CHAPTER XIII.
The journey up-river was a very tedious one, and promised to be longer than Ping Wang had expected, for, as soon as darkness came up, the boat was moored for the night near a riverside village. The boatman declared, in a very humble tone, that he dared not go any further until daybreak for fear of being attacked by pirates.
On the following morning, at daybreak, the journey was resumed, but before the travellers had covered two miles, while the mist was still hanging over the river, Ping Wang noticed a boat rapidly overtaking them. It was a long, narrow craft, paddled by eight men. Another man knelt in the bows, and two more stood up in the stern. The latter were armed with old-fashioned rifles.
'Pirates!' the boat-owner shouted in terror when he had glanced at the pursuers, and instantly there was a panic among his men. One of them dived into the river and swam towards the bank; but the other three, who could not swim, ceased rowing, and hid themselves among the cargo.
'Make the cowards row,' Ping Wang commanded the boat-owner, but without any result, for the man was himself terror-stricken.
'Hasn't the wretched man got any weapons aboard?' Charlie said aloud.
Ping Wang translated Charlie's question, and the boat-owner answered promptly, 'Your miserable slave has one gun, which does not belong to him. He is taking it to a mandarin. Your wretched servant does not know where it was bought.'
'Never mind about that,' Ping Wang declared, guessing at once that the fellow had a rifle which had been stolen from some European. 'Bring it here at once.'