A coolie crept from a pile of dirty straw under the wall against which several mules were standing patiently.
"Where are the others?" demanded Gray sharply.
The other men, said the coolie, had gone.
"Why are not the fresh mules loaded, as I commanded?"
The man kow-towed. "I was afraid. This is an evil place. The priests are saying that the black mark of ill-omen has descended from Heaven——"
"Five taels," broke in the white man crisply, "if you help me to load the mules. The priests will kill you if they find you here. If you come with me you will live. Choose."
From some quarter of the city came the dull thrum of temple gongs. The coolie whined in fear, and hastened to the mules.
It is no easy task to strap the packs on four mules in the dark. Gray let Delabar, who had subsided into slumber at contact with the cool outer air, slump on the dirt floor of the stable. He adjusted his flashlight in the straw so its beam would help them to see what they were about.
He found as he expected that the other coolies had made away with many of the stores. They had taken, however, the things most valuable to them, which were least necessary to Gray—such as clothing, cooking utensils, and the heavy boxes of Chinese money.
These last were a grave loss, but Gray had a good deal of gold in his money belt, and he knew that Delabar had the same amount.