Held by Chinese Brigands. Gilson Charles

Confucianism is scarcely a religion; it is a system of moral philosophy which, however, serves its purpose. There are few Mohammedans in China, though great numbers of Buddhists-Chinese Buddhism differing in several interesting particulars from the corruption of the religion which exists to-day in India. However, the great bulk of the people, especially in the rural districts, are Taoists. Taoism is extremely difficult to understand, and even harder to explain. The original Taoist doctrine was a philosophy of fatalism; it has deteriorated, however, into a belief in evil spirits, alchemy, black magic, and so forth. Taoism and Buddhism have become confused; in the Taoist temples images can be seen of Buddha and his disciples."

      "Guess that's what I want to see," cut in Mr Waldron.

      The judge was silent a moment.

      "I am about to undertake a long and somewhat arduous journey," he continued. "I have had a great deal of work of late, and am taking a six weeks' vacation. In pursuit of my hobby I intend to journey up the West River, to visit a very famous and ancient Taoist temple, situated in the hills, not far from the town of Pinglo. If you would like to accompany me, Mr Waldron, I am sure I shall be delighted. I warn you, however, that it will be no picnic. The heat will be excessive-for the summer is here-and we shall be called upon to undergo certain inconveniences and even hardships."

      "Sir," exclaimed the American, "I began life as a cow-puncher in Texas. I have consorted, in the course of my career, with Mexican caballeros, bar tenders and pugilists. I'm not likely to get cold feet at the sight of a mosquito or a heathen god."

      The judge laughed, and rose to his feet. Mr Waldron knocked the ash from the end of his cigar.

      The moonlit harbour lay immediately beneath them. The mast-head signalling-lights upon the anchored cruisers winked their dots and dashes from one to the other. The round Chinese lanterns upon the sampans moved restlessly, like fire-flies, upon the dark surface of the water. Somewhere, to the right, in the midst of the trees, a military band was playing; now and again they caught the strains ofLight Cavalry or The Pilgrim's March, fromTannhäuser. To the left, the flaming lights in the streets of the Chinese quarter threw their reflection upon the dark foliage of the palms and orange-trees on the slopes of Mount Davis. Strange two-stringed instruments and shrill Chinese voices, heard faintly in the distance, conveyed to Mr Hennessy K. Waldron the impression that he was thousands of miles away from Paradise City.

      "That's settled, then," said the judge. "We travel together, Mr Waldron. I shall be delighted to have the pleasure of your company."

      "Judge," said Mr Waldron, "the pleasure is mine, sure. If it's temples, I'm your man. If there's going to be danger, I carry a six-shooter; and I can handle a gun as well as any."

      "I trust," said the other, "that no such necessity will arise. However, in the region of the Nan-ling Mountains anything may happen. I myself will go unarmed."

      At that moment a boy of about sixteen years of age entered the verandah from the dimly lighted drawing-room beyond, where he had been seated for some time engrossed in a book. Though he was a good-looking and well-built lad, he had the yellow complexion similar to that of the Chinese themselves, which sooner or later comes to every European who has lived for any length of time in the Far East.

      "Are you talking about your journey up the West River, uncle?" he asked, with his eyes upon the heavy Colt revolver that Mr Waldron had produced from the hip-pocket of his trousers.

      "Yes," said Sir Thomas. "Mr Waldron has agreed to come with me. I have promised him that the expedition will be full of interest."

      "I am going too?" asked the boy.

      The judge laid a hand upon his nephew's shoulder. "I believe," said he, "that was arranged. Here, Mr Waldron," he added, turning to the American, "is our interpreter. I have studied the Chinese language all my life and can speak a little in the Mandarin dialect. But Frank is lucky. He learnt the language from his amah, or Chinese nurse. He could talk Cantonese before he knew fifty words of English. When I am travelling on the mainland I always take Frank with me. The Chinese are extraordinary people. If you speak their language badly they will not attempt to understand you, but Frank can talk the Southern dialect as well as the peasants themselves."

      "I'm in luck's way," observed Mr Waldron. "In the old days in Texas, if I was prospecting for gold, I struck oil; if I was looking for oil, I found gold. That's how I made my pile. I guess there're not many globe-trotters who get such an opportunity of leaving the beaten track, of seeing China from the inside. And, Judge, I'm no good on the stump, but let me tell you, sir, I appreciate the honour; and if ever you find yourself in Paradise City, Nevada, U.S.A., you'll find my name a free pass to anything that's going, from a ten-cent circus to a pocketful of cigars. And that's a bargain, Judge."

      Whilst Mr Waldron was expressing, in his own peculiar fashion, his sense of obligation, there appeared, in the shadows of the room that gave upon the verandah, a tall, dark-eyed Cantonese servant, a man of about thirty years of age, with a black glistening pigtail which reached almost to his knees.

      Wearing soft, felt-soled shoes, he glided across the room as noiselessly and as stealthily as a cat. At the casement window he caught sight of the shining barrels of Mr Waldron's nickel-plated revolver. And at once he disappeared-behind a curtain.

      "And now, Judge, may I ask when you intend to start?" asked the American.

      "In a week's time," said Sir Thomas. "That will give you a few days in which to see the sights of Hong-Kong. Bring no more baggage than one man can carry. We are going into a country where there are no roads, only a few footpaths between the ricefields. And above all, Mr Waldron, I must request you to say nothing about it to anyone. Our destination must remain a secret. I do not trust even my own personal attendants."

      "Your wishes will be obeyed, Judge," said Mr Waldron. "But may I ask, sir, why these precautions are essential?"

      "They are not essential," said the judge, "but I think you will agree with me they are wise when I tell you that the West River abounds with pirates, and there are several gangs of Chinese bandits in the Nan-ling Mountains, especially in the neighbourhood where we are going. The town of Pinglo has an exceptionally bad reputation. You yourself, Mr Waldron, are a wealthy man, and I have a position of some importance in this colony. It might be well worth the while of some rascal who is in touch with the West River pirates to give information against us."

      "I get your meaning, Judge," said Mr Waldron, returning his revolver to his hip-pocket. "I'm as dumb as a dewberry pie. And now I must get back to my hotel. Good-night, and, sir, I'm pleased and honoured to have met you."

      "One moment," said the judge. "Let me send for a ricksha. I am afraid my own chair coolies have gone to bed."

      Sir Thomas entered the drawing-room, unconscious of the fact there was a man not five paces away from him hiding behind the curtain. He rang a small bronze hand-bell and returned to the verandah.

      The man behind the curtain dropped down upon his hands and knees, and keeping in the shade of the various chairs and tables he gained the door, opened it, and passed through silently.

      Two seconds afterwards he re-entered, standing at his full height, with an expression of profound dignity, even of contempt, upon every feature of his face.

      He closed the door with a bang, marched with a stately stride across the room, and presented himself at the window.

      "Master rang," said he.

      "Yes," said Sir Thomas. "Yung How, please order a ricksha for Mr Waldron, to take him to the King Edward Hotel."

      The man bowed-if an almost imperceptible downward movement of the head may be so described.

      "Yes, master," said he.

      Stepping upon the verandah, he picked up the empty glass which had contained Mr Waldron's whisky-and-soda. Holding this in his hand, as if it were something sacramental, Yung How stalked gravely from the room.

      That night, tossing restlessly upon his bed in the stifling heat of the breathless tropic night, Mr Hennessy K. Waldron, of Paradise City, Nev., dreamed of heathen gods.

      CHAPTER II-OF AH WU'S OPIUM DEN

      The small river-launch steamed