The Mark of the Knife

by Clayton H. Ernst

"One night there was a jabbering and yelling round the stone house and I thought Red Knife had killed Ho Sen, for I saw him no more. Two days later there was more commotion and the whole band began to prepare to depart. I hoped that an expedition had come from the town—and that in fact was actually what happened. Some of the Imperial Government troops led by the white men were on Red Knife's trail, but Red Knife knew those hills too well. He and his gang went farther back and took me along, helpless. The horrible part of it all was that the little boy seemed to have disappeared, and when I asked what had become of him these yellow men only jabbered at me in their outlandish tongue. We traveled all day and all night and finally camped in some limestone caves. There I became very sick and I hoped that I should die because the future didn't seem to hold anything at all for me. I know I was delirious for a long time; things seemed very hazy—a confused coming and going of the natives and the jabbering of their singsong voices. Perhaps that sickness was what saved my life, for when I came to the end of my delirium I was lying there deserted in the limestone cave. I suppose Red Knife thought that the 'foreign devil' was dying and that I was only an encumbrance in his retreat. I don't know how long I had remained in the cave and I can't tell you how I managed to make my way out of that wilderness of hills and dry river beds, but Providence must have guided me, for I finally stumbled down into the village of Tung-sha and found Hartley, the surgeon, and three or four of the Europeans still there.

"I was delirious again for a time and didn't know what went on around me. But Hartley pulled me through and I found myself asking what had happened. They told me that the native troops of the Imperial Government had come up and that the foreign colony had led an expedition back into the hills. They hadn't been able, however, to overtake Red Knife and had finally abandoned the expedition partly because of the doubtful loyalty of the Chinese troops, who weren't over eager to chase Red Knife. That whole region in those days needed only a spark to set it aflame against all foreigners.

"There was one surprising bit of news, something that gave me a great desire to live. Ho Sen, poor, faithful Ho Sen, had escaped from Red Knife. He had come crawling to Hartley's bungalow at midnight several days after the raid, carrying in his arms the boy, and had fallen unconscious at the doorsteps. Hartley took them in and found the boy little the worse for his experiences, but Ho Sen died that same night and had been in his grave more than two weeks when Hartley told me the story. Meanwhile they had given up hope of ever seeing me alive again, and when the colony decided that it was unsafe for the women to stay at Tung-sha any longer they sent the boy down to Shanghai with an American missionary by the name of Singleton, who was going back to the United States. She had become deaf during her service in China and was returning to the States for treatment.

"Of course I started for Shanghai as soon as I was able to get about, going down the Yangtse in a river boat. But again I was too late. When I arrived I discovered that this Miss Singleton had gone to the office of the company and on their advice, after she had reported my death, had taken the baby with her when she sailed for San Francisco. She had the address of my brother—Ted's father—and said that she would deliver the child to them in New York. That's about the end of the story, except that I was never able to trace Miss Singleton beyond San Francisco. In Shanghai I came down with typhoid and was delayed three months in getting back to America. Then I discovered that my little son never arrived in New York—as far as any one knew—and the result of the investigations that I carried on through the police and private detective agencies established only the fact that the young missionary was on the steamer when it arrived at San Francisco and that she and the baby disembarked with the other passengers.

"I said that was pretty nearly the end of the story—but you know I've never quite given up hope of sometime finding that boy of mine."

"Will you let me look at that picture again?" asked Neil Durant.

As the mining engineer took the photograph from his pocket and handed it to Neil, Teeny-bits asked a question:

"That mark," he said in a voice that was peculiarly tense, "what was it like—was it—?"

"Yes," said Wolcott Norris, "it was like the mark that I saw on your shoulder when Doctor Emmons...."

"Look!" Neil Durant suddenly broke in. "I know now where I've seen the person that resembles this picture—it's you, Teeny-bits! Her eyes and mouth—just look!"