The caravan wound along the edge of the gorge all day and we were left far behind, for at each turn a view more beautiful than the last opened out before us, and until every color plate and negative in the holders had been exposed we worked steadily with the camera.

We were traveling northwestward through an unmapped region which Baron Haendel-Mazzetti had skirted and reported to be one of vast forests and probably rich in game. After six hours of riding over almost bare mountain-sides we passed through a parklike spruce forest and reached Habala, a long thin village of mud and stone houses scattered up the sides of a narrow valley.

Above and to the left of the village rose ridge after ridge of dense spruce forest overshadowed by a snow-crowned peak and cut by deep ravines, the gloomy depths of which yielded fascinating glimpses of rocky cliffs—a veritable paradise for serow and goral. Our camping place was a grassy lawn as flat and smooth as the putting green of a golf course. Just below the tents a streamlet of ice-cold water murmured comfortably to itself and a huge dead tree was lying crushed and broken for the camp fire.

The boys turned the beautiful spot into "home" in half an hour and, after setting a line of traps, we wandered slowly back through the darkness guided by the brilliant flames of the fires which threw a warm yellow glow over our little table spread for dinner.

We sent men to the village to bring in hunters and after dinner four or five picturesque Mosos appeared. They said that there were many serow, goral, muntjac and some wapiti in the forests above the village, and we could well believe it, for there was never a more "likely looking" spot. Although the men did not claim to be professional hunters, nevertheless they said that they had good dogs and had killed many muntjac and other animals.

They agreed to come at daylight and arrived about two hours late, which was doing fairly well for natives. It was a brilliant day just warm enough for comfort in the sun and we left camp with high hopes. However it did not take many hours to demonstrate that the men knew almost nothing about hunting and that their dogs were useless. Because of the dense cover "still hunting" was out of the question and, after a hard climb, we returned to camp to spend the remainder of the afternoon developing photographs and preparing small mammals.

Our traps had yielded three new shrews and a silver mole as well as a number of mice, rats, and meadow voles of species identical with those taken on the Snow Mountain. It was evident, therefore, that the Yangtze River does not act as an effective barrier to the distribution of even the smallest forms and that the region in which we were now working would not produce a different fauna. This was an important discovery from the standpoint of our distribution records but was also somewhat disappointing.

The photographic work already had yielded excellent results. The Paget color plates were especially beautiful and the fact that everything was developed in the field gave us an opportunity to check the quality of each negative.

For this work the portable dark room was invaluable. It could be quickly erected and suspended from a tree branch or the rafters of a temple and offered an absolutely safe place in which to develop or load plates. The moving-picture film required special treatment because of its size and we usually fastened in the servants' tent the red lining which had been made for this purpose in New York. Even then the space was so cramped that we were dead tired at the end of a few hours' work.

One who sits comfortably in a theater or hall and sees moving-picture film which has been obtained in such remote parts of the world does not realize the difficulties in its preparation. The water for developing almost invariably was dirty and in order to insure even a moderately clear film it always had to be strained. For washing the negative pailful after pailful had to be carried sometimes from a very long distance, and the film exposed for hours to the carelessness or curiosity of the natives. In our cramped quarters perhaps a corner of the tent would be pushed open admitting a stream of light; the electric flash lamp might refuse to work, leaving us in complete darkness to finish the developing "by guess and by gosh," or any number of other accidents occur to ruin the film. At most we could not develop more than three hundred feet in an afternoon and we never breathed freely until it finally was dried and safely stored away in the tin cans.

We left Habala, on November 23, for a village called Phete where the natives had assured us we would find good hunters with dogs. For almost the entire distance the road skirted the rim of the Yangtze gorge and there the view of the great chasm was even more magnificent than that we had left. While its sides are not fantastically sculptured and the colors are softer than those of the Grand Canon of the Colorado, nevertheless its grandeur is hardly less imposing and awe-inspiring. If Yuen-nan is ever made accessible by railroads this gorge should become a Mecca for tourists, for it is without doubt one of the most remarkable natural sights in the world.

About two o'clock in the afternoon we saw three clusters of houses on a tableland which juts into a chasm cut by a tributary of the great river. One of them was Phete and it seemed that we would reach the village in half an hour at least, but the road wound so tortuously around the hillside, down to the stream and up again that it was an hour and a half before we found a camping place on a narrow terrace a short distance from the nearest houses.

Next day we could not go to the village to find hunters until mid-forenoon because the natives of this region are very late risers and often have not yet opened their doors at ten o'clock. This is quite contrary to the custom in many other parts of China where the inhabitants are about their work in the first light of dawn.

The hills above Phete are bare or thinly forested and every available inch of level ground is under cultivation with corn and a few rice paddys near the creek; the latter were a great surprise, for we had not expected to find rice so far north. The village itself was exceedingly picturesque but never have we met people of such utter and hopeless stupidity as its inhabitants. They were pleasant enough and always greeted us with a smile and salutation, but their brains seemed not to have kept pace with their bodies and when asked the simplest question they would only stare stupidly without the slightest glimmering of intelligence.

It required an hour's questioning of a dozen or more people to glean that there were no hunters in the village where they had lived all their lives, but Wu, our interpreter, finally discovered a Chinese who told us of a hunter in the mountains. He asked how far and the answer was "Not very far."

"Well, is it ten li?"

"I don't know how many li."

"Have you ever been there?"

"Yes; it is only a few steps."

"How long will it take to get there?"

"About the time of one meal."

We were not to be deceived, for we had had experience with native ideas of distance, and we ate our tiffin before starting out on the "few steps." A steep trail led up the valley and after three hours of steady riding we reached the hunter's village of three large houses on a flat strip of cleared ground in the midst of a dense forest.

The people looked much like those of Phete but were rather anemic specimens, and five out of eight had enormous goiters. They were exceedingly shy at first, watching us with side glances and through cracks in the wall. Wu learned that we were the first white persons they had ever seen. I imagine that much of their unhealthiness was due to too close intermarriage, for these families had little intercourse with the people in Phete who were only "a few steps" away.

As we were leaving they began to eat their supper in the courtyard. The principal dish consisted of mixed cornmeal and rice, boiled squash and green vegetables. All the women were busy husking corn which was hung to dry on great racks about the house. These racks we had noticed in every village since leaving Li-chiang and they seemed to be in universal use in the north.

The hunter had a flock of sheep and we purchased one for $4.40 (Mexican) but there was considerable difficulty in paying for it since these people had never seen Chinese money even though living in China itself. For currency they used chunks of silver the size of a walnut and worth about one dollar (Mexican). The Chinese guide finally persuaded the people of the genuineness of our money and we purchased a few eggs and a little very delicious wild honey besides the sheep. These people as well as those of Phete spoke the Li-chiang dialect but with such variation that even our mafus could understand them only with the greatest difficulty.

When we returned to camp we found that the coolie who had been engaged to carry the motion-picture camera and tripod had left without the formality of saying "good-by" or asking for the money which was due him. We had had considerable trouble with the camera coolies since leaving Li-chiang. The first one carried the camera to the Taku ferry with many groans, and there engaged a huge Chinaman to take his place, for he thought the load too heavy. It only weighed fifty pounds, and in the Fukien Province where men seldom carry less than eighty pounds and sometimes as much as one hundred and fifty, it would have been considered as only half a burden. In Yuen-nan, however, animals do most of the pack carrying, and coolies protest at even an ordinary load.

We left Phete in the early morning and camped about five hundred feet above the hunter's cabin in a beautiful little meadow. It was surrounded with splendid pine trees, and a clear spring bubbled up from a knoll in the center and spread fan-shaped in a dozen little streams over the edge of a deep ravine where a mountain torrent rushed through a tangled bamboo jungle. The gigantic fallen trees were covered inches deep with green moss, and altogether it was an ideal spot for small mammals. Our traps, however, yielded no new species, although we secured dozens of specimens every night.

There were a few families of Lolos about two miles away and these were engaged as hunters. They told us that serow and muntjac were abundant and that wapiti were sometimes found on the mountains several miles to the northward. Although the men had a large pack of good dogs they were such unsatisfactory hunters that we gave up in disgust after three days. They never would appear until ten or eleven o'clock in the morning when the sun had so dried the leaves that the scent was lost and the dogs could not follow a trail even if one were found. Moreover, the camp was a very uncomfortable one, due to the wind which roared through the trees night and day.

We were rejoined here by Hotenfa, who had left us at the Taku ferry to see if he could get together a pack of dogs. He brought three hounds with him which he praised exuberantly, but we subsequently found that they did not justify our hopes. Nevertheless, we were glad to have Hotenfa back, for he was one of the most intelligent, faithful, and altogether charming natives whom we met in all Yuen-nan. He was an uncouth savage when he first came to us, but in a very short time he had learned our camp ways and was as good a servant as any we had.



CHAPTER XXI

TRAVELING TOWARD TIBET

Since the hunters at the "Windy Camp" had proved so worthless and the traps had yielded no small mammals new to our collection, we decided to cross the mountains toward the Chung-tien road which leads into Tibet.

The head mafu explored the trail and reported that it was impassable but, after an examination of some of the worst barriers, we decided that they could be cleared away and ordered the caravan to start at half past seven in the morning.

Before long we found that the mafus were right. The trail was a mass of tangled underbrush and fallen logs and led straight up a precipitous mountain through a veritable jungle of dwarf bamboo. It was necessary to stop every few yards to lift the loads over a barrier or cut a passage through the bamboo thickets, and had it not been for the adjustable pack saddles we never could have taken the caravan over the trail.

Late in the afternoon the exhausted men and animals dragged themselves to the summit of the mountain, for it was not a pass. In a few hours we had come from autumn to mid-winter where the ground was frozen and covered with snow. We were at an altitude of more than 15,000 feet and far above all timber except the rhododendron forest which spread itself out in a low gray mass along the ridges. It was difficult to make the slightest exertion in the thin air and a bitterly cold wind swept across the peaks so that it was impossible to keep warm even when wrapped in our heaviest coats.

The servants and mafus suffered considerably but it was too late to go on and there was no alternative but to spend the night on the mountain. As soon as the tents were up the men huddled disconsolately about the fire, but we started out with a bag of traps while Heller went in the opposite direction. We expected to catch some new mammals during the night, for there were great numbers of runways on the bare hillsides. The ground was frozen so solidly that it was necessary to cut into the little Microtus tunnels with a hatchet in order to set the traps and we were almost frozen before the work was completed. The next morning we had caught twenty specimens of a new white-bellied meadow vole and a remarkable shrew with a long curved proboscis.

Everyone had spent an uncomfortable night, for it was bitterly cold even in our sleeping bags and the men had sat up about the fire in order to keep from freezing. There was little difficulty in getting the caravan started in the gray light of early dawn and after descending abruptly four thousand feet on a precipitous trail to a Lolo village strung out along a beautiful little valley we were again in the pleasant warmth of late autumn.

The natives here had never before seen a white person and in a few moments our tents were surrounded by a crowd of strange-looking men and boys. The chief of the village presented us with an enormous rooster and we made him happy by returning two tins of cigarettes. The Lolo women, the first we had seen, were especially surprising because of their graceful figures and handsome faces. Their flat turbans, short jackets, and long skirts with huge flounces gave them a rather old-fashioned aspect, quite out of harmony with the metal neck-bands, earrings, and bracelets which they all wore.

The men were exceedingly pleasant and made a picturesque group in their gray and brown felt capes which they gather about the neck by a draw string and, to the Lolos and Mosos alike, are both bed and clothing. We collected all the men for their photographs, and although they had not the slightest idea what we were about they stood quietly after Hotenfa had assured them that the strange-looking instrument would not go off. But most interesting of all was their astonishment when half an hour later they saw the negative and were able to identify themselves upon it.

The Lolos are apparently a much maligned race. They are exceedingly independent, and although along the frontier of their own territory in S'suchuan they wage a war of robbery and destruction it is not wholly unprovoked. No one can enter their country safely unless he is under the protection of a chief who acts as a sponsor and passes him along to others. Mr. Brooke, an Englishman, was killed by the Lolos, but he was not properly "chaperoned," and Major D'Ollone of the French expedition lived among them safely for some time and gives them unstinted praise.

Whenever we met tribesmen in Yuen-nan who had not seen white persons they behaved much like all other natives. They were, of course, always greatly astonished to see our caravan descend upon them and were invariably fascinated by our guns, tents, and in fact everything about us, but were generally shy and decidedly less offensive in their curiosity than the Chinese of the larger inland towns to whom foreigners are by no means unknown. As a matter of fact we have found that our white skins, light eyes, and hair are a never failing source of interest and envy to almost all Orientals.

Yvette usually excited the most curiosity, especially among the women, and as she wore knickerbockers and a flannel shirt there were times when the determination of her sex seemed to call forth the liveliest discussion. Her long hair, however, usually settled the matter, and when the women had decided the question of gender satisfactorily they often made timid, and most amusing, advances. One woman said she greatly admired her fair complexion and asked how many baths she took to keep her skin so white. Another wondered whether it was necessary to ever comb her hair and almost everyone wished to feel her clothes and shoes. She always could command more attention than anyone else by her camera operations, and a group would stand in speechless amazement to see her dodge in and out of the portable dark room when she was developing photographs or loading plates.

We made arrangements to go with a number of the Lolos to a spot fifteen miles away on the Chung-tien road to hunt wapiti (probably Cervus macneilli) which the natives call maloo. Our American wapiti, or elk, is a migrant from Asia by way of the Bering Strait and is probably a relative of the wapiti which is found in Central Asia, China, Manchuria and Korea.

At present these deer are abundant in but few places. Throughout the Orient, and especially in China, the growing horns when they are soft, or in the "velvet," are considered of great medicinal value and, during the summer, the animals are trapped and hunted relentlessly by the natives. In Yuen-nan, when we were there, a pair of horns were worth $100 (Mexican).

Thanksgiving morning dawned gray and raw with occasional flurries of haillike snow, but we did not heed the cold, for the trail led over two high ridges and along the rim of a tremendous gorge. To the south the white summits of the Snow Mountain range towered majestically above the surrounding peaks and, in the gray light, the colors were beautiful beyond description. To the north we could see heavily wooded mountain slopes interspersed with open parklike meadows—splendid wapiti country.

Our tents were pitched two hundred yards from the Chung-tien road just within the edge of a stately, moss-draped forest. That night we celebrated with harmless bombs from the huge fires of bamboo stalks which exploded as they filled with steam and echoed among the trees like pistol shots. Marco Polo speaks of the same phenomenon which he first witnessed in this region over six hundred and thirty years ago.

About nine o'clock in the evening we ran our traps with a lantern and besides several mice (Apodemus) found two rare shrews and a new mole (Blarina). I went out with the hunters at dawn but saw nothing except an old wapiti track and a little sign. All during the following day a dense fog hung close to the ground so that it was impossible to hunt, and, on the night of December 2, it snowed heavily. The morning began bright and clear but clouded about ten o'clock and became so bitterly cold that the Lolos would not hunt. They really suffered considerably and that night they all left us to return to their homes. We were greatly disappointed, for we had brilliant prospects of good wapiti shooting but without either men or dogs and in an unknown country there was little possibility of successful still hunting.

The mafus were very much worried and refused to go further north. They were certain that we would not be able to cross the high passes which lay between us and the Mekong valley far to the westward and complained unceasingly about the freezing cold and the lack of food for their animals. It was necessary to visit the Mekong River, for even though it might not be a good big game region it would give us a cross-section, as it were, of the fauna and important data on the distribution of small mammals. Therefore we decided to leave for the long ride as soon as the weather permitted.



CHAPTER XXII

STALKING TIBETANS WITH A CAMERA

Y.B.A.

The road near which we were camped was one of the great trade routes into Tibet and over it caravans were continually passing laden with tea or pork. Many of them had traveled the entire length of Yuen-nan to S'su-mao on the Tonking frontier where a special kind of tea is grown, and were hurrying northward to cross the snow-covered passes which form the gateways to the "Forbidden Land."

The caravans sometimes stopped for luncheon or to spend the night near our camp. As the horses came up, one by one the loads were lifted off, the animals turned loose, and after their dinner of buttered tea and tsamba [Footnote: Tsamba is parched oats or barley, ground finely.] each man stretched out upon the ground without shelter of any kind and heedless of the freezing cold. It is truly the life of primitive man and has bred a hardy, restless, independent race, content to wander over the boundless steppes and demanding from the outside world only to be let alone.

They are picturesque, wild-looking fellows, and in their swinging walk there is a care-free independence and an atmosphere of the bleak Tibetan steppes which are strangely fascinating. Every Tibetan is a study for an artist. He wears a fur cap and a long loose coat like a Russian blouse thrown carelessly off one shoulder and tied about the waist, blue or red trousers, and high boots of felt or skin reaching almost to the knees. A long sword, its hilt inlaid with bright-colored bits of glass or stones, is half concealed beneath his coat, and he is seldom without a gun or a murderous looking spear.

In the breast of his loose coat, which acts as a pocket, he carries a remarkable assortment of things; a pipe, tobacco, tea, tsamba, cooking pots, a snuff box and, hanging down in front, a metal charm to protect him from bullets or sickness.

The eastern Tibetans are men of splendid physique and great strength, and are frequently more than six feet in height. They have brick-red complexions and some are really handsome in a full-blooded masculine way. Their straight features suggest a strong mixture of other than Mongolian stock and they are the direct antithesis of the Chinese in every particular. Their strength and virility and the dashing swing of their walk are very refreshing after contact with the ease-loving, effeminate Chinaman whom one sees being carried along the road sprawled in a mountain chair.

Of all natives whom we tried to photograph the Tibetans were the most difficult. It was almost impossible to bribe them with money or tin cans to stand for a moment and when they saw the motion picture camera set up beside the trail they would make long detours to avoid passing in front of it.

What we could not get by bribery we tried to do by stealth and concealed ourselves behind bushes with the camera focused on a certain spot upon the road. The instant a Tibetan discovered it he would run like a frightened deer and in some mysterious way they seemed to have passed the word along that our camp was a spot to be avoided. Sometimes a bottle was too great a temptation to be resisted, and one would stand timidly like a bird with wings half spread, only to dash away as though the devil were after him, when he saw my head disappear beneath the focusing hood.

Wu and a mafu who could speak a little Tibetan finally captured one picturesque looking fellow. He carefully tucked the tin cans, given for advance payment, inside his coat, and with a great show of bravery allowed me to place him where I wished. But the instant the motion picture camera swung in his direction he dodged aside, and jumped behind it. Wu tried to hold him but the Tibetan drew his sword, waved it wildly about his head and took to his heels, yelling at the top of his lungs. He was well-nigh frightened to death and when he disappeared from sight at a curve in the road he was still "going strong" with his coat tails flapping like a sail in the wind.

One caravan came suddenly upon the motion picture camera unawares. There were several women in the party and, as soon as the men realized that there was no escape, each one dodged behind a woman, keeping her between him and the camera. They were taking no chances with their precious selves, for the women could be replaced easily enough if necessary.

The trouble is that the Tibetan not unnaturally has the greatest possible suspicion and dislike for strangers. The Chinese he loathes and despises, and foreigners he knows only too well are symptoms of missionaries and punitive expeditions or other disturbances of his immemorial peace. He is confirmed in his attitude by the Church which throughout Tibet has the monopoly of all the gold in the country. And the Church utterly declines to believe that any foreigner can come so far for any end less foolish than the discovery of gold and the infringing of the ecclesiastical monopoly.

Major Davies, who saw much of the Yuen-nan Tibetans, has remarked that it is curious how little impression the civilization and customs of the Chinese have produced on the Tibetans. Elsewhere, one of the principal characteristics of Chinese expansion is its power of absorbing other races, but with the Tibetans exactly the reverse takes place. The Chinese become Tibetanized and the children of a Chinaman married to a Tibetan woman are usually brought up in the Tibetan customs.

Probably the great cause which keeps the Tibetan from being absorbed is the cold, inhospitable nature of his country. There is little to tempt the Chinese to emigrate into Tibet and consequently they never are there in sufficient numbers to influence the Tibetans around them. A similar cause has preserved some of the low-lying Shan states from absorption, the heat in this case being the reason that the Chinese do not settle there.



CHAPTER XXIII

WESTWARD TO THE MEKONG RIVER

During the night of December 4, there was a heavy fall of snow and in the morning we awoke to find ourselves in fairyland. We were living in a great white palace, with ceiling and walls of filmy glittering webs. The long, delicate strands of gray moss which draped themselves from tree to tree and branch to branch were each one converted into threads of crystal, forming a filigree lacework, infinitely beautiful.

It was hard to break camp and leave that silver palace, for every vista through the forest seemed more lovely than the one before, but we knew that another fall of snow would block the passes and shut us out from the Mekong valley. The mafus even refused to try the direct route across the mountains to Wei-hsi and insisted on going southward to the Shih-ku ferry and up the Yangtze River on the main caravan route.

It was a long trip and we looked forward with no pleasure to eight days of hard riding. The difficulty in obtaining hunters since leaving the Snow Mountain had made our big game collecting negligible although we had traveled through some excellent country. The Mekong valley might not be better but it was an unknown quantity and, whether or not it yielded specimens, the results from a survey of the mammal distribution would be none the less important, and we felt that it must be done; otherwise we should have turned our backs on the north and returned to Ta-li Fu.

As we rode down the mountain trail we passed caravan after caravan of Tibetans with heavily loaded horses, all bound for that land of mystery beyond the snow-capped barriers. Often we tried to stop some of the red-skinned natives and persuade them to pose for a color photograph, but usually they only shook their heads stubbornly and hurried past with averted faces. We finally waylaid a Chinese and a Tibetan who were walking together. The Chinaman was an amiable fellow and by giving each of them a glass jam tumbler they halted a moment. As soon as the photograph had been taken the Chinese indicated that he expected us to produce one and was thoroughly disgusted when we showed him that it was impossible.

Repassing the Lolo village, we followed the river gorge at the upper end of which Chung-tien is located and left the forests when we emerged on the main road. From the top of a ten thousand foot pass there was a magnificent view down the canon to the snow-capped mountains, which were beautiful beyond description in their changing colors of purple and gold.

Just after leaving the pass we met a caravan of several hundred horses each bearing two whole pigs bent double and tied to the saddles. The animals had been denuded of hair, salted, and sewn up, and soon would be distributed among the villages somewhere in the interior of Tibet.

On the second day we saw before us seven snow-crowned peaks as sharp and regular as the teeth of a saw rising above the mouth of the stream where it spreads like a fan over a sandy delta and empties into the Yangtze. Here the mighty river, flowing proudly southward from its home in the wind-blown steppes of the "Forbidden Land," countless ages ago found the great Snow Mountain range barring its path. Thrust aside, it doubled back upon itself along the barrier's base, still restlessly seeking a passage through the wall of rock. Far to the north it bit hungrily into the mountain's side again, broke through, and swung south gathering strength and volume from hundreds of tributaries as it rushed onward to the sea.

For two days we rode along the river bank and crossed at the Shih-ku ferry. There was none of the difficulty here which we had experienced at Taku, for the river is wide and the current slow. It required only two hours to transport our entire caravan while at the other ferry we had waited a day and a half. Strangely enough, although there are dozens of villages along the Yangtze and the valley is highly cultivated, we saw no sign of fishing. Moreover, we passed but three boats and five or six rafts and it was evident that this great waterway, which for fifteen hundred miles from its mouth influences the trade of China so profoundly, is here used but little by the natives.

On the ride down the river we had good sport with the huge cranes (probably Grus nigricollis) which, in small flocks, were feeding along the river fields. The birds stood about five feet high and we could see their great black and white bodies and black necks farther than a man was visible. It was fairly easy to stalk them to within a hundred yards, but even at that distance they offered a rather small target, for they were so largely wings, neck, legs, and tail. We were never within shotgun range and indeed it would be difficult to kill the birds with anything smaller than BB or buckshot unless they were very near.

Heller shot our first cranes with his .250-.300 Savage rifle. He stole upon five which were feeding in a meadow and fired while two were "lined up." One of the huge birds flapped about on the ground for a few moments and lay still, but the larger was only wing-tipped and started off at full speed across the fields. Two mafus left the caravan, yelling with excitement, and ran for nearly half a mile before they overtook the bird. Then they were kept at bay for fifteen minutes by its long beak which is a really formidable weapon. As food the cranes were perfectly delicious when stuffed with chestnut dressing and roasted. Each one provided two meals for three of us with enough left over for hash and our appetites were by no means birdlike.

Although the natives attempt to kill cranes they are not often successful, for the birds are very watchful and will not allow a man within a hundred yards. Such a distance for primitive guns or crossbows might as well be a hundred miles, but with our high-power rifles we were able to shoot as many as were needed for food.

The birds almost invariably followed the river when flying and fed in the rice, barley, and corn fields not far from the water. It was an inspiring sight to see a flock of the huge birds run for a few steps along the ground and then launch themselves into the air, their black and white wings flashing in the sunlight. They formed into orderly ranks like a company of soldiers or strung out in a long thin line across the sky.

When we disturbed a flock from especially desirable feeding grounds they would sometimes whirl and circle above the fields, ascending higher and higher in great spirals until they were lost to sight, their musical voices coming faintly down to us like the distant shouts of happy children.

When we returned to Ta-li Fu in early January, cranes were very abundant in the fields about the lake. They had arrived in late October and would depart in early spring, according to Mr. Evans. We often saw the birds on sand banks along the Yangtze, but they were usually resting or quietly walking about and were not feeding; apparently they eat only rice, barley, corn, or other grain.

This species was discovered by the great traveler and naturalist, Lieutenant Colonel Prjevalsky, who found it in the Koko-nor region of Tibet, and it was later recorded by Prince Henri d'Orleans from Tsang in the Tibetan highlands. Apparently specimens from Yuen-nan have not been preserved in museums and the bird was not known to occur in this portion of China.

Along the Yangtze on our way westward we shot a good many mallard ducks (Anas boscas) and ruddy sheldrakes (Casarca casarca); the latter are universally known as "brahminy ducks" by the foreigners in Burma and Yuen-nan, but they are not true ducks. The name is derived from the bird's beautiful buff and rufous color which is somewhat like that of the robes worn by the Brahmin priests. In America the name "sheldrake" is applied erroneously to the fish-eating mergansers, and much confusion has thus arisen, for the two are quite unrelated and belong to perfectly distinct groups. The mergansers have narrow, hooked, saw-toothed beaks quite unlike those of the sheldrakes, and their habits are entirely dissimilar.

The brahminy ducks, although rather tough, are not bad eating. We usually found them feeding in fields not far from the river or in flooded rice dykes, and very often sitting in pairs on the sand banks near the water. They have a bisyllabic rather plaintive note which is peculiarly fascinating to me and, like the honk of the Canada goose, awakens memories of sodden, wind-blown marshes, bobbing decoys, and a leaden sky shot through with V-shaped lines of flying birds.

Mallards were frequently to be found with the sheldrakes, and we had good shooting along the river and in ponds and rice fields. We also saw a few teal but they were by no means abundant. Pheasants were scarce. We shot a few along the road and near some of our camps, but we found no place in Yuen-nan where one could have even a fair day's shooting without the aid of a good dog. This is strikingly different from Korea where in a walk over the hillsides a dozen or more pheasants can be flushed within an hour.

After two and one-half days' travel up the Yangtze we turned westward toward Wei-hsi and camped on a beautiful flat plain beside a tree-bordered stream. It was a cold clear night and after dinner and a smoke about the fire we all turned in.

Both of us were asleep when suddenly a perfect bedlam of angry exclamations and Chinese curses roused the whole camp. In a few moments Wu came to our tent, almost speechless with rage and stammered, "Damn fool soldiers come try to take our horses; say if mafu no give them horses they untie loads. Shall I tell mafu break their heads?" We did not entirely understand the situation but it seemed quite proper to give the mafus permission to do the head-breaking, and they went at it with a will. After a volley of blows, there was a scamper of feet on the frozen ground and the soldiers retired considerably the worse for wear.

When the battle was over, Wu explained matters more fully. It appeared that a large detachment of soldiers had recently passed up this road to A-tun-tzu and four or five had remained behind to attend to the transport of certain supplies. Seeing an opportunity for "graft" the soldiers were stopping every caravan which passed and threatening to commandeer it unless the mafus gave a sufficient bribe to buy their immunity. Our mafus, with the protection which foreigners gave them, had paid off a few old scores with interest. That they had neglected no part of the reckoning was quite evident when next morning two of the soldiers came to apologize for their "mistake." One of them had a black and swollen eye and the other was nursing a deep cut on his forehead; they were exceedingly humble and did not venture into camp until they had been assured that we would not again loose our terrible mafus upon them.

Such extortions are every day occurrences in many parts of China and it is little wonder that the military is cordially hated and feared by the peasants. The soldiers, taking advantage of their uniform, oppress the villagers in numberless ways from which there is no redress. If a complaint is made a dozen soldiers stand ready to swear that the offense was justified or was never committed, and the poor farmer is lucky if he escapes without a beating or some more severe punishment. It is a disgrace to China that such conditions are allowed to exist, and it is to be hoped that ere many years have passed the country will awake to a proper recognition of the rights of the individual. Until she does there never can be a national spirit of patriotism in China and without patriotism the Republic can be one in name only.



CHAPTER XXIV

DOWN THE MEKONG VALLEY

On December 11, we had tiffin on the summit of a twelve thousand foot pass in a beautiful snow-covered meadow, from which we could see the glistening peaks of the vast mountain range which forms the Mekong-Salween divide. In the afternoon we reached Wei-hsi and camped in a grove of splendid pine trees on a hill overlooking the city. The place was rather disappointing after Li-chiang. The shops were poor and it was difficult to buy rice even though the entire valley was devoted to paddy fields, but we did get quantities of delicious persimmons.

Wu told us that seven different languages were spoken in the city, and we could well believe it, for we recognized Mosos, Lolos, Chinese, and Tibetans. This region is nearly the extreme western limit of the Moso tribe which appears not to extend across the Mekong River.

The mandarin at Wei-hsi received us hospitably and proved to be one of the most courteous officials whom we met in Yuen-nan. We were sorry to learn that he was killed in a horrible way only a few weeks after our visit. Trouble arose with the peasants over the tax on salt and fifteen hundred rebelled, attacked the city, and captured it after a sharp fight. It was reported that they immediately beheaded the mandarin's wives and children, and boiled him alive in oil.

Although the magistrate offered to assist us in every way we could obtain no information concerning either hunting grounds or routes of travel. The flying squirrels which we had hoped to find near the city were reported to come from a mountain range beyond the Mekong in Burma, and Wei-hsi was merely a center of distribution for the skins. Moreover, the natives said it would be impossible to obtain squirrels at that time of the year, for the mountain passes were so heavily covered with snow that neither men nor caravans could cross them.

It was desirable, however, to descend to the Mekong River in order to determine whether there would be a change in fauna, and on Major Davies' map a small road was marked down the valley. A stiff climb of a day and a half over a thickly forested mountain ridge, frozen and snow-covered, brought us in sight of the green waters of the Mekong which has carved a gorge for itself in an almost straight line from the bleak Tibetan plateaus through Yuen-nan and Indo-China to the sea.

Our second camp was on the river at the mouth of a deep valley, near a small village. Wu said that the natives were Lutzus and I was inclined to believe he was right, although Major Davies indicates this region to be inhabited by Lisos. At any rate these people both in physical appearance and dress were quite distinct from the Lisos whom we met later.

They were exceedingly pleasant and friendly and the chief, accompanied by four venerable men, brought a present of rice. I gave him two tins of cigarettes and the natives returned to the village wreathed in smiles.

The garments of the Lutzus were characteristic and quite unlike those of the Mosos, Lisos or Tibetans. The women wore a long coat or jacket of blue cloth, trousers, and a very full pleated skirt. The men were dressed in plum colored coats and trousers.

The natives said that monkeys (probably Pygathrix) were often seen when the corn was ripe and that even yet they might be found in the forest across the river. Heller spent a day hunting them, but found none and we obtained only one new mammal in our traps. It was a tiny mouse (Micromys) but the remainder of the fauna was essentially the same as that of the Yangtze valley and the intervening country.

For three days we traveled down the Mekong River. Although the natives said that the trail was good, we discovered when it was too late that it was too narrow and difficult to make it practicable for a caravan such as ours. It was necessary to continually remove the loads in order to lift them around sharp corners or over rocks, and the mafus sometimes had to cut away great sections of the bank. Usually only six or seven miles could be traversed after eight or nine hours of exhausting work, and we were glad when we could leave the river.

The Mekong, on an average, is not more than a hundred yards wide in this region and, like the Yangtze, the water is very green from the Tibetan snows. The prevailing rock is red slate or sandstone instead of limestone, as in the country to the eastward, and the sides of the valley are so precipitous that it seems impossible for a human being to walk over them, and yet they are patched with brown corn fields from the summit to the water. Considering the small area available for cultivation there are a considerable number of inhabitants, who have gathered into villages and seldom live in isolated houses as in the Yangtze valley. Wherever a stream comes down from the mountain-side or can be diverted by irrigating ditches, the ground is beautifully terraced for rice paddys, but in other places, corn and peas appear to be the principal crops. Very few vegetables, such as turnips, squash, carrots or potatoes are raised, which is rather remarkable, as they are so abundant in all the country between the Mekong and the Yangtze rivers. In several places the water was spanned by rope bridges. The cables are made of twisted bamboo, and as one end must necessarily be higher than the other, there are always two ropes, one to cross each way. The traveler is tied by leather thongs in a sitting position to a wooden "runner" which slides along the bamboo cable and shoots across the river at tremendous speed.

The valley is hopeless from a zooelogical standpoint. It is too dry for small mammals and the mountain slopes are so precipitous, thinly forested, and generally undesirable, that, except for gorals, no other large game would live there. The bird life is decidedly uninteresting. There are no cranes or sheldrakes and, except for a few flocks of mallards which feed in the rice fields, we saw no other ducks or geese.

On December 20, we turned away from the Mekong valley and began to march southeast by east across an unmapped region toward Ta-li Fu. We camped at night on a pretty ridge thickly covered with spruce trees just above a deep moist ravine. In the morning our traps contained several rare shrews, five silver moles, a number of interesting mice, and a beautiful rufous spiny rat. It was too good a place to leave and I sent Hotenfa to inquire from a family of natives if there was big game of any sort in the vicinity. He reported that there were goral not far away, and at half past eight we rode down the trail for three miles when I left my horse at a peasant's house. They told us that the goral were on a rocky, thinly forested mountain which rose two thousand feet above the valley, and for an hour and a half we climbed steadily upward.

We were resting near the summit on the rim of a deep canon when Hotenfa excitedly whispered, "gnai-yang" and held up three fingers. He tried to show the animals to me and at last I caught sight of what I thought was a goral standing on a narrow ledge. I fired and a bit of rock flew into the air while the three gorals disappeared among the trees two hundred feet above the spot where I had supposed them to be.

I was utterly disgusted at my mistake but we started on a run for the other side of the gorge. When we arrived, Hotenfa motioned me to swing about to the right while he climbed along the face of the rock wall. No sooner had he reached the edge of the precipice than I saw him lean far out, fire with my three-barrel gun, and frantically wave for me to come. I ran to him and, throwing my arms about a projecting shrub, looked down. There directly under us stood a huge goral, but just as I was about to shoot, the earth gave way beneath my feet and I would have fallen squarely on the animal had Hotenfa not seized me by the collar and drawn me back to safety.

The goral had not discovered where the shower of dirt and stones came from before I fired hurriedly, breaking his fore leg at the knee. Without the slightest sign of injury the ram disappeared behind a corner of the rock. I dashed to the top of the ridge in time to see him running at full speed across a narrow open ledge toward a thick mass of cover on the opposite side of the canon. I fired just as the animal gained the trees and, at the crash of my rifle, the goral plunged headlong down the mountain, stone dead.

It fell on a narrow slide of loose rock which led nearly to the bottom of the valley and, slipping and rolling in a cloud of red dust, dropped over a precipice. The ram brought up against an unstable boulder five hundred feet below us, and it required half an hour's hard work to reach the spot.

When I finally lifted its head one of the horns which had been broken in the fall slipped through my fingers, and away went the goral on another rough and tumble descent, finally stopping on a rock ledge nearly eleven hundred feet from the place where it had been shot. We returned to camp at noon bringing joy with us, for, as my wife had remarked the day before, "We will soon have to eat chickens or cans."

Heller hunted the gorals unsuccessfully the following day and we left on December 23, camping at night on a flat terrace beside a stream at the end of a moist ravine. We intended to spend Christmas here for it was a beautiful spot, surrounded by virgin forest, but our celebration was to be on Christmas Eve. The following day dawned bright and clear. There had not been a drop of rain for nearly a month and the weather was just warm enough for comfort in the sun with one's coat off, but at night the temperature dropped to about 15 deg.+ or 20 deg.+ Fahr. The camp proved to be a good one, giving us two new mammals and, just after tiffin, Hotenfa came running in to report that he had discovered seven gray monkeys (probably Pygathrix) in a cornfield a mile away.

The monkeys had disappeared ere we arrived, but while we were gone Yvette had been busy and, just before dinner, she ushered us into our tent with great ceremony. It had been most wonderfully transformed. At the far end stood a Christmas tree, blazing with tiny candles and surrounded by masses of white cotton, through which shone red holly berries. Holly branches from the forest and spruce boughs lined the tent and hung in green waves from the ridge pole. At the base of the tree gifts which she had purchased in Hongkong in the preceding August were laid out.

Heller mixed a fearful and wonderful cocktail from the Chinese wine and orange juice, and we drank to each other and to those at home while sitting on the ground and opening our packages. We had purchased two Tibetan rugs in Li-chiang and Wei-hsi, as Christmas presents for Yvette. These rugs usually are blue or red, with intricate designs in the center, and are well woven and attractive.

To the servants and mafus we gave money and cigarettes. When the muleteers were brought to the tent to receive their gifts they evidently thought our blazing tree represented an altar, for they kneeled down and began to make the "chin, chin joss" which is always done before their heathen gods.

Our Christmas dinner was a masterpiece. Four days previously I had shot a pair of mallard ducks and they formed the piece de resistance. The dinner consisted of soup, ducks stuffed with chestnuts, currant jelly, baked squash, creamed carrots, chocolate cake, cheese and crackers, coffee and cigarettes.

Christmas day we traveled, and in the late afternoon passed through a very dirty Chinese town in a deep valley near some extensive salt wells. Red clay dust lay thick over everything and the filth of the streets and houses was indescribable. We camped in a cornfield a mile beyond the village, but were greatly annoyed by the Chinese who insisted on swarming into camp. Finally, unable longer to endure their insolent stares, I drove them with stones to the top of the hill, where they sat in row upon row exactly as in the "bleachers" at an American baseball game.

When we left the following day we passed dozens of caravans and groups of men and women carrying great disks of salt. Each piece was stamped in red with the official mark for salt is a government monopoly and only licensed merchants are allowed to deal in it; moreover, the importation of salt from foreign countries is forbidden. For the purposes of administration, China is divided into seven or eight main circuits, each of which has its own sources of production and the salt obtained in one district may not be sold in another.

In Yuen-nan the salt of the province is supplied from three regions. The water from the wells is boiled in great caldrons for several days, and the resulting deposit is earth impregnated with salt. This is crushed, mixed with water, and boiled again until only pure salt remains. After passing a village of considerable size called Pei-ping, we began the ascent of an exceedingly steep mountain range twelve thousand feet high. All the afternoon we toiled upward in the rain and camped late in the evening at a pine grove on a little plateau two-thirds of the way to the summit. During the night it snowed heavily and we awoke to find ourselves in a transformed world.

Every tree and bush was dressed in garments of purest white and between the branches we could look westward across the valley toward the Mekong and the purple mountain wall of the Burma border. There were still one thousand feet of climbing between us and the summit of the pass. The trail was almost blocked, but by slow work we forced our way through the drifts. Some of the mules were already weak from exposure and underfeeding, and two of them had to be relieved of their loads; they died the next day. Our mafus did not appear to suffer greatly although their legs were bare from the knees down and their feet had no covering except straw sandals. Indeed when we discovered, on the summit of the pass, a tiny hut in which a fire was burning, they waited only a few moments to warm themselves.

We met two other caravans fighting their way up the mountain from the other side, and by following the trail which they had broken through the drifts we made fairly good time on the descent. There had been no snow on the broad, flat plain which we reached in the late afternoon and we found that its ponds and fields were alive with ducks, geese, and cranes. The birds were wild but we had good shooting when we broke camp in the morning and killed enough to last us several days.

On December 31, our weary days of crossing range after range of tremendous mountains were ended, and we stood on the last pass looking down upon the great Chien-chuan plain. Outside the grim walls of the old city, which lies on the main A-tun-tzu—Ta-li Fu road, are two large marshy ponds and, away to the south, is an extensive lake. We camped just without the courtyard of a fine temple, and at four o'clock Yvette and I went over to the water which was swarming with ducks and geese.

Neither of us will ever forget that shoot in the glorious afternoon sunlight. Cloud after cloud of ducks rose as we neared the pond and circled high above our heads, but now and then a straggling mallard or "pin tail" would swing across the sky within range; as my gun roared out the birds would whirl to the ground like feathered bombs or climb higher with frightened quacks if the shot went wild. An hour before dark the brahminy ducks began to come in. We could hear their melodious plaintive calls long before we could see the birds, and we flattened ourselves out in the grass and mud. Soon a thin, black line would streak the sky, and as they drew nearer, Yvette would draw such seductive notes from a tiny horn of wood and bone that the flock would swing and dive toward us in a rush of flashing wings. When we could see the brown bodies right above our heads I would sit up and bang away.

Now and then a big white goose would drop into the pond or an ibis flap lazily overhead, seeming to realize that it had nothing to fear from the prostrate bodies which spat fire at other birds. The stillness of the marsh was absolute save for the voices of the water fowl mingled in the wild, sweet clamor so dear to the heart of every sportsman. As the day began to die, hung about with ducks and geese, we walked slowly back across the rice fields, to the yellow fires before our tents. It was our last camp for the year and, as if to bid us farewell as we journeyed toward the tropics, the peaks of the great Snow Mountain far to the north, had draped themselves in a gorgeous silver mantle and glistened against a sky of lavender and gold like white cathedral spires.

On January 3, we camped early in the afternoon on a beautiful little plain beside a spring overhung with giant trees at the head of Erh Hai, or Ta-li Fu Lake, which is thirty miles long. The fields and marshes were alive with ducks, geese, cranes, and lapwings, and we had a glorious day of sport over decoys and on the water before we went on to Ta-li Fu.

Mr. Evans was about to leave for a long business trip to the south of the province and we took possession of a pretty temple just within the north gate of the city. Here we read a great accumulation of mail and learned that a thousand pounds of supplies which we had ordered from Hongkong had just arrived.

Through the good offices of Mr. Howard Page, manager of the Standard Oil Company of Yuen-nan Fu, their passage through Tonking had been facilitated, and he had dispatched the boxes by caravan to Ta-li Fu. Mr. Page rendered great assistance to the Expedition in numberless ways, and to him we owe our personal thanks as well as those of the American Museum of Natural History.

All the servants except our faithful Wu left at Ta-li Fu but, with the aid of Mr. Hanna, we obtained a much better personnel for the trip to the Burma frontier. The cook, who was one of Mr. Hanna's converts, was an especially fine fellow and proved to be as energetic and competent as the other had been lazy and helpless.

Our work in the north had brought us a collection of thirteen hundred mammals, as well as several hundred birds, much material for habitat groups, and a splendid series of photographic records in Paget color plates, black and white negatives, and motion picture film. But what was of first importance, we had covered an enormous extent of diverse country and learned much about the distribution of the fauna of northern Yuen-nan. The thirteen hundred mammals of our collection were taken in a more or less continuous line across six tremendous mountain ranges, and furnish an illuminating cross section of the entire region from Ta-li-Fu, north to Chung-tien, and west to the Mekong River.

It is apparent that in this part of the province, which is all within one "life zone," even the smallest mammals are widely spread and that the principal factor in determining distribution is the flora. Neither the highest mountain ridges nor such deep swift rivers as the Yangtze and the Mekong appear to act as effective barriers to migration, and as long as the vegetation remains constant, the fauna changes but little.



CHAPTER XXV

MISSIONARIES WE HAVE KNOWN

During our work in Fukien Province and in various parts of Yuen-nan we came into intimate personal contact with a great many missionaries; indeed every traveler in the interior of China will meet them unless he purposely avoids doing so. But the average tourist seldom sees the missionary in his native habitat because, for the most part, he lives and works where the tourist does not go.

Nevertheless, that does not prevent the coastwise traveler from carrying back with him from the East a very definite impression of the missionary, which he has gained on board ships or in Oriental clubs where he hears him "damned with faint praise." Almost unconsciously he adopts the popular attitude just as he enlarges his vocabulary to include "pidgin English" and such unfamiliar phrases as "tiffin," "bund" and "cumshaw."

This chapter is not a brief for the missionary, but simply a matter of fair play. We feel that in justice we ought to present our observations upon this subject, which is one of very general interest, as impartially as upon any phase of our scientific work. But it should be distinctly understood that we are writing only of those persons whom we met and lived with, and whose work we had an opportunity to know and to see; we are not attempting generalizations on the accomplishments of missionaries in any other part of China.

There are three charges which we have heard most frequently brought against the missionary: that he comes to the East because he can live better and more luxuriously than he can at home; that he often engages in lucrative trade with the natives; and that he accomplishes little good, either religious or otherwise. It is said that his converts are only "rice Christians," and treaty-port foreigners have often warned us in this manner, "Don't take Christian servants; they are more dishonest and unreliable than any others."

It is often true that the finest house in a Chinese town will be that of the resident missionary. In Yen-ping the mission buildings are imposing structures, and are placed upon a hill above and away from the rest of the city. Any white person who has traveled in the interior of China will remember the airless, lightless, native houses, opening, as they all do, on filthy streets and reeking sewers and he will understand that in order to exist at all a foreigner must be somewhat isolated and live in a clean, well-ventilated house.

Every missionary in China employs servants—many more servants than he could afford at home. So does every other foreigner, whatever his vocation. There is no such thing in China as the democracy of the West, and the missionary's status in the community demands that certain work in his house be done by servants; otherwise he and his family would be placed on a level with the coolie class and the value of his words and deeds be discounted. But the chief reason is that the missionary's wife almost always has definite duties to which she could not attend if she were not relieved from some of the household cares. She leads in work among the women of the community by organizing clubs and "Mutual Improvement Societies" and in teaching in the schools or hospitals where young men and women are learning English as an asset to medical work among their own people. Servants are unbelievably cheap. While we were in Foochow a cook received $3.50 (gold) per month, a laundryman $1.75 (gold) per month, and other wages were in proportion.

In Fukien Province the missionaries receive two months' vacation. Anyone who has lived through a Fukien summer in the interior of the province will know why the missionaries are given this vacation. If they were not able to leave the deadly heat and filth and disease of the native cities for a few weeks every year, there would be no missionaries to carry on the work. The business man can surround himself with innumerable comforts both in his home and in his office which the missionary cannot afford and, during the summer, life is not only made possible thereby but even pleasant.

Yen-ping is eight days' travel from Foochow up the Min River and it is by no means the most remote station in the province. Very few travelers reach these places during the year and the white inhabitants are almost isolated. Miss Mabel Hartford lives alone at Yuchi and at one time she saw only one foreigner in eight months. Miss Cordelia Morgan is the sole foreign resident of Chu-hsuing Fu, a large Chinese city six days from Yuen-nan Fu. In Ta-li Fu, Reverend William J. Hanna, his wife and two other women, are fourteen days' ride from the nearest foreign settlement. In Li-chiang, Reverend and Mrs. A. Kok and their three small children live with two women missionaries. They are twenty-one days' travel from a doctor, and for four years previous to our visit they had not seen a white woman.

These are some instances of missionaries whom we met in China who have voluntarily exiled themselves to remote places where they expect to spend their entire lives surrounded by an indifferent if not hostile population. Can anyone possibly believe that they have chosen this life because it is easier or more luxurious than that at home?

Some of the men whom we met had left lucrative business positions to take up medical or evangelistic work in China where their compensation is pitifully small—not one-third of the salary they were commanding at home.

We did not meet any missionaries who were engaging in trade with the natives even though in some places there were excellent business opportunities.

Consider the doctors as examples of the civilizing influences which missionaries bring with them. We saw them in various parts of China doing a magnificent work. Dr. Bradley has established a great leper hospital at Paik-hoi where these human outcasts are receiving the latest and most scientific treatment and beginning to look at life with a new hope. In Yen-ping, at the time of the rebellion, we saw Dr. Trimble working hour after hour over wounded and broken men without a thought of rest. In Yuen-nan Fu, Dr. Thompson's hospital was filled with patients suffering from almost every known disease. In Ta-li Fu we saw Mr. Hanna and his wife dispensing medicines and treating the minor ills of patients waiting by the dozen, the fees received being not enough to pay for the cost of the medicines. Why is it that every traveling foreigner in the interior of China is supposed to be able to cure diseases? Certainly an important reason is because of the work done by the medical missionaries who have penetrated to the farthest corners of the most remote provinces.

Aside from their medical work, missionaries are in many instances the real pioneers of western civilization. They bring to the people new standards of living, both morally and physically. They open schools and emancipate the Chinese children in mind and body. They fight the barbarous customs of foot binding and the killing and selling of girl babies. Until recent years it was not unusual to meet the village "baby peddler" with from two to six tiny infants peddling his "goods" from village to village. Not many years ago such a man appeared before the mission compound at Ngu-cheng (Fukien) with four babies in his basket. Three of these had expired from exposure and the kerosene oil which had been poured down their throats to stupefy them and drown their cries. The fourth was purchased by the wife of the native preacher for ten cents in order to save its life. This child was reared and has since graduated from the mission schools with credit. In Foochow a stone tablet bearing the following inscription stands beside a stagnant pool: "Hereafter the throwing of babies into this pool will be punished by law." This was a result of the work of the missionaries.

Their task is by no means easy and, as Mr. Hanna once remarked, "Yuen-nan Province has broken the heart of more than one missionary." The Chinese do not understand their point of view, and it is difficult to make them see it. A Chinaman is a rank materialist and pure altruism does not enter into his scheme of life. As a rule he has but two thoughts, his stomach and his cash bag. It is well-nigh impossible to make him realize that the missionary has not come with an ulterior motive—if not to engage in trade, perhaps as a spy for his government. Others believe that it is because China is so vastly superior to the rest of the world that the missionaries wish to live there. Eventually the suspicions of the natives become quieted and they accept the missionary at some part of his true worth.

At the time of the rebellion in Yen-ping we saw Harry Caldwell, Mr. Bankhardt and Dr. Trimble save the lives of hundreds of people and the city from partial destruction because the Chinese officers of the opposing forces would trust the missionaries when they would not trust each other.

An excellent piece of practical missionary work was done in Fukien Province, not long after our visit there. As we have related in Chapter III, several large bands of brigands were established in the hills about Yuchi. Brigandage began there in the following way. During a famine when the people were on the verge of starvation, a wealthy farmer, Su Ek by name, decided to do his share in relieving conditions by offering for sale a quantity of rice which he had accumulated. He approached another man of similar wealth who agreed with him to sell his grain at a reasonable price. Su Ek accordingly disposed of his rice to the suffering people and, when he had remaining only enough to sustain his own family until the following harvest, he sent the peasants to the second man who had also agreed to dispose of his grain.

This farmer refused to sell at the stipulated price, and the people, angered at his treachery, looted his sheds. He immediately went to Foochow and reported to the governor that there was a band of brigands abroad in Yuchi County under the leadership of Su Ek, and that they had robbed and plundered his property.

Without warning a company of soldiers swooped down upon the community and arrested a number of men whose names the informer had given. Su Ek made his escape to the hills but he was pursued as a brigand chief, and was later joined by other farmers who had been similarly persecuted. Unable to return to their homes on pain of death they were forced to rob in order to live.

Su Ek and others were finally decoyed to Foochow upon the promise that their lives would be spared if they would induce their band to surrender. They met the conditions but the government officials broke faith and the men were executed. Similar attempts were made to enter into negotiations with the brigands and in 1915 two hundred were trapped and beheaded after pardons had been promised them. Naturally the robbers refused to trust the government officials again.

The months which elapsed between this act of treachery and the spring of 1916, were filled with innumerable outrages. Many townships were completely devastated, either by the bandits or the Chinese soldiers. Little will ever be known of what actually took place under the guise of settling brigandage, behind the mountains which separate Yuchi from the outer world. It is well that it should not be known.

During the spring of 1916 a missionary visited Yuchi. Business called him outside the city wall and just beyond the west gate he saw the bodies of ten persons who had that day been executed. Among these were two children, brothers, the sons of a man who was reported to have "sold rice to the brigands." The smaller child had wept and pleaded to be permitted to kneel beside his older brother further up in the row. He was too small to realize what it all meant but he wanted to die beside his brother.

In the middle of the field lay a man whose head was partly severed from his body and who had been shot through and through by the soldiers. He was lying upon his back in the broiling sun pleading for a cup of tea or for someone to put him out of his misery. The missionary learned the man's story. It appeared that years ago a law suit in which his father had been concerned had been decided in his favor. In order to square the score between the clans, the son of the man who had lost the suit had reported that he had seen this man carrying rice to the brigands. He had been arrested by the soldiers, partially killed, and left to lie in the glaring sun from nine o'clock in the morning until dark suffering the agonies of crucifixion. Not one of those who heard his moans dared to moisten the parched lips with tea lest he too be executed for having administered to a brigand.

The missionary returned to the city that night vowing that he would make a recurrence of such a thing impossible or he would leave China. He took up the matter with the authorities in Peking in a quiet way and later with the military governor in Foochow. He was well known to the brigands by reputation and visited several of the chiefs in their strongholds. They declared that they had confidence in him but none in the government—or its representatives. It was only after assuming full responsibility for any treachery that the brigands agreed to discuss terms.

Upon invitation to accompany him to the 24th Township, the missionary was escorted out to civilization by twenty-five picked men to whom the chief had entrusted an important charge. As the group neared the township the missionary sent word ahead to the commander of the northern soldiers to prepare to receive the brigands.



As the twenty-five bandits appeared upon the summit of a hill overlooking the city, soldiers could be seen forming into squads outside the barracks. Instantly the brigands halted, snapped back the bolts of their rifles, and threw in shells. The missionary realized that they suspected treachery and turning about he said, "I am the guarantee for your lives. If a shot is fired kill me first."

With two loaded guns at his back and accompanied by the brigands he marched into the city, where they were received by the officials with all the punctilious ceremony so dear to the heart of the Chinese. It had been a dangerous half hour for the missionary. If a rifle had been fired by mistake, and Chinese are always shooting when they themselves least expect to, he would have been instantly killed.

This conference, and others which followed, resulted in several hundred pardons being distributed to the brigands by the missionary himself. The men then returned to their abandoned homes and again took up their lives as respectable farmers. Thus the reign of terror in this portion of the province was ended through the efforts of one courageous man. It is such applied Christianity that has made us respect the missionary and admire his work.



CHAPTER XXVI

CHINESE NEW YEAR AT YUNG-CHANG

Y.B.A.

The last half of the expedition began January 13 when we left Ta-li Fu with a caravan of thirty miles for Yung-chang, eight days' travel to the south. The mafus although they had promised faithfully to come "at daylight" did not arrive until nearly noon and in consequence it was necessary to camp at Hsia-kuan at the foot of the lake.

We improved our time there in hunting about for skins and finally purchased two fine leopards and a tiger. The latter had been brought from the Tonking frontier. There were a number of Tibetans wandering about the market place and in the morning a caravan of at least two hundred horses followed by twenty or thirty Tibetans, passed into the city while it was yet gray dawn. They were bringing tea from P'u-erh and S'su-mao in the south of the province and although they had already been nearly a month upon their journey there was still many long weeks of travel before them ere they reached the wind-blown steppes of their native land.

The trip to Yung-chang proved uninteresting and uneventful. We crossed a succession of dry, thinly forested mountains from 7,000 to 8,000 feet high which near their summits were often clothed with a thick growth of rhododendron trees. The beautiful red flowers flashed like fire balls among the green leaves, peach trees were in full blossom and in some spots the dry hills seemed about to break forth in the full glory of their spring verdure. We crossed the Mekong near a village called Shia-chai on a picturesque chain suspension bridge of a type which is not unusual in the southern and western part of the province. Several heavy iron chains are firmly fastened to huge rock piers on opposite sides of the river and the roadway formed by planks laid upon them. Although the bridge shakes and swings in a rather alarming manner when a caravan is crossing, it is perfectly safe if not too heavily loaded.

In the afternoon of January 21, we rode down the mountain to the great Yung-chang plain, and for two hours trotted over a hard dirt road. The plain is eighteen miles long by six miles wide and except for its scattered villages, is almost entirely devoted to paddy fields. The city itself includes about five thousand houses. It is exceedingly picturesque and is remarkable for its long, straight, and fairly clean streets which contrast strongly with those of the usual Chinese town. At the west, but still within the city walls, is a picturesque wooded hill occupied almost exclusively by temples.

We ourselves camped between two ponds in the courtyard of a large and exceptionally clean temple just outside the south gate of the city. It was the Chinese New Year and Wu told us that for several days at least it would be impossible to obtain another caravan or expect the natives to do any work whatever. It was a very pleasant place in which to stay although we chafed at the enforced delay, but we made good use of our time in photographing and developing motion picture film, collecting birds and making various excursions.

Chinese New Year is always interesting to a foreigner and at Yung-chang we saw many of the customs attending its celebration. It is a time of feasting and merry making and no native, if he can possibly avoid it, will work on that day. Chinese families almost always live under one roof but should any male member be absent at this season the circumstances must be exceptional to prevent him from returning to his home.

It is customary, too, for brides to revisit their mother's house at New Year's. On our way to Yung-chang and for several days after leaving the city, we were continually passing young women mounted on mules or horses and accompanied by servants returning to their homes. New clothes are a leading feature of this season and the dresses of the brides and young matrons were usually of the most unexpected hues for, according to our conception of color, the Chinese can scarcely be counted conspicuous for their good taste. Purple and blue, orange and red, pink and lavender clash distressingly, but are worn with inordinate pride.

These visits are not an unalloyed pleasure to the bride's family. Dr. Smith says in "Chinese Characteristics":

When she goes to her mother's home, she goes on a strictly business basis. She takes with her it may be a quantity of sewing for her husband's family, which the wife's family must help her get through with. She is accompanied on each of these visits by as many of her children as possible, both to have her take care of them and to have them out of the way when she is not at hand to look after them, and most especially to have them fed at the expense of the family of the maternal grandmother for as long a time as possible. In regions where visits of this sort are frequent, and where there are many daughters in a family, their constant raids on the old home are a source of perpetual terror to the whole family, and a serious tax on the common resources. [Footnote: "Chinese Characteristics," by Arthur H. Smith, p. 200.]

Religious rites and ceremonies form a conspicuous part in the New Year's celebration. At this time the "Kitchen God," according to current superstition, returns to heaven to render an account of the household's behavior. The wily Chinese, however, first rubs the lips of the departing deity with candy in order to "sweeten" his report of any evil which he may have witnessed during the year.

Usually all the members of the family gather before the ancestral tablets, or should these be lacking as among many of the laboring classes, a scroll with a part of the genealogy is displayed and the spirits of the departed are appeased and honored by the burning of incense and the mumbling of incantations. While strict attention is paid to the religious observance to the dead, at New Year's the most punctilious ceremony is rendered to the living.

After the family have paid their respects to one another the younger male members go from house to house "kowtowing" to the elders who are there to receive them. The following days are devoted to visits to relatives living in the neighboring towns and villages, and this continues, an endless routine, until fourteen days later the Feast of the Lanterns puts an end to the "epoch of national leisure."

The Chinese are inveterate gamblers and at New Year's they turn feverishly to this form of amusement which is almost their only one. But they also have to think seriously about paying their debts for it is absolutely necessary for all classes and conditions of men to meet their obligations at the end of the year.

Almost everyone owes money in China. According to the clan system an individual having surplus cash is obliged to lend it (though at a high rate of interest) to any members of his family in need of help. However, a Chinaman never pays cash unless absolutely obliged to and almost never settles a debt until he has been dunned repeatedly.

The activity displayed at New Year's is ludicrous.

Each separate individual [says Dr. Smith] is engaged in the task of trying to chase down the men who owe money to him, and compel them to pay up, and at the same time in trying to avoid the persons who are struggling to track him down and corkscrew from him the amount of his indebtedness to them! The dodges and subterfuges to which each is obliged to resort, increase in complexity and number with the advance of the season, until at the close of the month, the national activity is at fever heat. For if a debt is not secured then, it will go over till a new year, and no one knows what will be the status of a claim which has actually contrived to cheat the annual Day of Judgment. In spite of the excellent Chinese habit of making the close of a year a grand clearing-house for all debts, Chinese human nature is too much for Chinese custom, and there are many of these postponed debts which are a grief of mind to many a Chinese creditor.

The Chinese are at once the most practical and the most sentimental of the human race. New Year must not be violated by duns for debts, and the debts must be collected New Year though it be. For this reason one sometimes sees an urgent creditor going about early on the first day of the year carrying a lantern looking for his creditor [=debtor]. His artificial light shows that by a social fiction the sun has not yet risen, it is still yesterday and the debt can still be claimed....

We have but to imagine the application of the principles which we have named, to the whole Chinese Empire, and we get new light upon the nature of the Chinese New Year festivities. They are a time of rejoicing, but there is no rejoicing so keen as that of a ruined debtor, who has succeeded by shrewd devices in avoiding the most relentless of his creditors and has thus postponed his ruin for at least another twelve months.

For, once past the narrow strait at the end of the year, the debtor finds himself again in the broad and peaceful waters, where he cannot be molested. Even should his creditors meet him on New Year's day, there could be no possibility of mentioning the fact of the previous day's disgraceful flight and concealment, or indeed of alluding to business at all, for this would not be "good form" and to the Chinese "Good Form" (otherwise known as custom), is the chief national divinity. [Footnote: "Village Life in China," by Arthur H. Smith, 1907, pp. 208-209.]

Yung-chang appears to be almost entirely inhabited by Chinese and in no part of the province did we see foot-binding more in evidence. Practically every woman and girl, young or old, regardless of her station in life was crippled in this brutal way. The women wear long full coats with flaring skirts which hang straight from their shoulders to their knees. When the trousers are tightly wrapped about their shrunken ankles, they look in a side view exactly like huge umbrellas.

One day we visited a cave thirty li north of the city where we hoped to find new bats. A beautiful little temple has been built over the entrance to the cavern which does not extend more than forty or fifty feet into the rock. But twenty li south of Yung-chang, just beyond the village of A-shih-wo, there is an enormous cave which is reported to extend entirely through the hill. Whether or not this is true we can not say for although we explored it in part we did not reach the end. The central corridor is about thirty feet wide and at least sixty or seventy high. We followed the main gallery for a long distance, and turned back at a branch which led off at a sharp angle. We were not equipped with sufficient candles to pursue the exploration more extensively and did not have time to visit it again. The cave contained some beautiful stalactites of considerable size, but the limestone was a dull lead color. We found only one bat and these animals appear not to have used it extensively since there was little sign upon the floor.

At Yuang-chang we saw water buffaloes for the first time in Yuen-nan but found them to be in universal use farther to the south and west. The huge brutes are as docile as a kitten in the hands of the smallest native child but they do not like foreigners and discretion is the better part of valor where they are concerned.

Water buffaloes are only employed for work in the rice fields but Chinese cows are used as burden bearers in this part of the province. Such caravans travel much more slowly than do mule trains although the animals are not loaded as heavily. Two or three of the leading cows usually carry upon their backs large bells hung in wooden frameworks and the music is by no means unmelodious when heard at a distance. Marco Polo, the great Venetian traveler, refers to Yung-chang as "Vochang." His account of a battle which was fought in its vicinity in the year 1272 between the King of Burma and Bengal and one of Kublai Khan's generals is so interesting that I am quoting it below:

When the king of Mien [Burma] and Bangala [Bengal], in India, who was powerful in the number of his subjects, in extent of territory, and in wealth, heard that an army of Tartars had arrived at Vochang [Yung-chang] he took the resolution of advancing immediately to attack it, in order that by its destruction the grand khan should be deterred from again attempting to station a force upon the borders of his dominions. For this purpose he assembled a very large army, including a multitude of elephants (an animal with which his country abounds), upon whose backs were placed battlements or castles, of wood, capable of containing to the number of twelve or sixteen in each. With these, and a numerous army of horse and foot, he took the road to Vochang, where the grand khan's army lay, and encamping at no great distance from it, intended to give his troops a few days of rest.

As soon as the approach of the king of Mien, with so great a force, was known to Nestardin, who commanded the troops of the grand khan, although a brave and able officer, he felt much alarmed, not having under his orders more than twelve thousand men (veterans, indeed, and valiant soldiers); whereas the enemy had sixty thousand, besides the elephants armed as has been described. He did not, however, betray any sign of apprehension, but descending into the plain of Vochang, took a position in which his flank was covered by a thick wood of large trees, whither, in case of a furious charge by the elephants, which his troops might not be able to sustain, they could retire, and from thence, in security, annoy them with their arrows....

Upon the king of Mien's learning that the Tartars had descended into the plain, he immediately put his army in motion, took up his ground at the distance of about a mile from the enemy, and made a disposition of his force, placing the elephants in the front, and the cavalry and infantry, in two extended wings, in their rear, but leaving between them a considerable interval. Here he took his own station, and proceeded to animate his men and encourage them to fight valiantly, assuring them of victory, as well from the superiority of their numbers, being four to one, as from their formidable body of armed elephants, whose shock the enemy, who had never before been engaged with such combatants, could by no means resist. Then giving orders for sounding a prodigious number of warlike instruments, he advanced boldly with his whole army towards that of the Tartars, which remained firm, making no movement, but suffering them to approach their entrenchments.

They then rushed out with great spirit and the utmost eagerness to engage; but it was soon found that the Tartar horses, unused to the sight of such huge animals, with their castles, were terrified, and by wheeling about endeavored to fly; nor could their riders by any exertions restrain them, whilst the king, with the whole of his forces, was every moment gaining ground. As soon as the prudent commander perceived this unexpected disorder, without losing his presence of mind, he instantly adopted the measure of ordering his men to dismount and their horses to be taken into the wood, where they were fastened to the trees.

When dismounted, the men without loss of time, advanced on foot towards the line of elephants, and commenced a brisk discharge of arrows; whilst, on the other side, those who were stationed in the castles, and the rest of the king's army, shot volleys in return with great activity; but their arrows did not make the same impression as those of the Tartars, whose bows were drawn with a stronger arm. So incessant were the discharges of the latter, and all their weapons (according to the instructions of their commander) being directed against the elephants, these were soon covered with arrows, and, suddenly giving way, fell back upon their own people in the rear, who were thereby thrown into confusion. It soon became impossible for their drivers to manage them, either by force or address. Smarting under the pain of their wounds, and terrified by the shouting of the assailants, they were no longer governable, but without guidance or control ran about in all directions, until at length, impelled by rage and fear, they rushed into a part of the wood not occupied by the Tartars. The consequence of this was, that from the closeness of the branches of large trees, they broke, with loud crashes, the battlements or castles that were upon their backs, and involved in the destruction those who sat upon them.

Upon seeing the rout of the elephants the Tartars acquired fresh courage, and filing off by detachments, with perfect order and regularity, they remounted their horses, and joined their several divisions, when a sanguinary and dreadful combat was renewed. On the part of the king's troops there was no want of valor, and he himself went amongst the ranks entreating them to stand firm, and not to be alarmed by the accident that had befallen the elephants. But the Tartars by their consummate skill in archery, were too powerful for them, and galled them the more exceedingly, from their not being provided with such armor as was worn by the former.

The arrows having been expended on both sides, the men grasped their swords and iron maces, and violently encountered each other. Then in an instant were to be seen many horrible wounds, limbs dismembered, and multitudes falling to the ground, maimed and dying; with such effusion of blood as was dreadful to behold. So great also was the clangor of arms, and such the shoutings and the shrieks, that the noise seemed to ascend to the skies. The king of Mien, acting as became a valiant chief, was present wherever the greatest danger appeared, animating his soldiers, and beseeching them to maintain their ground with resolution. He ordered fresh squadrons from the reserve to advance to the support of those that were exhausted; but perceiving at length that it was impossible any longer to sustain the conflict or to withstand the impetuosity of the Tartars, the greater part of his troops being either killed or wounded, and all the field covered with the carcasses of men and horses, whilst those who survived were beginning to give way, he also found himself compelled to take to flight with the wreck of his army, numbers of whom were afterwards slain in the pursuit....

The Tartars having collected their force after the slaughter of the enemy, returned towards the wood into which the elephants had fled for shelter, in order to take possession of them, where they found that the men who had escaped from the overthrow were employed in cutting down trees and barricading the passages, with the intent of defending themselves. But their ramparts were soon demolished by the Tartars, who slew many of them, and with the assistance of the persons accustomed to the management of the elephants, they possessed themselves of these to the number of two hundred or more. From the period of this battle the grand khan has always chosen to employ elephants in his armies, which before that time he had not done. The consequences of the victory were, that he acquired possession of the whole of the territories of the king of Bangala and Mien, and annexed them to his dominions. [Footnote: "The Travels of Marco Polo the Venetian." Everyman's Library. J.M. Dent & Sons, Ltd., London; pp. 253-256.]