CHAPTER XXV--AND HOW CHEONG-CHAU VANISHED ALTOGETHER
There is little doubt that Cheong-Chau would have killed the boy thenand there had he not been alive to the fact that he himself stood inimmediate danger of a sudden onslaught from Ling, who lay in hidingsomewhere amidst the shadows of the wood.
It was now almost dark. It was scarce possible to see across the glade.Cheong-Chau turned to Tong--the man who had endeavoured to kill the boy.
"You were a fool to fire," said he. "How so?"
"You have betrayed our whereabouts to the tiger. He cannot be faraway."
"Let us keep together," whispered Chin Yen. "It will be as much as thethree of us can do to overpower him."
It was quite plain to Frank that the three brigands stood in mortal fearof the mighty Honanese. They had not forgotten their experience in theopium den, when Ling had accounted for four of them in less than aminute. They knew their opponent, and they were well aware that he wasthe last man in the world to beat a hasty retreat. Indeed, Ling haddeliberately attacked them, charging blindly like an infuriated beastinto the darkness of the wood.
For the time being they could give little attention to the boy. Theyremained for a few minutes perfectly still, holding their revolvers intheir hands, keeping a sharp look-out in all directions.
And then the mighty Ling descended into their very midst. Small wonderthat they had not discovered him, for the man had climbed up a tree, andhad for the last four or five minutes been seated upon a branch,immediately above their heads, listening to every word that was said.They had looked to the right and to the left; their sharp eyes hadpierced the dark shadows beneath the underwoods and the crumbled ruinsof the ancient temple; but never for a moment had any one of themdreamed of looking upward.
Like a thunderbolt, Ling descended to the ground. His great weight fellupon Chin Yen. The man let out a loud cry, prompted by acute and suddenpain. Then he lay upon the ground, groaning and writhing with a brokenarm.
Ling himself staggered, and with difficulty maintained his balance.Indeed, he only succeeded in doing so by laying hands upon the terrifiedTong.
The man had no time to fire. He was snatched from off the ground. Heendeavoured to struggle, but his efforts were hopeless. His revolverwas wrenched from his hand and thrown far across the glade. Then hehimself was hurled after it, thrown away like a half-filled sack. Inhis descent his head struck the side of one of the fallen images, and helay upon the ground, motionless and stunned.
"HE HIMSELF WAS HURLED AFTER IT."]
In the meantime, Cheong-Chau had made the most of the only chance he wasever likely to have. He had fired at Ling at almost point-blank range.Frank, who still lay upon the ground, heard a loud groan issue from thelips of Ling, and a moment after he was just able to perceive the darkblood flowing slowly from the man's side and staining his long silkenrobe.
Cheong-Chau, thinking that he had done his work, turned with theintention of seeking safety in flight. He was caught by the pigtail,and jerked backward, as a boy might flick a top. A moment after hefound himself held by the great hands of Ling, gripped by both forearms,so that he felt as if he were wedged in a mighty vice.
Fear took strong hold upon him. He knew, no doubt, that his last hourhad come. He shrieked in pain and in terror, calling upon his followersto hasten to his help. But Tong lay senseless, and Chin Yen had alreadygathered himself together and taken to his heels like one possessed.
Let it be said for Cheong-Chau that he made no plea for mercy. On thecontrary, he reviled his adversary, making use of a string of Chineseoaths to which the boy was a stranger. And then he kicked, his legsbeing the only part of him which was free. The more violently he kickedand struggled, the greater became the pressure upon his arms; until atlast he was obliged to desist, lest his very bones should be broken.Suddenly he became limp from exhaustion and despair.
"Have you done?" asked Ling. His voice was deep and very low, and therewas in it something of a tremor that made it plain to Frank that the mansuffered considerable pain.
Cheong-Chau made no answer.
"Listen," said Ling. "Last night, had I wished, I might have killedyou. I did not do so. The more fool I! And now, you have shot me. Iam wounded, perhaps mortally--I cannot say."
"We are old enemies," said Cheong-Chau.
Ling laughed. In his laugh there was something of his old boisterousmanner; but at the same time, it was manifest from his voice that he wasalready weak from loss of blood.
"The wolf," said he, "was never an enemy of the tiger, nor can the ratbe the foe of the dog. You, Cheong-Chau, are vermin. I would lose allpride in myself, in my strength and dignity, if I killed you otherwisethan with my hands."
A shudder ran through the thin frame of the brigand chief. He had liveda life of crime; he had sinned, time and again, against the gods and hisfellow-men, but he was no coward; he had always known that, sooner orlater, he must die a violent death.
He had thought that fate would bring him to the dreadful Potter's Yard,the public and official place of execution in the city of Canton. Theinevitable conclusion of the West River pirate is the block. SoCheong-Chau was prepared to die.
"You will not torture me?" he asked.
"I would," said Ling, "if I meted out to you the fate you have more thanonce prepared for others. But I am no such fiend. Moreover, I have notime to spare. I go down-stream to-night on your own junk, with theransom money that you thought was yours. I go where tide and currenttake me--perhaps to live for the remainder of my days upon the fatnessof the earth; perhaps to find my way amidst the stars in search of theUnknowable."
"What do you mean?" asked the other.
"I mean that--for all I know--the sands of life are running out. Theblood issues from my wound. It may be that the breath of life goes withit. And now, you die, by what strength remains in me."
Frank Armitage was not able to see how it was done--indeed, he turnedaway, and covered his eyes with a hand. It seems that Cheong-Chau wastaken by the throat and that either he was strangled or his neck wasbroken. At any rate, it was all done in silence. The lifeless body ofthe man was allowed to fall to the ground, and then Ling turned to theboy.
"Are you safe?" he asked.
Frank rose to his feet, but did not answer. Ling placed a hand upon hisshoulder. The boy felt that he was called upon to sustain much of theman's great weight.
"You must help me," said Ling. "I am hurt badly. You must helpme--back to the junk."
Together they left the wood and came out into the starlight. The moonwas already risen. It was crescent-shaped and very thin. Ling wasbreathing heavily.
"In two days," said he, "it will be a new moon, but I do not think Ishall behold it. There is something to be said for the creed of theMohammedans, who hold the belief that the lives of us all, down to themost insignificant details, are written in an unalterable Book of Fate.I wonder," said he. "I wonder."
They walked slowly upon the river bank, Ling still leaning upon hisyoung companion. Presently they came to the boat, which they had hiddenamongst the rushes. Ling seated himself in the bows, and as he did sohe groaned again. Frank, placing himself in the stern, took hold of thelittle oar.
"Come," said Ling, "row me to the junk."