Travelling on a road like this, any little landmarks mentioned by other travellers are eagerly looked for, and on this day's march there were two such landmarks, or more correctly speaking, there should have been two; the first, thirty li from Sining, a bridge over the Si Ho, mentioned by Mr. Littledale in his lecture before the Royal Geographical Society on his return from Pekin; the second, another thirty li on, was the "Peh Ma Ssï," or "White Horse Temple," mentioned by Mr. Rockhill in both his books.[14] Unfortunately, these are now things of the past; the bridge was swept away in a flood very soon after Mr. Littledale saw it, and the White Horse Temple was utterly wrecked by the fanatical Mohammedans.
Owing to our late start, we were only able to do eighty li, darkness having overtaken us before we got to the stage, the name of which was Chang Kia Tsai. This was our first experience of the Chinese inn, and we had certainly struck a very poor sample of the article; like everything in the neighbourhood, it had suffered heavily in the rebellion, and was only just beginning to recover itself. There was, however, stabling for the animals, and a room with four walls and parts of a roof for ourselves, containing, of course, a k'ang, or stove-bed, without which no Chinese room is complete. We were all ready for bed, and as we had a long day before us, we had a hasty supper and then turned in.
The next morning, the 21st October, we were up long before daylight, having made up our minds to get to Shang Tan (140 li) by night. We had left our two remaining mules with Hall, at Sining, and were now very glad that we had been able to do so, as looking after and feeding them on the road would have been a great nuisance, and the further we took them the less they would have been worth. Ridley and Rijnhart each rode sturdy little country ponies of their own, excellent, sure-footed hacks over the rough roads, but Malcolm and I were both rather uncomfortable, and decidedly insecure, perched up on top of our blankets, on pack saddles; Lassoo, on the other hand, seemed perfectly happy, and, like nearly all Asiatics, was quite content to sit all day on his mule, never dismounting unless told to do so, or unless it were to get something to eat.
All along the road we were able to buy most excellent bread, which is made in various shapes, with beautifully white flour; the kinds we appreciated most were the "Ko kuei," which is made in large round flat loaves, weighing about three pounds apiece, and the "Huei huei," or, Mohammedan bread, so called because only the Mohammedans make it in this shape, which resembles that of the ordinary cake; these loaves weigh about two pounds, and have a very nice crust. These larger loaves are sold by the weight; rolls and smaller loaves are sold at so many cash each. Bread was dear in 1896, costing thirty to forty cash a pound (1d. to 1¼d.); in ordinary years it will not be more than half that price.
Ninety li (thirty miles) from Chang Kia Tsai, we got to Lou Ya. From here there are two roads to Lancheo, the cart road going off to the left by Ping-Fang, while the mule track, which is the shorter, follows the river, and at this point enters the Ta Hsia, the "great gorges," so called in contradistinction to the "Hsiao Hsia," or "little gorges," which are about ten miles east of "Sining." The sun was setting as we entered these gorges, so we missed seeing some very beautiful scenery at its best; we could, however, realise how difficult, not to say dangerous, a journey Mrs. Ridley must have had along this track, when she had come through in a mule litter a few months previously, being too ill to travel any other way. For a man on foot, or for a pack animal, the road was easy enough, even in the dark, but getting a litter and two mules round some of the very sharp bends must have been a decidedly risky proceeding.
CHAPTER XXVII.
SHANG TAN—HO TSUI TSI—FIRST VIEW OF THE YELLOW RIVER—ON A RAFT—AT LANCHEO—A TELEGRAPH TROUBLE.
For forty li our road lay through these gorges, most of the way a considerable height above the river bed, and, owing to the darkness, our progress was slow, so that it was not till 11 p.m. that we got to our inn. Here we made inquiries for our baggage, but could get no information, though we subsequently found out that it and our two men were at another inn of the same village.
Shang Tan lies at the mouth of a river, the Ta T'ung, which we crossed by a ferry; the missionaries, and any people holding official positions in the country, are exempted from paying toll for these ferries, and when travelling, or sending any property about, they usually carry a flag, with name and title inscribed in Chinese characters. I had a flag with my name on it, which was made in Sining, just to show who the baggage belonged to, but, of course, we could not claim exemption from tolls. Round Shang Tan there is a great deal of melon cultivation, and the fields are covered with stones, which perform the two-fold duty of protecting the ground from the fierce rays of the sun and raising the fruit out of the water should it rain heavily.
Towards evening we got to Ho Tsui Tsi, the last place in this direction which was wrecked by the Mohammedans, and beyond this the difference was at once apparent. Our halting-place that night was Ma Huei Tsi, a very small village, consisting almost entirely of inns; in fact, its only raison d'être must have been as a convenience for travellers. Nevertheless, instead of coming to a ramshackle, tumble-down house, very likely without any front door, the inn was in good repair, and the roof intact, quite a change after the stricken district we had passed through.