"Where have you been?"
"At Takushan."
"Whither bound?
"Chefoo and Shanghai."
"Who is this man?"
Here the interpreter made a pretence of great reverence and respect, as he answered—
"My all-enlightened brother of Tau."
This reply drew attention to me, for Tau is the "priest" of Chinese theosophy or magic art, and is accordingly respected, for every Chinaman fears Tau, the more so as he has no idea what it is, any more than its votary. Tau is "The Right": what one cannot see, nor hear, nor seize. It is a kind of "Fêng Shui" in its essence, and Tau is the true Reason for all things in the universe, the Great Primitive Cause in the world, not a religious dogma.
The Tauist, then, becomes by inheritance, or profession, a kind of priest, a miracle-man, supposed to be versed in ancient lore, able to tell fortunes, and decide social questions with authority as regards the work and operations of nature, and "Fêng Shui"—the effects of wind and weather. Superstitious as the Chinese are, these attributes confer great authority upon the adherents and practice of the Tauists. Hence, if I was not found out, my companion concluded we should escape.
Unfortunately one of the villagers perceived the accent of the Japanese interpreter, and declared him a Corean! This at once gave cause of mischief, and my companion was searched, his small knapsack, or pack, was turned upside down, and all the while a rush of epithets assailed us both. I carried no pack, but had the compass and map and revolver in my possession. If the suspicious and antagonistic villagers had found those articles our fates would have been sealed, and a cruel death must have ensued.