He showed infinite cunning in his advance. His sheltered life dropped from him like a discarded garment. Fortified by his long experience of vagabond days he displayed the cunning of the young animal that knows that older animals are stronger and more savage, and must be kept off by stealth and not by strength.

Keeping close to the deep shadow of the city wall, he watched carefully the ground in front of his feet so that he should not fall over sleeping men. In summer it was not rare for men to sleep along this sandy stretch where the camel caravans passed; and if there were soldiers posted here that was what they would certainly be doing.

South of him lay the broad city moat, a noisome antediluvian defence. This he knew he could not cross save by the stone bridges at the city gates, for it was full of a black terrible slime. Once in his childhood he had been nearly choked by falling into it, and he still cherished a wholesome dread of its nature.

He went on slowly thinking of all sorts of things as he stole forward. Down here, with the great barrier of the city wall cutting him off, the rifle-fire round the foreign quarter sounded faint—as if it were miles away. He seemed to have left far behind him all the troubles and the interests of many chequered days; what was real and absorbing to him was to keep tally of the outjutting buttresses, so that he might carefully hide himself before the stone bridge was reached.

Some hovels, built by beggars, loomed up unexpectedly after he had gone half-a-mile or so. He threw himself on the ground, and listened long and carefully before he advanced any further. He knew well that if there were soldiers about they would have certainly taken these shelters and driven the owners away. He lay so long and so still on the ground that he dozed a little; when he opened his eyes the waning moon was coming slowly and majestically over the horizon, making the obscurity of the mighty city wall seem more funereal than ever.

He watched the moon curiously and lazily as if it had some special message for him. In a stately manner it lifted itself higher and higher until it was far above the earthline. Now it threw over the scene a great silver light in which the hovels stood out like black islands.

Not a sound from them—not a movement. Reassured he scuttled forward until he was in their shadow. He was sure they were empty. There was no sound of breathing. Yet to be quite sure he did not stir for minutes.

How queer! As he crept on he saw in the moonlight beyond the hovels a single old beggar sleeping—a very old man with a white beard, who lay on his back, with his knees pulled up sharply, and one arm sticking up as if it did not belong to him. The figure fascinated the boy. He watched it for a long time. He was quite sure that any one sleeping here now must know perfectly where the soldiers were posted, and what sort of men they were—and their numbers, too. Yielding to an impulse he crawled right up to the sleeper and tapped on the arm which fell at once.

"Ta-ko (elder brother)" he said in an undertone, using a polite phrase of the people to be sure of a polite reception. "I have strayed far from my home and am hungry and frightened. I could manage a bowl of something warm if I knew where to get it."

No answer.

He tried again:

"Yeh-yeh (grandfather) can you not give me some comforting information about this neighbourhood?"

Still no answer.

"Tortoise!" he exclaimed, exchanging his politeness for an habitual insult in his irritation as he pulled at the man's sleeve. "Old tortoise, you sleep deep out here in your rags under the city wall."

Then something prompted him to stop and gaze open-mouthed at the old man's bare chest and stomach. It had a big dark stain. He bent lower until his eyes were only a few inches away. Quite distinctly in the moonlight he could see the marks of the wound.

"Ssu-la—he is dead," the boy whispered in a hollow voice.

He was dead—evidently shot down by the soldiers. He had been killed in sight of his home.

Death in the East is no mystery: yet the boy shivered once or twice because he was so lonely. The vast barren space under the wall was tenanted only by this dead man and himself; and lurking somewhere near were the soldiers.

From far away came a peculiar grunt and snarl which was repeated again and again. The sound rose and hung on the night air, and now the boy rejoiced.

"Camels," he exclaimed aloud in his joy. There was a caravan of animals evidently camped just by the stone bridge, waiting like him for the dawn. At the first streak of daylight they would be off. It would be easy to join them. By mixing with the drivers he might escape notice. Now with the phlegm and patience of his race he sat down with his legs tucked under him prepared to wait for dawn.

Several times he became so drowsy that he heeled over, waking himself up completely with the shock of falling to the ground. But he was determined to remain awake cost what it might to his resolution. There would be a bare few minutes when dawn came to carry out his plan: if he missed the first coming of daylight it would be too late and the camels would be gone.

Calculating by the moon, at three o'clock he began to creep forward on his hands and knees. He might be mistaken for a dog, he thought, if any one were watching. He managed it so well that in the gentle night breeze he smelt the camels long before he could make out a single one of them. Then listening carefully as he approached, he could hear the murmur of the camel-drivers' voices. Already they were awake since it was their habit to start in the dark. But now they would not move until clear daylight for fear of the soldiers.

Dawn at last and from near the rings of kneeling camels wreaths of smoke. The drivers were evidently boiling tea for themselves, purposely delaying their departure until it was safe.

Now clear daylight. The boy by working along under the city wall was only fifty yards away, sheltered by a high bank of sand. He sat down with his back to the brickwork watching for the start.

The well-remembered snarling commenced. Jerking roughly at the nose-rings the drivers were raising the camels to their feet. Now they stood in a great shaggy herd and with their clumsy bells clanking, they started off. Quickly yet quietly he raced after them until he was near the last string: for it is the custom of the country to tie seven to a group which is led by one man. He gave a swift glance up at the empty baskets, and saw some sweet-potato vine hanging down. They were fruits-camels, he was sure. He knew the road they would take out of the city. It was just right for him.

Round the great belly of brick—the curtain of the city gate—the camels progressed. There was the stone bridge right in front of them; and on it were gaudy soldiers' flags. The caravan had come to a dead halt. The boy peering round the camels' hairy legs could see that there was an altercation with some guards. One camel-driver was down on his knees kowtowing humbly. There was a long pause during which the boy's heart was in his mouth. Would they be allowed to proceed? At last, the long train commenced swaying forward once more: they had been given the right to leave the city.

The leading files were already passing across the stone bridge when the boy saw that the soldiers stopped and interrogated each man leading his string of seven animals. If they did that to the men what would they not do to him?

In a flash he made up his mind to a desperate move. There was some long green creeper, in which the fruit had been packed, still hanging to the empty baskets on the last camel's back. The boy plucked it rapidly down, edged up to the last camel's head and rapidly pushed it into the camel's mouth. The camel grunted its pleasure and commenced mashing the acid creeper. The boy gave it more. Having quieted it, he grasped the cord hanging from the baskets, and with a desperate leap managed to pull himself half-way up. Then holding on like grim death to the fur of the animal, with a swift wriggle he did an old trick: he threw himself upside down and got a foot round a hump. Hanging head down, and clawing at the animal's furry hide, he jerked his light weight completely up. Exhausted and deathly pale from the exertion, he lay at last safe between the humps.

The moment of ordeal had arrived.

He knew that there was nothing to fear from the driver of the last string. He was at least twenty yards ahead with seven swaying animals in between; and with his heart certainly quaking from fear of the soldiers. It was only these he had to fear. With his eyes feigning sleep he squinted out beneath his eyelashes rocking himself to and fro. Here they were in numbers, in their parti-coloured tunics and their rifles held menacingly, ready for any sort of violence, delighting in violence. The boy thought of the white-bearded beggar lying dead on the sands with the ants beginning already to crawl over him, and closed his eyes completely, as if he were really sleeping.

He heard their rough talk. He heard one man call attention to the last tortoise-egg on the last camel; but no one actually molested him.

Clankety-clank went the camels. The stone-bridge was far behind before he dared move even so much as an eyelash. Then at last he boldly looked behind. They were turning a corner—safe. Here the narrow street was absolutely deserted. No soldiers. He slipped to the ground like a flash and disappeared into a twisting lane.