The river was less than a hundred yards wide here, and the five men and the boy had enough skill to get the boat across with rapidity. The big man with the iron-pronged stick, seizing an oar, rowed frantically. One of the wool-dealers aided him by poling with desperation until the water became too deep. And as a little breeze filled the hoisted sail, they swung on to the opposite shore at a point far lower down than they had embarked.

It was this circumstance which saved their lives. For Wang the Ninth, sitting astride of the tiller, and turning back constantly to look suddenly gave a great leap and was out of the boat before there was time to realize what he was doing.

"Lai-la, lai-la (they have come)!" he screamed as he tumbled across the mud with the agility of a frog. He had seen a glint of red in the reeds on the opposite shore—just a glint—but that was enough.

The others, being less nimble, crawled out using the sail as a screen. Then, trembling violently, all of them disappeared quickly enough into the reeds which grew rank and high. Distant voices shouting curses were audible as they went; but the rifles they feared did not speak. The soldiers were running along the opposite bank fairly mad with rage; it was evident that they knew the country and were holding their fire until they could be certain of their quarry.

The fugitives had not gone twenty yards before they discovered that the great clumps of reeds were no real protection; for the ground was so marshy that the only safe road was the tracking-path beside the river. Already they were surrounded by mud and water. The soldiers counted on their certain reappearance when they would begin their shooting.

It was the big fellow with the iron-pronged stick who explained this to them all in a guttural whisper, when they reached the end of the solid ground and stood in an irresolute group. Some wild-fowl rising almost from under their feet with a screech startled them all so badly that they turned deadly pale.

"A pretty dilemma!" exclaimed one of the wool-merchants in a hoarse whisper. "We cannot advance; we dare not retreat. And if we remain here too long, in the end the soldiers will find another boat to carry them across and exact vengeance, or perhaps fire chance shots, hoping to bring us down. Far better had we never moved."

But Wang the Ninth was not idle. He had stripped off his shoes and his trousers and had commenced wading in a new direction. Soon he was lost to sight, even his splashing becoming inaudible. But after a long wait he reappeared, forcing his way through the reeds from a different direction.

"I have found a bank of dry land. How far it extends I have not learnt, but if all follow it may be that we can reach safety."

There was nothing to do but to imitate his example, and soon all were splashing through the mud and water to where he awaited them. A half-submerged bank of earth, which may have been a forgotten dyke, stretched away through the reeds, and although it soon narrowed down to a path just broad enough to walk on, it led them far away from the river—straight to the south.

Their spirits rose so rapidly as they progressed that now they began to talk almost gaily.

"It is a reed-cutters' path, that is absolutely certain," asserted Wang the Ninth. "Soon we must reach a village, for this is an important trade and I know well how this business is carried on."

"This boy is right," agreed the man with the iron-pronged stick. "Certainly he is right: there is already smoke from some chimney."

It was even as he said. Soon from out of the dense reeds they heard the sound of cries and a scurrying of feet.

"Shui—(who is that)?" a voice called threateningly.

"We are travellers—we require to be shown the road," they called, one after the other, keeping up a perpetual chorus for fear of what would happen if they remained silent.

Rounding the last clump of reeds they saw a village of mud huts. In front of a small open space, on which were piled masses of dried reeds, stood a big fellow stripped to the waist with a formidable jingal in his hand; and at his side were some barking dogs. He was evidently prepared for the worst.

His expression slowly changed as they came in view. The appearance of the wool-dealers, heavily laden with their saddlebags and greatly exhausted by their efforts, was certainly eminently peaceful; and now as their chorus of explanations redoubled, a new-found courage displayed itself in his roughness.

"What talk of seeking a road is this!" he exclaimed angrily. "This is a small poor village surrounded by water, where we risk starvation from year to year and where there is nothing for others."

They answered him in a storm of talk speaking so much of soldiers that fear returned to him.

"If they pursue you it is best for you to proceed quickly," he rejoined, not listening to them. "Here are women and children who cannot be imperilled."

"But the road, the road," they cried. "We cannot fail to pay you your stipulated price."

At the mention of money the reed-cutter rubbed his face with one horny hand.

"Those who ask aid must make it worth while," he declared ambiguously. "I was left here by our folk to protect the households. If I go who is there to insure safety?"

A long and animated argument commenced; and as it progressed, slowly and cautiously the denizens of the village approached—slatternly women in torn blue clothing with babies in their arms, and half-grown girls, and small boys, all the offspring of a mating carried on as in primeval forests, and now stricken with fear.

At length the price was settled, and the reed-cutter led them to where a small flat-bottomed boat was concealed in the reeds. This it was necessary to carry a considerable distance; but finally it was launched where there was a clear water-passage. It was just big enough to embark them all; and with the reed-cutter poling them, they slowly travelled away from the scene of the day's adventure.

The sun was already low when the man stopped and pointed to a spot a few hundred yards away.

"There will I take you," he said. "Farther I cannot go. From there a good road leads to the seaport which is distant some eighty li."

"Eighty li," they cried in alarm. "This morning when we started we were but sixty li off."

"But you have travelled far to the southeast. This is the southeastern road. In any case it is eighty li."

They paid the price agreed upon and started off without further discussion. Although Wang the Ninth had chattered all the way in the boat now he had nothing to say.

He was thinking—thinking of what the villagers had said two days ago about the country to the southeast. This was the robber country. He did not dare to give voice to his suspicions because that might bring the whole party to a halt.

A mile or two further on a small green snake slid across the road and disappeared into the undergrowth.

"A snake crosses the road," he cried. "There will be heavy weather soon."

A few hundred yards farther on a second snake crossed the road going so rapidly and viciously that it was almost impossible to follow with the eyes.

The boy opened his mouth but closed it without speaking. Two snakes—what did two snakes mean? It was something unlucky he had once heard; but he never thought that it might simply come from the undergrowth being disturbed by hidden feet. He was trying to think of the explanation—he knew there was an explanation—when the warning was made clear. A half-a-dozen men, with hideous painted masks over their faces, leaped out of the growing grain and fired from their hips. Crack, crack, crack went the shots. Wang the Ninth, stricken with alarm, threw himself instinctively on the ground, and wriggled into the kaoliang amidst the cries and groans of the others who never left the road.

He was alone once more—in the growing grain—perhaps twenty miles from his destination.