheerless valleys.
Inside, the cave was comparatively comfortable. In the centre a wood fire was burning brightly, and though this filled the place with smoke, it served to introduce both light and warmth into that gloomy prison; for indeed the cave was destined, for many days to come, to play the part of a prison. For all that, some attempt had been made to give this place a homely aspect. Several Chinese mats were spread upon the floor, and there were wooden shelves loaded with provisions: dried fish, rice, and bags of green China tea.
To give so redoubtable a rogue as Cheong-Chau the little justice he deserves, it must be stated that his captives were treated with every consideration. They were well fed, on simple Chinese food, which must have been carried miles across the desolate mountains upon the backs of coolies. They were given straw mattresses upon which to sleep, and were allowed to warm themselves by the fire. Mr Waldron--as the only member of the party who was a stranger to the country--expressed the greatest anxiety in regard to their fate. His mind was filled with vague fears to the effect that their lives were being preserved in order that they might eventually be tortured. He had interested himself in all manner of gruesome subjects; he had heard of the "death by a thousand cuts," the Chinese "corkscrew," and the wholesale manner in which Cantonese executions were usually carried out. None the less, he was not afraid. He was a man who had led a hard life, who had faced danger more than once, and who had learnt--in spite of his riches--to regard his own existence as by no means an essential part of the great scheme of universal things. He speculated in regard to his destiny after the manner of a man who backs horses without knowing anything whatsoever about what--for some reason or other--has been called "the sport of kings."