At last the will-o'-the-wisps drew nearer, the phantoms took the form of ordinary trees, and the roars of the dragons resolved themselves into the barking of dogs.
I scarcely dared to believe that I had reached my destination, lest I should be disappointed. Li-Hu was sound asleep, but the mules made straight for a dismal-looking building, and stopped as by instinct in front of a conspicuous signboard. By the same instinct, I suppose, Li-Hu awoke and I asked eagerly, "Mukden? Mukden?" But evidently I was wrong, for he emphatically shook his head.
After a while the innkeeper appeared on the threshold and looked even more forbidding than the house itself, through the open doors of which escaped thick clouds of opium-smoke. I should have preferred to remain on the back of my mule, as there was no possibility of stretching my legs because of the mud, but they were already unharnessing my beast, so I had no choice, and was obliged to enter the house.
The place was lugubrious in the extreme. It looked like a witch's cave, and all things combined to complete this impression. There was the cauldron hanging on a chain over the fire, while enormous logs of wood diffused a sulphurous flame in the light of which the inmates of the place looked truly terrible. At least a dozen men were crouching on the floor, and several others lay asleep on the kang or heated earthen bench which ran all along the dwelling. They were smoking opium in small bronze pipes.
At my entrance most of them roused themselves from their stupor, and their small eyes expressed astonishment, united with curiosity, mistrust, and hatred. I could detect all the hostility of the East against the West in that look. The ill-will of the yellow race towards "the white devils" manifested itself in all its bitterness and force. I must confess that I did not feel quite at my ease in this uncanny company, and it was only the deep interest which I felt in these people, in the den and its surroundings, the novelty of the situation and my passionate interest in human nature, which helped me through the ordeal.
What was going to happen? Would they remain passive, or were they going to attack me? They were interrogating Li-Hu. It was like a play to watch the proceedings. Without understanding the language, it was easy enough to follow the drift of the argument. "Who is it? Where is he going? What has he got?"
From the expression of Li-Hu's face and his hesitation in answering, I gathered that the information he had to give concerning his charge was not satisfactory, but I also noted with interest how cleverly he concocted a story to his own advantage. Evidently the shrewd Chinaman had in his mind two strong points in my favour. In the first place I had not yet paid him, and in the second place I had been entrusted to his care by the station-master, by whom he was known. I also detected that he did not want to rouse the animosity of the other men, consequently he never mentioned my private car, probably also by the advice of the station-master, and from the expression of his face and the manner in which he turned out his pockets, he was clearly representing me as a poor missionary who was going to Mukden to fetch his pay at the bank, and whom it would not be worth while to kidnap on his way there.
The minutes dragged on like so many hours; the night seemed endless. Finally, to pass the time, I began to draw with some coloured chalks. Would that interest them? I wondered. I could not be sure at first, but the ruffians slowly gathered round me and I never had more complacent spectators. Those men who, a few minutes ago, would have taken my life, or at least my purse, suddenly became quite friendly. Like the lyre of Orpheus, my pictures did wonders, soothing the savage instincts and softening the passions of these brigands. It was the greatest triumph my modest crayons ever won for me.
At last there was a general stir. Li-Hu prepared his cart, and we started once more. It was still dark, but the rain had ceased and the cold rays of the moon from time to time broke through the parting clouds. By means of these occasional flashes of light I discerned in the distance, silhouetted against the horizon, the dark outlines of a pagoda. Surely that was the point we were making for. We had long since left the so-called main road, and were jolting and jerking along by fields of turnips and Indian corn. The shocks were perhaps not quite so rough as before, on the half-paved highroad, but their violence was yet amazing.
It was daybreak when we arrived before the principal gate of Mukden, and after the night of darkness and peril the glories of the city seemed enhanced. The sky was cloudless and intensely blue, as if enamelled in cobalt on a golden ground. The richly sculptured fronts of the houses shone with truly Oriental splendour. It was the early hour of the morn. People poured out of the city gates to start their daily tasks in the fields and farms. Every one wore bright-coloured garments, and looked happy and cheerful. Everything breathed contentment: the effect was charming. It was the victory of light over darkness.