The spear was half its length through the bars, and on a level with the monkey’s broad breast, as the soldier made his thrust, one which must have spitted the little, dwarfish creature through had not Stan made a thrust at the same moment, diverting the man’s aim. The result was that the spear met with no opposition, and the fierce energy with which the stroke at the monkey was made carried the soldier crash against the partition and within reach of the animal’s hands, which passed through the bars, caught him by the ears, and held on for a moment or two—not more.
For the man threw himself back with a yell of dismay, escaped, and, now more enraged than ever, turned upon Stan with his spear.
It would have gone hard with the lad, for the soldier was furious, but his comrades interfered with angry word and action, dragged the spear from him, and bundled him out of the place, before refilling the water-pot and half-filling the other vessel with cold boiled rice.
While these proceedings were taking place Stan attacked the two soldiers verbally with the best Chinese he could command, assuring them that they had made a great mistake in arresting him, an Englishman, bidding them find out what had become of Wing, and ordering them to go straight to the merchant’s house at the other side of the town to tell him of what had happened, and then inform the mandarin of the city, so that the speaker might be released at once.
All of this the prisoner emphasised with great volubility. The two soldiers smiled and listened and nodded their heads, before going out and fastening the door after them, leaving poor Stan with the determination upon him to wait patiently until the messages were delivered, but all the time with his heart sinking and his common-sense telling him that his present jailers had not grasped a word he said.
“Oh dear!” he cried bitterly; “they didn’t understand a word. Oh, dear! why didn’t the Doctor teach me Chinese instead of all that Latin and Greek? They would have understood me then; while now I’m perfectly helpless, the brutes treating me just as if I were some newly discovered wild beast. Whatever shall I do?
“I know,” thought the lad at last: “wait till it’s dark. These bars are only bamboo, and it will be strange if I can’t get through as soon as I set to work. And what then? Why, the river! I must be able to find some boat or another. Pooh! I’m not going to despair.
“No,” he added gloomily after a few moments’ thought; “I can’t go alone, and leave poor old Wing in the lurch. He wouldn’t leave me, I know. I will make for the farm. Perhaps Wing is over there after all, and for aught I know he may be following me up, and is perhaps hunting for me even now. There, I’m not going to be heart-sick and despairing. I shall get away back to the hong after all.”
“Tchack!”
As Stan talked to himself he was gazing at the prison door, but this sound brought him round in the other direction, to see a pair of bright brown eyes watching him, and the fierce Chinese mountain monkey with its long, thin arm stretched through the bars.