After much discussion, the leader of the party, a tailor by profession, named Choo-Too, the combined words forming also a nickname which might be translated "pig-stomached," commanded silence, and thus addressed his fellows,—"My honourable persons, will you with reverence hear the words of this little one? I, Choo, had this morning a dream, in which I saw Kwan-ti, the god of war, sitting on a cloud which smelt of gunpowder. Abject, I grovelled in the dust, as I (in my own mind) never before believed in Kwan-ti. Then crackers exploded and gingalls discharged all around him, after which he spake as follows:—'Choo, arise, and get thee to the sea-shore, you and all your company, there ye will meet with fortune, and capture a devil, fear him not, he will be harmless, but watch well that he escape not, or woe be to ye all.'"
At this moment his speech was interrupted by the prisoner requesting "one of the old ladies to hand him a chaw of baccy."
Choo frowned upon the undaunted one, and thus continued:—"This little one then swooned, and so remained until found by you, my honourable friends."
"Wonderful! wonderful!" exclaimed the other bannermen, but added aside to each other, "Why, we imagined Choo-Too was drunk."
"Now, my honourable friends, I think it better we secure this malignant western devil, and take him to our native town. None of the regular troops, with all their bravery, have ever been able to catch sight of one of these creatures, much less capture it alive, so we will gain honour and perhaps a reward, if we take him to the military governor, or even give him up to our own mayor, who will probably pay us for such a curiosity."
"But why not torture him a little now?" observed a weasel-faced dealer in bean-curd.
"No, no!" cried the majority. "Let us take him to Sse-tsein; he will then be properly tortured, and we shall be able to show our valour before our honourable parents."
Thompson tapped the last speaker upon the shoulder, and quietly observed, "Well done, old man; I don't know your lingo, but if you're going to skin me alive give us a chaw of baccy;" saying this he pointed to the tobacco-pouch suspended from the soldier's girdle, and which the Tartar handed him, whereupon the sailor took a pinch, and gravely placed it in his mouth, then closed the bag, and returned it to him, winking as he did so in such a sly manner, that the whole party roared with laughter.
"He eats tobacco! he eats tobacco!" they cried.