On to Pekin/Chapter 23
CHAPTER XXIII
GILBERT'S NARROW ESCAPE
When Gilbert regained his senses, he found himself bound hands and feet, and lying upon a pallet of straw. The place was a stone cell, and in a niche of the wall a dim lantern was burning.
He wondered how he had come there, and at last concluded that the old priest had had him made a prisoner and carried hither. His head hurt him not a little, and there was a painful sore on his left elbow.
"I suppose I am worse off than I was before," was his dismal conclusion. "That priest will never let me go, now that I have shot one of his followers."
As weak as he was, he endeavored to release himself from his bonds; but the effort proved a failure. His captors had done their work well, and he merely succeeded in cutting his wrists and ankles until the blood came.
His movements created some noise; and presently a door to the cell opened, and the man who had tackled him and who had escaped the second shot came in. He grinned savagely when he saw that Gilbert's eyes were open, and addressed the prisoner in Chinese.
Not understanding a word, Gilbert made no reply, at which the Boxer—for such the fellow was—gave a growl, and kicked the prostrate officer in the side.
"You're a cheerful brute!" gasped Gilbert, as soon as he could get back the wind of which he had been deprived. "I thought some of our soldiers were unnecessarily cruel; but I reckon you fellows deserve all you are getting, and more."
The Boxer did not understand, but he guessed that the young lieutenant was finding fault; and he kicked Gilbert again. Then, with another growl, he took down the lantern and went out, leaving his prisoner in darkness.
If the young lieutenant had felt downhearted before, he was now even more discouraged. He was alone, and it was doubtful if any but his enemies were aware of his situation.
"If the boys knew of this, they would come to the rescue," he reasoned. "But they don't know, and it's likely they won't find out. For once I have put my head into the lion's mouth."
The Boxer kicked the prostrate officer in the side.—Page 230.
Gilbert wondered how long he had been unconscious, but had no means of finding out. His weapons were gone, also the money he had had in his pocket. The latter had been taken by the priest's follower, not by the Buddhist himself.
An hour went by, and the young lieutenant realized that he was both hungry and thirsty. Then came a noise which was far from welcome.
A number of rats had discovered his presence, and they came out of a hole in the wall to sniff at his hands and legs. He hissed them off, and they scampered out of sight. But soon they came back, re-enforced by others; and, when he hissed again, they merely retreated to the side of the cell, evidently realizing that he could not come after them. At last one old rat, probably the father of the colony, advanced, and proceeded to sample the flesh of one of Gilbert's lower limbs.
The yell the young lieutenant gave echoed and re-echoed throughout the cell; and for the minute every rat disappeared, but only for the minute. Then they came back, in greater numbers than ever, and ran all over Gilbert's body.
Try his best, the young officer could not fight off the rodents; and he was just beginning to think that he might be eaten up alive, when the cell door opened, and the Buddhist priest appeared, along with his follower. The pair saw at once the cause of the disturbance, and quickly chased the rats out of sight, slaying none of them; for to the Buddhists animal life is sacred.
The rats having been disposed of, a short talk followed between the priest and his man; and then the latter caught Gilbert up in his arms, and threw the lieutenant over his shoulder as if he were a bag of flour. Leaving the cell, they ascended a long flight of stone steps, and soon reached the floor of the joss house.
The scene that greeted Gilbert surprised him greatly. In one corner of the gloomy building was a large idol, having one arm up and another down and three eyes, the third being set in the middle of the forehead. In front of this idol rested seven burning joss sticks and three platters of cornmeal, all in a semicircle. In the centre of the semicircle rested a square block of wood, and beside this an axe.
The edge of the axe and the top of the block were besmeared with what looked like human blood; and, as he gazed at these implements of the Chinese executioner's trade, he could not help but shiver. At this the priest's follower laughed softly; but, turning, the Buddhist struck the man on the mouth, upon which he relapsed into immediate silence.
Reaching the block, the priest motioned his helper to put Gilbert down; and at the same time the holy man began a low chant, which at the opening sounded like a hive of bees when about to swarm. Gradually, the chanting became louder; and the priest then walked around the idol a dozen times or more, hitting it in various places and pounding his forehead and his hips repeatedly. At the end of the chant he threw himself flat, and remained in this position for fully five minutes.
The whole ceremony was so curious that Gilbert would have been deeply interested had he not felt that it was but the forerunner of some attack upon himself.
On rising, the Buddhist priest motioned to his helper to take up the axe; and he himself came forward to feel if the edge of the implement was sharp enough for the work at hand. Satisfied on this point, the holy man caught Gilbert around the body, and raised him to his feet.
The young lieutenant now felt that he must either do or die, and he resolved to put up the best fight possible. "I'd rather die fighting than be beheaded," he muttered; and, exerting all his strength, he hit the old Buddhist in the stomach with his elbow, and knocked the priest flat.
At once the follower, who had the axe, leaped forward; and for the moment it looked as if Gilbert would be slain where he stood. But, as the blade descended, the young Southerner sprang to one side, and the axe struck the stone flooring. At the same moment came a call from outside.
"Help! help!" cried Gilbert, at the top of his voice. "I am in the joss house! Help!"
"Sto—stop him!" gasped the old priest, as he sat up, out of wind. "Stop him! " And he continued to call out in Chinese.
But now came a crash on one of the windows of the joss house, followed by a rapid succession of blows; and two of the boards were sent flying over one of the idols. Then a soldier appeared in the opening. A gun was levelled, and a report followed. The man with the axe dropped the weapon, and sank down, fatally shot through the chest.
"Dan Casey!" burst out Gilbert. "Quick, cover the priest!"
"Is it indade you?" came from Dan Casey. "Sure, an' phwat were the haythins up to now, tell me that?"
"They were going to behead me! The priest—quick, Dan!"
Gilbert broke off short; for the Buddhist had leaped upon him, and now had him by the throat. The turn of affairs had rendered the holy man frantic; and he was foaming at the mouth, while his eyes shone like twin stars.
The lights around the idol lit up the scene well, and Dan Casey did not hesitate over what to do. Again his rifle came up; and, as it spoke out, the old Buddhist tottered back, shot through the hip. Once he got up again, but Gilbert easily leaped from his reach. Then he rolled over to the foot of the idol, and lay still.
By this time Casey was coming through the window. Making a leap, he landed on the shoulder of the nearest idol, and from there reached the floor. He was followed by two other soldiers of Gilbert's company, and all three ran forward to their commander's assistance.
"Oh, how thankful I am that you have come!" murmured Gilbert, when released from his bonds. "A little longer, and it would have been all up with me."
"Sure, an' we have been huntin' fer ye fer the best part av six hours," answered Dan Casey. "How in the worruld did ye git here, I don't know."
"I received a message, and very foolishly came alone. But how did you happen to come to the joss house?"
"I met an English marine, who said he had seen an American lieutenant go into the back dure wid one av thim haythins; an' I put it down for you. Are any more of the Chinks around?"
"No. There were three, but I put one of them out of the fight some time ago. How long is it since I left our headquarters? I have lost track of time."
"Ye left at noon yesterday. It's now tin o'clock in the marnin'."
"Then I was overcome all night by a tumble I took through a trap-door. Casey, I owe you a good deal for this—and you other men, too," added the young Southerner.
"That's all right, lieutenant," said one of the men. "We are glad we reached you as we did. The troops ought to take possession of this place after this."
"They shall, Netwood,—and keep a strict guard for underhanded work, too. That old priest— Gracious! What is he up to now?"
Gilbert took a step forward, and so did the others. Then all came to a stop, fascinated by the scene being enacted before them.
Wounded as he was, the old Buddhist had struggled to his feet, and tottered to another idol, one holding a bird and a dog in its hand. Before this idol the priest was waving his hands, and chanting in the same monotonous tone he had before employed. In his right fingers he clutched a dagger, with which he was making circles before the idol's face.
"Looks as if he was going to carve the idol up," whispered Netwood.
"Hush!" replied Gilbert. "Look at him! Isn't it enough to make one's blood run cold?"
"Hadn't we better make him a prisoner?" put in the third soldier of the party. "He may become very dangerous when he's worked up. His eyes—"
The soldier stopped short. The Buddhist priest had turned to look at the Americans. Now he made a horrible face,—like that of a snarling wolf,—and spat at them. Then, turning swiftly, he placed his dagger to his breast, and, looking up at the idol, let himself fall upon the point of the blade.
"He has killed himself!" burst out Gilbert, and leaped forward, followed by his men. But he was too late. When they turned the old priest over, he was stone-dead. Rather than become a prisoner of the enemy, he had taken his own life.
As they gathered around the old man, they noted that the wolf-like expression of the face was gone, and something like a smile had taken its place. Nobody could speak for several seconds, and Gilbert felt a curious lump rise in his throat.
"He's dead!" he murmured hoarsely. "He wanted to take my life, but I don't bear him any grudge. He thought he was in the right, and he lived according to his light. I wish this war was over."
And just then every man who heard those words wished the same.