The boy, following his captor, found himself in a kind of loft, containing all manner of things--rope, sails, fishing-nets, straw and sacks of millet. Here Ling, holding the candle well above his head, carefully examined the roof.
He very soon found what he was looking for, and, laughing aloud, ordered Frank to come to him. Laying one of his enormous hands upon the boy's shoulder, he suddenly burst forth into the following eulogy upon his own abilities and prowess.
"The mighty Ling," he declared, "is the favoured child of the gods; swift as the kite, wise as the tortoise, strong as the tigers of Amoy. There are few things within the attainment of mortal man that Ling cannot accomplish. Scholar, poet, robber, soldier, merchant, mandarin--all these am I, and more. But there is one thing, I declare to you, that is beyond me. Guess, my little junk rat, what it is?"
Fortunately Ling did not appear to expect an answer, for he ran on, without giving the boy time to reply:
"Do you see that man-hole in the roof?" he asked, pointing upward. "Well, the sages themselves could not devise a method by which the mighty Ling could pass through there. But you can, my monkey, and thither you go, whether you want to or not."
"What am I to do when I get there?" asked Frank, who could think of no way of escaping from this truculent, swaggering monster.
"Know you nothing," roared Ling, "of the sayings of the seers? How it is written truly that 'Patience filleth the stomach, whereas he that hurries to the feast falleth by the way'? Hearken unto me and ask no questions."
He placed the candle upon the ground and seated himself straddle-legged across a sack, with his great legs sprawled out before him. Frank regarded the man's face in the candlelight, and thought that he had never seen anyone of appearance more formidable and sinister.
His huge countenance was like a mask of some weird and evil Eastern god. There were deep lines scored about his forehead, mouth and eyes--lines of wrath; so that even in moments of rest he appeared to be in the throes of an uncontrollable passion. And this expression of fierceness and of anger was intensified by his black, glittering eyes, which seemed to pierce whatsoever he regarded. In addition to this, Frank was impressed by the gigantic proportions of the Honanese: his great sinewy hands, the muscles in his neck, his thighs, each as thick as the waist of a smaller man.
"Listen," said he. "Listen to the description of the man who goes by the name of Men-Ching, who is a fool who believed in his blindness that he and his cur-dog friends could cheat the mighty Ling."