He said something in Chinese to the men, and led us in single file between the two most fierce-looking, our prompt action taking them somewhat by surprise, and, as we gave them no excuse for taking offence, they only turned to gaze after us.
There were plenty of people in the street ready to stand and look at us, and we met with no interruption from them, but I could not help seeing the anxiety in Ching’s face, and how from time to time he wiped his streaming brow. But as soon as he saw either of us looking at him he smiled as if there was nothing the matter whatever.
“No velly long now,” he said. “Lot bad men to-day. You come walkee walkee ’gain?”
“It’s not very tempting, Ching,” I said. “Why can’t they leave us alone?”
He tightened his lips and shook his head. Then, looking sharply before him, he hurried us along a little more.
“Wish got ten—twenty—piecee soldier man ’longside,” he whispered to me, and the next minute he grasped my arm with a spasmodic snatch.
“What’s the matter?” I said.
He did not speak, but looked sharply to right and left for a means of escape. For, in spite of the cleverness of our guide, the mandarin’s men had been as cunning. They had either divined or been told that we had made for the other street, and had contrived to reach the connecting lane along which we should have to pass. Here they had planted themselves, and just as we were breathing more freely, in the belief that before long we should reach the shore of the great river, we caught sight of them in company with about a dozen more.
We were all on the point of halting, as we saw them about fifty yards in front, but Ching spoke out sharply—
“No stoppee,” he said firmly. “Lun away, all come catchee and choppee off head. Go ’long stlaight and flighten ’em. Englis’ sailor foleign debil, ’flaid o’ nobody.”