Meanwhile our carts had got some way ahead of us, and we had to hurry after them. Ascending steadily we reached the summit of the Nan Kou Pass, from which a rapid descent into a warmer climate commenced. The road was at this point by far the best we saw in China, and showed signs of immense labour and no inconsiderable amount of engineering skill having been expended on it. Our road lay down a narrow valley, high on each side of which rose rocky mountains, while along the northern skyline ran the Great Wall.
CHAPTER XXXII.
A TRUCULENT INNKEEPER—A SEDAN CHAIR—CHINESE WOMEN AND THEIR FEET—PEKIN—DEPARTURE OF RIJNHART—CARTERS EARN A BEATING.
As we descended we passed several small shrines and numerous inscriptions cut in the face of the rock, many of which were in ancient Tibetan characters, but more remarkable than these was a large figure of Sakya Muni, cut on a rock, which stands in a very conspicuous position high above the road.
Rijnhart and Malcolm climbed by a steep staircase to a small shrine, some eighty feet above the road; but although it was evidently very old, they found nothing more remarkable than the names of several Russians and a few Englishmen who had been there in previous years, among others being Grey, Walker, and Allen, 1868 and 1879. We did not add our own to the list.
BUDDHIST ARCHWAY BY NAN KOU.
Still descending, we passed under several arches, which looked as though they had at some time been gates of different fortified camps, and then came to a magnificent Buddhist arch covered with carvings and representations of Buddha; this must be a great age, and is one of the most interesting relics in Northern China. A short way further on we came to the village of Nan Kou (southern valley), where visitors to the Great Wall almost always stop the night after leaving Pekin. Knowing this, we were quite prepared to pay more than usual for our accommodation, but the demands with which we were met far exceeded our expectations. In the first place, we could get no fire on which to cook our own food, but must take what the inn provided; then our servants could not cook their food; and lastly, we must pay for everything over-night, and not wait till the morning, as had been our invariable custom. Eventually these little difficulties were settled, but not until our landlord had worked himself up into a towering passion, such as only a Chinaman can, and had stamped up and down the room like a mad man.
Now came the great question. We were prepared to settle over-night. But how much were we to pay? "A Chinaman always pays a thousand cash for this room. What are you going to give me?" said Mr. Khe, the innkeeper. "Three hundred cash," we replied, now thoroughly annoyed, and with our liberal intentions all forgotten. "Well, what about the servants?" was his answer. "They are included," was all the reply he got. Never have I seen a man change his demeanour as our friend now did. From the bullying tone he had previously adopted he became quite cringing, and, seeing that we knew the exact amount to which he was entitled, and that we were determined to pay no more, quietly said, "Very well, give me the money," which we did, explaining that but for his insolent behaviour we should have given him about double. This had a most salutary effect on his servants, so that next morning they were all running about with hot water for our tea, and doing other little services, which were rewarded with extra wine money. I was amused to hear later that every one who stays in this inn has a row with the landlord, but it is not every one who gets out of it as well as we did.