Not half an hour after my encounter with the furnace workers, I had an even more surprising experience. I was still gradually working my way upward through the interminable labyrinths, when unexpectedly I came out on a broad thoroughfare, where great multitudes of chalk-faces were convening. From the manner in which they lined themselves along the sides of the avenue, leaving the center clear, I knew that some sort of a spectacle was expected; and this excited my curiosity, so much so that I again forgot caution, mingled with the crowds, and pushed forward so as to secure a position in the front row. Once more, fortunately, I was protected by the inability of the natives to see things near at hand; I was now so hemmed in by them that they did not view me as I really was, and accordingly I felt safer than if observed at a distance.
No sooner had I edged my way to the front than the crowd broke into cheers, which were dinned and repeated in ever-growing volume, while the spectators seemed to grow mad with excitement, and jumped and stamped in glee, and flung their arms high in air, and shouted till their lungs were hoarse. What they were shouting about was not quite clear to me, although I made an effort to join in the chorus; I thought, however, that I could make out something like, "Long live the green and vermilion! Long live the green and vermilion!" and at first the impression came to me that I was about to witness a football game. Only on this ground could I explain the mad agitation of the people.
But as the tumult subsided, a great banner hanging from the ceiling reminded me that green and vermilion were the national colors of Wu. I would now have guessed the nature of the celebration, even had it not been for my conversation with the jovial-looking, portly chalk-face just to my right. This gentleman, whose cheers had roared into my ears until I was almost deafened, turned to me genially as soon as the shouting had died down, and made a remark to me, with an expectant smile.
"Well, guess they'll be coming any minute now!"
"Guess they will!" I agreed, although I still had only the vaguest notion who "they" might be.
"This is General Bing's greatest triumph!" went on my garrulous neighbor. "Just imagine, he's retaken three-fifths of the lower left-hand corner of Nullnull—at a cost of only a million and a quarter lives! Marvelous, I call it!"
"Marvelous!" I concurred.
"True, he couldn't hold it very long," went on my companion, ruefully. "He was outnumbered too strongly. But he did keep it a good three-quarters of a wake! And they say that, when retreating, he didn't have to vacate more than four-fifths of the lower left-hand corner of Nullnull, at a cost of another million and a quarter lives. An extraordinary strategic victory, I call it!"
"Extraordinary!" I acknowledged.
"So it's only proper, isn't it, that Thuno Flâtum, our good Dictator, should grant a triumphal procession, in order that we may pay public tribute to the greatness of General Bing? Look! here they come!"