soon discovered traces of a fire, where small pieces of coal were still smouldering but the larger lumps were cold and wet from the water very recently poured over them to put out the fire.
"Somebody has put the fire out in a hurry," whispered one of the miners. "Evidently they were not anxious to receive unexpected guests."
We listened very attentively, but not the slightest sound came to us to betray the presence of any human beings.
"They have hidden themselves well," remarked Rusoff, one of the miners, with a laugh.
As the light was rapidly fading, we decided to turn back; and, on emerging from the gulch, heard the dismal creaking of a Chinese cart, this unusual vehicle whose great wooden axle turns with the wheels and carries on two points of contact the whole weight of the load. We set our course by the sound and soon discovered a Chinese unmercifully lashing his team of four ponies that were struggling to pull an immense load of kaoliang stalks through the ruts and holes of a typically impossible Manchurian highway. When we asked the inhuman carter about the coal, he promised, for a good price, to show us on the following morning the remains of former shafts in the hills. We consequently decided to spend the night in the near-by village, whither the Chinese was bound with his kaoliang stalks, and to go with him at dawn to the abandoned shafts.
Our guide lodged us in his house on the inevitable k'ang, where the fleas at once began their assault upon us, but this time for our salvation. Turning on this bed of torture, I could not sleep at all, though my miners, long inured to this feature of Manchurian life, dozed soundly. On the end of the k'ang our host snored away,
