Phil nodded in sign of assent, his eyes on the Chinese road.
“A road, did you say, Langdon?” the boy asked; “it’s more like a bridle-path.”
“It’s the only kind of road you’ll find in the Chinese Empire,” the pilot replied as they moved swiftly over its uneven surface; “the natives don’t use carriages and coaches for passengers, nor wagons to carry their freight, but transport their merchandise in wheelbarrows or on the backs of the small Tartar donkeys. In the north the Manchus have a rickety cart drawn by man power or by pony and there the highways are wider, but are even less smooth, for the natives never repair their roads.”
They had traveled another mile when Langdon called a halt and cautioning silence pointed to a grove of trees ahead of them.
“A village,” he answered the questioning looks of his companions; “we’ll leave the road and circle it. The wind is from the river, so I hope the dogs which inhabit these small towns will not smell us. These Chinese curs have a keen nose for a foreigner and if our enemy is about they might warn him of our presence.”
As they skirted the village Sydney glanced with interest down into the mean and ill-smelling collection of mud-walled hovels, situated below the level of the surrounding country. He had heard that this location was chosen to protect its occupants from the blasts of the winter gales, and in consequence during the wet season the floods from the heavy and prolonged rains swept down upon them, carrying off bodily their insecure buildings and frequently drowning many of the unfortunate inhabitants.
“Will the Chinese ever learn to build their villages in a common-sense way?” he asked the pilot.
“They’ve done the same thing for twenty centuries,” Langdon answered, following Sydney’s gaze; “what was good enough for their ancestors is good enough for them, is their motto, and nothing that we can say will ever move them. After you’ve been here for a few years, Mr. Monroe, you’ll cease wondering at anything you see the Chinese do.”
Suddenly the lads felt themselves grasped by the strong hands of Langdon and drawn down into the thick grass. The silence was broken by a faint sound of voices that seemed to come from directly below them. Langdon motioned the boys to remain where they were, and crawled noiselessly forward to the edge of the embankment surrounding the village. Phil could now hear a high-pitched nasal voice, raised excitedly after the Chinese fashion, with many loud and piercing notes. He could see Langdon ahead of him partly hidden in the grass, and his curiosity was aroused to know what this midnight meeting might foretell. Then the voices ceased and the noise of tramping feet came clearly to his ears. From out of the shadows, but a few yards from where Langdon was lying, a squad of Chinese soldiers moved off into the night, over the road they were traveling, toward Ku-Ling.
After a few minutes had elapsed, the soldiers’ footfalls dying away in the distance, Langdon rose to his feet and joined the impatient midshipmen.