The excitement of entering a new province raised the spirits of my bearers, who hurried me along the red sandy road, which slopes past several nullahs to a plain only partly cultivated, because liable to inundation. Could it be possible? It seemed almost too good to be true. Lumbering towards us came a couple of bullocks, dragging an apology for a cart behind them. The faces of my men were a study; with one or two exceptions, they had never seen this method of transport, and they stood and gazed at this thing on wheels, which, proud as they were of their province, was not in use among their Ssŭ-ch’uan hills. Rude though the vehicle was, it was a welcome innovation, for it presaged better roads and a level country. Two low, thick wooden wheels, joined together by a ponderous beam, supported a small platform of planks encircled by a framework about two feet in height, while a single short shaft projected from the platform in front.
P’ing-i Hsien, the first district city across the Yün-nan frontier, is built on the south face of a low hill overlooking an extensive well-watered plain, which was covered with wheat, nigh unto harvest, and poppies. It is a great wheat country, and the district is one of the chief feeders of the provincial capital. Oats, too, were growing on the hills which bound the plain on the eastern side; but there was a decided want of straw, for the stalks had only shot a couple of inches above ground.
EXPLORING A CAVE.
Less than a mile beyond the city we came upon the cave mentioned by Margary in his journal. Lighting our lamps, we explored it for a few hundred yards in a straight line, from its mouth to the point where it branches off to the right. In the far interior, huge stalactites hung from the roof. The utter silence of the cavern, broken only by our stumbling over the rough floor, and the weird appearance of the contorted limestone lighted up by our dim lamps, did not tempt us to tarry in the dank and cheerless atmosphere. It had thundered and rained heavily over-night; and, about a mile and a half to the west of the cave, the high-road was blocked by a deep, raging torrent, twenty yards in breadth. My followers, always intent upon a rest, advocated a return to P’ing-i, until the violence of the torrent had abated; but to this I would not listen. Fortunately, a native of the place soon came upon the scene, and mildly suggested that there was a path across some hills farther east. Scouting the statement, they clamoured all the more for a return to dry quarters. Seeing, however, that he was in earnest, I resolved to try the hills, and told my men to follow me or remain where they were till able to ford the torrent. As the rain increased in violence and the atmosphere became sensibly colder, they agreed to accompany me, stating, at the same time, their firm conviction that we were going on a fool’s errand. The native proved to be right, however, for we found an excellent pathway, and from the ridge overlooking the other side of the plain I tried to make out the raging stream that had just baffled us. It was nowhere to be seen, and I soon learned that we had already crossed it by a natural bridge, for it entered a cavern only a few hundred yards from the high-road, the entrance being concealed by a bend in the hills. This adventure cost us our breakfast, as it was noon ere we reached the first hamlet. These underground rivers are very numerous in Kuei-chow and Yün-nan; the composition of the rocks, which are of lime and sandstone, facilitates the drainage of the valleys and plains, which would otherwise be converted into lakes.
In the hills to the west of the plain, coal is found in abundance, the interstices in the walls of the houses being frequently filled with black lumps instead of stone. The villagers told us that snow falls in winter, and that the climate is exceedingly cold. On the bare treeless highlands beyond, potatoes, buckwheat, oats, and a little poppy, were being cultivated.
As a rule, a Chinese has little to gain by showing civility to a foreigner, be he official, merchant, or missionary; and courtesy, even of the barest description, is thoroughly appreciated in a land where stone-throwing, mobbing, and threatening are too often indulged in with impunity. The marked attention paid to us at Pai-shui, the end of the first stage from P’ing-i Hsien, was a very pleasant surprise. The small local officials, with an escort, met me some miles from their village, and hurried on to receive me at the gate. A Taotai, who had been travelling in my company on his way to Western Yün-nan, and with whom I had afterwards a pleasant chat about those terrible Kuei-chow roads and our struggles to get the best inns, had just preceded me, and taken up his quarters in the official rest-house; but a comfortable room was quickly procured for me, the authorities, much against my will, having gone the length of ejecting a number of occupiers. As we left early next morning, the authorities awaited us at the opposite gate of their once-walled village, to speed us on our way. It would greatly lessen the misery of travelling in China if such courtesy were more frequently forthcoming.
THE TRANSPORTATION OF COPPER.
The people in the neighbourhood of Pai-shui are very much afflicted with goître, especially the women, and the idea is prevalent among them that the impurities contained in the salt which they consume is the cause of the malady. Here we came across a consignment of red copper for the metropolis, transported on the backs of nearly four hundred mules and ponies from the mines of Tung-ch’uan Fu to Pe-sê T’ing, the head of navigation of the West River, in the province of Kwang-si. It seemed a roundabout way of sending copper north, but I was informed that on one occasion, when shipments used to be despatched by way of the Yang-tsze, a great storm arose and overwhelmed more than a hundred junks and their cargoes. I heard afterwards that peculation had probably more to do with the loss than a storm.
The city of Chan-i Chou, fifteen miles to the west of Pai-shui, lies in the north of an immense plain, famous throughout Western China as the breeding ground of the sturdy Yün-nan pony. Brood mares and their foals were grazing on the large grass fields, which occupied no mean part of the plain. A stream, spanned by a good three-arched stone bridge, flows south past the east gate of the city on its way to join the northern branch of the West River. It was at one time a section of the route by which lead was carried from the north of Yün-nan to Tonquin. Consignments were conveyed by boat from Chan-i Chou to Ma-kai, a place fifty miles to the south, and thence overland to Mêng-tzŭ Hsien, on the head waters of the Song-koi, now the residence of a French Consul.
Rain descended in torrents during the night of our stay in Chan-i, and the dawn of the 23rd of May was not accompanied by the usual movements and noises that betokened an early start. On the contrary, I was soon waited upon by a deputation, which begged me, on account of the rains, to defer my departure for a day; but the fact that I was almost in the presence of my goal compelled me to resist their demand. After two hours spent in arguing, we trooped sullenly out of the city. The plain, which on the previous afternoon was bright with its golden crops of wheat and barley, was now cold and cheerless; the road was one mass of mud in which we sank to the knees; a great part of the surrounding country was under water; and the rain fell in sheets.