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Title: Camps and Trails in China - A Narrative of Exploration, Adventure, and Sport in Little-Known China
Author: Andrews, Roy Chapman, Andrews, Yvette Borup
Language: English
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CHINA ***
CAMPS AND TRAILS
IN CHINA
[Illustration: Our Camp on the Snow Mountain at an Altitude of 12,000
Feet]
CAMPS AND TRAILS IN CHINA
A NARRATIVE OF EXPLORATION, ADVENTURE,
AND SPORT IN LITTLE-KNOWN CHINA
ROY CHAPMAN ANDREWS, M.A.
ASSOCIATE CURATOR OF MAMMALS IN THE AMERICAN MUSEUM OF NATURAL HISTORY
AND LEADER OF THE MUSEUM'S ASIATIC ZOÖLOGICAL EXPEDITION OF 1916-1917;
FELLOW NEW YORK ACADEMY OF SCIENCES; CORRESPONDING MEMBER ZOÖLOGICAL
SOCIETY OF LONDON; MEMBER OF THE BIOLOGICAL SOCIETY OF WASHINGTON;
AUTHOR "WHALEHUNTING WITH GUN AND CAMERA"
AND
YVETTE BORUP ANDREWS
PHOTOGRAPHER OF THE ASIATIC ZOÖLOGICAL EXPEDITION
[Illustration]
ILLUSTRATED
D. APPLETON AND COMPANY NEW YORK LONDON 1918
Copyright, 1918, by D. APPLETON AND COMPANY
Printed in the United States of America
THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED TO
PRESIDENT HENRY FAIRFIELD OSBORN
AS AN EXPRESSION OF GRATITUDE AND ADMIRATION
"Let us probe the silent places, let us seek what luck betide us;
Let us journey to a lonely land I know.
There's a whisper on the night-wind, there's a star agleam to guide us,
And the Wild is calling, calling ... let us go."
--_Service_.
PREFACE
The object of this book is to present a popular narrative of the
Asiatic Zoölogical Expedition of the American Museum of Natural History
to China in 1916-17. Details of a purely scientific nature have been
condensed, or eliminated, and emphasis has been placed upon our
experiences with the strange natives and animals of a remote and little
known region in the hope that the book will be interesting to the
general reader.
The scientific reputation of the Expedition will rest upon the
technical reports of its work which will be published in due course
by the American Museum of Natural History. To these reports we would
refer those readers who desire more complete information concerning the
results of our researches. At the time the manuscript of this volume
was sent to press the collections were still undergoing preparation and
the study of the different groups had just begun.
Although the book has been largely written by the senior author, his
collaborator has contributed six chapters marked with her initials; all
the illustrations are from her photographs and continual use has been
made of her daily journals; she has, moreover, materially assisted in
reference work and in numerous other ways.
The information concerning the relationships and distribution of the
native tribes of Yün-nan is largely drawn from the excellent reference
work by Major H. R. Davies and we have followed his spelling of Chinese
names.
Parts of the book have been published as separate articles in the
_American Museum Journal_, _Harper's Magazine_, and _Asia_ and to the
editors of the above publications our acknowledgments are due.
That the Expedition obtained a very large and representative
collection of small mammals is owing in a great measure to the efforts
of Mr. Edmund Heller, our companion in the field. He worked tirelessly
in the care and preservation of the specimens, and the fact that
they reached New York in excellent condition is, in itself, the best
testimony to the skill and thoroughness with which they were prepared.
Our Chinese interpreter, Wu Hung-tao, contributed largely to the
success of the Expedition. His faithful and enthusiastic devotion
to our interests and his tact and resourcefulness under trying
circumstances won our lasting gratitude and affectionate regard.
The nineteen months during which we were in Asia are among the most
memorable of our lives and we wish to express our deepest gratitude to
the Trustees of the American Museum of Natural History, and especially
to President Henry Fairfield Osborn, whose enthusiastic endorsement and
loyal support made the Expedition possible. Director F. A. Lucas, Dr.
J. A. Allen and Mr. George H. Sherwood were unfailing in furthering our
interests, and to them we extend our hearty thanks.
To the following patrons, who by their generous contributions
materially assisted in the financing of the Expedition, we wish to
acknowledge our great personal indebtedness as well as that of the
Museum; Mr. and Mrs. Charles L. Bernheimer, Mr. and Mrs. Sidney M.
Colgate, Messrs. George Bowdoin, Lincoln Ellsworth, James B. Ford,
Henry C. Frick, Childs Frick, and Mrs. Adrian Hoffman Joline.
The Expedition received many courtesies while in the field from the
following gentlemen, without whose coöperation it would have been
impossible to have carried on the work successfully. Their services
have been referred to individually in subsequent parts of the book:
The Director of the Bureau of Foreign Affairs of the Province of
Yün-nan; M. Georges Chemin Dupontès, Director de l'Exploration de la
Compagnie Française des Chemins de Fer de l'Indochine et du Yün-nan,
Hanoi, Tonking; M. Henry Wilden, Consul de France, Shanghai; M.
Kraemer, Consul de France, Hongkong; Mr. Howard Page, Standard Oil
Co., Yün-nan Fu; the Hon. Paul Reinsch, Minister Plenipotentiary and
Envoy Extraordinary to the Chinese Republic, Mr. J. V. A. McMurray,
First Secretary of the American Legation, Peking; Mr. H. G. Evans,
British-American Tobacco Co., Hongkong; the Rev. William Hanna, Ta-li
Fu; the Rev. A. Kok, Li-chiang Fu; Ralph Grierson, Esq., Teng-yueh;
Herbert Goffe, Esq., H. B. M. Consul General, Yün-nan Fu; Messrs. C. R.
Kellogg, and H. W. Livingstone, Foochow, China; the General Passenger
Agent, Canadian Pacific Railroad Company, Hongkong; and the Rev. H.
R. Caldwell, Yen-ping, who has read parts of this book in manuscript
and who through his criticisms has afforded us the benefit of his long
experience in China.
To Miss Agnes F. Molloy and Miss Anna Katherine Berger we wish to
express our appreciation of editorial and other assistance during the
preparation of the volume.
Roy Chapman Andrews
Yvette Borup Andrews
Justamere Home,
_Lawrence Park,
Bronxville, N. Y._
_May 10, 1917._
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I
The Object of the Expedition
PAGE
The importance of the scientific exploration of Central
Asia--The region which the Asiatic Zoölogical
Expedition investigated--Personnel of the
Expedition--Equipment--Applicants for positions upon the
Expedition
1-6
CHAPTER II
China in Turmoil
Yuan Shi-kai--Plot to become emperor of China--The Rebellion--Our
arrival in Peking--Passports for Fukien Province--Admiral von
Hintze, the German Minister--_En route_ to Shanghai--Death of
Yuan Shi-kai
7-14
CHAPTER III
Up the Min River
Y. B. A.
Arrival at Foochow--Foochow--We leave for Yen-ping--The
Min River--Our first night in a _sampan_--Miss Mabel
Hartford--Brigands at Yuchi--Yen-ping--Trapping at Yen-ping
15-25
CHAPTER IV
A Bat Cave in the Big Ravine
The Temple in the Big Ravine--Hunting serow--A bat apartment house
26-81
CHAPTER V
The Yen-ping Rebellion
A message from Mr. Caldwell--Refugees from Yen-ping--Situation
in the city--Fighting on Monday morning--Wounded men at the
hospital--We do Red Cross work--More fighting--A Chinese
puzzle--The missionaries save the city--The narrow escape of a
young Chinese--The mission cook--Return to Foochow
82-48
CHAPTER VI
Hunting the Great Invisible
Tiger lairs--Mr. Caldwell's method of hunting--His first
tiger--Habits of tigers--Experiences with the Great
Invisible--Killing a man-eater--Chinese superstitions--Hunting
in the lair
44-58
CHAPTER VII
The Blue Tiger
Arriving at Lung-tao--The blue tiger--Mr. Caldwell's first view
of the beast--The lair in the Long Ravine--Bad luck with the
tiger--A meeting in the dark--Ling-suik monastery--Life at the
temple--Fukien Province as a collecting ground
54-66
CHAPTER VIII
The Women of China
Y. B. A.
Schools for girls--Position of women--The Confucian rules--Woman's
life in the home--Foot binding--Early marriage--A Chinese
wedding
67-73
CHAPTER IX
Voyaging to Yün-nan
Outfitting in Hongkong--Food--Guns--Cameras--_En route_
to Tonking--The Island of Hainan--We engage a cook
at Paik-hoi--Arrival in Haiphong--Loss of our
Ammunition--Hanoi--The railroad to Yün-nan Fu--Yün-nan--The
Chinese Foreign Office endorses our plans
74-83
CHAPTER X
On the Road to Ta-li Fu
Oar caravan--The Yün-nan pack saddle--Temple camps--Chinese
_mafus_--Roads--Country--Ignorance of a Chinese
scholar--New mammals--Village life--Opium growing--An opium
scandal--Goitre--The Chinese "Mountain schooner"--Horses--Miss
Morgan--Brigands--Our guard of soldiers
84-98
CHAPTER XI
Ta-li Fu
Hsia-kuan--Summer temperature--Lake--Graves--Pagodas--Mr. H. G.
Evans--Foreigners of Ta-li Fu--Chinese mandarins--Mammals at
Ta-li--Caravan horses and mules--The cook becomes ill
99-106
CHAPTER XII
Li-chiang, and the "Temple of the Flowers"
Traveling to Li-chiang--Our entrance into the city--The surprise
of the foreigners--The temple--Excellent collecting--Small
mammals--The Moso natives--Customs--The Snow Mountain--Baron
Haendel-Mazzetti
107-113
CHAPTER XIII
Camping in the Clouds
Moso hunters--Primitive guns--Crossbows and poisoned
arrows--Dogs--porcupine--New mammals--We find a new camp on
the mountain
114-119
CHAPTER XIV
The First Goral
Killed near camp--A sacrifice to the God of the Hunt--Small
mammals--The second goral
120-125
CHAPTER XV
More Gorals
Gorals almost invisible--Heller shoots a kid--Collecting material
for a Museum group--A splendid hunt--Two gorals--A crested
muntjac
126-188
CHAPTER XVI
The Snow Mountain Temple
The first illness in camp--Serow--Death of the leading
dog--Rain--Two more serows--Lolos--Non-Chinese tribes of
Yün-nan
184-189
CHAPTER XVII
Gorals and Serows
Relationship--Appearance of the serow--Habits--Gorals
140-148
CHAPTER XVIII
The "White Water"
Y. B. A.
Our new camp--serow--We go to Li-chiang--A burial
ceremony--Ancestor worship
140-156
CHAPTER XIX
Across the Yangtze Gorge
Traveling to the river--Inaccuracy of the Chinese--First view of
the gorge--The Taku ferry--Cares
157-163
CHAPTER XX
Through Unmapped Country
Along the rim of the gorge--A beautiful camp at Habala--New
mammals--Photographic work--Phete village--Stupid
inhabitants--Strange natives--The "Windy Camp"--Hotenfa
164-171
CHAPTER XXI
Traveling Toward Tibet
A hard climb--Our highest camp--A Lolo village--Thanksgiving
with the Lolos
172-177
CHAPTER XXII
Stalking Tibetans with a Camera
Y. B. A.
Caravans--Tibetans--Dress--Appearance--Photographing frightened
natives--Reason for suspicion
178-181
CHAPTER XXIII
Westward to the Mekong River
Snow--Photographing natives--The Snow Mountain again--The
Shih-ku ferry--Cranes--"Brahminy ducks"--A well-deserved
beating--Chinese soldiers
182-189
CHAPTER XXIV
Down the Mekong Valley
Arrival at Wei-hsi--The Mekong River--Lutzu natives--Difficulties
in the valley--An unexpected goral--Christmas--The salt
wells--A snow covered pass--Duck shooting--Return to Ta-li Fu
190-201
CHAPTER XXV
Missionaries We Have Known
Our observations on work of missionaries in Fukien and Yün-nan
Provinces--Mode of living--Servants--Voluntary exile--Medical
missionaries--A missionary's experience with the brigands at
Yuchi
202-211
CHAPTER XXVI
Chinese New Year at Yung-chang
Y. B. A.
Traveling to Yung-chang--New Year's customs--Inhabitants of
the city--Foot-binding--Caves--Water buffaloes--Chinese
cow-caravans--Yung-chang mentioned by Marco Polo
212-222
CHAPTER XXVII
Traveling Toward the Tropics
Shih-tien plain--Curious inhabitants of the city--A tropical valley
at Ma-po-lo--"A little more far"--A splendid camp--Many new
mammals--Preparing specimens Sambur--Trapping
223-232
CHAPTER XXVIII
Meng-ting: a Village of Many Tongues
The first Shan Village--Priscilla and John Alden--Meng-ting--The
Shan mandarin--Young priests--The market--Photographing under
difficulties--Suppression of opium growing
233-343
CHAPTER XXIX
Camping on the Nam-ting River
A beautiful camp--The "Dying Rabbit"--Sambur hunting--Jungle
fowl--Civets--Pole cats and other animals
244-251
CHAPTER XXX
Monkey Hunting
Strange calls in the jangle--Our first gibbons--Relationship and
habits--Langurs and baboons--A night in the jungle
252-259
CHAPTER XXXI
The Shans of the Burma Border
An unfriendly chief--Honest natives--Houses at
Nam-ka--Tattooing--Shan tribe--Dress
260-263
CHAPTER XXXII
Prisoners of War in Burma
Y. B. A.
The mythical Ma-li-ling--Across the frontier into Burma--The
_mafus_ rebel--Ma-li-pa--Captain Clive--Guarding the
border--Life at Ma-li-pa
264-272
CHAPTER XXXIII
Hunting Peacocks on the Salween River
The Valley at Changlung--The ferry--Peacocks--The stalker
stalked--Habits of peafowls
273-280
CHAPTER XXXIV
The Gibbons of Ho-mu-shu
Climbing out of the Salween Valley--A Shan
Village--Ho-mu-shu--Camping on a mountain pass--Gibbons--An
exciting hunt and a narrow escape--Habits of the "hoolock"
281-290
CHAPTER XXXV
Teng-yueh: a Link with Civilization
Tai-ping-pu--Flying squirrels--Lisos--A bat
cave--Mail--Teng-yueh--Mr. Ralph Grierson--Tibetan bear cubs
291-297
CHAPTER XXXVI
A Big Game Paradise
Gorals at Hui-yao--Deer--Splendid hunts
298-304
CHAPTER XXXVII
Serow and Sambur
Monkeys at Hai-yao--Muntjacs--A new serow--We move camp to
Wa-tien--A fine sambur
305-314
CHAPTER XXXVIII
Last Days in China
Return to Teng-yueh--Packing the specimens--Results of the
Expedition--On the road to Bhamo--The chair coolies--Burma
_vs._ China--In civilisation again--Farewell to the Orient
315-322
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
FACING
PAGE
Our camp on the Snow Mountain at an altitude of 12,000 feet
_Frontispiece_
Yvette Borup Andrews with a pet Yün-nan squirrel 4
Edmund Heller 4
Roy Chapman Andrews and a goral 4
A Chinese hunter and a muntjac 28
Brigands killed in the Yen-ping Rebellion 28
The Ling-suik monastery 62
A priest of Ling-suik 62
A Chinese mother with her children 70
Chinese women of the coolie class with bound feet 70
Cormorant fishers on the lake at Yün-nan Fu 84
Our camp at Chou Chou on the way to Ta-li Fu 84
The Pagodas at Ta-li Fu 96
The dead of China 96
The residence of Rev. William J. Hanna at Ta-li Fu 102
The gate and main street of Ta-li Fu 102
One of the pagodas at Ta-li Fu 108
A Moso herder 112
A Moso woman 112
The Snow Mountain 116
A cheek gun used by one of our hunters 118
The first goral killed on the Snow Mountain 118
Hotenfa, one of oar Moso hunters, bringing in a goral 120
Another Moso hunter with a porcupine 120
A typical goral cliff on the Snow Mountain 132
A serow killed on the Snow Mountain 140
The head of a serow 140
The "white water" 152
A Liso hunter carrying a flying squirrel 162
The chief of our Lolo hunters 162
A Lolo village 174
Lolos seeing their photographs for the first time 174
Travelers in the Mekong valley 180
Two Tibetans 180
The gorge of the Yangtze River 184
A quiet curve of the Mekong River 190
The temple in which we camped at Ta-li Fu 200
A crested muntjac 200
The south gate at Yung-chang 210
A Chinese bride returning to her mother's home at New Year's 210
A Chinese patriarch 224
Young China 224
A Shan village 234
A Shan woman spinning 234
A Kachin woman in the market at Meng-ting 240
One of our Shan hunters with two yellow gibbons 240
Our camp on the Nam-ting River 246
The Shan village at Nam-ka 246
The head of a gibbon killed on the Nam-ting River 254
A civet 254
A Shan girl 260
A Shan boy 260
A suspension bridge 288
Mrs. Andrews feeding one of our bear cubs 288
A sambur killed at Wa-tien 302
The head of a muntjac 302
A mountain chair 312
The waterfall at Teng-yueh 312
Map I. The red line indicates the travels of the Expedition 318
Map II. Route of the Expedition in Yün-nan 320
CAMPS AND TRAILS IN CHINA
CHAPTER I
THE OBJECT OF THE EXPEDITION
The earliest remains of primitive man probably will be found somewhere
in the vast plateau of Central Asia, north of the Himalaya Mountains.
From this region came the successive invasions that poured into Europe
from the east, to India from the north, and to China from the west;
the migration route to North America led over the Bering Strait and
spread fanwise south and southeast to the farthest extremity of South
America. The Central Asian plateau at the beginning of the Pleistocene
was probably less arid than it is today and there is reason to believe
that this general region was not only the distributing center of man
but also of many of the forms of mammalian life which are now living in
other parts of the world. For instance, our American moose, the wapiti
or elk. Rocky Mountain sheep, the so-called mountain goat, and other
animals are probably of Central Asian origin.
Doubtless there were many contributing causes to the extensive
wanderings of primitive tribes, but as they were primarily hunters,
one of the most important must have been the movements of the game
upon which they lived. Therefore the study of the early human races is,
necessarily, closely connected with, and dependent upon, a knowledge of
the Central Asian mammalian life and its distribution. No systematic
palæontological, archæological, or zoölogical study of this region on
a large scale has ever been attempted, and there is no similar area of
the inhabited surface of the earth about which so little is known.
The American Museum of Natural History hopes in the near future to
conduct extensive explorations in this part of the world along general
scientific lines. The country itself and its inhabitants, however,
present unusual obstacles to scientific research. Not only is the
region one of vast intersecting mountain ranges, the greatest of the
earth, but the climate is too cold in winter to permit of continuous
work. The people have a natural dislike for foreigners, and the
political events of the last half century have not tended to decrease
their suspicions.
It is possible to overcome such difficulties, but the plans for
extensive research must be carefully prepared. One of the most
important steps is the sending out of preliminary expeditions to gain
a general knowledge of the natives and fauna and of the conditions to
be encountered. For the first reconnaissance, which was intended to be
largely a mammalian survey, the Asiatic Zoölogical Expedition left New
York in March, 1916.
Its destination was Yün-nan, a province in southwestern China. This
is one of the least known parts of the Chinese Republic and, because
of its southern latitude and high mountain systems, the climate and
faunal range is very great. It is about equal in size to the state
of California and topographically might be likened to the ocean in a
furious gale, for the greater part of its surface has been thrown into
vast mountain waves which divide and cross one another in hopeless
confusion.
Yün-nan is bordered on the north by Tibet and S'suchuan, on the west by
Burma, on the south by Tonking, and on the east by Kwei-chau Province.
Faunistically the entire northwestern part of Yün-nan is essentially
Tibetan, and the plateaus and mountain peaks range from altitudes of
8,000 feet to 20,000 feet above sea level. In the south and west along
the borders of Burma and Tonking, in the low fever-stricken valleys,
the climate is that of the mid-tropics, and the native life, as well as
the fauna and flora, is of a totally different type from that found in
the north.
The natives of Yün-nan are exceptionally interesting. There are about
thirty non-Chinese tribes in the province, some of whom, such as the
Shans and Lolos, represent the aboriginal inhabitants of China, and it
is safe to say that in no similar area of the world is there such a
variety of language and dialects as in this region.
Although the main work of the Expedition was to be conducted in
Yün-nan, we decided to spend a short time in Fukien Province, China,
and endeavor to obtain a specimen of the so-called "blue tiger" which
has been seen twice by the Reverend Harry R. Caldwell, a missionary
and amateur naturalist, who has done much hunting in the vicinity of
Foochow.
The white members of the first Asiatic Zoölogical Expedition included
Mr. Edmund Heller, my wife (Yvette Borup Andrews) and myself. A
Chinese interpreter, Wu Hung-tao, with five native assistants and ten
muleteers, completed the personnel.
Mr. Heller is a collector of wide experience. His early work, which
was done in the western United States and the Galapagos Islands, was
followed by many years of collecting in Mexico, Alaska, South America,
and Africa. He first visited British East Africa with Mr. Carl E.
Akeley, next with ex-President Theodore Roosevelt, and again with Mr.
Paul J. Rainey. During the Asiatic Zoölogical Expedition Mr. Heller
devoted most of his time to the gathering and preparation of small
mammals. He joined our party late in July in China.
Mrs. Andrews was the photographer of the Expedition. She had studied
photography as an amateur in Germany, France, and Italy, as well as
in New York, and had devoted especial attention to the taking of
photographs in natural colors. Such work requires infinite care and
patience, but the results are well worth the efforts expended.
Wu Hung-tao is a native of Foochow, China, and studied English at
the Anglo-Chinese College in that city. He lived for some time in
Teng-yueh, Yün-nan, in the employ of Mr. F. W. Carey, Commissioner
of Customs, and not only speaks mandarin Chinese but also several
native dialects. He acted as interpreter, head "boy," and general
field manager. My own work was devoted mainly to the direction of the
Expedition and the hunting of big game.
[Illustration: Yvette Borup Andrews with a Pet Yün-nan Squirrel]
[Illustration: Edmund Heller]
[Illustration: Roy Chapman Andrews and a Goral]
In order to reduce the heavy transportation charges we purchased
only such equipment in New York as could not be obtained in Shanghai
or Hongkong. Messrs. Shoverling, Daly & Gales furnished our guns,
ammunition, tents, and general camp equipment, and gave excellent
satisfaction in attention to the minor details which often assume
alarming importance when an expedition is in the field and defects
cannot be remedied. All food and commissary supplies were purchased in
Hongkong (_see_ Chapter IX).
* * * * *
When the announcement of the Expedition was made by the American Museum
of Natural History it received wide publicity in America and other
parts of the world. Immediately we began to discover how many strange
persons make up the great cities of the United States, and we received
letters and telegrams from hundreds of people who wished to take
part in the Expedition. Men and boys were the principal applicants,
but there was no lack of women, many of whom came to the Museum for
personal interviews.
Most of the letters were laughable in the extreme. One was from a
butcher who thought he might be of great assistance in preparing our
specimens, or defending us from savage natives; another young man
offered himself to my wife as a personal bodyguard; a third was sure
his twenty years' experience as a waiter would fit him for an important
position on the Expedition, and numerous women, young and old, wished
to become "companions" for my wife in those "drear wastes."
Applicants continued to besiege us wherever we stopped on our way
across the continent and in San Francisco until we embarked on the
afternoon of Mardi 28 on the S. S. _Tenyo Maru_ for Japan.
Our way across the Pacific was uneventful and as the great vessel
drew in toward the wharf in Yokohama she was boarded by the usual
crowd of natives. We were standing at the rail when three Japanese
approached and, bowing in unison, said, "We are report for leading
Japanese newspaper. We wish to know all thing about Chinese animal."
Evidently the speech had been rehearsed, for with it their English
ended abruptly, and the interview proceeded rather lamely, on my part,
in Japanese.
Japan was reveling in the cherry blossom season when we arrived and for
a person interested in color photography it was a veritable paradise.
We stayed three weeks and regretfully left for Peking by way of Korea.
But before we continue with the story of our further travels, we would
like briefly to review the political situation in China as a background
for our early work in the province of Fukien.
CHAPTER II
CHINA IN TURMOIL
During the time the Expedition was preparing to leave New York, China
was in turmoil. Yuan Shi-kai was president of the Republic, but the
hope of his heart was to be emperor of China. For twenty years he had
plotted for the throne; he had been emperor for one hundred miserable
days; and now he was watching, impotently, his dream-castles crumble
beneath his feet. Yuan was the strong man of his day, with more power,
brains, and personality than any Chinese since Li-Hung Chang. He always
had been a factor in his political world. His monarchical dream first
took definite form as early as 1901 when he became viceroy of Chi-li,
the province in which Peking is situated.
It was then that he began to modernize and get control of the army
which is the great basis of political power in China. Properly
speaking, there was not, and is not now, a Chinese national army. It
is rather a collection of armies, each giving loyalty to a certain
general, and he who secures the support of the various commanders
controls the destiny of China's four hundred millions of people
regardless of his official title.
Yuan was able to bind to himself the majority of the leading generals,
and in 1911, when the Manchu dynasty was overthrown, his plots and
intrigues began to bear fruit. By crafty juggling of the rebels and
Manchus he managed to get himself elected president of the new
republic, although he did not for a moment believe in the republican
form of government. He was always a monarchist at heart but was
perfectly willing to declare himself an ardent republican so long as
such a declaration could be used as a stepping stone to the throne
which he kept ever as his ultimate goal.
As president he ruled with a high hand. In 1918 there was a rebellion
in protest against his official acts but he defeated the rebels, won
over more of the older generals, and solidified the army for his own
interests, making himself stronger than ever before.
At this time he might well have made a _coup d'état_ and proclaimed
himself emperor with hardly a shadow of resistance, but with the
hereditary caution of the Chinese he preferred to wait and plot and
scheme. He wanted his position to be even more secure and to have it
appear that he reluctantly accepted the throne as a patriotic duty at
the insistent call of the people.
Yuan's ways for producing the proper public sentiment were typically
Chinese but entirely effective, and he was making splendid progress,
when in May, 1915, Japan put a spoke in his wheel of fortune by taking
advantage of the European war and presenting the historical twenty-one
demands, to most of which China agreed.
This delayed his plans only temporarily, and Yuan's agents pushed the
work of making him emperor more actively than ever, with the result
that the throne was tendered to him by the "unanimous vote of the
people." To "save his face" he declined at first but at the second
offer he "reluctantly" yielded and on December 12, 1916, became emperor
of China.
But his triumph was short-lived, for eight days later tidings of
unrest in Yün-nan reached Peking. General Tsai-ao, a former military
governor of the province, appeared in Yün-nan Fu, the capital, and, on
December 28, sent an ultimatum to Yuan stating that he must repudiate
the monarchy and execute all those who had assisted him to gain the
throne, otherwise Yün-nan would secede; which it forthwith did on
December 25.
Without doubt this rebellion was financed by the Japanese who had
intimated to Yuan that the change from a republican form of government
would not meet with their approval The rebellion spread rapidly. On
January 21, Kwei-chau Province, which adjoins Yün-nan, seceded, and, on
March 18, Kwang-si also announced its independence.
About this time the Museum authorities were becoming somewhat doubtful
as to the advisability of proceeding with our Expedition. We had a
long talk with Dr. Wellington Koo, the Chinese Minister to the United
States, at the Biltmore Hotel in New York. Dr. Koo, while certain that
the rebellion would be short-lived, strongly advised us to postpone our
expedition until conditions became more settled. He offered to cable
Peking for advice, but we, knowing how unwelcome to the government of
the harassed Yuan would be a party of foreigners who wished to travel
in the disturbed area, gratefully declined and determined to proceed
regardless of conditions. We hoped that Yuan would be strong enough
to crush this rebellion as he had that of 1918, but day by day, as we
anxiously watched the papers, there came reports of other provinces
dropping away from his standard.
On the _Tenyo Maru_ we met the Honorable Charles Denby, an ex-American
Consul-General at Shanghai and former adviser to Yuan Shi-kai when he
was viceroy of Chi-li. Mr. Denby was interested in obtaining a road
concession near Peking and was then on his way to see Yuan. His anxiety
over the political situation was not less than ours and together we
often paced the decks discussing what might happen; but every wireless
report told of more desertions to the ranks of the rebels.
It seemed to be the beginning of the end, for Yuan had lost his nerve.
He had decided to quit, and one hundred days after he became emperor
elect he issued a mandate canceling the monarchy and restoring the
republic. But the rebellious provinces were not satisfied and demanded
that he get out altogether.
About this time we reached Peking, literally blown in by a tremendous
dust storm which seemed an elemental manifestation of the human turmoil
within the grim old walls. Our cousin, Commander Thomas Hutchins, Naval
Attaché of the American Legation, was awaiting us on the platform,
holding his hat with one hand and wiping the dust from his eyes with
the other.
The news we received from him was by no means comforting for in the
Legation pessimism reigned supreme. The American Minister, Dr. Reinsch,
was not enthusiastic about our going south regardless of conditions,
but nevertheless he set about helping us to obtain the necessary visé
for our passports.
We wished first to go to Foochow, in Fukien Province, where we were
to hunt tiger until Mr. Heller joined us in July for the expedition
into Yün-nan. Fukien was still loyal to Yuan, but the strong Japanese
influence in this province, which is directly opposite the island of
Formosa, was causing considerable uneasiness in Peking.
We were armed with telegrams from Mr. C. R. Kellogg, of the
Anglo-Chinese College, with whom we were to stay while in Foochow,
assuring us that all was quiet in the province, and through the
influence of Dr. Reinsch, the Chinese Foreign Office viséd our
passports. The huge red stamp which was affixed to them was an amusing
example of Chinese "face saving." First came the seal of Yuan's
impotent dynasty of Hung-Hsien, signifying "Brilliant Prosperity," and
directly upon it was placed the stamp of the Chinese Republic. One was
almost as legible as the other and thus the Foreign Office saved its
face in whichever direction the shifting cards of political destiny
should fall.
At a luncheon given by Dr. Reinsch at the Embassy in Peking, we met
Admiral von Hintze, the German Minister, who had recently completed
an adventurous trip from Germany to China. He was Minister to Mexico
at the beginning of the war but had returned to Berlin incognito
through England to ask the Kaiser for active sea service. The Emperor
was greatly elated over von Hintze's performance and offered him the
appointment of Minister to China if he could reach Peking in the same
way that he had traveled to Berlin. Von Hintze therefore shipped as
supercargo on a Scandinavian tramp steamer and arrived safely at
Shanghai, where he assumed all the pomp of a foreign diplomat and
proceeded to the capital.
The Americans were in a rather difficult position at this time because
of the international complications, and social intercourse was
extremely limited. Dinner guests had to be chosen with the greatest
care and one was very likely to meet exactly the same people wherever
one went.
Peking is a place never to be forgotten by one who has shared
its social life. In the midst of one of the most picturesque,
most historical, and most romantic cities of the world there is a
cosmopolitan community that enjoys itself to the utmost. Its talk is
all of horses, polo, racing, shooting, dinners, and dances, with the
interesting background of Chinese politics, in which things are never
dull. There is always a rebellion of some kind to furnish delightful
thrills, and one never can tell when a new political bomb will be
projected from the mysterious gates of the Forbidden City.
We spent a week in Peking and regretfully left by rail for Shanghai.
_En route_ we passed through Tsinan-fu where the previous night serious
fighting had occurred in which Japanese soldiers had joined with the
rebels against Yuan's troops. On every side there was evidence of
Japan's efforts against him. In the foreign quarter of Shanghai just
behind the residence of Mr. Sammons, the American Consul-General, one
of Yuan's leading officers had been openly murdered, and Japanese were
directly concerned in the plot. We were told that it was very difficult
at that time to lease houses in the foreign concession because wealthy
Chinese who feared the wrath of one party or the other were eager to
pay almost any rent to obtain the protection of that quarter of the
city.
A short time later it became known to a few that Yuan was seriously
ill. He was suffering from Bright's disease with its consequent
weakness, loss of mental alertness, and lack of concentration. French
doctors were called in, but Yuan's wives insisted upon treating him
with concoctions of their own, and on June 6, shortly after three
o'clock in the morning, he died.
Even on his death-bed Yuan endeavored to save his face before the
country, and his last words were a reiteration of what he knew no one
believed. The story of his death is told in the China Press of June 7,
1916:
According to news from the President's palace the condition of Yuan
became critical at three o'clock in the morning. Yuan asked for his
old confidential friend, Hsu Shih-chang, who came immediately. On
the arrival of Hsu, Yuan was extremely weak, but entirely conscious.
With tears in his eyes, Yuan assured his old friend that he had
never had any personal ambition for an emperor's crown; he had
been deceived by his _entourage_ over the true state of public
opinion and thus had sincerely believed the people wished for
the restoration of the monarchy. The desire of the South for his
resignation he had not wished to follow for fear that general
anarchy would break out all over China. Now that he felt death
approaching he asked Hsu to make his last words known to the public.
In the temporary residence of President Li Yuan-hung, situated it,
the Yung-chan-hu-tung (East City) and formerly owned by Yang Tu,
the prominent monarchist, the formal transfer of the power to Li
Yuan-hung took place this morning at ten o'clock. Yuan Chi-jui,
Secretary of State and Premier, as well as all the members of the
cabinet. Prince Pu Lun as chairman of the State Council, and other
high officials were present.
The officials, wearing ceremonial dress, were received by
Li-Yuan-hung in the main hall and made three bows to the new
president, which were returned by the latter. The same ceremony
will take place at two o'clock, when all the high military
officials will assemble at the President's residence.
The Cabinet, in a circular telegram has informed all the
provinces that Vice-President Li-Yuan-hung, in accordance with
the constitution, has become president of the Chinese Republic
(Chung-hua-min-kuo) from the seventh instance.
So ended Yuan Shi-kai's great plot to make himself an emperor over four
hundred millions of people, a plot which could only have been carried
out in China. He failed, and the once valiant warrior died in the
humiliation of defeat, leaving thirty-two wives, forty children and his
country in political chaos.
CHAPTER III
UP THE MIN RIVER
_Y. B. A._
Three days after leaving Shanghai we arrived at Pagoda Anchorage at the
mouth of the Min River, twelve miles from Foochow.
We boarded a launch which threaded its way through a fleet of
picturesque fishing vessels, each one of which had a round black and
white eye painted on its crescent-shaped bow. When asked the reason for
this decoration a Chinese on the launch looked at us rather pityingly
for a moment and then said: "No have eye. No can see." How simple and
how entirely satisfactory!
The instant the launch touched the shore dozens of coolies swarmed like
flies over it, fighting madly for our luggage. One seized a trunk,
the other end of which had been appropriated by another man and, in
the argument which ensued, each endeavored to deafen the other by his
screams. The habit of yelling to enforce command is inherent with the
Chinese and appears to be ineradicable. To expostulate in an ordinary
tone of voice, pausing to listen to his opponent's reply, seems a
psychological impossibility.
There had been a mistake about the date of our arrival at Foochow, and
we were two days earlier than we had been expected, so that Mr. C. R.
Kellogg, of the Anglo-Chinese College, with whom we were to stay,
was not on the jetty to meet us. We were at a loss to know where to
turn amidst the chaos and confusion until a customs officer took us in
charge and, judiciously selecting a competent looking woman from among
the screaming multitude, told her to get two sedan chairs and coolies
to carry our luggage. She disappeared and ten minutes later the chairs
arrived. Dashing about among the crowd in front of us, she chose the
baggage for such men as met with her approval and after the usual
amount of argument the loads were taken.
We mounted our chairs and started off with apparently all Foochow
following us. As far as we could see down the narrow street were the
heads and shoulders of our porters. We felt as if we were heading an
invading army as, with our thirty-three coolies and sixteen hundred
pounds of luggage, we descended upon the homes of people whom we did
not know and who were not expecting us. But our sudden arrival did
not disturb the Kelloggs and our welcome was typical of the warm
hospitality one always finds in the Far East.
No matter how long one has lived in China one remains in a condition
of mental suspense unable to decide which is the filthiest city of the
Republic. The residents of Foochow boast that for offensiveness to the
senses no town can compare with theirs, and although Amoy and several
other places dispute this questionable title, we were inclined to
grant it unreservedly to Foochow. It is like a medieval city with its
narrow, ill-paved streets wandering aimlessly in a hopeless maze. They
are usually roofed over so that by no accident can a ray of purifying
sun penetrate their dark comers. With no ventilation whatsoever the
oppressive air reeks with the odors that rise from the streets and the
steaming houses.
In Foochow, as in other cities of China, the narrow alleys are
literally choked with every form of industrial obstruction. Countless
workmen plant themselves in the tiny passageways with the pigs,
children, and dogs, and women bring their quilts to spread upon the
stones. There is a common saying that the Chinese do little which is
not at some time done on the street.
The foreign residents, including consuls of all nationalities,
missionaries, and merchants, live well out of the city on a hilltop.
Their houses are built with very high ceilings and bare interiors, and
as the occupants seldom go into the city except in a sedan chair and
have "punkahs" waving day and night, life is made possible during the
intense heat of summer.
A telegram was awaiting us from the Reverend Harry Caldwell, with whom
we were to hunt, asking us to come to his station two hundred miles up
the river, and we passed two sweltering days repacking our outfit while
Mr. Kellogg scoured the country for an English-speaking cook.
One middle-aged gentleman presented himself, but when he learned that
we were going "up country," he shook his head with an assumption of
great filial devotion and said that he did not think his mother would
let him go. Another was afraid the sun might be too hot. Finally on the
eve of our departure we engaged a stuttering Chinese who assured us
that he was a remarkable cook and exceptionally honest
If you have never heard a Chinaman stutter you have something to live
for, and although we discovered that our cook was a shameless rascal
he was worth all he extracted in "squeeze," for whenever he attempted
to utter a word we became almost hysterical. He sounded exactly like
a worn-out phonograph record buzzing on a single note, and when he
finally did manage to articulate, his "pidgin" English in itself was
screamingly funny.
One day he came to the _sampan_ proudly displaying a piece of beef and,
after a series of vocal gymnastics, eventually succeeded in shouting:
"Missie, this meat no belong die-cow. Die-cow not so handsome." Which
meant that this particular piece of beef was not from an animal which
had died from disease.
The first stage of our trip began before daylight. We rode in four-man
sedan chairs, followed by a long procession of heavily laden coolies
with our cameras, duffle-sacks, and pack baskets. The road lay through
green rice fields between terraced mountains, and we jogged along first
on the crest of a hill, then in the valley, passing dilapidated temples
with the paint flaking off and picturesque little huts half hidden in
the reeds of the winding river. It was a relief to get into the country
again after passing down the narrow village streets and to breathe
fresh air perfumed with honeysuckle.
A passenger launch makes the trip to Cui-kau at the beginning of the
rapids, but it leaves at two o'clock in the morning and is literally
crowded to overflowing with evil-smelling Chinese who sprawl over
every available inch of deck space, so that even the missionaries
strongly advised us against taking it. The passengers not infrequently
are pushed off into the water. One of the missionaries witnessed an
incident which illustrates in a typical way the total lack of sympathy
of the average Chinese.
A coolie on the Cui-kau launch accidentally fell overboard, and
although a friend was able to grasp his hand and hold him above the
surface, no one offered to help him; the launch continued at full
speed, and finally weakening, the poor man loosed his hold and sank.
This is by no means an isolated case. Some years ago a foreign steamer
was burned on the Yangtze River, and the crowds of watching Chinese did
little or nothing to rescue the passengers and crew. Indeed, as fast
as they made their way to shore many of them were robbed even of their
clothing and some were murdered outright.
Our first day on the Min River was the most luxurious of the entire
Expedition, for we were fortunate in obtaining the Standard Oil
Company's launch through the kindness of Mr. Livingstone, their agent.
It was large and roomy, and the trip, which would have been worse than
disagreeable on the public boat, was most delightful. The Min is one of
the most beautiful rivers of all China with its velvet green mountains
rising a thousand feet or more straight up from the water and often
terraced to the summits.
Perched on the bow of our boat was a wizened little gentleman with a
pigtail wrapped around his head, who said he was a pilot, but as he
inquired the channel of everyone who passed and ran us aground a dozen
times or more to the tremendous agitation of our captain, we felt that
his claim was not entirely justified.
The river life was a fascinating, ever-changing picture. One moment
we would pass a _sampan_ so loaded with branches that it seemed like
a small island floating down the stream. Next a huge junk with
bamboo-ribbed sails projecting at impossible angles drifted by,
followed by innumerable smaller crafts, the monotonous chant of the
boatmen coming faintly over the water to us as they passed.
When evening came we had reached Cui-kau. The _sampans_ in which we
were to spend eight days were drawn up on the beach with twenty or
thirty others. Right above us was the straggling town looking very much
like the rear view of tenement houses at home. Darkness blotted out the
filth of our surroundings but could do nothing to lessen the odors that
poured down from the village, and we ate our dinner with little relish.
Our beds were spread in the _sampans_ which we shared in common with
the four river men who formed the crew. There was only a mosquito net
to screen the end of the boat, but all our surroundings were so strange
that this was but a minor detail. As we lay in our cots we could look
up at the stars framed in the half oval of the _sampan's_ roof and
listen to the sounds of the water life grow fainter and fainter as one
by one the river men beached their boats for the night. It seemed only
a few minutes later when we were roused by a rush of water, but it
was daylight, and the boats had reached the first of the rapids which
separated us from Yen-ping, one hundred and twenty miles away.
In the late afternoon we arrived at Chang-hu-fan where Mr. Caldwell
stood on the shore waving his hat to us amidst scores of dirty little
children and the explosion of countless firecrackers. Wherever we
went crackers preceded and followed us--for when a Chinese wishes to
register extreme emotion, either of joy or sorrow, its expression
always takes the form of firecrackers.
There had been a good deal of persecution of the native Christians in
the district, and only recently a band of soldiers had strung up the
native pastor by the thumbs and beaten him senseless. He was our host
that night and seemed to be a bright, vivacious, little man but quite
deaf as a result of his cruel treatment. He never recovered and died a
few weeks later. Mr. Caldwell had come to investigate the affair, for
the missionaries are invested by the people themselves with a good deal
of authority.
We spent that night in the parish house just behind the little church,
a bare schoolroom being turned over to us for our use, and it seemed
very luxurious after we had set up our cots, tables, chairs, and bath
tub; but the house was in the center of the town and the high walls
shut out every breath of pure air. The barred windows opened on a
street hardly six feet wide, and while we were preparing for bed there
was a buzz of subdued whispers outside. We switched on a powerful
electric flashlight and there stood at least forty men, women and
children gazing at us with rapt attention, but they melted away before
the blinding glare like snow in a June sun.
That night was not a pleasant one. The heat was intense, the mosquitoes
worse, and every dog and cat in the village seemed to choose our court
yard as a dueling ground in which to settle old scores. The climax was
reached at four o'clock in the morning, when directly under our windows
there came a series of ear-splitting squeals followed by a horrible
gurgle. The neighbors had chosen that particular spot and how to kill
the family pig, and the entire process which followed of sousing it
in hot water and scraping off the hair was accompanied by unceasing
chatter. Boiling with rage we dressed and went for a walk, vowing not
to spend another night in the place but to sleep in the _sampans_.
On the whole our river men were nice fellows but they had the love of
companionship characteristic of all Chinese and the inherent desire to
huddle together as closely as possible wherever they were. On the way
up the river to Yuchi every evening they insisted on stopping at some
foul-smelling village, and it was difficult to induce them to spend the
night away from a town. Moreover, at our stops for luncheon they would
invariably ignore a shady spot and choose a sand bank where the sun
beat down like a blast furnace.
The Chinese never appear to be affected by the sun and go bareheaded at
all seasons of the year, shading their eyes with one hand or a partly
opened fan. A fan is the prime requisite, and it is not uncommon to see
coolies almost devoid of clothing, dragging a heavy load and with the
perspiration streaming from their naked bodies, energetically fanning
themselves meanwhile.
Mr. Caldwell was _en route_ to Yuchi, one of his mission stations
far up a branch of the Min River, and as there was a vague report of
tiger in that vicinity we joined him instead of proceeding directly to
Yen-ping. The tiger story was found to be merely a myth, but our trip
was made interesting by meeting Miss Mabel Hartford, the only foreign
resident of the place. She has lived in Yuchi for two years and at one
time did not see a white person for eight months with the exception of
Mr. Caldwell who was in the vicinity for three days. It requires four
weeks to obtain supplies from Foochow, there is no telegraph, and mails
are very irregular, but she enjoys the isolation and is passionately
fond of her work.
She has had an interesting life and one not devoid of danger. In 1895
she was wounded and barely escaped death in the Hwa Shan (Flower
Mountain) massacre in which ten women and one man were brutally
murdered by a mob of fanatic natives known as "Vegetarians." The
Chinese Government was required to pay a considerable indemnity to Miss
Hartford, which she accepted only under protest and characteristically
devoted to missionary work in Kucheng where the massacre occurred.
Conditions at Yuchi when we arrived were most unsettled and for some
months there had been a veritable "reign of terror." A large band of
brigands was established in the hills not far from the city, and we
were warned by the mandarin not to attempt to go farther up the river.
A few months earlier several companies of soldiers had been sent from
Foochow, and the result of turning loose these ruffians upon the town
was to make "the remedy worse than the disease."
The soldiers were continually arresting innocent peasants, accusing
them of being brigands or aiding the bandits, and shooting them without
a hearing. At one time accurate information concerning the camp of the
robbers was received and the soldiers set bravely off, but when within
a short distance of the brigands the commanders began to quarrel among
themselves, guns were fired, and the bandits escaped. A Chinaman must
always "save his face," however, and when they returned to Yuchi they
arrested dozens of people on mere suspicion and executed them without
the vestige of a trial. Finally conditions became so intolerable that
no one was safe, and after repeated complaints by the missionaries, a
new mandarin of a somewhat better type was sent to Yuchi.
As it was impossible to do any collecting farther up the river because
of the bandits, we left for Yen-ping two days after arriving at Yuchi.
Yen-ping is a wonderfully picturesque old city, situated on a hill at
a fork of the river and surrounded by high stone walls pierced and
loopholed for rifle fire. Such walls, while of little use against
artillery, nevertheless offer a formidable obstacle to anything less
than field guns as we ourselves were destined to discover.
The Methodist mission compound encloses a considerable area on the
very summit of the hill, backed by the city wall, and besides the
four dwelling houses, comprises two large schools for boys and girls.
Mr. Caldwell's residence commands a wonderful view down the river and
in the late afternoon sunlight when the hills are bathed in pink and
lavender and purple a more beautiful spot can hardly be imagined.
But the delights of Yen-ping are somewhat tempered by the abominable
weather. In summer the heat is almost unbearable and the air is so
nearly saturated from continual rain that it is impossible to dry
anything except over a fire. From all reports winter must be almost as
bad in the opposite extreme for the cold is damp and penetrating; but
the early fall is said to be delightful.
The larger part of Fukien, like many other provinces in China, has
been denuded of forests, and the groves of pine which remain have
all been planted. This deforestation consequently has driven out the
game, and except for tigers, leopards, wolves, wild pigs, serows and
gorals, none of the large species is left. However, the dense growth
of sword grass and the thorny bushes which clothe the hills and choke
the ravines give cover to muntjac, or barking deer, and many species of
small cats, civets, and other Viverines. These animals come to the rice
paddys, which fill every valley, to hunt for frogs and fish, but it is
difficult to catch them because of the Chinese who are continually at
work in the fields.
We spent a week trapping about Yen-ping and although we caught a
good many animals they were almost always stolen together with the
traps. We had this same difficulty in Yün-nan as well as in Fukien.
None of us had ever seen natives in any part of the world who were
such unmitigated thieves as the Chinese of these two provinces. The
small mammals are hardly more abundant than the larger ones for the
natives wage an unceasing war on those about the rice paddys and have
exterminated nearly all but a few widely distributed forms.
CHAPTER IV
A BAT CAVE IN THE BIG RAVINE
A few days after our arrival in Yen-ping we went with Mr. Caldwell and
his son Oliver to a Taoist temple seven miles away in a lonely ravine
known as Chi-yuen-kang. The walk to the temple in the early morning
was delightful. The "bamboo chickens" and francolins were calling all
about us and on the way we shot enough for our first day's dinner. Both
these birds are abundant in Fukien Province but it is by no means easy
to kill them for they live in such thick cover that they can only be
flushed with difficulty.
Early in the morning we frequently heard the francolins crowing in the
trees or on the top of a hill and when a cock had taken possession of
such a spot the intrusion of another was almost sure to cause trouble
which only ended when one of them had been driven off.
For two miles and a half the Big Ravine is a narrow cut between
perpendicular rock walls thickly clothed to their very summits with
bamboo and a tangle of thorny vines. In the bottom of the gorge a
mountain torrent foams among huge bowlders but becomes a gentle, slow
moving stream when it leaves the cool darkness of the cañon to spread
itself over the terraced rice fields.
About a mile from the entrance two old temples nestle into the
hillside. One stands just over the water, but the other clings to the
rock wall three hundred feet above the river, and it was there that we
made our camp.
The old priest in charge did not appear especially delighted to see us
until I slipped a Mexican dollar into his hand--then it was laughable
to see his change of face. The far end of the balcony was given up to
us while Mr. Caldwell and Oliver put up their beds at the feet of a
grinning idol in the main temple.
We had come to Chi-yuen-kang to hunt serow (_see_ Chapter XVII) and
had brought with us only a few traps for small mammals. Harry had seen
several serow exhibited for sale on market days in towns along the
river, and all were reported to have been killed near this ravine.
There was a village of considerable size at the upper end and here we
collected a motley lot of beaters with half a dozen dogs to drive the
top of a mountain which towered about two thousand five hundred feet
above the river.
Never will we forget that climb! We tried to start at daylight but it
was well toward six o'clock before we got our men together. A Chinaman
would drive an impatient man to apoplexy and an early grave for it is
well-nigh impossible to get him started within an hour of the appointed
time, and with a half dozen the difficulty is multiplied as many times.
Just when you think all is ready and that there can be no possible
reason for delaying longer, the whole crowd will disappear suddenly and
you discover that they have gone for "chow." Then you know that the end
is really in sight, for chow usually is the last thing.
We waited nearly two hours on this particular morning before we started
on the long climb to the top of the mountain. The sun was simply
blazing, and in fifteen minutes we were soaked with perspiration. When
we were half way up the dogs disappeared in a small ravine overgrown
with bamboo and sword grass and suddenly broke into a chorus of yelps.
They had found a fresh trail and were driving our way.
Harry ran to a narrow opening in the jungle, shouting to us to watch
another higher up. We were hardly in position when his rifle banged,
followed by such a bedlam of yells and barks that we thought he
must have killed nothing less than one of the hunters. Before we
reached them Harry appeared, smiling all over, and dragging a muntjac
(_Muntiacus_) by the fore legs. He had just made a beautiful shot,
for the clearing he had been watching was not more than ten feet wide
and the muntjac flashed across it at full speed. Caldwell fired while
it was in mid-air and his bullet caught the animal at the base of the
neck, rolling it over stone dead.
This beautiful little deer in Fukien is hardly larger than a fox.
Its antlers are only two or three inches in length and rise from an
elongated skin-covered pedicel instead of from the base of the skull as
in all other members of the deer family. On each side of the upper jaw
is a slender tusk, about two inches long, which projects well beyond
the lips and makes a rather formidable weapon.
We hoped that this muntjac was going to prove a "good joss," but
instead a disappointing day was in store for us. When we had worked our
way to the very summit of the mountain under a merciless sun and over
a trail which led through a smothering bamboo jungle, we saw dozens of
fresh serow tracks. The animals were there without a doubt and we were
on the _qui vive_ with excitement.
[Illustration: A Chinese Hunter and a Muntjac]
[Illustration: Brigands Killed in the Yen-ping Rebellion]
We selected positions and the men made a long circuit to drive toward
us as Caldwell had directed. After half an hour had passed we heard
them yelling as they closed in, but what was our disgust to see them
solemnly parading in single file up the bottom of the valley on an open
trail and carefully avoiding all thickets where a serow could possibly
be. As Harry expressed it, "all the animals had to do was to sit tight
and watch the noble procession pass." The beaters very evidently knew
nothing whatever about driving nor were we able to teach them, for they
seriously objected to leaving the open trails and going into the bush.
We worked hard for serow but the men were hopeless and it was
impossible to "still hunt" the animals at that time of the year. The
natives say that in September when the mushrooms are abundant in the
lower forests the serow leave the mountain tops and thick cover to
feed upon the fungus, and that they may be killed without the aid of
beaters, but at any time the hunt would involve a vast amount of labor
with only a moderate chance of success. After we had left Fukien,
Mr. Caldwell purchased a fine male and female serow for us which
are especially interesting as they represent a different subspecies
(_Capricornis sumatrensis argyrochætes_) from those we killed in
Yün-nan.
Chi-yuen-kang did yield us results, however, for we discovered a
wonderful bat cave less than a mile from our temple. Its entrance was
a low round hole half covered with vegetation, and opening into a high
circular gallery; from this three long corridors branched off like
fingers from the palm of a giant's hand. The cave was literally alive
with bats. There must have been ten thousand and on the first day we
killed a hundred, representing seven species and at least four genera.
This was especially remarkable as it is unusual to find more than two
or three species living together.
The cave was a regular bat apartment house for each corridor was
divided by rock partitions into several small rooms in every one of
which bats of different species were rearing their families. The young
in most instances were only a few days old but were thickly clustered
on the walls and ceilings, and each and every one was squeaking at the
top of its tiny lungs. The place must have been occupied for scores, if
not hundreds, of years for the floor was knee-deep with dung.
When we returned the day after our first visit we found that many of
the young bats had been removed by their parents and in some instances
entire rooms had been vacated. After the first day the odor of the cave
was so nauseating that to enable us to go inside it was necessary to
wear gauze pads of iodoform over our noses.
The bats at this place were killed with bamboo switches but later we
always used a long gill net which had been especially made in New York.
We could hang the net over the entrance to a cave and, when all was
ready, send a native into the galleries to stir up the animals. As they
flew out they became entangled in the net and could be caught or killed
before they were able to get away. It was sometimes possible to catch
every specimen in a cavern, and moreover, to secure them in perfect
condition without broken skulls or wings.
If a bat escaped from the net it would never again strike it, for
the animals are wonderfully accurate in flight and most expert
dodgers. Even while in a cave, where hundreds of bats were in the
air, they seldom flew against us, although we might often be brushed
by their wings; and it was a most difficult thing to hit them with a
bamboo switch. Their ability in dodging is without doubt a necessary
development of their feeding habits for, with the exception of a few
species, bats live exclusively upon insects and catch them in the air.
It is a rather terrifying experience for a girl to sit in a bat cave
especially if the light has gone out and she is in utter darkness. Of
course she has a cap tightly pulled over her ears, for what girl, even
if she be a naturalist's wife, would venture into a den of evil bats
with one wisp of hair exposed!
All about is the swish of ghostly wings which brush her face or neck
and the air is full of chattering noises like the grinding of hundreds
of tiny teeth. Sometimes a soft little body plumps into her lap and
if she dares to take her hands from her face long enough to disengage
the clinging animal she is liable to receive a vicious bite from
teeth as sharp as needles. But, withal, it is good fun, and think how
quickly formalin jars or collecting trays can be filled with beautiful
specimens!
CHAPTER V
THE YEN-PING REBELLION
On Sunday, June 18, we went to the bat cave to obtain a new supply
of specimens. Upon our return, just as we were about to sit down to
luncheon, four excited Chinese appeared with the following letter from
Mr. Caldwell:
Dear Roy:
There was quite a lively time in the city at an early hour this
morning. The rebels have taken Yen-ping and it looks as though
there was trouble ahead. Northern soldiers have been sent for and
the chances are that either tonight or tomorrow morning there will
be quite a battle. Bankhardt, Dr. Trimble and myself have just made
a round of the city, visiting the telegraph office, post office and
other places, and while we do not believe that the foreigners will
be molested, nevertheless it is impossible to tell just what to
expect. It is certain, however, that the Consul will order all of
us to Foochow if news of the situation reaches there. Owing to the
uncertainty, I think you had better come in to Yen-ping so as to be
ready for any eventuality.
After talking the situation over with Dr. Trimble and Mr.
Bankhardt, we all agreed that the wisest thing is for you to come
in immediately. I am sending four burden-bearers for it will be out
of the question to find any tomorrow, if trouble occurs tonight.
The city gates are closed so you will have to climb up the ladder
over the wall behind our compound. Best wishes.
Harry.
P. S.--Later: It is again reported that Northern soldiers are to
arrive tonight. If they do and trouble occurs your only chance is
to get to Yen-ping today.
H. C.
The camp immediately was thrown into confusion for Da-Ming, the cook,
and the burden-bearers were jabbering excitedly at the top of their
voices. The servants began to pack the loads at once and meanwhile we
ate a roast chicken faster than good table manners would permit--in
fact, we took it in our fingers. We were both delighted at the prospect
of some excitement and talked almost as fast as the Chinese.
In just one hour from the time Harry's letter had been received, we
were on the way to Yen-ping. It was the hottest part of the day, and
we were dripping with perspiration when we left the cool darkness of
the ravine and struck across the open valley, which lay shimmering in a
furnace-like heat. At the first rest house an the top of the long hill
we waited nearly an hour for our bearers who were struggling under the
heavy loads.
Three miles farther on a poor woman tottered past us on her peglike
feet leaning on the arm of a man. A short distance more and we came to
the second rest house. We had been there but a few moments when three
panting women, steadying themselves with long staves and barely able
to walk on feet not more than four inches long, came up the hill. With
them were several men bearing household goods in large bundles and huge
red boxes.
The exhausted women sank upon the benches and fanned themselves while
the perspiration ran down their flushed faces. They looked so utterly
miserable that we told the cook to give them a piece of cake which Mrs.
Caldwell had sent us the day before. Their gratitude was pitiful, but,
of course, they gave the larger share to the men.
It was not long before other women and children appeared on the hill
path, all struggling upward under heavy loads, or tottering along on
tightly bound feet. Probably these women had not walked so far in their
entire lives, but the fear of the Northern soldiers and what would
happen in the city if they took possession had driven them from their
homes.
Farther on we had a clear view across the valley where a long line
of people was filing up to a temple which nestled into the hillside.
Half a mile beyond were two other temples both crowded with refugees
and their goods. Hundreds of families were seeking shelter in every
little house beside the road and were overflowing into the cowsheds and
pigpens.
At six o'clock we stood on the summit of the hill overlooking the city
and half an hour later were clambering up the ladder over the high wall
of the compound, just behind Dr. Trimble's house. We were wet through
and while cooling off heard the story of the morning's fighting. It
seemed that a certain element in the city was in coöperation with the
representatives of the revolutionary organization. These men wished
to obtain possession of Yen-ping and, after the rebellion was well
started, to gather forces, march to Foochow, and force the Governor to
declare the independence of the province.
The plot had been hatching for several days, but the death of Yuan
Shi-kai had somewhat delayed its fruition. Saturday, however, it was
known throughout the city that trouble would soon begin. Sunday
morning at half past three, a band of one hundred men from Yuchi
had marched to Yen-ping where they were received by a delegation
of rebels dressed in white who opened to them the east gate of the
city. Immediately they began to fire up the streets to intimidate the
people and in a short time were in a hot engagement with the seventeen
Northern soldiers, some of whom threw away their guns and swam across
the river. The remaining city troops were from the province of Hunan
and their sympathies were really with the South in the great rebellion.
These immediately joined the rebels, where they were received with open
arms. It was reported that the _tao-tai_ (district mandarin) had asked
for troops from Foochow and that these might be expected at any moment;
thus when they arrived a real battle could be expected and it was very
likely that the city would be partly destroyed.
We had a picnic supper on the Caldwell's porch and discussed the
situation. It was the opinion of all that the foreigners were in
no immediate danger, but nevertheless it was considered wise to be
prepared, and we decided upon posts for each man if it should become
necessary to protect the compound.
Hundreds of people were besieging the missionaries with requests to be
allowed to bring their goods and families inside the walls, but these
necessarily had to be refused. Had the missionaries allowed the Chinese
to bring their valuables inside it would have cost them the right of
Consular protection and, moreover, their compound would have been the
first to be attacked if looting began.
On Monday morning while we were sitting on the porch of Mr. Caldwell's
house preparing some bird skins, there came a sharp crackle of rifle
fire and then a roar of shots. Bullets began to whistle over us and
we could see puffs of smoke as the deep bang of a black powder gun
punctuated the vicious snapping of the high-power rifles. The firing
gradually ceased after half an hour and we decided to go down to the
city to see what had happened, for, as no Northern troops had appeared,
the cause of the fighting was a mystery.
We went first to the mission hospital which lay across a deep ravine
and only a few yards from the quarters of the soldiers. At the door of
the hospital compound lay a bloody rag, and we found Dr. Trimble in the
operating room examining a wounded man who had just been brought in.
The fellow had been shot in the abdomen with a 45-caliber lead ball
that had gone entirely through him, emerging about three inches to the
right of his spine.
From the doctor we got the first real news of the puzzling situation.
It appeared that all the men who had arrived Sunday morning from Yuchi
to join the Yen-ping rebels were in reality brigands and, to save their
own lives, the Hunan soldiers quartered in the city had played a clever
trick. They had pretended to join the rebels but at a given signal
had turned upon them, killing or capturing almost every one. Although
their sympathies were really with the South, the Hunan men knew that
the rebels in Yen-ping could not hold the city against the Northern
soldiers from Foochow and, by crushing the rebellion themselves, they
hoped to avert a bigger fight.
As we could not help the doctor he suggested that we might be of
some assistance to the wounded in the city, and with rude crosses
of red cloth pinned to our white shirt sleeves we left the hospital,
accompanied by four Chinese attendants bearing a stretcher. In the
compound we met a chair in which was lying an old man groaning loudly
and dripping with blood. Beside him were his wife and several boys. The
poor woman was crying quietly and, between her sobs, was offering the
wounded man mustard pickles from a small dish in her hand! Poor things,
they have so little to eat that they believe food will cure all ills!
The bearers set the chair down as we appeared and lifted the filthy rag
which covered a gaping wound in the man's shoulder, over which had been
plastered a great mass of cow dung. Just think of the infection, but it
was the only remedy they knew!
We took the man upstairs where Dr. Trimble was preparing to operate on
the fellow who had been shot in the abdomen. The doctor was working
steadily and quietly, making every move count and inspiring his native
hospital staff with his own coolness; the way this young missionary
handled his cases made us glad that he was an American.
On the way down the hill several soldiers passed us, each carrying four
or five rifles and slung about with cartridge belts--plunder stripped
from the men who had been killed. A few hundred yards farther on we
found two brigands lying dead in a narrow street. The nearest one had
fallen on his face and, as we turned him over, we saw that half his
head had been blown away; the other was staring upward with wide open
eyes on which the flies already were settling in swarms.
There was little use in wasting time over these men who long ago had
passed beyond need of our help, and we went on rapidly down the alley
to the main thoroughfare. Guided by a small boy, we hurried over the
rough stones for fifteen minutes, and suddenly came to a man lying
at the side of the street, his head propped on a wooden block. An
umbrella once had partly covered him but had fallen away, leaving him
unprotected in the broiling sun. His face and a terrible wound in his
head were a solid mass of flies, and thousands of insects were crawling
over the blood clots on the stones beside him. At first we thought
he was dead but soon saw his abdomen move and realized that he was
breathing. It did not seem possible that a human being could live under
such conditions; and yet the bystanders told us that he had been lying
there for thirty hours--he had been shot early the previous morning and
it was now three o'clock of the next afternoon.
The man was a poor water-carrier who lived with his wife in the most
utter poverty. He had been peering over the city wall when the firing
began Sunday morning and was one of the first innocent bystanders to
pay the penalty of his curiosity. I asked why he had not been taken to
the hospital, and the answer was that his wife was too poor to hire
anyone to carry him and he had no friends. So there he lay in the
burning sun, gazed at by hundreds of passers-by, without one hand being
lifted to help him.
Our hospital attendants brushed away the flies, placed him in the
stretcher and started up the long hill, followed by the haggard,
weeping wife and a curious crowd. On every hand were questions: "Why
are these men taking him away?" "What are they going to do with him?"
But several educated natives who understood said, "=Ing-ai-gidaiie="
(A work of love). They got right there a lesson in Christianity which
they will not soon forget. It is seldom that Chinese try to help an
injured man, for ever present in their minds is the possibility that he
may die and that they will be responsible for his burial expenses.
We left the stretcher bearers at the corner of the main street with
orders to return as soon as they had deposited the man in the hospital
and, under the guidance of a boy, hurried toward the east gate where
it was said seven or eight men had been shot. Our guide took us first
to a brigand who had been wounded and left to die beside the gutter.
The corpse was a horrible sight and with a feeling of deathly nausea
we made a hurried examination and walked to the gate at the end of the
street.
A dozen soldiers were on guard. We learned from the officer that there
were no wounded in the pile of dead just beyond the entrance, so we
turned toward the river bank and rapidly patrolled the alleys leading
to the _tao-tai's yamen_ (official residence) where the firing had been
heaviest. The _yamen_ was crowded with soldiers, and we were informed
that the dead had all been removed and that there were no wounded--a
grim statement which told its own story.
The _yamen_ is but a short distance from the hospital so we climbed
the hill to the compound. The sun was simply blazing and I realized
then what the wounded men must have suffered lying in the heat without
shelter. We returned to the house and were resting on the upper porch
when suddenly, far down the river, we saw the glint of rifle barrels in
the sunlight, and with field glasses made out a long line of khaki-clad
men winding along the shore trail. At the same time two huge boats
filled with soldiers came into view heading for the water gate of the
city. These were undoubtedly the Northern troops from Foochow who were
expected Monday night.
Even as we looked there came a sudden roar of musketry and a cloud of
smoke drifted up from the barracks right below us--then a rattling
fusillade of shots. We could see soldiers running along the walls
firing at men below and often in our direction. Bullets hummed in the
air like angry bees and we rushed for cover, but in a few moments the
firing ceased as suddenly as it began.
We were at a loss to know what it all meant and why the troops were
firing upon the Northern soldiers whom they wished to placate. It was
still a mystery when we sat down to dinner at half past seven, but
a few minutes later Mr. Bankhardt rushed in saying that he had just
received a note from the _tao-tai_. The mandarin's personal servant
had brought word that the Northern soldiers, who had just entered
the city, were going to kill him and he begged the missionaries for
assistance. Bankhardt also told us of the latest developments in the
situation. It seems that the city soldiers supposed the Northern troops
to be brigands and had fired upon them and killed several before they
discovered their mistake. A very delicate situation had thus been
precipitated, for the Northern commander believed that it was treachery
and intended to attack the barracks in the morning and kill every man
whom he found with a rifle, as well as all the city officials.
The story of the way in which the missionaries acted as peacemakers,
saved the _tao-tai_, and prevented the slaughter which surely would
have taken place in the morning, is too long to be told here, for it
was accomplished only after hours of the talk and "face saving" so
dear to the heart of the Oriental. Suffice it to say that through the
exercise of great tact and a thorough understanding of the Chinese
character they were able to settle the matter without bloodshed.
The following day twenty brigands were given a so-called trial, marched
off to the west gate, beheaded amid great enthusiasm, and the incident
was closed. In the afternoon a messenger called and delivered to each
of us an official letter from the commander of the Northern troops
thanking us for the part we had played in averting trouble and bringing
the matter to a peaceful end.
An interesting sidelight on the affair was received a few days later.
A young man, a Christian, who was born in the same town from which a
number of the brigands had come, went to his house on Monday night
after the fight and found seven of the robbers concealed in his
bedroom. He was terrified because if they were discovered he and all
his family would be killed for aiding the bandits. He told them they
must leave at once, but they pleaded with him to let them stay for
they knew there were soldiers at every corner and that it would be
impossible to get away.
While he was imploring them to go, a knock sounded at the door. He
pushed the brigands into the courtyard, and opened to three soldiers.
They said: "We understand you have brigands in your house." He was
trembling with fear, but answered, "Come in and see for yourself, if
you think so."
The soldiers were satisfied by his frank open manner and, as they knew
him to be a good man, did not search the house, but went away. The poor
fellow was frightened nearly to death, but as his place was being
watched it was impossible for the brigands to leave during the day.
At night they stripped themselves, shaved their heads, and dressed like
coolies, and were able to get to the ladder down the city wall just
below the mission compound where they could escape into the hills.
The day after this occurrence, about four o'clock in the afternoon, a
breathless Chinese appeared at the house with a note to Mr. Bankhardt
saying that his Chinese teacher and the mission school cook had been
arrested by the Northern soldiers and were to be beheaded in an hour.
We hurried to the police office where they were confined and found that
not only the two men but three others were in custody.
The mission cook owned a small restaurant under the management of one
of his relatives and, while Bankhardt's teacher and the other man were
sitting at a table, some Northern soldiers appeared, one of whom owed
the restaurant keeper a small amount of money. When asked to pay, the
soldier turned upon him and shouted: "You have been assisting the
brigands. I saw some of them carrying goods into your house." Thereupon
the soldiers arrested everyone in the shop.
The police officials were quite ready to release the teacher and the
other man upon our statements, but they would not allow the cook to go.
His hands were kept tightly bound and he was chained to a post by the
neck. The soldier who arrested him was his sole accuser, but of course,
others would appear to uphold him in his charge if it were necessary.
The cook was as innocent as any one of the missionaries, but it
required several hours of work and threats of complaint to the
government at Foochow to prevent the man from being summarily executed.
We were not able to get any mail from Foochow during the rebellion
because the constant stream of Northern soldiers on their way up the
river had paralyzed the entire country to such an extent that all the
river men had fled.
The soldiers were firing for target practice upon every boat they saw
on the river and dozens of men had been killed and then robbed. The
Northern commander told us frankly that this could not be prevented,
and when we announced that we were going to start with all the
missionaries down the river on the following day, he was very much
disturbed. He insisted that we have American flags displayed on our
boats to prevent being fired upon by the soldiers.
Although it had taken eight days to work our way laboriously through
the rapids and up the river from Foochow to Yen-ping, we covered the
same distance down the river in twenty-four hours and had breakfast
with Mr. Kellogg at his house the morning after we left Yen-ping. In
two days our equipment was repacked and ready for the trip to Futsing
to hunt the blue tiger.
CHAPTER VI
HUNTING THE "GREAT INVISIBLE"
For many years before Mr. Caldwell went to Yen-ping he had been
stationed at the city of Futsing, about thirty miles from Foochow. Much
of his work consisted of itinerant trips during which he visited the
various mission stations under his charge. He almost invariably went
on foot from place to place and carried with him a butterfly net and
a rifle, so that to so keen a naturalist each day's walk was full of
interest.
The country was infested with man-eating tigers, and very often the
villagers implored him to rid their neighborhood of some one of
the yellow raiders which had been killing their children, pigs, or
cattle. During ten years he had killed seven tigers in the Futsing
region. He often said that his gun had been just as effective in
carrying Christianity to the natives as had his evangelistic work.
Although Mr. Caldwell has been especially fortunate and has killed his
tigers without ever really hunting them, nevertheless it is a most
uncertain sport as we were destined to learn. The tiger is the "Great
Invisible"--he is everywhere and nowhere, here today and gone tomorrow.
A sportsman in China may get his shot the first day out or he may hunt
for weeks without ever seeing a tiger even though they are all about
him; and it is this very uncertainty that makes the game all the more
fascinating.
The part of Fukien Province about Futsing includes mountains of
considerable height, many of which are planted with rice and support
a surprising number of Chinese who are grouped in closely connected
villages. While the cultivated valleys afford no cover for tiger and
the mountain slopes themselves are usually more or less denuded of
forest, yet the deep and narrow ravines, choked with sword grass and
thorny bramble, offer an impenetrable retreat in which an animal can
sleep during the day without fear of being disturbed. It is possible
for a man to make his way through these lairs only by means of the
paths and tunnels which have been opened by the tigers themselves.
Mr. Caldwell's usual method of hunting was to lead a goat with one or
two kids to an open place where they could be fastened just outside
the edge of the lair, and then to conceal himself a few feet away. The
bleating of the goats would usually bring the tiger into the open where
there would be an opportunity for a shot in the late afternoon.
Mr. Caldwell's first experience in hunting tigers was with a shotgun
at the village of Lung-tao. His burden-bearers had not arrived with
the basket containing his rifle, and as it was already late in the
afternoon, he suggested to Da-Da, the Chinese boy who was his constant
companion, that they make a preliminary inspection of the lair even
though they carried only shotguns loaded with lead slugs about the size
of buckshot.
They tethered a goat just outside the edge of the lair and the tiger
responded to its bleating almost immediately. Caldwell did not see the
animal until it came into the open about fifty yards away and remained
in plain view for almost half an hour. The tiger seemed to suspect
danger and crouched on the terrace, now and then putting his right
foot forward a short distance and drawing it slowly back again. He had
approached along a small trail, but before he could reach the goat it
was necessary to cross an open space a few yards in width, and to do
this the animal flattened himself like a huge striped serpent. His head
was extended so that the throat and chin were touching the ground, and
there was absolutely no motion of the body other than the hips and
shoulders as the beast slid along at an amazingly rapid rate. But at
the instant the cat gained the nearest cover it made three flying leaps
and landed at the foot of the terrace upon which the goat was tied.
"Just then he saw me," said Mr. Caldwell, "and slowly pushed his great
black-barred face over the edge of the grass not fifteen feet away.
"I fired point-blank at his head and neck. He leaped into the air with
the blood spurting over the grass, and fell into a heap, but gathered
himself and slid down over the terraces. As he went I fired a second
load of slugs into his hip. He turned about, slowly climbed the hill
parallel with us, and stood looking back at me, his face streaming with
blood.
"I was fumbling in my coat trying to find other shells, but before I
could reload the gun he walked unsteadily into the lair and lay down.
It was already too dark to follow and the next morning a bloody trail
showed where he had gone upward into the grass. Later, in the same
afternoon, he was found dead by some Chinese more than three miles
away."
During his many experiences with the Futsing tigers Mr. Caldwell has
learned much about their habits and peculiarities, and some of his
observations are given in the following pages.
"The tiger is by instinct a coward when confronted by his greatest
enemy--man. Bold and daring as he may be when circumstances are in his
favor, he will hurriedly abandon a fresh kill at the first cry of a
shepherd boy attending a flock on the mountain-side and will always
weigh conditions before making an attack. If things do not exactly suit
him nothing will tempt him to charge into the open upon what may appear
to be an isolated and defenseless goat.
"An experience I had in April, 1910, will illustrate this point. I led
a goat into a ravine where a tiger which had been working havoc among
the herds of the farmers was said to live. This animal only a few
days previous to my hunt had attacked a herd of cows and killed three
of them, but on this occasion the beast must have suspected danger
and was exceedingly cautious. He advanced under cover along a trail
until within one hundred feet of the goat and there stopped to make a
survey of the surroundings. Peering into the valley, he saw two men
at a distance of five hundred yards or more cutting grass and, after
watching intently for a time, the great cat turned and bounded away
into the bushes.
"On another occasion this tiger awaited an opportunity to attack a cow
which a farmer was using in plowing his field. The man had unhitched
his cow and squatted down in the rice paddy to eat his mid-day meal,
when the tiger suddenly rushed from cover and killed the animal only a
few yards behind the peasant. This shows how daring a tiger may be when
he is able to strike from the rear, and when circumstances seem to
favor an attack. I have known tigers to rush at a dog or hog standing
inside a Chinese house where there was the usual confusion of such a
dwelling, and in almost every instance the victim was killed, although
it was not always carried away.
"There is probably no creature in the wilds which shows such a
combination of daring strategy and slinking cowardice as the tiger.
Often courage fails him after he has secured his victim, and he
releases it to dash off into the nearest wood.
"I knew of two Chinese who were deer hunting on a mountain-side when a
large tiger was routed from his bed. The beast made a rushing attack on
the man standing nearest to the path of his retreat, and seizing him by
the leg dragged him into the ravine below. Luckily the man succeeded in
grasping a small tree whereupon the tiger released his hold, leaving
his victim lying upon the ground almost paralyzed with pain and fear.
"A group of men were gathering fuel on the hills near Futsing when a
tiger which had been sleeping in the high grass was disturbed. The
enraged beast tinned upon the peasants, killing two of them instantly
and striking another a ripping blow with his paw which sent him
lifeless to the terrace below. The beast did not attempt to drag either
of its victims into the bush or to attack the other persons near by.
"The strength and vitality of a full grown tiger are amazing. I
had occasion to spend the night a short time ago in a place where
a tiger had performed some remarkable feats. Just at dusk one of
these marauders visited the village and discovered a cow and her
six-months-old calf in a pen which had been excavated in the side of
a hill and adjoined a house. There was no possible way to enter the
enclosure except by a door opening from the main part of the dwelling
or to descend from above. The tiger jumped from the roof upon the neck
of the heifer, killing it instantly, and the inmates of the house
opened the door just in time to see the animal throw the calf out
bodily and leap after it himself. I measured the embankment and found
that the exact height was twelve and a half feet.
"The same tiger one noon on a foggy day attacked a hog, just back of
the village and carried it into the hills. The villagers pursued the
beast and overtook it within half a mile. When the hog, which dressed
weighed more than two hundred pounds, was found, it had no marks or
bruises upon it other than the deep fang wounds in the neck. This
is another instance where courage failed a tiger after he had made
off with his kill to a safe distance. The Chinese declare that when
carrying such a load a tiger never attempts to drag its prey, but
throws it across its back and races off at top speed.
"The finest trophy taken from Fukien Province in years I shot in May,
1910. Two days previous to my hunt this tiger had killed and eaten a
sixteen-year-old boy. I happened to be in the locality and decided to
make an attempt to dispose of the troublesome beast. Obtaining a mother
goat with two small kids, I led them into a ravine near where the boy
had been killed. The goat was tied to a tree a short distance from the
lair, and the kids were concealed in the tall grass well in toward the
place where the tiger would probably be. I selected a suitable spot
and kneeled down behind a bank of ferns and grass. The fact that one
may be stalked by the very beast which one is hunting adds to the
excitement and keeps one's nerves on edge. I expected that the tiger
would approach stealthily as long as he could not see the goat, as the
usual plan of attack, so far as my observation goes, is to creep up
under cover as far as possible before rushing into the open. In any
case the tiger would be within twenty yards of me before it could be
seen.
"For more than two hours I sat perfectly still, alert and waiting,
behind the little blind of ferns and grass. There was nothing to break
the silence other than the incessant bleating of the goats and the
unpleasant rasping call of the mountain jay. I had about given up hope
of a shot when suddenly the huge head of the man-eater emerged from the
bush, exactly where I had expected he would appear and within fifteen
feet of the kids. The back, neck, and head of the beast were in almost
the same plane as he moved noiselessly forward.
"I had implicit confidence in the killing power of the gun in my hand,
and at the crack of the rifle the huge brute settled forward with
hardly a quiver not ten feet from the kids upon which he was about to
spring. A second shot was not necessary but was fired as a matter of
precaution as the tiger had fallen behind rank grass, and the bullet
passed through the shoulder blade lodging in the spine. The beast
measured more than nine feet and weighed almost four hundred pounds.
"Upon hearing the shots the villagers swarmed into the ravine, each
eager not so much to see their slain tormentor as to gather up the
blood. But little attention was paid to the tiger until every available
drop was sopped up with rags torn from their clothing, whilst men
and children even pulled up the blood-soaked grass. I learned that
the blood of a tiger is used for two purposes. A bit of blood-stained
cloth is tied about the neck of a child as a preventive against either
measles or smallpox, and tiger flesh is eaten for the same purpose. It
is also said that if a handkerchief stained with tiger blood is waved
in front of an attacking dog the animal will slink away cowed and
terrified.
"From the Chinese point of view the skin is not the most valuable part
of a tiger. Almost always before a hunt is made, or a trap is built,
the villagers hum incense before the temple god, and an agreement is
made to the effect that if the enterprise be successful the skin of
the beast taken becomes the property of the gods. Thus it happens that
in many of the temples handsome tiger-skin robes may be found spread
in the chair occupied by the noted 'Duai Uong,' or the god of the
land. When a hunt is successful, the flesh and bones are considered
of greatest value, and it often happens that a number of cows are
killed and their flesh mixed with that of the tiger to be sold at the
exorbitant price cheerfully paid for tiger meat. The bones are boiled
for a number of days until a gelatine-like product results, and this is
believed to be exceptionally efficacious medicine.
"Notwithstanding the danger of still-hunting a tiger in the tangle of
its lair, one cannot but feel richly rewarded for the risk when one
begins to sum up one's observations. The most interesting result of
investigating an oft-frequented lair is concerning the animal's food.
That a tiger always devours its prey upon the spot where it is taken
or in the adjacent bush is an erroneous idea. This is often true when
the kill is too heavy to be carried for a long distance, but it is by
no means universally so. Not long ago the remains of a young boy were
found in a grave adjacent to a tiger's lair a few miles from Futsing
city. No child had been reported missing in the immediate neighborhood
and everything indicated that the boy had been brought alive to
this spot from a considerable distance. The sides of the grave were
besmeared with the blood of the unfortunate victim, indicating that the
tiger had tortured it just as a cat plays with a mouse as long as it
remains alive.
"In the lair of a tiger there are certain terraces, or places under
overhanging trees, which are covered with bones, and are evidently
spots to which the animal brings its prey to be devoured. On such
a terrace one will find the remains of deer, wild hog, dog, pig,
porcupine, pangolin, and other animals both domestic and wild. A fresh
kill shows that with its rasp-like tongue the tiger licks off all the
hair of its prey before devouring it and the hair will be found in a
circle around what remains of the kill. The Chinese often raid a lair
in order to gather up the quills of the porcupine and the bony scales
of the pangolin which are esteemed for medicinal purposes.
"In addition to the larger animals, tigers feed upon reptiles and
frogs which they find among the rice fields. On the night of April 22,
1914, a party of frog catchers were returning from a hunt when the man
carrying the load of frogs was attacked by a tiger and killed. The
animal made no attempt to drag the man away and it would appear that it
was attracted by the croaking of the frogs.
"One often finds trees 'marked' by tigers beside some trail or path
in, or adjacent to, a lair. Catlike, the tiger measures its full length
upon a tree, standing in a convenient place, and with its powerful
claws rips deeply through the bark. This sign is doubly interesting
to the sportsman as it not only indicates the presence of a tiger in
the immediate vicinity but serves to give an accurate idea as to the
size of the beast. The trails leading into a lair often are marked in
a different way. In doing this the animal rakes away the grass with a
forepaw and gathers it into a pile, but claw prints never appear."
CHAPTER VII
THE BLUE TIGER
After one has traveled in a Chinese _sampan_ for several days the
prospect of a river journey is not very alluring but we had a most
agreeable surprise when we sailed out of Foochow in a chartered house
boat to hunt the "blue tiger" at Futsing. In fact, we had all the
luxury of a private yacht, for our boat contained a large central cabin
with a table and chairs and two staterooms and was manned by a captain
and crew of six men--all for $1.50 per day!
In the evening we talked of the blue tiger for a long time before
we spread our beds on the roof of the boat and went to sleep under
the stars. We left the boat shortly after daylight at Daing-nei for
the six-mile walk to Lung-tao. To my great surprise the coolies were
considerably distressed at the lightness of our loads. In this region
they are paid by weight and some of the bearers carry almost incredible
burdens. As an example, one of our men came into camp swinging a
125-pound trunk on each end of his pole, laughing and chatting as gayly
as though he had not been carrying 250 pounds for six miles under a
broiling sun.
Mr. Caldwell's Chinese hunter, Da-Da, lived at Lung-tao and we found
his house to be one of several built on the outskirts of a beautiful
grove of gum and banyan trees. Although it was exceptionally clean
for a Chinese dwelling, we pitched our tents a short distance away.
At first we were somewhat doubtful about sleeping outside, but after
one night indoors we decided that any risk was preferable to spending
another hour in the stifling heat of the house.
It was probable that a tiger would be so suspicious of the white tents
that it would not attack us, but nevertheless during the first nights
we were rather wakeful and more than once at some strange night sound
seized our rifles and flashed the electric lamp into the darkness.
Tigers often come into this village. Only a few hundred yards from our
camp site, in 1911, a tiger had rushed into the house of one of the
peasants and attempted to steal a child that had fallen asleep at its
play under the family table. All was quiet in the house when suddenly
the animal dashed through the open door. The Chinese declare that the
gods protected the infant, for the beast missed his prey and seizing
the leg of the table against which the baby's head was resting, bolted
through the door dragging the table into the courtyard.
This was the work of the famous "blue tiger" which we had come to
hunt and which had on two occasions been seen by Mr. Caldwell. The
first time he heard of this strange beast was in the spring of 1910.
The animal was reported as having been seen at various places within
an area of a few miles almost simultaneously and so mysterious were
its movements that the Chinese declared it was a spirit of the devil.
After several unsuccessful hunts Mr. Caldwell finally saw the tiger at
close range but as he was armed with only a shotgun it would have been
useless to shoot.
His second view of the beast was a few weeks later and in the same
place. I will give the story in his own words:
"I selected a spot upon a hilltop and cleared away the grass and ferns
with a jack-knife for a place to tie the goat. I concealed myself
in the bushes ten feet away to await the attack, but the unexpected
happened and the tiger approached from the rear.
"When I first saw the beast he was moving stealthily along a little
trail just across a shallow ravine. I supposed, of course, that he was
trying to locate the goat which was bleating loudly, but to my horror
I saw that he was creeping upon two boys who had entered the ravine to
cut grass. The huge brute moved along lizard-fashion for a few yards
and then cautiously lifted his head above the grass. He was within easy
springing distance when I raised my rifle, but instantly I realized
that if I wounded the animal the boys would certainly meet a horrible
death.
"Tigers are usually afraid of the human voice so instead of firing I
stepped from the bushes, yelling and waving my arms. The huge cat,
crouched for a spring, drew back, wavered uncertainly for a moment, and
then slowly slipped away into the grass. The boys were saved but I had
lost the opportunity I had sought for over a year.
"However, I had again seen the animal about which so many strange tales
had been told. The markings of the beast are strikingly beautiful. The
ground color is of a delicate shade of maltese, changing into light
gray-blue on the underparts. The stripes are well defined and like
those of the ordinary yellow tiger."
Before I left New York Mr. Caldwell had written me repeatedly urging me
to stop at Futsing on the way to Yün-nan to try with him for the blue
tiger which was still in the neighborhood. I was decidedly skeptical
as to its being a distinct species, but nevertheless it was a most
interesting animal and would certainly be well worth getting.
I believed then, and my opinion has since been strengthened, that it
is a partially melanistic phase of the ordinary yellow tiger. Black
leopards are common in India and the Malay Peninsula and as only a
single individual of the blue tiger has been reported the evidence
hardly warrants the assumption that it represents a distinct species.
We hunted the animal for five weeks. The brute ranged in the vicinity
of two or three villages about seven miles apart, but was seen most
frequently near Lung-tao. He was as elusive as a will o' the wisp,
killing a dog or goat in one village and by the time we had hurried
across the mountains appearing in another spot a few miles away,
leaving a trail of terrified natives who flocked to our camp to recount
his depredations. He was in truth the "Great Invisible" and it seemed
impossible that we should not get him sooner or later, but we never did.
Once we missed him by a hair's breadth through sheer bad luck, and it
was only by exercising almost super-human restraint that we prevented
ourselves from doing bodily harm to the three Chinese who ruined our
hunt. Every evening for a week we had faithfully taken a goat into the
"Long Ravine," for the blue tiger had been seen several times near this
lair. On the eighth afternoon we were in the "blind" at three o'clock
as usual. We had tied a goat to a tree nearby and her two kids were but
a few feet away.
The grass-filled lair lay shimmering in the breathless heat, silent
save for the echoes of the bleating goats. Crouched behind the
screen of branches, for three long hours we sat in the patchwork
shade,--motionless, dripping with perspiration, hardly breathing,--and
watched the shadows steal slowly down the narrow ravine.
It was a wild place which seemed to have been cut out of the mountain
side with two strokes of a mighty ax and was choked with a tangle of
thorny vines and sword grass. Impenetrable as a wall of steel, the
only entrance was by the tiger tunnels which drove their twisting way
through the murderous growth far in toward its gloomy heart.
The shadows had passed over us and just reached a lone palm tree on
the opposite hillside. By that I knew it was six o'clock and in half
an hour another day of disappointment would be ended. Suddenly at the
left and just below us there came the faintest crunching sound as a
loose stone shifted under a heavy weight; then a rustling in the grass.
Instantly the captive goat gave a shrill bleat of terror and tugged
frantically at the rope which held it to the tree.
At the first sound Harry had breathed in my ear "Get ready, he's
coming." I was half kneeling with my heavy .405 Winchester pushed
forward and the hammer up. The blood drummed in my ears and my neck
muscles ached with the strain but I thanked Heaven that my hands were
steady.
Caldwell sat like a graven image, the stock of his little 22 caliber
high power Savage nestling against his cheek. Our eyes met for an
instant and I knew in that glance that the blue tiger would never make
another charge, for if I missed him, Harry wouldn't. For ten minutes
we waited and my heart lost a beat when twenty feet away the grass
began to move again--but rapidly and _up the ravine_.
I saw Harry watching the lair with a puzzled look which changed to one
of disgust as a chorus of yells sounded across the ravine and three
Chinese wood cutters appeared on the opposite slope. They were taking
a short cut home, shouting to drive away the tigers--and they had
succeeded only too well, for the blue tiger had slipped back to the
heart of the lair from whence he had come.
He had been nearly ours and again we had lost him ! I felt so badly
that I could not even swear and it wasn't the fact that Harry was a
missionary which kept me from it, either. Caldwell exclaimed just once,
for his disappointment was even more bitter than mine; he had been
hunting this same tiger off and on for six years.
It was useless for us to wait longer that evening and we pushed our
way through the sword grass to the entrance of the tunnel down which
the tiger had come. There in the soft earth were the great footprints
where he had crouched at the entrance to take a cautious survey before
charging into the open.
As we looked, Harry suddenly turned to me and said: "Roy, let's go
into the lair. There is just one chance in a thousand that we may get
a shot." Now I must admit that I was not very enthusiastic about that
little excursion, but in we went, crawling on our hands and knees up
the narrow passage. Every few feet we passed side branches from the
main tunnel in any one of which the tiger might easily have been lying
in wait and could have killed us as we passed. It was a foolhardy
thing to do and I am free to admit that I was scared. It was not long
before Harry twisted about and said: "Roy, I haven't lost any tigers in
here; let's get out." And out we came faster than we went in.
This was only one of the times when the "Great Invisible" was almost in
our hands. A few days later a Chinese found the blue tiger asleep under
a rice bank early in the afternoon. Frightened almost to death he ran a
mile and a half to our camp only to find that we had left half an hour
before for another village where the brute had killed two wild cats
early in the morning.
Again, the tiger pushed open the door of a house at daybreak just
as the members of the family were getting up, stole a dog from the
"heaven's well," dragged it to a hillside and partly devoured it. We
were in camp only a mile away and our Chinese hunters found the carcass
on a narrow ledge in the sword grass high up on the mountain side. The
spot was an impossible one to watch and we set a huge grizzly bear trap
which had been carried with us from New York.
It seemed out of the question for any animal to return to the carcass
of the dog without getting caught and yet the tiger did it. With his
hind quarters on the upper terrace he dropped down, stretched his long
neck across the trap, seized the dog which had been wired to a tree and
pulled it away. It was evident that he was quite unconscious of the
trap for his fore feet had actually been placed upon one of the jaws
only two inches from the pan which would have sprung it.
One afternoon we responded to a call from Bui-tao, a village seven
miles beyond Lung-tao, where the blue tiger had been seen that day. The
natives assured us that the animal continually crossed a hill, thickly
clothed with pines and sword grass just above the village and even
though it was late when we arrived Harry thought it wise to set the
trap that night.
It was pitch dark before we reached the ridge carrying the trap, two
lanterns, an electric flash-lamp and a wretched little dog for bait. We
had been engaged for about fifteen minutes making a pen for the dog,
and Caldwell and I were on our knees over the trap when suddenly a low
rumbling growl came from the grass not twenty feet away. We jumped to
our feet just as it sounded again, this time ending in a snarl. The
tiger had arrived a few moments too early and we were in the rather
uncomfortable position of having to return to the village by way of a
narrow trail through the jungle. With our rifles ready and the electric
lamp cutting a brilliant path in the darkness we walked slowly toward
the edge of the sword grass hoping to see the flash of the tiger's
eyes, but the beast backed off beyond the range of the light into
an impenetrable tangle where we could not follow. Apparently he was
frightened by the lantern, for we did not hear him again.
After nearly a month of disappointments such as these Mr. Heller joined
us at Bui-tao with Mr. Kellogg. Caldwell thought it advisable to shift
camp to the Ling-suik monastery, about twelve miles away, where he had
once spent a summer with his family and had killed several tigers. This
was within the blue tiger's range and, moreover, had the advantage of
offering a better general collecting ground than Bui-tao; thus with
Heller to look after the small mammals we could begin to make our time
count for something if we did not get the tiger.
Ling-suik is a beautiful temple, or rather series of temples, built
into a hillside at the end of a long narrow valley which swells out
like a great bowl between bamboo clothed mountains, two thousand feet
in height. On his former visit Mr. Caldwell had made friends with the
head priest and we were allowed to establish ourselves upon the broad
porch of the third and highest building. It was an ideal place for a
collecting camp and would have been delightful except for the terrible
heat which was rendered doubly disagreeable by the almost continual
rain.
The priests who shuffled about the temples were a hard lot. Most of
them were fugitives from justice and certainly looked the part, for a
more disreputable, diseased and generally undesirable body of men I
have never seen.
Our stay at Ling-suik was productive and the temple life interesting.
We slept on the porch and each morning, about half an hour before
daylight, the measured strokes of a great gong sounded from the temple
just below us. _Boom--boom--boom--boom_ it went, then rapidly _bang,
bang, bang_. It was a religious alarm clock to rouse the world.
A little later when the upturned gables and twisted dolphins on the
roof had begun to take definite shape in the gray light of the new day,
the gong boomed out again, doors creaked, and from their cell-like
rooms shuffled the priests to yawn and stretch themselves before the
early service. The droning chorus of hoarse voices, swelling in a
meaningless half-wild chant, harmonized strangely with the romantic
surroundings of the temple and become our daily _matin_ and evensong.
[Illustration: The Ling-suik Monastery]
[Illustration: A Priest of Ling-suik]
At the first gong we slipped from beneath our mosquito nets and dressed
to be ready for the bats which fluttered into the building to hide
themselves beneath the tiles and rafters. When daylight had fully
come we scattered to the four winds of heaven to inspect traps, hunt
barking deer, or collect birds, but gathered again at nine o'clock for
breakfast and to deposit our spoil. Caldwell and I always spent the
afternoon at the blue tiger's lair but the animal had suddenly shifted
his operations back to Lung-tao and did not appear at Ling-suik while
we were there.
Our work in Fukien taught us much that may be of help to other
naturalists who contemplate a visit to this province. We satisfied
ourselves that summer collecting is impracticable, for the heat is
so intense and the vegetation so heavy that only meager results can
be obtained for the efforts expended. Continual tramping over the
mountains in the blazing sun necessarily must have its effect upon
the strongest constitution, and even a man like Mr. Caldwell, who has
become thoroughly acclimated, is not immune.
Both Caldwell and I lost from fifteen to twenty pounds in weight during
the time we hunted the blue tiger and each of us had serious trouble
from abscesses. I have never worked in a more trying climate--even
that of Borneo and the Dutch East Indies where I collected in 1909-10,
was much less debilitating than Fukien in the summer. The average
temperature was about 95 degrees in the shade, but the humidity was so
high that one felt as though one were wrapped in a wet blanket and even
during a six weeks' rainless period the air was saturated with moisture
from the sea-winds.
In winter the weather is raw and damp, but collecting then would
be vastly easier than in summer, not only on account of climatic
conditions, but because much of the vegetation disappears and there is
an opportunity for "still hunting."
Trapping for small mammal is especially difficult because of the dense
population. The mud dykes and the rice fields usually are covered with
tracks of civets, mongooses, and cats which come to hunt frogs or
fish, but if a trap is set it either catches a Chinaman or promptly is
stolen. Moreover, the small mammals are neither abundant nor varied in
number of species, and the larger forms, such as tiger, leopard, wild
pig and serow are exceedingly difficult to kill.
While our work in the province was done during an unfavorable season
and in only two localities, yet enough was seen of the general
conditions to make it certain that a thorough zoölogical study of the
region would require considerable time and hard work and that the
results, so far as a large collection of mammals is concerned, would
not be highly satisfactory. Work in the western part of the province
among the Bohea Hills undoubtedly would be more profitable, but even
there it would be hardly worth while for an expedition with limited
time and money.
Bird life is on a much better footing, but the ornithology of Fukien
already has received considerable attention through the collections of
Swinhoe, La Touche, Styan, Ricketts, Caldwell and others, and probably
not a great number of species remain to be described.
Much work could still be done upon the herpetology of the region,
however, and I believe that this branch of zoölogy would be well worth
investigation for reptiles and batrachians are fairly abundant and the
natives would rather assist than retard one's efforts.
The language of Fukien is a greater annoyance than in any other of the
Chinese coast provinces. The Foochow dialect (which is one of the most
difficult to learn) is spoken only within fifty or one hundred miles
of the city. At Yen-ping Mr. Caldwell, who speaks "Foochow" perfectly,
could not understand a word of the "southern mandarin" which is the
language of that region, and near Futsing, where a colony of natives
from Amoy have settled, the dialect is unintelligible to one who knows
only "Foochow."
Travel in Fukien is an unceasing trial, for transport is entirely
by coolies who carry from eighty to one hundred pounds. The men are
paid by distance or weight; therefore, when coolies finally have been
obtained there is the inevitable wrangling over loads so that from one
to two hours are consumed before the party can start.
But the worst of it is that one can never be certain when one's entire
outfit will arrive at its new destination. Some men walk much faster
than others, some will delay a long time for tea, or may give out
altogether if the day be hot, with the result that the last load will
arrive perhaps five or six hours after the first one.
As horses are not to be had, if one does not walk the only alternative
is to be carried in a mountain chair, which is an uncomfortable,
trapeze-like affair and only to be found along the main highways.
On the whole, transport by man-power in China is so uncertain and
expensive that for a large expedition it forms a grave obstacle to
successful work, if time and funds be limited.
On the other hand, servants are cheap and usually good. We employed a
very fair cook who received monthly seven dollars Mexican (then about
three and one-half dollars gold), and "boys" were hired at from five
to seven dollars (Mexican). As none of the servants knew English they
could be obtained at much lower wages, but English-speaking cooks
usually receive from fifteen to twenty dollars (Mexican) a month.
It was hard to leave Fukien without the blue tiger but we had hunted
him unsuccessfully for five weeks and there was other and more
important work awaiting us in Yün-nan. It required thirty porters
to transport our baggage from the Ling-suik monastery to Daing-nei,
twenty-one miles away, where two houseboats were to meet us, and by ten
o'clock in the evening we were lying off Pagoda Anchorage awaiting the
flood tide to take us to Foochow. We made our beds on the deck house
and in the morning opened our eyes to find the boat tied to the wharf
at the Custom House on the Bund, and ourselves in full view of all
Foochow had it been awake at that hour.
The week of packing and repacking that followed was made easy for us by
Claude Kellogg, who acted as our ministering angel. I think there must
be a special Providence that watches over wandering naturalists and
directs them to such men as Kellogg, for without divine aid they could
never be found. When we last saw him, he stood on the stone steps of
the water front waving his hat as we slipped away on the tide, to board
the S. S. _Haitan_ for Hongkong.
CHAPTER VIII
THE WOMEN OF CHINA
_Y. B. A._
The schools for native girls at Foochow and Yen-ping interested us
greatly, even when we first came to China, but we could not appreciate
then as we did later the epoch-making step toward civilization of these
institutions.
How much the missionaries are able to accomplish from a religious
standpoint is a question which we do not wish to discuss, but no one
who has ever lived among them can deny that the opening of schools
and the diffusing of western knowledge are potent factors in the
development of the people. The Chinese were not slow even in the
beginning to see the advantages of a foreign education for their
boys and now, along the coast at least, some are beginning to make
sacrifices for their daughters as well. The Woman's College, which
was opened recently in Foochow, is one of the finest buildings of the
Republic, and when one sees its bright-faced girls dressed in their
quaint little pajama-like garments, it is difficult to realize that
outside such schools they are still slaves in mind and body to those
iron rules of Confucius which have molded the entire structure of
Chinese society for over 2400 years.
The position of women in China today, and the rules which govern the
household of every orthodox Chinese, are the direct heritage of
Confucianism. The following translation by Professor J. Legge from the
_Narratives of the Confucian School_, chapter 26, is illuminating:
Confucius said: "Man is the representative of heaven and is supreme
over all things. Woman yields obedience to the instructions of man
and helps to carry out his principles. On this account she can
determine nothing of herself and is subject to the rule of the
three obediences.
"(1) When young she must obey her father and her elder brother;
"(2) When married, she must obey her husband;
"(3) When her husband is dead she must obey her son.
"She may not think of marrying a second time. No instructions or
orders must issue from the harem. Women's business is simply the
preparation and supplying of drink and food. Beyond the threshold
of her apartments she shall not be known for evil or for good. She
may not cross the boundaries of a state to attend a funeral. She
may take no steps on her own motive and may come to no conclusion
on her own deliberation."
The grounds for divorce as stated by Confucius are:
"(1) Disobedience to her husband's parents;
"(2) Not giving birth to a son;
"(3) Dissolute conduct;
"(4) Jealousy of her husband's attentions (to the other inmates of
his harem);
"(5) Talkativeness, and
"(6) Thieving."
A Chinese bride owes implicit obedience to her mother-in-law, and as
she is often reared by her husband's family, or else married to him as
a mere child, and is under the complete control of his mother for a
considerable period of her existence, her life in many instances is one
of intolerable misery. There is generally little or no consideration
for a girl under the best of circumstances until she becomes the
mother of a male child; her condition then improves but she approaches
happiness only when she in turn occupies the enviable position of
mother-in-law.
It is difficult to imagine a life of greater dreariness and vacuity
than that of the average Chinese woman. Owing to her bound feet and
resultant helplessness, if she is not obliged to work she rarely stirs
from the narrow confinement of her courtyard, and perhaps in her entire
life she may not go a mile from the house to which she was brought a
bride, except for the periodical visits to her father's home.
It has been aptly said that there are no real homes in China and it is
not surprising that, ignored and despised for centuries, the Chinese
woman shows no ability to improve the squalor of her surroundings. She
passes her life in a dark, smoke-filled dwelling with broken furniture
and a mud floor, together with pigs, chickens and babies enjoying
a limited sphere of action under the tables and chairs, or in the
tumble-down courtyard without. Her work is actually never done and a
Chinese bride, bright and attractive at twenty, will be old and faded
at thirty.
But without doubt the crowning evil which attends woman's condition
in China is foot binding, and nothing can be offered in extenuation
of this abominable custom. It is said to have originated one thousand
years before the Christian era and has persisted until the present
day in spite of the efforts directed against it. The Empress Dowager
issued edicts strongly advising its discontinuation, the "Natural Foot
Society," which was formed about fifteen years ago, has endeavored to
educate public opinion, and the missionaries refuse to admit girls
so mutilated to their schools; but nevertheless the reform has made
little progress beyond the coast cities. "Precedent" and the fear of
not obtaining suitable husbands for their daughters are responsible for
the continuation of the evil, and it is estimated that there are still
about seventy-four millions of girls and women who are crippled in this
way.
The feet are bandaged between the ages of five and seven. The toes are
bent under the sole of the foot and after two or three years the heel
and instep are so forced together that a dollar can be placed in the
cleft; gradually also the lower limbs shrink away until only the bones
remain.
The suffering of the children is intense. We often passed through
streets full of laughing boys and tiny girls where others, a few years
older, were sitting on the doorsteps or curbstones holding their
tortured feet and crying bitterly. In some instances out-houses are
constructed a considerable distance from the family dwelling where the
girls must sleep during their first crippled years in order that their
moans may not disturb the other members of the family. The child's only
relief is to hang her feet over the edge of the bed in order to stop
the circulation and induce numbness, or to seek oblivion from opium.
If the custom were a fad which affected only the wealthy classes it
would be reprehensible enough, but it curses rich and poor alike, and
almost every day we saw heavily laden coolie women steadying themselves
by means of a staff, hobbling stiff-kneed along the roads or laboring
in the fields.
[Illustration: A Chinese Mother with Her Children]
[Illustration: Chinese Women of the Coolie Class with Bound Feet]
Although the agitation against foot binding is undoubtedly making
itself felt to a certain extent in the coast provinces, in Yün-nan
the horrible practice continues unabated. During the year in which we
traveled through a large part of the province, wherever there were
Chinese we saw bound feet. And the fact that virtually _every_ girl
over eight years old was mutilated in this way is satisfactory evidence
that reform ideas have not penetrated to this remote part of the
Republic.
I know of nothing which so rouses one's indignation because of its
senselessness and brutality, and China can never hope to take her place
among civilized nations until she has abandoned this barbarous custom
and liberated her women from their infamous subjection.
There has been much criticism of foreign education because the girls
who have had its advantages absorb western ideas so completely that
they dislike to return to their homes where the ordinary conditions of
a Chinese household exist. Nevertheless, if the women of China are ever
to be emancipated it must come through their own education as well as
that of the men.
One of the first results of foreign influence is to delay marriage, and
in some instances the early betrothal with its attendant miseries. The
evil which results from this custom can hardly be overestimated. It
happens not infrequently that two children are betrothed in infancy,
the respective families being in like circumstances at the time. The
opportunity perhaps is offered to the girl to attend school and she
may even go through college, but an inexorable custom brings her back
to her parents' home, forces her to submit to the engagement made in
babyhood and perhaps ruins her life through marriage with a man of no
higher social status or intelligence than a coolie.
Among the few girls imbued with western civilization a spirit of revolt
is slowly growing, and while it is impossible for them to break down
the barriers of ages, yet in many instances they waive aside what would
seem an unsurmountable precedent and insist upon having some voice in
the choosing of their husbands.
While in Yen-ping we were invited to attend the semi-foreign wedding
of a girl who had been brought up in the Woman's School and who was
qualified to be a "Bible Woman" or native Christian teacher. It was
whispered that she had actually met her betrothed on several occasions,
but on their wedding day no trace of recognition was visible, and the
marriage was performed with all the punctilious Chinese observances
compatible with a Christian ceremony.
Precedent required of this little bride, although she might have been
radiantly happy at heart, and undoubtedly was, to appear tearful and
shrinking and as she was escorted up the aisle by her bridesmaid
one might have thought she was being led to slaughter. White is not
becoming to the Chinese and besides it is a sign of mourning, so she
had chosen pink for her wedding gown and had a brilliant pink veil over
her carefully oiled hair.
After the ceremony the bride and bridegroom proceeded downstairs to the
joyous strain of the wedding march, but with nothing joyous in their
demeanor--in fact they appeared like two wooden images at the reception
and endured for over an hour the stares and loud criticism of the
guests. He assumed during the ordeal a look of bored indifference while
the little bride sat with her head bowed on her breast, apparently
terror stricken. But once she raised her face and I saw a merry twinkle
in her shining black eyes that made me realize that perhaps it wasn't
all quite so frightful as she would have us believe. I often wonder
what sort of a life she is leading in her far away Chinese courtyard.
CHAPTER IX
VOYAGING TO YÜN-NAN
We had a busy week in Hongkong outfitting for our trip to Yün-nan.
Hongkong is one of the best cities in the Orient in which to purchase
supplies of almost any kind, for not only is the selection excellent,
but the best English goods can be had for prices very little in excess
of those in London itself.
The system which we used in our commissary was that of the unit food
box which has been adopted by most large expeditions. The boxes were
packed to weigh seventy pounds each and contained all the necessary
staple supplies for three persons for one week; thus only one box
needed to be opened at a time, and, moreover, if the party separated
for a few days a single box could be taken without the necessity
of repacking and with the assurance that sufficient food would be
available.
Our supplies consisted largely of flour, butter, sugar, coffee, milk,
bacon, and marmalade, and but little tinned meat, vegetables, or fruit
because we were certain to be able to obtain a plentiful supply of such
food in the country through which we were expecting to travel.
Our tents were brought from New York and were made of light Egyptian
cotton thoroughly waterproof, but we also purchased in Hongkong a large
army tent for the servants and two canvas flies to protect loads and
specimens. We used sleeping bags and folding cots, tables and chairs,
for when an expedition expects to remain in the field for a long time
it is absolutely necessary to be as comfortable as possible and to live
well; otherwise one cannot work at one's highest efficiency.
For clothing we all wore khaki or "Dux-back" suits with flannel shirts
and high leather shoes for mountain climbing, and we had light rubber
automobile shirts and rubber caps for use in rainy weather. The auto
shirt is a long, loose robe which slips over the head and fastens about
the neck and, when one is sitting upon a horse, can be so spread about
as to cover all exposed parts of the body; it is especially useful and
necessary, and hip rubber boots are also very comfortable during the
rainy season.
Our traps for catching small mammals were brought from New York. We had
two sizes of wooden "Out of Sight" for mice and rats, and four or five
sizes of Oneida steel traps for catching medium sized animals such as
civets and polecats. We also carried a half dozen No. 5 wolf traps.
Mr. Heller had used this size in Africa and found that they were large
enough even to hold lions.
Mr. Heller carried a 250-300 Savage rifle, while I used a 6-1/2 mm.
Mannlicher and a .405 Winchester. All of these guns were eminently
satisfactory, but the choice of a rifle is a very personal matter and
every sportsman has his favorite weapon. We found, however, that a flat
trajectory high-power rifle such as those with which we were armed was
absolutely essential for many of our shots were at long range and we
frequently killed gorals at three hundred yards or over.
The camera equipment consisted of two 3A Kodaks, a Graphic 4 × 5
tripod camera, and Graflex 4 × 5 for rapid work. We have found after
considerable field experience that the 4 × 5 is the most convenient
size to handle, for the plate is large enough and can be obtained
more readily than any other in different parts of the world. The same
applies to the 3A Kodak "post-card" size film, for there are few places
where foreign goods are carried that 3A films cannot be purchased.
All of our plates and films were sealed in air-tight tin boxes before
we left America, and thus the material was in perfect condition when
the cans were opened. We used plates almost altogether in the finer
photographic work, for although they are heavier and more difficult to
handle than films, nevertheless the results obtained are very superior.
A collapsible rubber dark room about seven feet high and four feet in
diameter was an indispensable part of the camera equipment. This tent
was made for us by the Abercrombie & Fitch Company, of New York, and
could be hung from the limb of a tree or the rafters of a building and
be ready for use in five minutes.
The motion pictures were taken with a Universal camera, and like all
other negatives were developed in the field by means of a special
apparatus which had been designed by Mr. Carl Akeley of the American
Museum of Natural History. This work required a much larger space than
that of the portable dark room and we consequently had a tent made of
red cloth which could be tied inside of our ordinary sleeping tent.
Our equipment was packed in fiber army trunks and in wooden boxes
with sliding tops. The latter arrangement is especially desirable in
Yün-nan, for the loads can be opened without being untied from the
saddle, thus saving a considerable amount of time and trouble.
It was by no means an easy matter to get our supplies together, but
the Lane & Crawford Company of Hongkong pushed the making and packing
of our boxes in a remarkably efficient manner; as the manager of one
of their departments expressed it, "the one way to hurry a Chinaman
is to get more Chinamen," and they put a small army at work upon our
material, which was ready for shipment in just a week.
While in Hongkong we were joined by Wu Hung-tao, of Shanghai, who acted
as interpreter and "head boy" as well as a general field manager of the
expedition. He formerly had been in the employ of Mr. F. W. Cary, when
the latter was Commissioner of Customs in Teng-yueh, Yün-nan, and he
was educated at the Anglo-Chinese College of Foochow. Wu proved to be
the most efficient and trustworthy servant whom we have ever employed,
and the success of our work was due in no small degree to his efforts.
We left for Tonking on the S. S. _Sung-kiang_, commanded by Harry
Trowbridge, a congenial and well-read gentleman whose delightful
personality contributed much toward making our week's stay on his ship
most pleasant. On our way to Haiphong the vessel stopped at the island
of Hainan and anchored about three miles off the town of Hoi-hau. This
island is 90 by 150 miles long, is mountainous in its center, but flat
and uninteresting at the northwest.
A large part of the island is unexplored and in the interior there is
a mountain called "the Five Fingers" which has never been ascended,
for it is reported that the hill tribes are unfriendly and that
the tropical valleys are reeking with deadly malaria. The island
undoubtedly would prove to be a rich field for zoölogical work as is
shown by the collections which the American Museum of Natural History
has already received from a native dealer; these include monkeys,
squirrels, and other small mammals, and bears, leopards, and deer are
said to be among its fauna.
The next night's steaming brought us to the city of Paik-hoi on the
mainland. In the afternoon we went ashore with Captain Trowbridge to
visit Dr. Bradley of the China Inland Mission who is in charge of a
leper hospital, which is a model of its kind. The doctor was away but
we made ourselves at home and when he returned he found us in his
drawing room comfortably enjoying afternoon tea. He remarked that he
knew of a Chinese cook who was looking for a position, and half an
hour later, while we were watching some remarkably fine tennis, the
cook arrived. He was about six feet two inches high, and so thin that
he was immediately christened the "Woolworth Building" and, although
not a very prepossessing looking individual he was forthwith engaged,
principally because of his ability to speak English. This was at six
o'clock in the afternoon and we had to be aboard the ship at eight. The
doctor sent a note to the French Consul and the cook returned anon with
his baggage and passport. Obtaining this cook was the only really rapid
thing which I have ever seen done in China!
When the _Sung-kiang_ arrived in Haiphong the next afternoon we were
besieged by a screaming, fighting mob of Annamits who seized upon
our baggage like so many vultures, and it was only by means of a few
well-directed kicks that we could prevent it from being scattered to
the four winds of Heaven. After we had designated a _sampan_ to receive
our equipment the unloading began and several trunks had gone over the
side, when Mr. Heller happened to glance down just in time to see one
of the ammunition boxes drop into the water and sink like lead. The
Annamits, believing that it had not been noticed, went on as blithely
as before and volubly denied that anything had been lost. We stopped
the unloading instantly and sent for divers. The box had sunk in thirty
feet of muddy water and it seemed useless to hope that it could ever be
recovered, but the divers went to work by dropping a heavy stone on the
end of a rope and going down it hand over hand.
After two hours the box was located and brought dripping to the
surface. Fortunately but little of the ammunition was ruined, and most
of it was dried during the night in the engine room. Because of this
delay we had to leave Haiphong on the following day, and with Captain
Trowbridge, we went by train to Hanoi, the capital of the colony.
Hanoi is a city of delightful surprises. It has broad, clean streets,
overhung with trees which often form a cool green canopy overhead,
beautiful lawns and well-kept houses, and in the center of the town is
a lovely lake surrounded by a wide border of palms. At the far end,
like a jewel in a crystal setting, seems to float a white pagoda, an
outpost of the temple which stands in the midst of a watery meadow of
lotus plants. The city shops are excellent, but in most instances the
prices are exceedingly high.
Like all the French towns in the Orient the hours for work are rather
confusing to the foreigner. The shops open at 6:30 in the morning and
close at 11 o'clock to reopen again at 8 in the afternoon and continue
business until 7:30 or 8 o'clock in the evening. During the middle of
the day all houses have the shutters closely drawn, and because of the
intense heat and glare of the sun the streets are absolutely deserted,
not even a native being visible. In the morning a _petit déjeuner_,
remarkable especially for its "petitness," is served, and a real
_déjeuner_ comes later anywhere from 10 to 12:30.
About 6 o'clock in the evening the open _cafés_ and restaurants along
the sidewalk are lined with groups of men and women playing cards and
dice and drinking gin and bitters, vermouth or absinthe. There is an
air of happiness and life about Hanoi which is typically Parisian and
even during war time it is a city of gayety. An immense theater stands
in the center of the town, but has not been opened since the beginning
of the war.
We had letters to M. Chemin Dupontès, the director of the railroads,
as well as to the Lieutenant-Governor and other officials. Without
exception we were received in the most cordial manner and every
facility and convenience put at our disposal. M. Dupontès was
especially helpful.
Some time before our arrival a tunnel on the railroad from Hanoi to
Yün-nan Fu had caved in and for almost a month trains had not been
running. It was now in operation, however, but all luggage had to be
transferred by hand at the broken tunnel and consequently must not
exceed eighty-five pounds in weight. This meant repacking our entire
equipment and three days of hard work. M. Dupontès arranged to have
our 4000 pounds of baggage put in a special third class carriage
with our "boys" in attendance and in this way saved the expedition a
considerable amount of money. He personally went with us to the station
to arrange for our comfort with the _chef de gare_, telegraphed ahead
at every station upon the railroad, and gave us an open letter to all
officials; in fact there was nothing which he left undone.
The railroad is a remarkable engineering achievement for it was
constructed in great haste through a difficult mountainous range.
Yün-nan is an exceedingly rich province and the French were quick to
see the advantages of drawing its vast trade to their own seaports.
The British were already making surveys to construct a railroad from
Bhamo on the headwaters of the Irawadi River across Yün-nan to connect
with the Yangtze, and the French were anxious to have their road in
operation some time before the rival line could be completed.
Owing to its hasty construction and the heavy rainfall, or perhaps to
both, the tunnels and bridges frequently cave in or are washed away and
the railroad is chiefly remarkable for the number of days in the year
in which it does not operate; nevertheless the French deserve great
credit for their enterprise in extending their line to Yün-nan Fu over
the mountains where there is a tunnel or bridge almost every mile of
the way. While it was being built through the fever-stricken jungles of
Tonking the coolies died like flies, and it was necessary to suspend
all work during the summer months.
The scenery along the railroad is marvelous and the traveling is by no
means uncomfortable, but the hotels in which one stops at night are
wretched. One of our friends in Hongkong related an amusing experience
which he had at Lao-kay, the first hotel on the railroad. He asked for
a bath and discovered that a tub of hot water had been prepared. He
wished a cold bath, and seeing a large tank filled with cold water in
the corner of the room he climbed in and was enjoying himself when the
hotel proprietor suddenly rushed upstairs exclaiming, "Mon Dieu, Mon
Dieu, you are in the tank of drinking water."
When we arrived at Yün-nan Fu we found a surprisingly cosmopolitan
community housed within its grim old walls; some were consuls, some
missionaries, some salt, telegraph, or customs officials in the Chinese
employ, and others represented business firms in Hongkong, but all
received us with open-handed hospitality characteristic of the East.
We thought that after leaving Hongkong our evening clothes would not
again be used, but they were requisitioned every night for we were
guests at dinners given by almost everyone of the foreign community.
Mr. Howard Page, a representative of the Standard Oil Company, proved
a most valuable friend, and through him we were able to obtain a
caravan and make other arrangements for the transportation of our
baggage. M. Henry Wilden, the French Consul, an ardent sportsman and a
charming gentleman, took an active interest in our affairs and arranged
a meeting for us with the Chinese Commissioner of Foreign Affairs.
Moreover, he later transported our trunks to Hongkong with his personal
baggage and assisted us in every possible way.
We went to the Foreign Office at half past ten and were ushered into
a large room where a rather imposing lunch had already been spread.
The Commissioner, a fat, jolly little man, who knew a few words of
French but none of English, received us in the most cordial way and
immediately opened several bottles of champagne in our honor. He asked
why our passports had not been viséd in Peking, and we pleased him
greatly by replying that at the time we were in the capital Yün-nan was
an independent province and consequently the Peking Government had not
the temerity to put their stamp upon our passports.
Inasmuch as Yün-nan was infested with brigands we had expected some
opposition to our plans for traveling in the interior, but none was
forthcoming, and with the exception of an offer of a guard of soldiers
for our trip to Ta-li Fu which we knew it would be impolitic to refuse,
we left the Foreign Office with all the desired permits.
The Chinese Government appeared to be greatly interested in our
zoölogical study of Yün-nan, offered to assist us in every way we could
suggest, and telegraphed to every mandarin in the north and west of
the province, instructing them to receive us with all honor and to
facilitate our work in every way. None of the opposition which we had
been led to expect developed, and it is difficult to see how we could
have been more cordially received.
CHAPTER X
ON THE ROAD TO TA-LI FU
On August 6, we dispatched half our equipment to Ta-li Fu, and three
days later we ourselves left Yün-nan Fu at eleven o'clock in the
morning after an interminable wait for our caravan. Through the
kindness of Mr. Page, a house boat was put at our disposal and we
sailed across the upper end of the beautiful lake which lies just
outside the city, and intercepted the caravan twenty-five _li_[1] from
Yün-nan Fu.
On the way we passed a number of cormorant fishers, each with ten or a
dozen birds sitting quietly upon the boat with outspread wings drying
their feathers. Every bird has a ring about its neck, and is thus
prevented from swallowing the fish which it catches by diving into the
water.
After waiting an hour for our caravan we saw the long train of mules
and horses winding up the hill toward us. There were seventeen
altogether, and in the midst of them rode the cook clinging desperately
with both hands to a diminutive mule, his long legs dangling and a look
of utter wretchedness upon his face. Just before the caravan reached us
it began to rain, and the cook laboriously pulled on a suit of yellow
oilskins which we had purchased for him in Yün-nan Fu. These, together
with a huge yellow hat, completed a picture which made us roar with
laughter; Heller gave the caption for it when he shouted, "Here comes
the 'Yellow Peril.'"
[Footnote 1: A _li_ in this province equals one-third of an English
mile.]
[Illustration: Cormorant Fishers on the Lake at Yün-nan Fu]
[Illustration: Our Camp at Chou Chou on the Way to Ta-li Fu]
We surveyed the tiny horses with dismay. As Heller vainly tried to
get his girth tight enough to keep the saddle from sliding over the
animal's tail he exclaimed, "Is this a horse or a squirrel I'm trying
to ride?" But it was not so bad when we finally climbed aboard and
found that we did not crush the little brutes.
A seventy-pound box on each side of the saddle with a few odds and
ends on top made a pack of at least one hundred and sixty pounds. This
is heavy even for a large animal and for these tiny mules seemed an
impossibility, but it is the usual weight, and the business-like way in
which they moved off showed that they were not overloaded.
The Yün-nan pack saddle is a remarkably ingenious arrangement. The
load is strapped with a rawhide to a double A-shaped frame which fits
loosely over a second saddle on the animal's back and is held in place
by its own weight. If a mule falls the pack comes off and, moreover, it
can be easily removed if the road is bad or whenever a stop is made. It
has the great disadvantage, however, of giving the horses serious back
sores which receive but scanty attention from the _mafus_ (muleteers).
When we were fairly started upon our long ride to Ta-li Fu the time
slipped by in a succession of delightful days. Since this was the main
caravan route the _mafus_ had regular stages beyond which they would
not go. If we did not stop for luncheon the march could be ended early
in the afternoon and we could settle ourselves for the night in a
temple which always proved a veritable "haven of rest" after a long
day in the saddle. A few pages from my wife's "Journal" of September
fifteenth describes our camp at Lu-ho-we and our life on the road to
Ta-li Fu.
We are sitting on the porch of an old, old temple. It is on a
hilltop in a forest grove with the gray-walled town lying at our
feet. The sun is flooding the flower-filled courtyard and throwing
bars of golden light through the twisted branches of a bent old
pine, over the stone well, and into the dim recesses behind the
altar where a benevolent idol grins down upon us.
We have been in the saddle for eight hours and it is enchanting to
rest in this peaceful, aged temple. Outside children are shouting
and laughing but all is quiet here save for the drip of water in
the well, and the chatter of a magpie on the pine tree. Today we
made the stage in one long march and now we can rest and browse
among our books or wander with a gun along the cool, tree-shaded
paths.
The sun is hot at mid-day, although the mornings and evenings are
cold, and tonight we shall build a fragrant fire of yellow pine,
and talk for an hour before we go to sleep upon the porch where we
can see the moon come up and the stars shining so low that they
seem like tiny lanterns in the sky.
It is seven days since we left Yün-nan Fu and each night we have
come to temples such as this. There is an inexpressible charm
about them, lying asleep, as it were, among the trees of their
courtyards, with stately, pillared porches, and picturesque gables
upturned to the sky. They seem so very, very old and filled with
such great calm and peace.
Sometimes they stand in the midst of a populous town and we ride
through long streets between dirty houses, swarming with ragged
women, filthy men, and screaming children; suddenly we come to the
dilapidated entrance of our temple, pass through a courtyard, close
the huge gates and are in another world.
We leave early every morning and the boys are up long before dawn.
As we sleepily open our eyes we see their dark figures silhouetted
against the brilliant camp fire, hear the yawns of the _mafus_ and
the contented crunching of the mules as they chew their beans.
Wu appears with a lantern and calls out the hour and before we
have fully dressed the odor of coffee has found its way to the
remotest corner of the temple, and a breakfast of pancakes, eggs,
and oatmeal is awaiting on the folding table spread with a clean
white cloth. While we are eating, the beds are packed, and the
loads retied, accompanied by a running fire of exhortations to the
_mafus_ who cause us endless trouble.
They are a hard lot, these _mafus_. Force seems to be the only
thing they understand and kindness produces no results. If the
march is long and we stop for tiffin it is well-nigh impossible to
get them started within three hours without the aid of threats.
Once after a long halt when all seemed ready, we rode ahead only to
wait by the roadside for hours before the caravan arrived. As soon
as we were out of sight they had begun to shoe their mules and that
night we did not make our stage until long after dark.
In the morning when we see the first loads actually on the horses
we ride off at the head of the caravan followed by a straggling
line of mules and horses picking their way over the jagged stones
of the road. It is delightful in the early morning for the air is
fresh and brisk like that of October at home, but later in the day
when the sun is higher it is uncomfortably hot, and we are glad to
find a bit of shade where we can rest until the caravan arrives.
The roads are execrable. The Chinese have a proverb which says:
"A road is good for ten years and bad for ten thousand," and this
applies most excellently to those of Yün-nan. The main caravan
highways are paved with huge stones to make them passable during
the rainy season, but after a few years' wear the blocks become
broken and irregular, the earth is washed from between them and
they are upturned at impossible angles. The result is a chaotic
mass which by no stretch of imagination can be called a road.
Where the stones are still in place they have been worn to such
glasslike smoothness by the thousands of passing mules that it
is well-nigh impossible to walk upon them. As a result a caravan
avoids the paving whenever it can find a path and sometimes dozens
of deeply-cut trails wind over the hills beside the road.
We are seldom on level ground, for ten per cent of the entire
province is mountainous and we soon lost count of the ranges
which we crossed. It is slow, hard work, toiling up the steep
mountain-sides, but once on the ridges where the country is spread
out below us like a great, green relief map, there is a wonderful
exhilaration, and we climb higher with a joyous sense of freedom.
Yün-nan means "south of the cloud" and every morning the peaks
about us are shrouded in fog. Sometimes the veil-like mists still
float about the mountain tops when we climb into them, and we are
suddenly enveloped in a wet gray blanket which sends us shivering
into the coats tied to our saddles.
For centuries this road has been one of the main trade arteries
through the province, and with the total lack of conservation ideas so
characteristic of the Chinese, every available bit of natural forest
has been cut away. As a result the mountains are desert wastes of
sandstone alternating with grass-covered hills sometimes clothed with
groves of pines or spruces. These trees have all been planted, and ere
they have reached a height of fifteen or twenty feet will yield to the
insistent demand for wood which is ever present with the Chinese.
The ignorance of the need of forest conservation is an illuminating
commentary on Chinese education. Mr. William Hanna, a missionary of
Ta-li Fu, told us that one day he was riding over this same road with a
Chinese gentleman, a deep scholar, who was considered one of the best
educated men of the province. Pointing to the barren hills washed clean
of soil and deeply worn by countless floods, Mr. Hanna remarked that
all this could have been prevented, and that instead of a rocky waste
there might have been a fertile hillside, had the trees been left to
grow.
The Chinese scholar listened in amazement to facts which every western
schoolboy has learned ere he is twelve years old, but of which he was
ignorant because they are not a part of Confucius' teachings. To study
modern science is considered a waste of time by the orthodox Chinese
for "everything good must be old," and all his life he delves into the
past utterly neglectful of the present.
Every valley along the road was green with rice fields and this,
together with the deforestation of the mountains, is responsible for
the almost total lack of animal life. Night after night we set traps
about our temple camps only to find them untouched in the morning.
There were no mammals with the exception of a few red-bellied squirrels
(_Callosciurus erythræus_ subsp.) and now and then a tree shrew
(_Tupaia belangeri chinensis_).
The latter is an interesting species. Although it is an Insectivore,
and a relative of the tiny shrews which live in holes and under logs,
it has squirrel-like habits and in appearance is like a squirrel
to which it is totally unrelated. Instead of the thinly haired
mouselike tails of the ordinary shrews the tupaias have developed
long bushy tails and in fact look and act so much like squirrels
that it is difficult to convince the white residents of Yün-nan, who
are accustomed to see them run about the hedges and walls of their
courtyards that the two are quite unrelated.
The tree shrews are found only in Asia and are one of the most
remarkable instances of a superficial resemblance between unrelated
animals with similar habits. A study of their anatomy has revealed the
fact that they represent a distinct group which is connected with the
monkeys (lemurs).
Although birds were fairly abundant the species were not varied. We
were about a month too early for the ducks and geese, which during the
winter swarm into Yün-nan from the north, and without a dog, pheasants
are difficult to get. In fact we were greatly disappointed in the game
birds, for we had expected good pheasant shooting even along the road
and virtually none were to be found.
The main caravan roads of Yün-nan held little of interest for
us as naturalists, but as students of native customs they were
fascinating, for the life of the province passed before us in panoramic
completeness. Chinese villages wherever we have seen them are marvels
of utter and abandoned filth and although those of Yün-nan are no
exception to the rule, they are considerably better than the coast
cities.
Pigs, chickens, horses and cows live in happy communion with the human
inmates of the houses, the pigs especially being treated as we favor
dogs at home. On the door steps children play with the swine, patting
and pounding them, and one of my friends said that he had actually
seen a mother bring her baby to be nursed by a sow with her family of
piglets.
The natives were pleasant and friendly and seemed to be industrious.
Wherever the deforestation had left sufficient soil on the lower
hillsides patches of corn took the place of the former poppy fields
for opium. In 1906, the Empress Dowager issued an edict prohibiting
the growing of opium, and gave guarantees to the British that it would
be entirely stamped out during the next ten years. Strangely enough
these promises have been faithfully kept, and in Yün-nan the hillsides,
which were once white with poppy blossoms, are now yellow with corn. In
all our 2000 miles of riding over unfrequented trails and in the most
out-of-the-way spots we found only one instance where opium was being
cultivated.
The mandarin of each district accompanied by a guard of soldiers makes
periodical excursions during the seasons when the poppy is in blossom,
cuts down the plants if any are found, and punishes the owners. China
deserves the greatest credit for so successfully dealing with a
question which affects such a large part of her four hundred millions
of people and which presents such unusual difficulties because of its
economic importance.
Just across the frontier in Burma, opium is grown freely and much
is smuggled into Yün-nan. Therefore its use has by no means been
abandoned, especially in the south of the province, and in some towns
it is smoked openly in the tea houses. In August, 1916, just before
we reached Yün-nan Fu there was an _exposé_ of opium smuggling which
throws an illuminating side light on the corruption of some Chinese
officials.
Opium can be purchased in Yün-nan Fu for two dollars (Mexican) an
ounce, while in Shanghai it is worth ten dollars (Mexican). Tang (the
Military Governor), the Minister of Justice, the Governor's brother and
three members of Parliament had collected six hundred pounds of opium
which they undertook to transfer to Shanghai.
Their request that no examination of their baggage be made by the
French during their passage through Tonking was granted, and a similar
favor was procured for them at Shanghai. Thus the sixty cases were
safely landed, but a few hours later, through the opium combine,
foreign detectives learned of the smuggling and the boxes were seized.
The Minister of Justice denied all knowledge of the opium, as did the
three Parliament members, and Governor Tang was not interrogated as
that would be quite contrary to the laws of Chinese etiquette; however,
he will not receive reappointment when his official term expires.
As we neared Ta-li Fu, and indeed along the entire road, we were amazed
at the prevalence of goitre. At a conservative estimate two out of
every five persons were suffering from the disease, some having two, or
even three, globules of uneven size hanging from their throats. In one
village six out of seven adults were affected, but apparently children
under twelve or fourteen years are free from it as we saw no evidences
in either sex. Probably the disease is in a large measure due to the
drinking water, for it is most prevalent in the limestone regions and
seems to be somewhat localized.
Every day we passed "chairs," or as we named them, "mountain
schooners," in each of which a fat Chinaman sprawled while two or
four sweating coolies bore him up hill. The chair is rigged between a
pair of long bamboo poles and consists of two sticks swung by ropes
on which is piled a heap of bedding. Overhead a light bamboo frame
supports a piece of yellow oil-cloth, which completely shuts in the
occupant, except from the front and rear.
The Chinese consider it undignified to walk, or even to ride, and if
one is about to make an official visit nothing less than a four-man
chair is required. Haste is just as much tabooed in the "front
families" as physical exertion, and is utterly incomprehensible to
the Chinese. Major Davies says that while he was in Tonking before
the railroad to Yün-nan Fu had been constructed, M. Doumer, the
Governor-General of French Indo-China, who was a very energetic
man, rode to Yün-nan Fu in an extraordinarily short time. While the
Europeans greatly admired his feat, the Chinese believed he must be in
some difficulty from which only the immediate assistance of the Viceroy
of Yün-nan could extricate him.
In Yün-nan it is necessary to carry one's own bedding for the inns
supply nothing but food, and consequently when a Chinaman rides from
one city to another he piles a great heap of blankets on his horse's
back and climbs on top with his legs astride the animal's neck in
front. The horses are trained to a rapid trot instead of a gallop, and
I know of no more ridiculous sight than a Chinaman bouncing along a
road on the summit of a veritable mountain of bedding with his arms
waving and streamers flying in every direction. He is assisted in
keeping his balance by broad brass stirrups in which he usually hooks
his heels and guides his horse by means of a rawhide bridle decorated
with dozens of bangles which make a comforting jingle whenever he moves.
On the sixth day out when approaching the city of Chu-hsuing Fu we
took a short cut through the fields leaving the caravan to follow
the main road. The trail brought us to a river about forty feet wide
spanned by a bridge made from two narrow planks, with a wide median
fissure. We led our horses across without trouble and Heller started to
follow. He had reached the center of the bridge when his horse shied at
the hole, jumped to one side, hung suspended on his belly for a moment,
and toppled off into the water.
The performance had all happened behind Heller's back and when he
turned about in time to see his horse diving into the river, he stood
looking down at him with a most ludicrous expression of surprise and
disgust, while the animal climbed out and began to graze as quietly as
though nothing had happened.
Chu-hsuing was interesting as being the home of Miss Cordelia Morgan, a
niece of Senator Morgan of Virginia. We found her to be a most charming
and determined young woman who had established a mission station in the
city under considerable difficulties. The mandarin and other officials
by no means wished to have a foreign lady, alone and unattended,
settle down among them and become a responsibility which might cause
them endless trouble, and although she had rented a house before she
arrived, the owner refused to allow her to move in.
She could get no assistance from the mandarin and was forced to live
for two months in a dirty Chinese inn, swarming with vermin, until they
realized that she was determined not to be driven away. She eventually
obtained a house and while she considers herself comfortable, I doubt
if others would care to share her life unless they had an equal amount
of determination and enthusiasm.
At that time she had not placed her work under the charge of a mission
board and was carrying it on independently. Until our arrival she had
seen but one white person in a year and a half, was living entirely
upon Chinese food, and had tasted no butter or milk in months.
We had a delightful dinner with Miss Morgan and the next morning as our
caravan wound down the long hill past her house she stood at the window
to wave good-by. She kept her head behind the curtains, and doubtless
if we could have seen her face we would have found tears upon it, for
the evening with another woman of her kind had brought to her a breath
of the old life which she had resolutely forsaken and which so seldom
penetrated to her self-appointed exile.
On our ninth day from Yün-nan Fu we had a welcome bit of excitement. We
were climbing a long mountain trail to a pass over eight thousand feet
high and were near the summit when a boy dashed breathlessly up to the
caravan, jabbering wildly in Chinese. It required fifteen minutes of
questioning before we finally learned that bandits had attacked a big
caravan less than a mile ahead of us and were even then ransacking the
loads.
He said that there were two hundred and fifty of them and that they had
killed two _mafus_; almost immediately a second gesticulating Chinaman
appeared and gave the number as three hundred and fifty and the dead as
five. Allowing for the universal habit of exaggeration we felt quite
sure that there were not more than fifty, and subsequently learned that
forty was the correct number and that no one had been killed.
Our caravan was in a bad place to resist an attack but we got out our
rifles and made for a village at the top of the pass. There were not
more than a half dozen mud houses and in the narrow street between them
perfect bedlam reigned. Several small caravans had halted to wait for
us, and men, horses, loads, and chairs were packed and jammed together
so tightly that it seemed impossible ever to extricate them. Our
arrival added to the confusion, but leaving the _mafus_ to scream and
chatter among themselves, we scouted ahead to learn the true condition
of affairs.
Almost within sight we found the caravan which had been robbed. Paper
and cloth were strewn about, loads overturned, and loose mules wandered
over the hillside. The frightened _mafus_ were straggling back and
told us that about forty bandits had suddenly surrounded the caravan,
shooting and brandishing long knives. Instantly the _mafus_ had run
for their lives leaving the brigands to rifle the packs unmolested.
The goods chiefly belonged to the retiring mandarin of Li-chiang, and
included some five thousand dollars worth of jade and gold dust, all of
which was taken.
Yün-nan, like most of the outlying provinces of China, is infested
with brigands who make traveling very unsafe. There are, of course,
organized bands of robbers at all times, but these have been greatly
augmented since the rebellion by dismissed soldiers or deserters who
have taken to brigandage as the easiest means to avoid starvation.
The Chinese Government is totally unable to cope with the situation
and makes only half-hearted attempts to punish even the most flagrant
robberies, so that unguarded caravans carrying valuable material which
arrive at their destination unmolested consider themselves very lucky.
[Illustration: The Pagoda at Ta-li Fu]
[Illustration: The Dead of China]
So far as our expedition was concerned we did not feel great
apprehension for it was generally known that we carried but little
money and our equipment, except for guns, could not readily be disposed
of. Throughout the entire expedition we paid our _mafus_ and servants a
part of their wages in advance when they were engaged, and arranged to
have money sent by the mandarins or the British American Tobacco Co.,
to some large town which would be reached after several months. There
the balance on salaries was paid and we carried with us only enough
money for our daily needs.
Before we left Yün-nan Fu we were assured by the Foreign Office that we
would be furnished with a guard of soldiers--an honor few foreigners
escape! The first day out we had four, all armed with umbrellas! These
accompanied us to the first camp where they delivered their official
message to the _yamen_ and intrusted us to the care of others for our
next day's journey.
Sometimes they were equipped with guns of the vintage of 1872, but
their cartridges were seldom of the' same caliber as the rifles and in
most cases the ubiquitous umbrella was their only weapon. Just what
good they would be in a real attack it is difficult to imagine, except
to divert attention by breaking the speed limits in running away.
Several times in the morning we believed we had escaped them but they
always turned up in an hour or two. They were not so much a nuisance
as an expense, for custom requires that each be paid twenty cents
(Mexican) a day both going and returning. They are of some use in
lending an official aspect to an expedition and in requisitioning
anything which may be needed; also they act as an insurance policy, for
if a caravan is robbed a claim can be entered against the government,
whereas if the escort is refused the traveler has no redress.
It is amusing and often irritating to see the cavalier way in which
these men treat other caravans or the peasants along the road. Waving
their arms and shouting oaths they shoe horses, mules or chairs out of
the way regardless of the confusion into which the approaching caravan
may be thrown. They must also be closely watched for they are none too
honest and are prone to rely upon the moral support of foreigners to
take whatever they wish without the formality of payment.
We were especially careful to respect the property on which we camped
and to be just in all our dealings with the natives, but it was
sometimes difficult to prevent the _mafus_ or soldiers from tearing
down fences for firewood or committing similar depredations. Wherever
such acts were discovered we made suitable payment and punished the
offenders by deducting a part of their wages. Foreigners cannot respect
too carefully the rights of the peasants, for upon their conduct rests
the reception which will be accorded to all others who follow in their
footsteps.
CHAPTER XI
TA-LI FU
On Friday, September 28, we were at Chou Chou and camped in a
picturesque little temple on the outskirts of the town. As the last
stage was only six hours we spent half the morning in taking moving
pictures of the caravan and left for Ta-li at eleven-thirty after an
early =tiffin=.
About two o'clock in the afternoon we reached Hsia-kuan, a large
commercial town at the lower end of the lake. Its population largely
consists of merchants and it is by all means the most important
business place of interior Yün-nan; Ta-li, eight miles away, is the
residence and official city.
At Hsia-kuan we called upon the salt commissioner, Mr. Lui, to whom Mr.
Bode, the salt inspector at Yün-nan Fu, had very kindly telegraphed
money for my account, and after the usual tea and cigarettes we went
oil to Ta-li Fu over a perfectly level paved road, which was so
slippery that it was well-nigh impossible for either horse or man to
move over it faster than a walk.
This was the hottest day of our experience in Northern Yün-nan,
the thermometer registering 85°+ in the shade, which is the usual
mid-summer temperature, but the moment the sun dropped behind the
mountains it was cool enough for one to enjoy a fire. Even in the
winter it is never very cold and its delightful summer should make
Northern Yün-nan a wonderful health resort for the residents of
fever-stricken Burma and Tonking.
We rode toward Ta-li with the beautiful lake on our right hand and on
the other the Ts'ang Shan mountains which rise to a height of fourteen
thousand feet. As we approached the city we could see dimly outlined
against the foothills the slender shafts of three ancient pagodas. They
were erected to the _feng-shui_, the spirits of the "earth, wind, and
water," and for fifteen hundred years have stood guard over the stone
graves which, in countless thousands, are spread along the foot of the
mountains like a vast gray blanket. In the late afternoon sunlight the
walls of the city seemed to recede before us and the picturesque gate
loomed shadowy and unreal even when we passed through its gloomy arch
and clattered up the stone-paved street.
We soon discovered the residence of Mr. H. G. Evans, agent of the
British American Tobacco Company, to whose care our first caravan had
been consigned, and he very hospitably invited us to remain with him
while we were in Ta-li Fu. This was only the beginning of Mr. Evans'
assistance to the Expedition, for he acted as its banker throughout our
stay in Yün-nan, cashing checks and transferring money for us whenever
we needed funds.
The British American Tobacco Company and the Standard Oil Company of
New York are veritable "oases in the desert" for travelers because
their agencies are found in the most out-of-the-way spots in Asia and
their employees are always ready to extend the cordial hospitality of
the East to wandering foreigners.
Besides Mr. Evans the white residents of Ta-li Fu include the Reverend
William J. Hanna, his wife and two other ladies, all of the China
Inland Mission. Mr. Hanna is doing a really splendid work, especially
along educational and medical lines. He has built a beautiful little
chapel, a large school, and a dispensary in connection with his house,
where he and his wife are occupied every morning treating the minor
ills of the natives, Christian and heathen alike.
Ta-li Fu was the scene of tremendous slaughter at the time of the
Mohammedan war, when the Chinese captured the city through the
treachery of its commander and turned the streets to rivers of blood.
The Mohammedans were almost exterminated, and the ruined stone walls
testify to the completeness of the Chinese devastation.
The mandarin at Ta-li Fu was good-natured but dissipated and corrupt.
He called upon us the evening of our arrival and almost immediately
asked if we had any shotgun cartridges. He remarked that he had a gun
but no shells, and as we did not offer to give him any he continued to
hint broadly at every opportunity.
The mandarins of lower rank often buy their posts and depend upon what
they can make in "squeeze" from the natives of their district for
reimbursement and a profit on their investment. In almost every case
which is brought to them for adjustment the decision is withheld until
the magistrate has learned which of the parties is prepared to offer
the highest price for a settlement in his favor. The Chinese peasant,
accepting this as the established custom, pays the bribe without a
murmur if it is not too exorbitant and, in fact, would be exceedingly
surprised if "justice" were dispensed in any other way.
My personal relations with the various mandarins whom I was constantly
required to visit officially were always of the pleasantest and I was
treated with great courtesy. It was apparent wherever we were in China
that there was a total lack of antiforeign feeling in both the peasant
and official classes and except for the brigands, who are beyond the
law, undoubtedly white men can travel in perfect safety anywhere in
the republic. Before my first official visit Wu gave me a lesson in
etiquette. The Chinese are exceedingly punctilious and it is necessary
to conform to their standards of politeness for they do not realize, or
accept in excuse, the fact that Western customs differ from their own.
At the end of the reception room in every _yamen_ is a raised platform
on which the visitor sits at the _left hand_ of the mandarin; it would
be exceedingly rude for a magistrate to seat the caller on his right
hand. Tea is always served immediately but is not supposed to be tasted
until the official does so himself; the cup must then be lifted to
the lips with both hands. Usually when the magistrate sips his tea
it is a sign that the interview is ended. When leaving, the mandarin
follows his visitor to the doorway of the outer court, while the latter
continually bows and protests asking him not to come so far.
Ta-li Fu and Hsia-kuan are important fur markets and we spent some time
investigating the shops. One important find was the panda (_Ælurus
fulgens_). The panda is an aberrant member of the raccoon family
but looks rather like a fox; in fact the Chinese call it the "fire
fox" because of its beautiful, red fur. Pandas were supposed to be
exceedingly rare and we could hardly believe it possible when we saw
dozens of coats made from their skins hanging in the fur shops.
[Illustration: The Residence of Rev. William J. Hanna at Ta-li Fu]
[Illustration: The Gate and Main Street of Ta-li Fu]
Skins of the huge red-brown flying squirrel, _Petaurista yunnanensis_,
were also used for clothing and the abundance of this animal was
almost as great a surprise as the finding of the pandas. This is often
true in the case of supposedly rare species. A few specimens may be
obtained from the extreme limits of its range, or from a locality where
it really is rare, and for years it may be almost unique in museum
collections but eventually the proper locality may be visited and the
animals found to be abundant.
We saw several skins of the beautiful cat (_Felis temmincki_) which,
with the snow leopard (_Felis uncia_), it was said came from Tibet.
Civets, bears, foxes, and small cats were being used extensively for
furs and pangolins could be purchased in the medicine shops. The scales
of the pangolin are considered to be of great value in the treatment of
certain diseases and the skins are usually sold by the pound as are the
horns of deer, wapiti, gorals, and serows.
Almost all of the fossil animals which have been obtained in China
by foreigners have been purchased in apothecary shops. If a Chinaman
discovers a fossil bed he guards it zealously for it represents an
actual gold mine to him. The bones are ground into a fine powder, mixed
with an acid, and a phosphate obtained which in reality has a certain
value as a tonic. When a considerable amount of faith and Chinese
superstition is added its efficacy assumes double proportions.
Every year a few tiger skins find their way to Hsia-kuan from the
southern part of the province along the Tonking border, but the good
ones are quickly sold at prices varying from twenty-five to fifty
dollars (Mexican). Ten dollars is the usual price for leopard skins.
Marco Polo visited Ta-li Fu in the thirteenth century and, among other
things, he speaks of the fine horses from this part of the province.
We were surprised to find that the animals are considerably larger and
more heavily built than those of Yün-nan Fu and appear to be better
in every way. A good riding horse can be purchased for seventy-five
dollars (Mexican) but mules are worth about one hundred and fifty
dollars because they are considered better pack animals.
On the advice of men who had traveled much in the interior of Yün-nan
we hired our caravan and riding animals instead of buying them
outright, and subsequent experience showed the wisdom of this course.
Saddle ponies, which are used only for short trips about the city,
cannot endure continual traveling over the execrable roads of the
interior where often it is impossible to feed them properly. If an
entire caravan were purchased the leader of the expedition would have
unceasing trouble with the _mafus_ to insure even ordinary care of the
animals, an opportunity would be given for endless "squeeze" in the
purchase of food, and there are other reasons too numerous to mention
why in this province the plan is impracticable.
However, the caravan ponies do try one's patience to the limit. They
are trained only to follow a leader, and if one happens to be behind
another horse it is well-nigh impossible to persuade it to pass. Beat
or kick the beast as one will, it only backs up or crowds closely
to the horse in front. On the first day out Heller, who was on a
particularly bad animal, when trying to pass one of us began to cavort
about like a circus rider, prancing from side to side and backward but
never going forward. We shouted that we would wait for him to go on but
he replied helplessly, "I can't, this horse isn't under my management,"
and we found very soon that our animals were not under our management
either!
In a town near Ta-li Fu we were in front of the caravan with Wu and
Heller: Wu stopped to buy a basket of mushrooms but his horse refused
to move ahead. Beat as he would, the animal only backed in a circle,
ours followed, and in a few moments we were packed together so tightly
that it was impossible even to dismount. There we sat, helpless, to the
huge delight of the villagers until rescued by a _mafu_. As soon as he
led Wu's horse forward the others proceeded as quietly as lambs.
We paid forty cents (Mexican) a day for each animal while traveling,
and fifteen or twenty cents when in camp, but the rate varies somewhat
in different parts of the province, and in the west and south, along
the Burma border fifty cents is the usual price. When a caravan is
engaged the necessary _mafus_ are included and they buy food for
themselves and beans and hay for the animals.
Ever since leaving Yün-nan Fu the cook we engaged at Paik-hoi had
been a source of combined irritation and amusement. He was a lanky,
effeminate gentleman who never before had ridden a horse, and who was
physically and mentally unable to adapt himself to camp life. After
five months in the field he appeared to be as helpless when the caravan
camped for the night as when we first started, and he would stand
vacantly staring until someone directed him what to do. But he was a
good cook, when he wished to exert himself, and had the great asset of
knowing a considerable amount of English. While we were in Ta-li Fu Mr.
Evans overheard him relating his experiences on the road to several of
the other servants. "Of course," said the cook, "it is a fine way to
see the country, but the riding! My goodness, that's awful! After the
third day I didn't know whether to go on or turn back--I was so sore I
couldn't sit down even on a chair to say nothing of a horse!"
He had evidently fully made up his mind not to "see the country" that
way for the day after we left Ta-li Fu _en route_ to the Tibetan
frontier he became violently ill. Although we could find nothing the
matter with him he made such a good case for himself that we believed
he really was quite sick and treated him accordingly. The following
morning, however, he sullenly refused to proceed, and we realized that
his illness was of the mind rather than the body. As he had accepted
two months' salary in advance and had already sent it to his wife in
Paik-hoi, we were in a position to use a certain amount of forceful
persuasion which entirely accomplished its object and illness did not
trouble him thereafter.
The loss of a cook is a serious matter to a large expedition. Good
meals and varied food must be provided if the personnel is to work at
its highest efficiency and cooking requires a vast amount of thought
and time. In Yün-nan natives who can cook foreign food are by no means
easy to find and when our Paik-hoi gentleman finally left us upon
our return to Ta-li Fu we were fortunate in obtaining an exceedingly
competent man to take his place through the good offices of Mr. Hanna.
CHAPTER XII
LI-CHIANG AND "THE TEMPLE OF THE FLOWERS"
We left a part of our outfit with Mr. Evans at Ta-li Fu and with a
new caravan of twenty-five animals traveled northward for six days to
Li-chiang Fu. By taking a small road we hoped to find good collecting
in the pine forests three days from Ta-li, but instead there was a
total absence of animal life. The woods were beautiful, parklike
stretches which in a country like California would be full of game,
but here were silent and deserted. During the fourth and fifth days we
were still in the forests, but on the sixth we crossed a pass 10,000
feet high and descended abruptly into a long marshy plain where at the
far end were the gray outlines of Li-chiang dimly visible against the
mountains.
Wu and I galloped ahead to find a temple for our camp, leaving Heller
and my wife to follow. A few pages from her journal tell of their entry
into the city.
We rode along a winding stone causeway and halted on the outskirts
of the town to wait until the caravan arrived. Neither Roy nor Wu
was in sight but we expected that the _mafus_ would ask where they
had gone and follow, for of coarse we could not speak a word of
the language. Already there was quite a sensation as we came down
the street, for our sudden appearance seemed to have stupefied
the people with amazement. One old lady looked at me with an
indescribable expression and uttered what sounded exactly like a
long-drawn "Mon Dieu" of disagreeable surprise.
I tried smiling at them but they appeared too astonished to
appreciate our friendliness and in return merely stared with open
mouths and eyes. We halted and immediately the street was blocked
by crowds of men, women, and children who poured out of the
houses, shops, and cross-streets to gaze in rapt attention. When
the caravan arrived we moved on again expecting that the _mafus_
had learned where Roy had gone, but they seemed to be wandering
aimlessly through the narrow winding streets. Even though we did
not find a camping place we afforded the natives intense delight.
I felt as though I were the chief actor in a circus parade at home,
but the most remarkable attraction there could not have equaled
our unparalleled success in Li-chiang. On the second excursion
through the town we passed down a cross-street, and suddenly from a
courtyard at the right we heard feminine voices speaking English.
"It's a girl. No, it's a boy. No, no, can't you see her hair, it's
a girl!" Just then we caught sight of three ladies, unmistakably
foreigners although dressed in Chinese costume. They were Mrs.
A. Kok, wife of the resident Pentecostal Missionary, and two
assistants, who rushed into the street as soon as they had
determined my sex and literally "fell upon my neck." They had not
seen a white woman since their arrival there four years ago and it
seemed to them that I had suddenly dropped from the sky.
While we were talking Wu appeared to guide us to the camp. They had
chosen a beautiful temple with a flower-filled courtyard on the
summit of a hill overlooking the city. It was wonderfully clean and
when our beds, tables, and chairs were spread on the broad stone
porch it seemed like a real home.
[Illustration: One of the Pagodas at Ta-li Fu]
The next days were busy ones for us all, Roy and Heller setting
traps, and I working at my photography. We let it be known that we
would pay well for specimens, and there was an almost uninterrupted
procession of men and boys carrying long sticks, on which were
strung frogs, rats, toads, and snakes. They would simply beam with
triumph and enthusiasm. Our fame spread and more came, bringing the
most ridiculous tame things--pigeons, maltese cats, dogs, white
rabbits, caged birds, and I even believe we might have purchased a
girl baby or two, for mothers stood about with little brown kiddies
on their backs as though they really would like to offer them to us
but hardly dared.
The temple priest was a good looking, smooth-faced chap, and hidden
under his coat he brought dozens of skins. I believe that his
religious vows did not allow him to handle animals--openly--and so
he would beckon Roy into the darkness of the temple with a most
mysterious air, and would extract all sorts of things from his
sleeves just like a sleight-of-hand performer. He was a rich man
when we left!
The people are mostly tribesmen--Mosos, Lolos, Tibetans, and many
others. The girls wear their hair "bobbed off" in front and with
a long plait in back. They wash their hair once--on their wedding
day--and then it is wrapped up in turbans for the rest of their
lives. The Tibetan women dress their hair in dozens of tiny braids,
but I don't believe there is any authority that they ever wash it,
or themselves either.
Li-chiang was our first collecting camp and we never had a better one.
On the morning after our arrival Heller found mammals in half his
traps, and in the afternoon we each put out a line of forty traps which
brought us fifty mammals of eleven species. This was a wonderful relief
after the many days of travel through country devoid of animal life.
Our traps contained shrews of two species, meadow voles, Asiatic
white-footed mice, spiny mice, rats, squirrels, and tree shrews. The
small mammals were exceedingly abundant and easy to catch, but after
the first day we began to have difficulty with the natives who stole
our traps. We usually marked them with a bit of cotton, and the boys
would follow an entire line down a hedge, taking every one. Sometimes
they even brought specimens to us for sale which we knew had been
caught in our stolen traps!
The traps were set under logs and stumps and in the grass where we
found the "runways" or paths which mice, rats and voles often make.
These animals begin to move about just after dark, and we usually would
inspect our traps with a lantern about nine o'clock in the evening.
This not only gave the trap a double chance to be filled but we also
secured perfect specimens, for such species as mice and shrews are
cannibalistic, and almost every night, if the specimens were not taken
out early in the evening, several would be partly eaten.
Small mammals are often of much greater interest and importance
scientifically than large ones, for, especially among the Insectivores,
there are many primitive forms which are apparently of ancestral stock
and throw light on the evolutionary history of other living groups.
Li-chiang is a fur market of considerable importance for the Tibetans
bring down vast quantities of skins for sale and trade. Lambs, goats,
foxes, cats, civets, pandas, and flying squirrels hang in the shops and
there are dozens of fur dressers who do really excellent tanning.
This city is a most interesting place especially on market day, for its
inhabitants represent many different tribes with but comparatively few
Chinese. By far the greatest percentage of natives are the Mosos who
are semi-Tibetan in their life and customs. They were originally an
independent race who ruled a considerable part of northern Yün-nan,
and Li-chiang was their ancient capital. To the effeminate and "highly
civilized" Chinese they are "barbarians," but we found them to be
simple, honest and wholly delightful people. Many of those whom we met
later had never seen a white woman, and yet their inherent decency was
in the greatest contrast to that of the Chinese who consider themselves
so immeasurably their superior.
The Mosos have large herds of sheep and cattle, and this is the one
place in the Orient except in large cities along the coast, where we
could obtain fresh milk and butter. As with the Tibetans, buttered
tea and _tsamba_ (parched oatmeal) are the great essentials, but they
also grow quantities of delicious vegetables and fruit. Buttered tea
is prepared by churning fresh butter into hot tea until the two have
become well mixed. It is then thickened with finely ground _tsamba_
until a ball is formed which is eaten with the fingers. The combination
is distinctly good when the ingredients are fresh, but if the butter
happens to be rancid the less said of it the better.
The natives of this region are largely agriculturists and raise great
quantities of squash, turnips, carrots, cabbage, potatoes, onions,
corn, peas, beans, oranges, pears, persimmons and nuts. While traveling
we filled our saddle pockets with pears and English walnuts or
chestnuts and could replenish our stock at almost any village along the
road.
Everything was absurdly cheap. Eggs were usually about eight cents
(Mexican) a dozen, and we could always purchase a chicken for an empty
tin can, or two for a bottle. In fact, the latter was the greatest
desideratum and when offers of money failed to induce a native to pose
for the camera a bottle nearly always would decide matters in our favor.
In Li-chiang we learned that there was good shooting only twelve miles
north of the city on the Snow Mountain range, the highest peak of which
rises 18,000 feet above the sea. We left a part of our outfit at Mr.
Kok's house and engaged a caravan of seventeen mules to take us to the
hunting grounds. Mr. Kok assisted us in numberless ways while we were
in the vicinity of Li-chiang and in other parts of the country. He took
charge of all our mail, sending it to us by runners, loaned us money
when it was difficult to get cash from Ta-li Fu and helped us to engage
servants and caravans.
It had rained almost continually for five days and a dense gray curtain
of fog hung far down in the valley, but on the morning of October
11 we awoke to find ourselves in another world. We were in a vast
amphitheater of encircling mountains, white almost to their bases,
rising ridge on ridge, like the foamy billows of a mighty ocean. At the
north, silhouetted against the vivid blue of a cloudless sky, towered
the great Snow Mountain, its jagged peaks crowned with gold where the
morning sun had kissed their summits. We rode toward it across a level
rock-strewn plain and watched the fleecy clouds form, and float upward
to weave in and out or lose themselves in the vast snow craters beside
the glacier. It was an inspiration, that beautiful mountain, lying so
white and still in its cradle of dark green trees. Each hour it seemed
more wonderful, more dominating in its grandeur, and we were glad to be
of the chosen few to look upon its sacred beauty.
[Illustration: A Moso Herder]
[Illustration: A Moso Woman]
In the early afternoon we camped in a tiny temple which nestled into a
grove of spruce trees on the outskirts of a straggling village. To the
north the Snow Mountain rose almost above us, and on the east and south
a grassy rock-strewn plain rolled away in gentle undulations to a range
of hills which jutted into the valley like a great recumbent dragon.
A short time after our camp was established we had a visit from an
Austrian botanist, Baron Haendel-Mazzetti, who had been in the village
for two weeks. He had come to Yün-nan for the Vienna Museum before the
war, expecting to remain a year, but already had been there three.
Surrounded as he was by Tibet, Burma, and Tonking, his only possible
exit was by way of the four-month overland journey to Shanghai. He had
little money and for two years had been living on Chinese food. He
dined with us in the evening, and his enjoyment of our coffee, bread,
kippered herring, and other canned goods was almost pathetic.
A week after our arrival Baron Haendel-Mazzetti left for Yün-nan Fu and
eventually reached Shanghai which, however, became a closed port to him
upon China's entry into the European war. It is to be hoped that his
collections, which must be of great scientific value and importance,
have arrived at a place of safety long ere this book issues from the
press.
CHAPTER XIII
CAMPING IN THE CLOUDS
We hired four Moso hunters in the Snow Mountain village. They were
picturesque fellows, supposedly dressed in skins, but their garments
were so ragged and patched that it was difficult to determine the
original material of which they were made.
One of them was armed with a most extraordinary gun which, it was said,
came from Tibet. Its barrel was more than six feet long, and the stock
was curved like a golf stick. A powder fuse projected from a hole in
the side of the barrel, and just behind it on the butt was fastened a
forked spring. At his waist the man carried a long coil of rope, the
slowly burning end of which was placed in the crotched spring. When
about to shoot the native placed the butt of the weapon against his
cheek, pressed the spring so that the burning rope's end touched the
powder fuse, and off went the gun.
The three other hunters carried crossbows and poisoned arrows. They
were remarkably good shots and at a distance of one hundred feet could
place an arrow in a six-inch circle four times out of five. We found
later that crossbows are in common use throughout the more remote parts
of Yün-nan and were only another evidence that we had suddenly dropped
back into the Middle Ages and, with our high-power rifles and twentieth
century equipment, were anachronisms.
The natives are able to obtain a good deal of game even with such
primitive weapons for they depend largely upon dogs which bring gorals
and serows to bay against a cliff and hold them until the men arrive.
The dogs are a mongrel breed which appears to be largely hound, and
some are really excellent hunters. White is the usual color but a few
are mixed black and brown, or fox red. Hotenfa, one of our Mosos,
owned a good pack and we all came to love its big red leader. This
fine dog could be depended upon to dig out game if there was any in
the mountains, but his life with us was short for he was killed by our
first serow. Hotenfa was inconsolable and the tears he shed were in
sincere sorrow for the loss of a faithful friend.
Almost every family owns a dog. Some of those we saw while passing
through Chinese villages were nauseating in their unsightliness, for at
least thirty per cent of them were more or less diseased. Barely able
to walk, they would stagger across the street or lie in the gutter in
indescribable filth. One longed to put them out of their misery with a
bullet but, although they seemed to belong to nobody, if one was killed
an owner appeared like magic to quarrel over the damages.
The dogs of the non-Chinese tribes were in fairly good condition
and there seemed to be comparatively little disease among them. Our
hunters treated their hounds kindly and fed them well, but the animals
themselves, although loyal to their masters, manifested but little
affection. In Korea dogs are eaten by the natives, but none of the
tribes with which we came in contact in Yün-nan used them for food.
On our first day in the temple Heller went up the Snow Mountain for a
reconnaissance and the party secured a fine porcupine. It is quite a
different animal from the American tree porcupines and represents a
genus (_Hystrix_) which is found in Asia, Africa, and southern Europe.
This species lives in burrows and, when hunting big game, we were often
greatly annoyed to find that our dogs had followed the trail of one
of these animals. We would arrive to see the hounds dancing about the
burrow yelping excitedly instead of having a goral at bay as we had
expected.
Some of the beautiful black and ivory white quills are more than twelve
inches long and very sharp. A porcupine will keep an entire pack of
dogs at bay and is almost sure to drive its murderous weapons into the
bodies of some of them unless the hunters arrive in a short time. The
Mosos eat the flesh which is white and fine.
Although we were only twelve miles from Li-chiang the traps yielded
four shrews and one mouse which were new to our collection. The natives
brought in three bats which we had not previously seen and began a
thriving business in toads and frogs with now and then a snake.
The temple was an excellent place for small mammals but it was evident
that we would have to move high up on the slopes of the mountain if
gorals and other big game were to be obtained. Accordingly, while
Heller prepared a number of bat skins we started out on horse-back to
hunt a camp site.
It was a glorious day with the sun shining brilliantly from a cloudless
sky and just a touch of autumn snap in the air. We crossed the sloping
rock-strewn plain to the base of the mountain, and discovered a trail
which led up a forested shoulder to the right of the main peaks. An
hour of steady climbing brought us to the summit of the ridge where we
struck into the woods toward a snow-field on the opposite slope. The
trail led us along the brink of a steep escarpment from which we could
look over the valley and away into the blue distance toward Li-chiang.
Three thousand feet below us the roof of our temple gleamed from among
the sheltering pine trees, and the herds of sheep and cattle massed
themselves into moving patches on the smooth brown plain.
[Illustration: The Snow Mountain]
We pushed our way through the spruce forest with the glistening
snow bed as a beacon and suddenly emerged into a flat open meadow
overshadowed by the ragged peaks. "What a perfectly wonderful place
to camp," we both exclaimed. "If we can only find water, let's come
tomorrow."
The hunters had assured us that there were no streams on this end of
the mountain but we hoped to find a snow bank which would supply our
camp for a few days at least. We rode slowly up the meadow reveling in
the grandeur of the snow-crowned pinnacles and feeling very small and
helpless amid surroundings where nature had so magnificently expressed
herself.
At the far end of the meadow we discovered a dry creek bed which led
upward through the dense spruce forest. "Where water has been, water
may be again," we argued and, leading the horses, picked our way among
the trees and over fallen logs to a fairly open hill slope where we
attempted to ride, but our animals were nearly done. After climbing a
few feet they stood with heaving sides and trembling legs the breath
rasping through distended nostrils. We felt the altitude almost as
badly as the horses for the meadow itself was twelve thousand feet
above the level of the sea and the air was very thin.
There seemed to be no hope of finding even a suitable snow bank when it
was slowly borne in upon us that the subdued roaring in our ears was
the sound of water and not the effect of altitude as we both imagined.
Above and to the left was a sheer cliff, hundreds of feet in height,
and as we toiled upward and emerged beyond timber line we caught a
glimpse of a silver ribbon streaming down its face. It came from a
melting snow crater and we could follow its course with our eyes to
where it swung downward along a rock wall not far from the upper end of
the meadow. It was so hidden by the trees that had we not climbed above
timber line, it never would have been discovered.
This solved the question of our camp and we looked about us happily. On
the way through the forest we had noticed small mammal runways under
almost every log and, when we stood above the tree limit, the grassy
slope was cut by an intricate network of tiny tunnels. These were
plainly the work of a meadow vole (_Microtus_) and at this altitude it
certainly would prove to be a species new to our collection.
The sun had already dropped behind the mountain and the meadow was in
shadow when we reached it again on our homeward way. By five o'clock
we were in the temple eating a belated tiffin and making preparations
for an early start. But our hopes were idle, for in the morning three
of the mules had strayed, and we did not arrive at the meadow until two
o'clock in the afternoon.
Our camp was made just at the edge of the spruce forest a few hundred
yards from the snow stream. As soon as the tents were up we climbed to
the grassy slope above timber line, with Heller, to set a string of
traps in the vole runways and under logs and stumps in the forest.
[Illustration: A Cheek Gun Used by One of Our Hunters]
[Illustration: The First Goral Killed on the Snow Mountain]
The hunters made their camp beside a huge rock a short distance away
and slept in their ragged clothes without a blanket or shelter of any
kind. It was delightfully warm, even at this altitude, when the sun was
out, but as soon as it disappeared we needed a fire and the nights were
freezing cold; yet the natives did not seem to mind it in the slightest
and refused our offer of a canvas tent fly.
We never will forget that first night on the Snow Mountain. As we sat
at dinner about the camp-fire we could see the somber mass of the
forest losing itself in the darkness, and felt the unseen presence of
the mighty peaks standing guard about our mountain home. We slept,
breathing the strong, sweet perfume of the spruce trees and dreamed
that we two were wandering alone through the forest opening the
treasure boxes of the Wild.
CHAPTER XIV
THE FIRST GORAL
We were awakened before daylight by Wu's long drawn call to the
hunters, "_L-a-o-u H-o, L-a-o-u H-o, L-a-o-u H-o._" The steady drum of
rain on our tent shot a thrill of disappointment through me as I opened
my eyes, but before we had crawled out of our sleeping-bags and dressed
it lessened to a gentle patter and soon ceased altogether. It left a
cold, gray morning with dense clouds weaving in and out among the peaks
but, nevertheless, I decided to go out with the hunters to try for
goral.
Two of the men took the dogs around the base of a high rock shoulder
sparsely covered with scrub spruce while I went up the opposite slope
accompanied by the other two. We had not been away from camp half an
hour when the dogs began to yelp and almost immediately we heard them
coming around the summit of the ridge in our direction. The hunters
made frantic signs for me to hurry up the steep slope but in the thin
air with my heart pounding like a trip hammer I could not go faster
than a walk.
We climbed about three hundred yards when suddenly the dogs appeared
on the side of the cliff near the summit. Just in front of them was
a bounding gray form. The mist closed in and we lost both dogs and
animals but ten minutes later a blessed gust of wind drifted the fog
away and the goral was indistinctly visible with its back to a rock
ledge facing the dogs. The big red leader of the pack now and then
dashed in for a nip at the animal's throat but was kept at bay by its
vicious lunges and sharp horns.
[Illustration: Hotenfa, One of Our Moso Hunters, Bringing in a Goral]
[Illustration: Another Moso Hunter with a Porcupine]
It was nearly three hundred yards away but the cloud was drifting in
again and I dropped down for a shot. The hunters were running up the
slope, frantically waving for me to come on, thinking it madness to
shoot at that distance. I could just see the gray form through the
sights and the first two shots spattered the loose rock about a foot
low. For the third I got a dead rest over a stone and as the crash of
the little Mannlicher echoed up the gorge, the goral threw itself into
the air whirling over and over onto the rocks below.
The hunters, mad with excitement, dashed up the hill and down into the
stream bed, and when I arrived the goral lay on a grassy ledge beside
the water. The animal was stone dead, for my bullet had passed through
its lungs, and, although the front teeth had been smashed on the rocks,
its horns were uninjured and the beautiful gray coat was in perfect
condition. It so happened that this ram was the largest which we killed
on the entire trip.
When the hunters were carrying the goral to camp we met Yvette and
Heller on their way to visit the traps just below snow line, and she
returned with me to photograph the animal and to watch the ceremonies
which I knew would be performed. One of the natives cut a leafy branch,
placed the goral upon it and at the first cut chanted a prayer. Then
laying several leaves one upon the other he sliced off the tip of the
heart, wrapped it carefully in the leaves and placed it in a nearby
tree as an offering to the God of the Hunt.
I have often seen the Chinese and Korean hunters perform similar
ceremonies at the death of an animal, and the idea that it is necessary
to propitiate the God of the Hunt is universal. When I was shooting
in Korea in 1912, and also in other parts of China, if luck had been
against us for a few days the hunters would invariably ask me to buy a
chicken, or some animal to sacrifice for "good joss."
After each dog had had a taste of the goral's blood we again climbed
the cliff at the end of the meadow. When we were nearly 2,000 feet
above camp the clouds shut in and, as the impenetrable gray curtain
wrapped itself about us, we could only sit quietly and wait for it to
drift away.
After an hour the fog began to thin and the men sent the hounds toward
a talus slope at the base of the highest peak. Almost immediately the
big red dog picked up a trail and started across the loose rock with
the pack yelping at his heels. We followed as rapidly as possible over
such hard going but before we reached the other side the dogs had
rounded a sharp pinnacle and disappeared far below us. Expecting that
the goral would swing about the base of the peak the hunters sent me
back across the talus to watch for a shot, but the animal ran down the
valley and into a heavily wooded ravine where the dogs lost his trail
only a short distance above camp.
I returned to find that Heller had secured a rich haul from the traps.
As we supposed, the runways which Yvette and I had discovered above
timber line were made by a meadow vole (_Microtus_) and in the forest
almost every trap had caught a white-footed mouse (_Apodemus_). He also
had several new shrews and we caught eight different species of these
important little animals at this one camp.
Wu, the interpreter, hearing us speak of shrews, came to me one day in
great perplexity with his Anglo-Chinese dictionary. He had looked up
the word "shrew" and found that it meant "a cantankerous woman!"
The following day Heller went out with the hunters and saw two gorals
but did not get a shot. In the meantime Yvette and I ran the traps and
prepared the small mammals. While we were far up on the mountain-side,
Baron Haendel-Mazzetti appeared armed with ropes and an alpine snow ax.
He was about to attempt to climb the highest peak which had never been
ascended but the drifts turned him back several hundred feet from the
summit. He dined at our camp and as all of us carefully refrained from
"war talk" we spent a very pleasant evening. During his three years in
Yün-nan he had explored and mapped many sections of the province which
had not been visited previously by foreigners and from him we obtained
much valuable information.
On the third morning we were up before daylight and I left with the
hunters in the gray dawn. We climbed steadily for an hour after leaving
camp and, when well up on the mountain-side, skirted the base of a huge
peak through a dense forest of spruce and low bamboo thickets, emerging
upon a steep grassy meadow; this abutted on a sheer rock wall at the
upper end, and below ran into a thick evergreen forest.
As we entered the meadow the big red leading dog, trotted off by
himself toward the rock wall above us, and in a few moments we heard
his sharp yelps near the summit. Instantly the pack was off stringing
out in a long line up the hillside.
We had nearly crossed the open slope and were standing on the edge of
a deep gully when the dogs gave tongue and as soon as the hunters were
sure they were coming in our direction we hurried to the bottom of
the gorge and began the sharp ascent on the other side. It was almost
straight up and before we had gone a hundred feet we were all gasping
for breath and my legs seemed like bars of lead, but the staccato yelps
of the dogs sounding closer and closer kept us going.
When we finally dropped on the summit of the hill I was absolutely
done. I lay flat on my back for a few minutes and got to my knees
just as the goral appeared on the opposite cliff. The sight of the
magnificent animal bounding like rubber from ledges which his feet
seemed hardly to touch down the face of a sheer wall, will remain in my
memory as long as I live. He seemed the very spirit of the mountains, a
thing born of peaks and crags, vibrant with the breath of the clouds.
Selecting a spot which he must touch in the next flying leap, I waited
until his body darkened the sights and then pulled the trigger.
The game little brute collapsed, then struggled to his feet, and with a
tremendous leap landed on a projecting shelf of rock four yards below.
Instantly I fired again and he sank down in a crumpled gray mass not
two feet from the edge of the precipice which fell away in a dizzy drop
of six hundred feet.
The dogs were on him long before we had worked our way down the cañon
and up to the shelf where he lay. He was a fine ram nearly as large as
the first one I had killed. I wanted to rest the dogs for they were
very tired from their two days of hunting, so I decided to return to
camp with the men. On the way a second goral was started but it swung
about the summit of the wooded ridge instead of coming in my direction,
giving one of the hunters a shot with his crossbow, which he missed.
It was a beautiful day. Above us the sky was clear and blue but the
clouds still lay thickly over the meadow and the camp was invisible.
The billowy masses clung to the forest line, but from the slopes above
them we could look far across the valley into the blue distance where
the snow-covered summits of range after range of magnificent mountains
lay shining in the sun like beaten silver. There was a strange
fascination about those mountains, and I thrilled with the thought that
for twelve long months I was free to roam where I willed and explore
their hidden mysteries.
CHAPTER XV
MORE GORALS
Both gorals were fine old rams with perfect horns. Their hair was thick
and soft, pale olive-buff tipped with brownish, and the legs on the
"cannon bones" were buff-yellow like the margins of the throat patches.
Their color made them practically invisible against the rocks and when
I killed the second goral my only distinct impression as he dashed
down the face of the precipice, was of four yellowish legs entirely
separated from a body which I could hardly see.
This invisibility, combined with the fact that the Snow Mountain
gorals lived on almost inaccessible cliffs thickly covered with
scrub spruce forest, made "still hunting" impossible. In fact. Baron
Haendel-Mazzetti, who had explored this part of the Snow Mountains
fairly thoroughly in his search for plants, had never seen a goral, and
did not know that such an animal existed there.
Heller hunted for two days in succession and, although he saw several
gorals, he was not successful in getting one until we had been in camp
almost a week. His was a young male not more than a year old with horns
about an inch long. It was a valuable addition to our collection for
I was anxious to obtain specimens of various ages to be mounted as a
"habitat group" in the Museum and we lacked only a female.
The preparation of the group required the greatest care and study.
First, we selected a proper spot to reproduce in the Museum, and
Yvette took a series of natural color photographs to guide the artist
in painting the background. Next she made detail photographs of the
surroundings. Then we collected portions of the rocks and typical bits
of vegetation such as moss and leaves, to be either dried or preserved
in formalin. In a large group, perhaps several thousand leaves will be
required, but the field naturalist need select typical specimens of
only five or six different sizes from each of which a plaster mold can
be made at the Museum and the leaves reproduced in wax.
After two days of rain during which I had a hard and unsuccessful
hunt for serows we decided to return to the temple at the foot of the
mountain which was nearer to the forests inhabited by these animals. We
had already been in our camp on the meadow for nine days and, besides
the gorals, had gathered a large and valuable collection of small
mammals. The shrews were especially varied in species and, besides a
splendid series of meadow voles, Asiatic mice and rats, we obtained a
new weasel and a single specimen of a tiny rock-cony or little chief
hare, an Asiatic genus (_Ochotona_) which is also found in the western
part of North America on the high slopes of the Rocky Mountains.
Although we set dozens of traps among the rocks we did not get another
on the entire expedition nor did we see indications of their presence
in other localities.
The almost complete absence of carnivores at this camp was a great
surprise. Except for weasels we saw no others and the hunters said that
foxes or civets did not occur on this side of the mountain even though
food was abundant.
On the day before we went to the temple I had a magnificent hunt. We
left camp at daylight in a heavy fog and almost at once the dogs took
up a serow trail. We heard them coming toward us as we stood at the
upper edge of a little meadow and expected the animal to break cover
any moment, but it turned down the mountain and the hounds lost the
trail in the thick spruce woods.
We climbed slowly toward the cliffs until we were well above the
clouds, which lay in a thick white blanket over the camp, and headed
for the cañon where I had shot my second goral. Hotenfa wished to go
lower down into the forests but I prevailed upon him to stay along the
open slopes and, while we were resting, the big red dog suddenly gave
tongue on a ridge above and to the right of us. It was in the exact
spot where my second goral had been started and we were on the _qui
vive_ when the rest of the pack dashed up the mountain-side to join
their leader.
In a few moments they all gave tongue and we heard them swinging about
in our direction. Just then the clouds, which had been lying in a solid
bank below us, began to drift upward in a long, thin finger toward the
cañon. On and on it came, and closer sounded the yelps of the dogs. I
was trembling with impatience and swearing softly as the gray vapor
streamed into the gorge. The cloud thickened, sweeping rapidly up the
ravine, until we were enveloped so completely that I could hardly see
the length of my gun barrel. A moment later we heard the goral leaping
down the cliff not a hundred yards away.
With the rifle useless in my hands I listened to each hoof beat and the
stones which his flying feet sent rattling into the gorge. Then the
dogs came past, and we heard them follow down the rocks, their yelps
growing fainter and fainter in the valley far below. The goral was
lost, and as though the Fates were laughing at us, ten minutes later
a puff of wind sucked the cloud out of the cañon as swiftly as it had
come, and above us shone a sky as clear and blue as a tropic sea.
Hotenfa's disgust more than equaled my own for I had loaned him my
three-barrel gun (12 gauge and .808 Savage) and he was as excited as a
child with a new toy. He was a remarkably intelligent man and mastered
the safety catches in a short time even though he had never before seen
a breach-loading gun.
There was nothing to do but hurry down the mountain for the dogs might
bring the goral to bay on one of the cliffs below us, and in twenty
minutes we stood on a ridge which jutted out from the thick spruce
forest. One of the hunters picked his way down the rock wall while
Hotenfa and I circled the top of the spur.
We had not gone a hundred yards when the hunter shouted that a goral
was running in our direction. Hotenfa reached the edge of the ridge
before me, and I saw him fire with the three-barrel gun at a goral
which disappeared into the brush. His bullet struck the dirt only a few
feet behind the animal although it must have been well beyond a hundred
yards and almost straight below us.
Hardly had we drawn back when a yell from the other hunter brought us
again to the edge of the cliff just in time to see a second goral dash
into the forest a good three hundred yards away in the very bottom of
the gorge.
Rather disappointed we continued along the ridge and Hotenfa made
signs which said as plainly as words, "I told you so. The gorals are
not on the peaks but down in the forest. We ought to have come here
first."
There were not many moments for regret, however, for this was "our busy
day." Suddenly a burst of frantic yelps from the red dog turned us
off to the left and we heard him nearing the summit of the spur which
we had just left. One of the other hunters was standing there and his
crossbow twanged as the goral passed only a few yards from him, but the
wicked little poisoned dart stuck quivering into a tree a few inches
above the animal's back.
The goral dashed over the ridge almost on top of the second hunter who
was too surprised to shoot and only yelled that it was coming toward
us on the cliff below. Hotenfa leaped from rock to rock, almost like
a goat himself, and dashed through the bushes toward a jutting shelf
which overhung the gorge.
We reached the rim at the same moment and saw a huge ram standing on
a narrow ledge a hundred yards below. I fired instantly and the noble
animal, with feet wide spread, and head thrown back, launched himself
into space falling six hundred feet to the rocks beneath us.
As the goral leaped Hotenfa seemed suddenly to go insane. Yelling with
joy, he threw his arms about my neck, rubbing my face with his and
pounding me on the back until I thought he would throw us both off the
cliff. I was utterly dumbfounded but seized his three-barrel gun to
unload it for in his excitement there was imminent danger that he would
shoot either himself or me.
Then I realized what it was all about. We had both fired
simultaneously and neither had heard the other's shot. By mistake
Hotenfa had discharged a load of buckshot and it was my bullet which
had killed the goral but his joy was so great that I would not for
anything have disillusioned him.
It was a half hour's hard work to get to the place where the goral had
fallen. The dogs were already there lying quietly beside the animal
when we arrived. My bullet had entered the back just in front of the
hind leg and ranged forward through the lungs flattening itself against
the breast bone; the jacket had split, one piece tearing into the
heart, so that the ram was probably dead before it struck the rocks.
I photographed the goral where it lay and after it had been
eviscerated, and the hunters had performed their ceremonies to the God
of the Hunt, I sent one of them back with it while Hotenfa and I worked
toward the bottom of the cañon in the hope of finding the other animals.
It was a delightfully warm day and Hotenfa told me in his vivid sign
language that the gorals were likely to be asleep on the sunny side of
the ravine; therefore we worked up the opposite slope.
It was the hardest kind of climbing and for two hours we plodded
steadily upward, clinging by feet and hands to bushes and rocks, and
were almost exhausted when we reached a small open patch of grass about
two thirds of the way to the summit.
We rested for half an hour and, after a light tiffin, toiled on again.
I had not gone thirty feet, and Hotenfa was still sitting down, when I
saw him wave his arm excitedly and throw up his gun to shoot. I leaped
down to his side just as he fired at a big female goral which was
sound asleep in an open patch of grass on the mountain-side.
Hotenfa's bullet broke the animal's foreleg at the knee but without the
slightest sign of injury she dashed down the cliff. I fired as she ran,
striking her squarely in the heart, and she pitched headlong into the
bushes a hundred feet below.
How Hotenfa managed to pack that animal to the summit of the ridge I
never can understand, for with a light sack upon my back and a rifle it
was all I could do to pull myself up the rocks. He was completely done
when we finally threw ourselves on the grass at the edge of the meadow
which we had left in the morning. Hotenfa chanted his prayer when we
opened the goral, but the God of the Hunt missed his offering for my
bullet had smashed the heart to a pulp.
On our way back to camp the red dog, although dead tired, disappeared
alone into the heavy forest below us. Suddenly we heard his deep bay
coming up the hill in our direction. Hotenfa and I dropped our burdens
and ran to an opening in the forest where we thought the animal must
pass.
Instead of coming out where we expected, the dog appeared higher up
at the heels of a crested muntjac (_Elaphodus_), which was bounding
along at full speed, its white flag standing straight up over its dark
bluish back. I had one chance for a shot at about one hundred and fifty
yards as the pair crossed a little opening in the trees, but it was too
dangerous to shoot for, had I missed the deer, the dog certainly would
have been killed.
[Illustration: A Typical Goral Cliff on the Snow Mountain]
I was heart-broken over losing this animal, for it is an exceedingly
rare species, but a few days later a shepherd brought in another which
had been wounded by one of our Lolo hunters and had run down into the
plains to die.
When we reached the hill above camp Yvette ran out to meet us, falling
over logs and bushes in her eagerness to see what we were carrying.
No dinner which I have ever eaten tasted like the one we had of goral
steak that night and after a smoke I crawled into my sleeping bag, dead
tired in body but with a happy heart.
CHAPTER XVI
THE SNOW MOUNTAIN TEMPLE
On October 22, we moved to the foot of the mountain and camped in the
temple which we had formerly occupied. This was directly below the
forests inhabited by serow, and we expected to devote our efforts
exclusively toward obtaining a representative series of these animals.
Unfortunately I developed a severe infection in the palm of my right
hand almost immediately, and had it not been for the devoted care of
my wife I should not have left China alive. Through terrible nights of
delirium when the poison was threatening to spread over my entire body,
she nursed me with an utter disregard of her own health and slept only
during a few restless hours of complete exhaustion. For three weeks I
could do no work but at last was able to bend my "trigger finger" and
resume hunting although I did not entirely recover the use of my hand
for several months.
However, the work of the expedition by no means ceased because of my
illness. Mr. Heller continued to collect small mammals with great
energy and the day after we arrived at the temple we engaged eight new
native hunters. These were Lolos, a wandering unit from the independent
tribe of S'suchuan and they proved to be excellent men.
The first serow was killed by Hotenfa's party on our third day in the
temple. Heller went out with the hunters but in a few hours returned
alone. A short time after he had left the natives the dogs took up
the trail of a huge serow and followed it for three miles through the
spruce forest. They finally brought the animal to bay against a cliff
and a furious fight ensued. One dog was ripped wide open, another
received a horn-thrust in the side, and the big red leader was thrown
over a cliff to the rocks below. More of the hounds undoubtedly would
have been killed had not the hunters arrived and shot the animal.
The men brought the serow in late at night but our joy was considerably
dampened by the loss of the red dog. Hotenfa carried him in his arms
and laid him gently on a blanket in the temple but the splendid animal
died during the night. His master cried like a child and I am sure that
he felt more real sorrow than he would have shown at the loss of his
wife; for wives are much easier to get in China than good hunting dogs.
The serow was an adult male, badly scarred from fighting, and had lost
one horn by falling over a cliff when he was killed. He was brownish
black, with rusty red lower legs and a whitish mane. His right horn was
nine and three-quarters inches in length and five and three-quarters
inches in circumference at the base and the effectiveness with which
he had used his horns against the dogs demonstrated that they were
by no means only for ornaments. In the next chapter the habits and
relationships of the gorals and serows will be considered more fully.
On the morning following the capture of the first serow the last rain
of the season began and continued for nine days almost without ceasing.
The weather made hunting practically impossible for the fog hung
so thickly over the woods that one could not see a hundred feet and
Heller found that many of his small traps were sprung by the raindrops.
The Lolos had disappeared, and we believed that they had returned to
their village, but they had been hunting in spite of the weather and
on the fifth day arrived with a fine male serow in perfect condition.
It showed a most interesting color variation for, instead of red, the
lower legs were buff with hardly a tinge of reddish.
November 2, the sun rose in an absolutely cloudless sky and during
the remainder of the winter we had as perfect weather as one could
wish. Yvette's constant mussing and efficient surgery combined with
the devotion of our interpreter, Wu, had checked the spread of the
poison in my hand and my nights were no longer haunted with the strange
fancies of delirium, but I was as helpless as a babe. I could do
nothing but sit with steaming cloths wrapped about my arm and rail at
the fate which kept me useless in the temple.
The Lolos killed a third serow on the mountain just above our camp but
the animal fell into a rock fissure more than a hundred feet deep and
was recovered only after a day's hard work. The men wove a swinging
ladder from tough vines, climbed down it, and drew the serow bodily up
the cliff; as it weighed nearly three hundred pounds this was by no
means an easy undertaking.
Our Lolo hunters were tall, handsome fellows led by a slender young
chief with patrician features who ruled his village like an autocrat
with absolute power of life and death. The Lolos are a strange people
who at one time probably occupied much of the region south of the
Yangtze River but were pushed south and west by the Chinese and, except
in one instance, now exist only in scattered units in the provinces of
Kwei-chau and Yün-nan.
In S'suchuan the Lolos hold a vast territory which is absolutely
closed to the Chinese on pain of death and over which they exercise no
control. Several expeditions have been launched against the Lolos but
all have ended in disaster.
Only a few weeks before we arrived in Yün-nan a number of Chinese
soldiers butchered nearly a hundred Lolos whom they had encountered
outside the independent territory, and in reprisal the Lolos burned
several villages almost under the walls of a fortified city in which
were five hundred soldiers, massacred all the men and boys, and carried
off the women as slaves.
The pure blood Lolos "are a very fine tall race, with comparatively
fair complexions, and often with straight features, suggesting a
mixture of Mongolian with some more straight-featured race. Their
appearance marks them as closely connected by race with the eastern
Tibetans, the latter being, if anything, rather the bigger men of the
two."[2] They are great wanderers and over a very large part of Yün-nan
form the bulk of the hill population, being the most numerous of all
the non-Chinese tribes in the province.
[Footnote 2: "Yün-nan, the Link between India and the Yangtze," by
Major H. R. Davies, 1909, p. 389.]
Like almost every race which has been conquered by the Chinese or has
come into continual contact with them for a few generations, the Lolos
of Yün-nan, where they are in isolated villages, are being absorbed by
the Chinese. We found, as did Major Davies, that in some instances
they were giving up their language and beginning to talk Chinese even
among themselves. The women already had begun to tie up their feet in
the Chinese fashion and even disliked to be called Lolos.
Those whom we employed were living entirely by hunting and, although
we found them amiable enough, they were exceedingly independent. They
preferred to hunt alone, although they recognized what an increased
chance for game our high-power rifles gave them, and eventually left
us while I was away on a short trip, even though we still owed them
considerable money.
The Lolos are only one of the non-Chinese tribes of Yün-nan. Major
Davies has considered this question in his valuable book to which I
have already referred, and I cannot do better than quote his remarks
here.
The numerous non-Chinese tribes that the traveler encounters in
western China, form perhaps one of the most interesting features
of travel in that country. It is safe to assert that in hardly any
other part of the world is there such a large variety of languages
and dialects, as are to be heard in the country which lies between
Assam and the eastern border of Yün-nan and in the Indo-Chinese
countries to the south of this region.
The reason of this is not hard to find. It lies in the physical
characteristics of the country. It is the high mountain ranges
and the deep swift-flowing rivers that have brought about the
differences in customs and language, and the innumerable tribal
distinctions, which are so perplexing to the enquirer into
Indo-Chinese ethnology.
A tribe has entered Yün-nan from their original Himalayan or
Tibetan home, and after increasing in numbers have found the land
they have settled on not equal to their wants. The natural result
has been the emigration of part of the colony. The emigrants,
having surmounted pathless mountains and crossed unbridged rivers
on extemporized rafts, have found a new place to settle in, and
have felt no inclination to undertake such a journey again to
revisit their old home.
Being without a written character in which to preserve their
traditions, cut off from all civilizing influence of the outside
world, and occupied merely in growing crops enough to support
themselves, the recollection of their connection with their
original ancestors has died out. It is not then surprising that
they should now consider themselves a totally distinct race from
the parent stock. Inter-tribal wars, and the practice of slave
raiding so common among the wilder members of the Indo-Chinese
family, have helped to still further widen the breach. In fact
it may be considered remarkable that after being separated for
hundreds, and perhaps in some case for thousands, of years, the
languages of two distant tribes of the same family should bear to
each other the marked general resemblance which is still to be
found.
The hilly nature of the country and the consequent lack of good
means of communication have also naturally militated against the
formation of any large kingdoms with effective control over the
mountainous districts. Directly we get to a flat country with
good roads and navigable rivers, we find the tribal distinctions
disappear, and the whole of the inhabitants are welded into a
homogeneous people under a settled government, speaking one
language.
Burmese as heard throughout the Irrawaddy valley is the same
everywhere. A traveler from Rangoon to Bhamo will find one language
spoken throughout his journey, but an expedition of the same
length in the hilly country to the east or to the west of the
Irrawaddy valley would bring him into contact with twenty mutually
unintelligible tongues.
The same state of things applies to Siam and Tonking--one nation
speaking one language in the flat country and a Tower of Babel in
the hills (_loc. cit._, pp. 332-883).
CHAPTER XVII
GORALS AND SEROWS
Gorals and serows belong to the subfamily _Rupicaprinæ_ which is an
early mountain-living offshoot of the _Bovidæ_; it also includes the
chamois, takin, and the so-called Rocky Mountain goat of America.
The animals are commonly referred to as "goat-antelopes" in order to
express the intermediate position which they apparently hold between
the goats and antelopes. They are also sometimes called the Rupicaprine
antelopes from the scientific name of the chamois (_Rupicapra_).
The horns of all members of the group are finely ridged, subcylindrical
and are present in both sexes, being almost as long in the female as
in the male. Although no one would suspect that the gorals are more
closely related to the takins than to the serows, which they resemble
superficially, such seems to be the case, but the cranial differences
between the two genera are to a certain extent bridged over by the
skull of the small Japanese serow (_Capricornulus crispus_). This
species is most interesting because of its intermediate position. In
size it is larger than a goral but smaller than a serow; its long coat
and its horns resemble those of a goral but it has the face gland and
short tail of a serow. It is found in Japan, Manchuria and southern
Siberia.
The principal external difference between the gorals and serows,
besides that of size, is in the fact that the serows have a short tail
and a well developed face gland, which opens in front of the eyes by a
small orifice, while the gorals have a long tail and no such gland.
[Illustration: A Serow Killed on the Snow Mountain]
[Illustration: The Head of a Serow]
In the cylindrical form of their horns the serows are similar to some
of the antelopes but in their clumsy build, heavy limbs and stout
hoofs as well as in habits they resemble goats. The serow has a long,
melancholy-looking face and because of its enormous ears the Chinese in
Fukien Province refer to it as the "wild donkey" but in Yün-nan it is
called "wild cow."
The specific relationships of the serows are by no means satisfactorily
determined. Mr. Pocock, Superintendent of the London Zoölogical
Society's Gardens, has recently devoted considerable study to the
serows of British India and considers them all to be races of the
single species _Capricornis sumatrensis_. With this opinion I am
inclined to agree, although I have not yet had sufficient time in which
to thoroughly study the subject in the light of our new material.
These animals differ most strikingly in external coloration, and fall
into three groups all of which partake more or less of the characters
of each other. Chinese serows usually have the lower legs rusty red,
while in Indian races they are whitish, and black in the southern Burma
and Malayan forms.
The serows which we killed upon the Snow Mountain can probably be
referred to _Capricornis sumatrensis milne-edwardsi_, those of
Fukien obtained by Mr. Caldwell represent the white-maned serow
_Capricornis sumatrensis argyrochætes_ and one which I shot in May,
1917, near Teng-yueh, not far from the Burma frontier, is apparently an
undescribed form.
Our specimens have brought out the fact that a remarkable individual
variation exists in the color of the legs of these animals; this
character was considered to be of diagnostic value, and probably is
in some degree, but it is by no means as reliable as it was formerly
supposed to be.
Two of the serows killed on the Snow Mountain have the lower legs rusty
red, while in two others these parts are buff colored. The animals,
all males of nearly the same age, were taken on the same mountain,
and virtually at the same time. Their skulls exhibit no important
differences and there is no reason to believe that they represent
anything but an extreme individual variation.
The two specimens obtained by Mr. Caldwell at Yen-ping are even
more surprising. The old female is coal black, but the young male
is distinctly brownish-black with a chestnut stripe from the mane
to the tail along the mid-dorsal line where the hairs of the back
form a ridge. The horns of the female are nearly parallel for half
their extent and approach each other at the tips; their surfaces
are remarkably smooth. The horns of the young male diverge like a V
from the skull and are very heavily ridged. The latter character is
undoubtedly due to youth.
These serows are an excellent example of the necessity for collecting
a large number of specimens from the same locality. Only by this means
is it possible to learn how the species is affected by age, sex and
individual variation and what are its really important characters.
In the case of the gorals, our Expedition obtained at Hui-yao such a
splendid series of all ages that we have an unequaled opportunity for
intelligent study. Serows are entirely Asian and found in China, Japan,
India, Sumatra and the Malay Peninsula.
On the Snow Mountain we found them living singly at altitudes of from
9,000 to 13,000 feet in dense spruce forests, among the cliffs. The
animals seemed to be fond of sleeping under overhanging rocks, and we
were constantly finding beds which gave evidence of very extensive use.
Apparently serows seldom come out into the open, but feed on leaves and
grass while in the thickest cover, so that it is almost impossible to
kill them without the aid of dogs or beaters.
Sometimes a serow will lead the dogs for three or four miles, and
eventually lose them or it may turn at bay and fight the pack after
only a short chase; a large serow is almost certain to kill several of
the hounds if in a favorable position with a rock wall at its back. The
animal can use its strong curved horns with deadly effect for it is
remarkably agile for a beast of its size.
In Fukien we hunted serows on the summit of a high mountain clothed
with a dense jungle of dwarf bamboo. It was in quite different country
from that which the animals inhabit in Yün-nan for although the cover
was exceedingly thick it was without such high cliffs and there were
extensive grassy meadows. We did not see any serows in Fukien because
of the ignorance of our beaters, although the trails were cut by fresh
tracks. The natives said that in late September the animals could often
be found in the forests of the lower mountain slopes when they came to
browse upon the new grown mushrooms.
Mr. Caldwell purchased for us in the market the skin of a splendid
female serow and a short time later obtained a young male. The latter
was seen swimming across the river just below the city wall and was
caught alive by the natives. The female weighed three hundred and ten
pounds and the male two hundred and ninety pounds.
Serows are rare in captivity and are said to be rather dangerous pets
unless tamed when very young. We are reproducing a photograph taken and
kindly loaned by Mr. Herbert Lang, of one formerly living in the Berlin
Zoölogical Garden; we saw a serow in the Zoölogical Park at Calcutta
and one from Darjeeling is owned by the London Zoölogical Society.
Gorals are pretty little animals of the size of the chamois. The
species which we killed on the Snow Mountain can probably be referred
to _Næmorhedus griseus_, but I have not yet had an opportunity to study
our specimens carefully. Unlike the serows these gorals have blackish
brown tails which from the roots to the end of the hairs measure about
10 inches in length. The horns of both sexes are prominently ridged for
the basal half of their length and perfectly smooth distally. The male
horns are strongly recurved and are thick and round at the base but
narrow rapidly to the tips; the female horns are straighter and more
slender. The longest horns in the series which we received measured six
inches in length and three and three-quarters inches in circumference
at the base. Like the serows, gorals are confined to Asia and are found
in northern India, Burma, and China, and northwards through Korea and
southern Manchuria.
We hunted gorals with dogs on the Snow Mountain for in this particular
region they could be killed in no other way. There was so much cover,
even at altitudes of from 12,000 to 15,000 feet and the rocks were so
precipitous, that a man might spend a month "still hunting" and never
see a goral. They are vicious fighters, and often back up to a cliff
where they can keep the dogs at a distance. One of our best hounds
while hunting alone, brought a goral to bay and was found dead next day
by the hunters with its side ripped open.
On the Snow Mountain we found the animals singly but at Hui-yao, not
far from the Burma frontier, where we hunted another species in the
spring, they were almost universally in herds of from six to seven or
eight. It was at the latter place that we had our best opportunity to
observe gorals and learn something of their habits. We were camping on
the banks of a branch of the Shweli River, which had cut a narrow gorge
for itself; on one side this was seven or eight hundred feet deep. A
herd of about fifty gorals had been living for many years on one of
the mountain sides not far from the village, and although they were
seen constantly the natives had no weapons with which to kill them; but
with our high-power rifles it was possible to shoot across the river at
distances of from two hundred to four hundred yards.
We could scan every inch of the hillside through our field glasses and
watch the gorals as they moved about quite unconscious of our presence.
At this place they were feeding almost exclusively upon the leaves of
low bushes and the new grass which had sprung up where the slopes had
been partly burned over. We found them browsing from daylight until
about nine o'clock, and from four in the afternoon until dark. They
would move slowly among the bushes, picking off the new leaves, and
usually about the middle of the morning would choose a place where the
sun beat in warmly upon the rocks, and go to sleep.
Strangely enough they did not lie down on their sides, as do many
hoofed animals, but doubled their forelegs under them, stretched their
necks and hind legs straight out, and rested on their bellies. It was a
most uncomfortable looking attitude, and the first time I saw an animal
resting thus I thought it had been wounded, but both Mr. Heller and
myself saw them repeatedly at other times, and realized that this was
their natural position when asleep.
When frightened, like our own mountain sheep or goats, they would run a
short distance and stop to look back. This was usually their undoing,
for they offered excellent targets as they stood silhouetted against
the sky. They were very difficult to see when lying down among the
rocks, but our native hunters, who had most extraordinary eyesight,
often would discover them when it was almost impossible for me to find
them even with the field glasses. We never could be sure that there
were no gorals on a mountain-side, for they were adepts at hiding,
and made use of a bunch of grass or the smallest crevice in a rock to
conceal themselves, and did it so completely that they seemed to have
vanished from the earth.
Like all sheep and goats, they could climb about where it seemed
impossible for any animal to move. I have seen a goral run down the
face of a cliff which appeared to be almost perpendicular, and where
the dogs dared not venture. As the animal landed on a projecting rock
it would bounce off as though made of rubber, and leap eight or ten
feet to a narrow ledge which did not seem large enough to support a
rabbit.
The ability to travel down such precipitous cliffs is largely due to
the animal's foot structure. Professor Henry Fairfield Osborn has
investigated this matter in the mountain goat and as his remarks apply
almost equally well to the goral, I cannot do better than quote them
here:
The horny part of the foot surrounds only the extreme front.
Behind this crescentic horn is a shallow concavity which gives the
horny hoof a chance to get its hold. Both the main digits and the
dewclaws terminate in black, rubber-like, rounded and expanded
soles, which are of great service in securing a firm footing on
the shelving rocks and narrow ledges on which the animal travels
with such ease. This sole, Smith states, softens in the spring of
the year, when the snow is leaving the ground, a fresh layer of
the integument taking its place. The rubber-like balls with which
the dewclaws are provided are by no means useless; they project
back below the horny part of the hoof, and Mr. Smith has actually
observed the young captive goats supporting themselves solely on
their dewclaws on the edge of a roof. It is probable that they are
similarly used on the rocks and precipices, since on a very narrow
ledge they would serve favorably to alter the center of gravity by
enabling the limb to be extended somewhat farther forward.[3]
[Footnote 3: "Mountain Goat Hunting with the Camera," by Henry
Fairfield Osborn. Reprinted from the tenth _Annual Report of the New
York Zoölogical Society_, 1906, pp. 18-14.]
There were certain trails leading over the hill slopes at Hui-yao which
the gorals must have used continually, judging by the way in which
these were worn. We also found much sign beneath overhanging rocks and
on projecting ledges to indicate that these were definite resorts for
numbers of the animals. Many which we saw were young or of varying ages
running with the herds, and it was interesting to see how perfectly
they had mastered the art of self-concealment even when hardly a year
old. Although at Hui-yao almost all were on the east side of the
river, they did not seem to be especially averse to water, and several
times I watched wounded animals swim across the stream.
Gorals are splendid game animals, for the plucky little brutes inspire
the sportsman with admiration, besides leading him over peaks which try
his nerve to the utmost, and I number among the happiest hours of my
life the wonderful hunts in Yün-nan, far above the clouds, at the edge
of the snow.
CHAPTER XVIII
THE "WHITE WATER"
_Y. B. A._
October had slipped into November when we left the temple and shifted
camp to the other side of the Snow Mountain at the "White Water." It
was a brilliant day and the ride up the valley could not have been more
beautiful. Crossing the _gangheisa_ or "dry sea," a great grassy plain
which was evidently a dry lake basin, we followed the trail into the
forest and down the side of a deep cañon to a mountain stream where
the waters spread themselves in a thin, green veil over a bed of white
stones.
We pitched our tents on a broad terrace beside the stream at the
edge of the spruce forest. Above us towered the highest peak of the
mountain, with a glacier nestling in a basin near its summit, and the
snow-covered slopes extending in a glorious shining crescent about our
camp. The moon was full, and each night as we sat at dinner before the
fire, the ragged peaks turned crimson in the afterglow of the sun, and
changed to purest silver at the touch of the white moonlight. We have
had many camps in many lands but none more beautiful than the one at
the "White Water."
The weather was perfect. Every day the sun shone in a cloudless blue
sky and in the morning the ground was frozen hard and covered with
snowlike frost, but the air was marvelously stimulating. We felt that
we could be happy at the "White Water" forever, but it did not prove to
be as good a hunting ground as that on the other side of the mountain.
The Lolos killed a fine serow on the first day and Hotenfa brought in a
young goral a short time later, but big game was by no means abundant.
At the "White Water" we obtained our first Lady Amherst's pheasant
(_Thaumalea amherstiæ_) one of the most remarkable species of a family
containing the most beautiful birds of the world. The rainbow colored
body and long tail of the male are made more conspicuous by a broad
white and green ruff about the neck. The first birds brought alive to
England were two males which had been presented to the Countess Amherst
after whom the species was named. We found this pheasant inhabiting
thick forests where it is by no means easy to discover or shoot. It is
fairly abundant in Yün-nan, Eastern Tibet and S'suchuan but its habits
are not well known. Although the camp yielded several small mammals
new to our collection, we decided to go into Li-chiang to engage a new
caravan for our trip across the Yangtze River while Heller remained in
camp.
The direct road to Li-chiang was considerably shorter than by way of
the Snow Mountain village and at three o'clock in the afternoon our
beloved "Temple of the Flowers" was visible on the hilltop overlooking
the city. As we rode up the steep ascent we saw a picturesque gathering
on the porch and heard the sound of many voices laughing and talking.
The beautiful garden-like courtyard was filled with women and children
of every age and description, and all the doors from one side of
the temple had been removed, leaving a large open space where huge
cauldrons were boiling and steaming.
We sat down irresolutely on the inner porch but the young priest was
delighted to see us and insisted that we wait until Wu arrived. We
were glad that we did not seek other quarters for we were to witness
an interesting ceremony, which is most characteristic of Chinese life.
It seemed that about five years before a gentleman of Li-chiang had
"shuffled off this mortal coil." His soul may have found rest, but "his
mortal coil" certainly did not. Unfortunately his family inherited a
few hundred dollars several years later and the village "astrologer"
informed them that according to the _feng-shui_, or omnipotent
spirits of the earth, wind, and water, the situation of the deceased
gentleman's grave was ill-chosen and that if they ever hoped to enjoy
good fortune again they must dig him up, give the customary feast in
his honor and have another burial site chosen.
Every village has a "wise man" who is always called upon to select the
resting place of the dead, his remuneration varying from two dollars to
two thousand dollars according to the circumstances of the deceased's
relatives. The astrologer never will say definitely whether or not
the spot will prove a propitious one and if the family later sell any
property, receive a legacy, or are known to have obtained money in
other ways, the astrologer usually finds that the _feng-shui_ do not
favor the original place and he will exact another fee for choosing a
second grave.
The dead are never buried until the astrologer has named an auspicious
day as well as an appropriate site, with the result that unburied
coffins are to be seen in temples, under roadside shelters, in the
fields and in the back yards of many houses.
Any interference by foreigners with this custom is liable to bring
about dire results as in the case of the rioting in Shanghai in 1898. A
number of French residents objected to a temple near by being used to
store a score or more of bodies until a convenient time for burial and
the result was the death of many people in the fighting which ensued.
Mr. Tyler Dennet cites an amusing anecdote regarding the successful
handling of the problem by a native mandarin in Yen-ping where we
visited Mr. Caldwell:
The doctor pointed out how dangerous to public health was the
presence of these coffins in Yen-ping. The magistrate had a census
taken of the coffins above ground in the city and found that they
actually numbered sixteen thousand. The city itself is estimated to
have only about twenty thousand inhabitants.
It was a difficult problem for the magistrate. He might easily move
in such a way as to bring the whole city down about his head. But
the Chinese are clever in such situations, perhaps the cleverest
people on earth. He finally devised a way out. A proclamation was
issued levying a tax of fifty cents on every unburied coffin. The
Chinese may be superstitious, but they are even more thrifty. For a
few weeks Yen-ping devoted itself to funerals, a thousand a week,
and now this little city, one of the most isolated in China, can
truly be said to be on the road to health.[4]
[Footnote 4: "Doctoring China," by Tyler Dennet, _Asia_, February,
1918, p. 114.]
[Illustration: The "White Water"]
There are very few such progressive cities in China, however, and a
missionary told us that recently a young child and his grandfather were
buried on the same day although their deaths had been nearly fifty
years apart. The funeral rites are in themselves fairly simple, but it
is the great ambition of every Chinese to have his resting place as
near as possible to those of his ancestors. That is one of the reasons
why they are so loath to emigrate.
We often passed eight or ten coolies staggering under the load of a
heavy coffin, transporting a body sometimes a month's journey or more
to bury it at the dead man's birthplace. A rooster usually would be
fastened to the coffin for, according to the Yün-nan superstition, the
spirit of the man enters the bird and is conveyed by it to his home.
There is a strange absence of the fear of death among the Chinese. One
often sees large planks of wood stored in a corner of a house and one
is told that these are destined to become the coffins of the man's
father or mother, even though his parents may at the time be enjoying
the most robust health. Indeed, among the poorer classes, a coffin is
considered a most fitting gift for a son to present to his father.
We established our camp on the porch of the temple at Li-chiang and
from its vantage point could watch the festivities going on about us.
The feasting continued until after dark and at daylight the kettles
were again steaming to prepare for the second day's celebration.
By ten o'clock the court was crowded and a hour later there came a
partial stillness which was broken by a sudden burst of music (?) from
Chinese violins and pipes. Going outside we found most of the guests
standing about an improvised altar. The foot of the coffin was just
visible in the midst of the paper decorations and in front of it
were set half a dozen dishes of tempting food. These were meant as an
offering to the spirit of the departed one, but we knew this would not
prevent the sorrowing relatives from eating the food with much relish
later on.
In a few moments a group of women approached, supporting a figure
clothed in white with a hood drawn over her face. She was bent nearly
to the ground and muffled shrieks and wails came from the depths of
her veil as she prostrated herself in front of the altar. For more
than an hour this chief mourner, the wife of the deceased, lay on her
face, her whole figure shaking with what seemed the most uncontrollable
anguish. This same lady, however, moved about later among her guests an
amiable hostess, with beaming countenance, the gayest of the gay. But
every morning while the festivities lasted, promptly at eleven o'clock
she would prostrate herself before the coffin and display heartrending
grief in the presence of the unmoved spectators in order to satisfy the
demands of "custom."
Custom and precedent have grown to be divinities with the Chinese, and
such a display of feigned emotion is required on certain prescribed
occasions. As one missionary aptly described it "the Chinese are all
face and no heart." Mr. Caldwell told us that one night while passing
down a deserted street in a Chinese village he was startled to hear the
most piercing shrieks issuing from a house nearby. Thinking someone
was being murdered, he rushed through the courtyard only to find that
a girl who was to be married the following day, according to Chinese
custom, was displaying the most desperate anguish at the prospect of
leaving her family, even though she probably was enchanted with the
idea.
On the third day of the celebration in the temple at Li-chiang the
feasting ended in a burst of splendor. From one o'clock until far past
sundown the friends and relatives of the departed one were fed. Any
person could receive an invitation by bringing a small present, even
if it were only a bowl of rice or a few hundred cash (ten or fifteen
cents).
All during the morning girls and women flocked up the hill with trays
of gifts. There were many Mosos and other tribesmen among them as well
as Chinese. The Moso girls wore their black hair cut short on the
sides and hanging in long narrow plaits down their backs. They wore
white leather capes (at least that was the original shade) and pretty
ornaments of silver and coral at their throats, and as they were young
and gay with glowing red cheeks and laughing eyes they were decidedly
attractive. The guests were seated in groups of six on the stones
of the temple courtyard. Small boys acted as waiters, passing about
steaming bowls of vegetables and huge straw platters heaped high with
rice. As soon as each guest had stuffed himself to satisfaction he
relinquished his place to someone else and the food was passed again.
We were frequently pressed to eat with them and in the evening when the
last guest had departed the "chief mourner" brought us some delicious
fruit candied in black sugar. She told Wu that they had fed three
hundred people during the day and we could well believe it. The next
morning the coffin was carried down the hill to the accompaniment of
anguished wails and we were left once more to the peace and quiet of
our beautiful temple courtyard.
Sometimes a family will plunge itself into debt for generations to come
to provide a suitable funeral for one of its members, because to bury
the dead without the proper display would not only be to "lose face"
but subject them to the possible persecution of the angered spirits.
This is only one of the pernicious results of ancestor worship and it
is safe to say that most of the evils in China's social order today can
be traced, directly or indirectly, to this unfortunate practice.
A man's chief concern is to leave male descendants to worship at
his grave and appease his spirit. The more sons, grandsons, and
great-grandsons who walk in his funeral procession, the more he is to
be envied. As a missionary humorously says "the only law of God that
ever has been obeyed in China is to be fruitful and multiply." Craving
for progeny has brought into existence thousands upon thousands of
human beings who exist on the very brink of starvation. Nowhere in
the civilized world is there a more sordid and desperate struggle to
maintain life or a more hopeless poverty. But fear and self-love oblige
them to continue their blind breeding. The apparent atrophy of the
entire race is due to ancestor worship which binds it with chains of
iron to its dead and to its past, and not until these bonds are severed
can China expect to take her place among the progressive nations of the
earth.
CHAPTER XIX
ACROSS THE YANGTZE GORGE
In mid-November we left the White Water with a caravan of twenty-six
mules and horses. Following the road from Li-chiang to the Yangtze,
we crossed the "Black Water" and climbed steadily upward over several
tremendous wooded ridges, each higher than the last, to the summit of
the divide.
The descent was gradual through a magnificent pine and spruce forest.
Some of the trees were at least one hundred and fifty feet high, and
were draped with beautiful gray moss which had looped itself from
branch to branch and hung suspended in delicate streamers yards in
length. The forest was choked with underbrush and a dense growth of
dwarf bamboo, and the hundreds of fallen logs, carpeted with bronze
moss, made ideal conditions for small mammal collecting. However, as
all the species would probably be similar to those we had obtained on
the Snow Mountain, we did not feel that it was worth while stopping to
trap.
At four-thirty in the afternoon we camped upon a beautiful hill in a
pine forest which was absolutely devoid of underbrush, and where the
floor was thinly overlaid with brown pine needles. Although the Moso
hunter, who acted as our guide, assured us that the river was only
three miles away, it proved to be more than fifteen, and we did not
reach the ferry until half past one the next afternoon.
We were continually annoyed, as every traveler in China is, by the
inaccuracy of the natives, and especially of the Chinese. Their ideas
of distance are most extraordinary. One may ask a Chinaman how far it
is to a certain village and he will blandly reply, "Fifteen _li_ to
go, but thirty _li_ when you come back." After a short experience one
learns how to interpret such an answer, for it means that when going
the road is down hill and that the return uphill will require double
the time.
Caravans are supposed to travel ten _li_ an hour, although they seldom
do more than eight, and all calculations of distance are based upon
time so far as the _mafus_ are concerned. If the day's march is eight
hours you invariably will be informed that the distance is eighty _li_,
although in reality it may not be half as great.
In "Chinese Characteristics," Dr. Arthur H. Smith gives many
illuminating observations on the inaccuracy of the Chinese. In regard
to distance he says:
It is always necessary in land travel to ascertain, when the
distance is given in "miles" (_li_), whether the "miles" are
"large" or not! That there is some basis for estimates of distances
we do not deny, but what we do deny is that these estimates or
measurements are either accurate or uniform.
It is, so far as we know, a universal experience that the moment
one leaves a great imperial highway the "miles" become "long." If
120 _li_ constitute a fair day's journey on the main road, then on
country roads it will take fully as long to go 100 _li_, and in the
mountains the whole day will be spent in getting over 80 _li_ (p.
51).
In like manner, a farmer who is asked the weight of one of his
oxen gives a figure which seems much too low, until he explains
that he has omitted to estimate the bones! A servant who was asked
his height mentioned a measure which was ridiculously inadequate
to cover his length, and upon being questioned admitted that he
had left out of account all above his shoulders! He had once been
a soldier, where the heft of the men's clavicle is important in
assigning the carrying of burdens. And since a Chinese soldier
is to all practical purposes complete without his head, this was
omitted.
Of a different sort was the measurement of a rustic who
affirmed that he lived "ninety _li_ from the city," but upon
cross-examination he consented to an abatement, as this was
reckoning both to the city and back, the real distance being as he
admitted, only "forty-five _li_ one way!" (p. 49) ...
The habit of reckoning by "tens" is deep-seated, and leads to much
vagueness. A few people are "ten or twenty," a "few tens," or
perhaps "ever so many tens," and a strictly accurate enumeration
is one of the rarest of experiences in China.... An acquaintance
told the writer that two men had spent "200 strings of cash" on a
theatrical exhibition, adding a moment later, "It was 173 strings,
but that is the same as 200--is it not?" (p. 54).
A man who wished advice in a lawsuit told the writer that he
himself "lived" in a particular village, though it was obvious from
his narrative that his abode was in the suburbs of a city. Upon
inquiry, he admitted that he did not _now_ live in the village, and
further investigation revealed the fact that the removal took place
nineteen generations ago! "But do you not almost consider yourself
a resident of the city now?" he was asked. "Yes," he replied
simply, "we do live there now, but the old root is in that village."
... The whole Chinese system of thinking is based on a line of
assumptions different from those to which we are accustomed, and
they can ill comprehend the mania which seems to possess the
Occidental to ascertain everything with unerring exactness. The
Chinese does not know how many families there are in his native
village, and he does not wish to know. What any human being can
want to know this number for is to him an insoluble riddle. It is
"a few hundred," "several hundreds" or "not a few," but a fixed and
definite number it never was and never will be. (p. 55.)
After breaking camp on the day following our departure from the "White
Water" we rode along a broad trail through a beautiful pine forest and
in the late morning stood on an open summit gazing on one of the most
impressive sights which China has to offer. At the left, and a thousand
feet below, the mighty Yangtze has broken through the mountains in a
gorge almost a mile deep; a gorge which seems to have been carved out
of the solid rock, sharp and clean, with a giant's knife. A few miles
to the right the mountains widen, leaving a flat plain two hundred feet
above the river. Every inch of it, as well as the finger-like valleys
which stretch upward between the hills, is under cultivation, giving
support for three villages, the largest of which is Taku.
The ferry is in a bad place but it is the only spot for miles where
the river can be crossed. The south bank is so precipitous that the
trail from the plain twists and turns like a snake before it emerges
upon a narrow sand and gravel beach. The opposite side of the river is
a vertical wall of rock which slopes back a little at the lower end to
form a steep hillside covered with short grass. The landing place is
a mass of jagged rocks fronting a small patch of still water and the
trail up the face of the cliff is so steep that it cannot be climbed
by any loaded animal; therefore all the packs must be unstrapped and
laboriously carted up the slope on the backs of the _mafus_.
At two-thirty in the afternoon we were loading the boat, which carried
only two animals and their packs, for the first trip across the river.
It was difficult to get the mules aboard for they had to be whipped,
shoved and actually lifted bodily into the dory. One of the ferrymen
first drew the craft along the rocks by a long rope, then climbed up
the face of what appeared to be an absolutely flat wall, and after
pulling the boat close beneath him, slid down into it. In this way the
dory was worked well up stream and when pushed into the swift current
was rowed diagonally to the other side.
After four loads had been taken over, the boatmen decided to stop work
although there was yet more than an hour of daylight and they could not
be persuaded to cross again by either threats or coaxing. It was an
uncomfortable situation but there was nothing to do but camp where we
were even though the greater part of our baggage was on the other side,
with only the _mafus_ to guard it, and therefore open to robbery.
About a third of a mile from the ferry we found a sandy cornfield on
a level shelf just above the water, and pitched our tents. A slight
wind was blowing and before long we had sand in our shoes, sand in our
beds, sand in our clothes, and we were eating sand. Heller went down
the river with a bag of traps while we set forty on the hills above
camp, and after a supper of goral steak, which did much to allay the
irritation of the day, we crawled into our sandy beds.
At daylight Hotenfa visited the ferry and reported that the loads were
safe but that one of the boatmen had gone to the village and no one
knew when he would return. We went to the river with Wu as soon as
breakfast was over and spent an aggravating hour trying by alternate
threats and cajoling to persuade the remaining ferryman to cross the
river to us. But it was useless, for the louder I swore the more
frightened he became and he finally retired into a rock cave from which
the _mafus_ had to drag him out bodily and drive him into the boat.
The second boatman ambled slowly in about ten o'clock and we felt like
beating them both, but Wu impressed upon us the necessity for patience
if we ever expected to get our caravan across and we swallowed our
wrath; nevertheless, we decided not to leave until the loads and mules
were on the other side, and we ate a cold tiffin while sitting on the
sand.
Heller employed his time by skinning the twenty small mammals (one of
which was a new rat) that our traps had yielded. We took a good many
photographs and several rolls of "movie" film showing the efforts of
the _mafus_ to get the mules aboard. Some of them went in quietly
enough but others absolutely refused to step into the boat. One of the
_mafus_ would pull, another push, a third twist the animal's tail and
a fourth lift its feet singly over the side. With the accompaniment of
yells, kicks, and Chinese oaths the performance was picturesque to say
the least.
[Illustration: A Liso Hunter Carrying a Flying Squirrel]
[Illustration: The Chief of Our Lolo Hunters]
By five o'clock the entire caravan had been taken across the racing
green water and we had some time before dark in which to investigate
the caverns with which the cliffs above the river are honeycombed.
They were of two kinds, gold quarries and dwelling caves. The latter
consist of a long central shaft, just high enough to allow a man to
stand erect; this widens into a circular room. Along the sides of the
corridor shallow nests have been scooped out to serve as beds and all
the cooking is done not far from the door. The caves, although almost
dark, make fairly comfortable living quarters and are by no means as
dirty or as evil smelling as the ordinary native house. The mines are
straight shafts dug into the cliffs where the rock is quarried and
crushed by hand.
CHAPTER XX
THROUGH UNMAPPED COUNTRY
We left the Taku ferry by way of a steep trail through an open pine
and spruce forest along the rim of the Yangtze gorge where the view
was magnificent. Someone has said that when a tourist sees the Grand
Cañon for the first time he gasps "Indescribable" and then immediately
begins to describe it. Thus it was with us, but no words can picture
the grandeur of this titanic chasm. In places the rocks were painted in
delicate tints of blue and purple; in others, the sides fell away in
sheer drops of hundreds of feet to the green torrent below rushing on
to the sea two thousand five hundred miles away.
The caravan wound along the edge of the gorge all day and we were left
far behind, for at each turn a view more beautiful than the last opened
out before us, and until every color plate and negative in the holders
had been exposed we worked steadily with the camera.
We were traveling northwestward through an unmapped region which Baron
Haendel-Mazzetti had skirted and reported to be one of vast forests
and probably rich in game. After six hours of riding over almost bare
mountain-sides we passed through a parklike spruce forest and reached
Habala, a long thin village of mud and stone houses scattered up the
sides of a narrow valley.
Above and to the left of the village rose ridge after ridge of dense
spruce forest overshadowed by a snow-crowned peak and cut by deep
ravines, the gloomy depths of which yielded fascinating glimpses of
rocky cliffs--a veritable paradise for serow and goral. Our camping
place was a grassy lawn as flat and smooth as the putting green of
a golf course. Just below the tents a streamlet of ice-cold water
murmured comfortably to itself and a huge dead tree was lying crushed
and broken for the camp fire.
The boys turned the beautiful spot into "home" in half an hour and,
after setting a line of traps, we wandered slowly back through the
darkness guided by the brilliant flames of the fires which threw a warm
yellow glow over our little table spread for dinner.
We sent men to the village to bring in hunters and after dinner four or
five picturesque Mosos appeared. They said that there were many serow,
goral, muntjac and some wapiti in the forests above the village, and
we could well believe it, for there was never a more "likely looking"
spot. Although the men did not claim to be professional hunters,
nevertheless they said that they had good dogs and had killed many
muntjac and other animals.
They agreed to come at daylight and arrived about two hours late, which
was doing fairly well for natives. It was a brilliant day just warm
enough for comfort in the sun and we left camp with high hopes. However
it did not take many hours to demonstrate that the men knew almost
nothing about hunting and that their dogs were useless. Because of the
dense cover "still hunting" was out of the question and, after a hard
climb. We returned to camp to spend the remainder of the afternoon
developing photographs and preparing small mammals.
Our traps had yielded three new shrews and a silver mole as well as a
number of mice, rats, and meadow voles of species identical with those
taken on the Snow Mountain. It was evident, therefore, that the Yangtze
River does not act as an effective barrier to the distribution of even
the smallest forms and that the region in which we were now working
would not produce a different fauna. This was an important discovery
from the standpoint of our distribution records but was also somewhat
disappointing.
The photographic work already had yielded excellent results. The Paget
color plates were especially beautiful and the fact that everything was
developed in the field gave us an opportunity to check the quality of
each negative.
For this work the portable dark room was invaluable. It could be
quickly erected and suspended from a tree branch or the rafters of a
temple and offered an absolutely safe place in which to develop or load
plates. The moving-picture film required special treatment because of
its size and we usually fastened in the servants' tent the red lining
which had been made for this purpose in New York. Even then the space
was so cramped that we were dead tired at the end of a few hours' work.
One who sits comfortably in a theater or hall and sees moving-picture
film which has been obtained in such remote parts of the world does
not realize the difficulties in its preparation. The water for
developing almost invariably was dirty and in order to insure even a
moderately clear film it always had to be strained. For washing the
negative pailful after pailful had to be carried sometimes from a very
long distance, and the film exposed for hours to the carelessness or
curiosity of the natives. In our cramped quarters perhaps a corner of
the tent would be pushed open admitting a stream of light; the electric
flash lamp might refuse to work, leaving us in complete darkness to
finish the developing "by guess and by gosh," or any number of other
accidents occur to ruin the film. At most we could not develop more
than three hundred feet in an afternoon and we never breathed freely
until it finally was dried and safely stored away in the tin cans.
We left Habala, on November 28, for a village called Phete where the
natives had assured us we would find good hunters with dogs. For almost
the entire distance the road skirted the rim of the Yangtze gorge and
there the view of the great chasm was even more magnificent than that
we had left. While its sides are not fantastically sculptured and
the colors are softer than those of the Grand Cañon of the Colorado,
nevertheless its grandeur is hardly less imposing and awe-inspiring. If
Yün-nan is ever made accessible by railroads this gorge should become a
Mecca for tourists, for it is without doubt one of the most remarkable
natural sights in the world.
About two o'clock in the afternoon we saw three clusters of houses on
a tableland which juts into a chasm cut by a tributary of the great
river. One of them was Phete and it seemed that we would reach the
village in half an hour at least, but the road wound so tortuously
around the hillside, down to the stream and up again that it was an
hour and a half before we found a camping place on a narrow terrace a
short distance from the nearest houses.
Next day we could not go to the village to find hunters until
mid-forenoon because the natives of this region are very late risers
and often have not yet opened their doors at ten o'clock. This is
quite contrary to the custom in many other parts of China where the
inhabitants are about their work in the first light of dawn.
The hills above Phete are bare or thinly forested and every available
inch of level ground is under cultivation with corn and a few rice
paddys near the creek; the latter were a great surprise, for we had not
expected to find rice so far north. The village itself was exceedingly
picturesque but never have we met people of such utter and hopeless
stupidity as its inhabitants. They were pleasant enough and always
greeted us with a smile and salutation, but their brains seemed not to
have kept pace with their bodies and when asked the simplest question
they would only stare stupidly without the slightest glimmering of
intelligence.
It required an hour's questioning of a dozen or more people to glean
that there were no hunters in the village where they had lived all
their lives, but Wu, our interpreter, finally discovered a Chinese who
told us of a hunter in the mountains. He asked how far and the answer
was "Not very far."
"Well, is it ten _li!_"
"I don't know how many _li_."
"Have you ever been there?"
"Yes; it is only a few steps."
"How long will it take to get there?"
"About the time of one meal."
We were not to be deceived, for we had had experience with native
ideas of distance, and we ate our tiffin before starting out on the
"few steps." A steep trail led up the valley and after three hours of
steady riding we reached the hunter's village of three large houses on
a flat strip of cleared ground in the midst of a dense forest.
The people looked much like those of Phete but were rather anemic
specimens, and five out of eight had enormous goiters. They were
exceedingly shy at first, watching us with side glances and through
cracks in the wall. Wu learned that we were the first white persons
they had ever seen. I imagine that much of their unhealthiness was due
to too close intermarriage, for these families had little intercourse
with the people in Phete who were only "a few steps" away.
As we were leaving they began to eat their supper in the courtyard.
The principal dish consisted of mixed cornmeal and rice, boiled squash
and green vegetables. All the women were busy husking corn which was
hung to dry on great racks about the house. These racks we had noticed
in every village since leaving Li-chiang and they seemed to be in
universal use in the north.
The hunter had a flock of sheep and we purchased one for $4.40
(Mexican) but there was considerable difficulty in paying for it
since these people had never seen Chinese money even though living in
China itself. For currency they used chunks of silver the size of a
walnut and worth about one dollar (Mexican). The Chinese guide finally
persuaded the people of the genuineness of our money and we purchased
a few eggs and a little very delicious wild honey besides the sheep.
These people as well as those of Phete spoke the Li-chiang dialect but
with such variation that even our _mafus_ could understand them only
with the greatest difficulty.
When we returned to camp we found that the coolie who had been engaged
to carry the motion-picture camera and tripod had left without the
formality of saying "good-by" or asking for the money which was due
him. We had had considerable trouble with the camera coolies since
leaving Li-chiang. The first one carried the camera to the Taku ferry
with many groans, and there engaged a huge Chinaman to take his place,
for he thought the load too heavy. It only weighed fifty pounds, and
in the Fukien Province where men seldom carry less than eighty pounds
and sometimes as much as one hundred and fifty, it would have been
considered as only half a burden. In Yün-nan, however, animals do most
of the pack carrying, and coolies protest at even an ordinary load.
We left Phete in the early morning and camped about five hundred
feet above the hunter's cabin in a beautiful little meadow. It was
surrounded with splendid pine trees, and a clear spring bubbled up
from a knoll in the center and spread fan-shaped in a dozen little
streams over the edge of a deep ravine where a mountain torrent rushed
through a tangled bamboo jungle. The gigantic fallen trees were covered
inches deep with green moss, and altogether it was an ideal spot for
small mammals. Our traps, however, yielded no new species, although we
secured dozens of specimens every night.
There were a few families of Lolos about two miles away and these were
engaged as hunters. They told us that serow and muntjac were abundant
and that wapiti were sometimes found on the mountains several miles
to the northward. Although the men had a large pack of good dogs they
were such unsatisfactory hunters that we gave up in disgust after
three days. They never would appear until ten or eleven o'clock in the
morning when the sun had so dried the leaves that the scent was lost
and the dogs could not follow a trail even if one were found. Moreover,
the camp was a very uncomfortable one, due to the wind which roared
through the trees night and day.
We were rejoined here by Hotenfa, who had left us at the Taku ferry to
see if he could get together a pack of dogs. He brought three hounds
with him which he praised exuberantly, but we subsequently found that
they did not justify our hopes. Nevertheless, we were glad to have
Hotenfa back, for he was one of the most intelligent, faithful, and
altogether charming natives whom we met in all Yün-nan. He was an
uncouth savage when he first came to us, but in a very short time he
had learned our camp ways and was as good a servant as any we had.
CHAPTER XXI
TRAVELING TOWARD TIBET
Since the hunters at the "Windy Camp" had proved so worthless and the
traps had yielded no small mammals new to our collection, we decided to
cross the mountains toward the Chung-tien road which leads into Tibet.
The head _mafu_ explored the trail and reported that it was impassable
but, after an examination of some of the worst barriers, we decided
that they could be cleared away and ordered the caravan to start at
half past seven in the morning.
Before long we found that the _mafus_ were right. The trail was a mass
of tangled underbrush and fallen logs and led straight up a precipitous
mountain through a veritable jungle of dwarf bamboo. It was necessary
to stop every few yards to lift the loads over a barrier or cut a
passage through the bamboo thickets, and had it not been for the
adjustable pack saddles we never could have taken the caravan over the
trail.
Late in the afternoon the exhausted men and animals dragged themselves
to the summit of the mountain, for it was not a pass. In a few hours
we had come from autumn to mid-winter where the ground was frozen and
covered with snow. We were at an altitude of more than 15,000 feet
and far above all timber except the rhododendron forest which spread
itself out in a low gray mass along the ridges. It was difficult to
make the slightest exertion in the thin air and a bitterly cold wind
swept across the peaks so that it was impossible to keep warm even when
wrapped in our heaviest coats.
The servants and _mafus_ suffered considerably but it was too late
to go on and there was no alternative but to spend the night on the
mountain. As soon as the tents were up the men huddled disconsolately
about the fire, but we started out with a bag of traps while Heller
went in the opposite direction. We expected to catch some new mammals
during the night, for there were great numbers of runways on the bare
hillsides. The ground was frozen so solidly that it was necessary to
cut into the little _Microtus_ tunnels with a hatchet in order to set
the traps and we were almost frozen before the work was completed. The
next morning we had caught twenty specimens of a new white-bellied
meadow vole and a remarkable shrew with a long curved proboscis.
Everyone had spent an uncomfortable night, for it was bitterly cold
even in our sleeping bags and the men had sat up about the fire in
order to keep from freezing. There was little difficulty in getting the
caravan started in the gray light of early dawn and after descending
abruptly four thousand feet on a precipitous trail to a Lolo village
strung out along a beautiful little valley we were again in the
pleasant warmth of late autumn.
The natives here had never before seen a white person and in a few
moments our tents were surrounded by a crowd of strange-looking men
and boys. The chief of the village presented us with an enormous
rooster and we made him happy by returning two tins of cigarettes. The
Lolo women, the first we had seen, were especially surprising because
of their graceful figures and handsome faces. Their flat turbans,
short jackets, and long skirts with huge flounces gave them a rather
old-fashioned aspect, quite out of harmony with the metal neck-bands,
earrings, and bracelets which they all wore.
The men were exceedingly pleasant and made a picturesque group in their
gray and brown felt capes which they gather about the neck by a draw
string and, to the Lolos and Mosos alike, are both bed and clothing. We
collected all the men for their photographs, and although they had not
the slightest idea what we were about they stood quietly after Hotenfa
had assured them that the strange-looking instrument would not go off.
But most interesting of all was their astonishment when half an hour
later they saw the negative and were able to identify themselves upon
it.
The Lolos are apparently a much maligned race. They are exceedingly
independent, and although along the frontier of their own territory in
S'suchuan they wage a war of robbery and destruction it is not wholly
unprovoked. No one can enter their country safely unless he is under
the protection of a chief who acts as a sponsor and passes him along to
others. Mr. Brooke, an Englishman, was killed by the Lolos, but he was
not properly "chaperoned," and Major D'Ollone of the French expedition
lived among them safely for some time and gives them unstinted praise.
Whenever we met tribesmen in Yün-nan who had not seen white persons
they behaved much like all other natives. They were, of course,
always greatly astonished to see our caravan descend upon them and
were invariably fascinated by our guns, tents, and in fact everything
about us, but were generally shy and decidedly less offensive in
their curiosity than the Chinese of the larger inland towns to whom
foreigners are by no means unknown. As a matter of fact we have found
that our white skins, light eyes, and hair are a never failing source
of interest and envy to almost all Orientals.
[Illustration: Lolos Seeing Their Photographs for the First Time]
Yvette usually excited the most curiosity, especially among the women,
and as she wore knickerbockers and a flannel shirt there were times
when the determination of her sex seemed to call forth the liveliest
discussion. Her long hair, however, usually settled the matter, and
then the women had decided the question of gender satisfactorily they
often made timid, and most amusing, advances. One woman said she
greatly admired her fair complexion and asked how many baths she took
to keep her skin so white. Another wondered whether it was necessary
to ever comb her hair and almost everyone wished to feel her clothes
and shoes. She always would command more attention than anyone else by
her camera operations, and a group would stand in speechless amazement
to see her dodge in and out of the portable dark room when she was
developing photographs or loading plates.
We made arrangements to go with a number of the Lolos to a spot fifteen
miles away on the Chung-tien road to hunt wapiti (probably _Cervus
macneilli_) which the natives call _maloo_. Our American wapiti, or
elk, is a migrant from Asia by way of the Bering Strait and is probably
a relative of the wapiti which is found in Central Asia, China,
Manchuria and Korea.
At present these deer are abundant in but few places. Throughout the
Orient, and especially in China, the growing horns when they are soft,
or in the "velvet," are considered of great medicinal value and,
during the summer, the animals are trapped and hunted relentlessly by
the natives. In Yün-nan, when we were there, a pair of horns were worth
$100 (Mexican).
Thanksgiving morning dawned gray and raw with occasional flurries of
haillike snow, but we did not heed the cold, for the trail led over two
high ridges and along the rim of a tremendous gorge. To the south the
white summits of the Snow Mountain range towered majestically above the
surrounding peaks and, in the gray light, the colors were beautiful
beyond description. To the north we could see heavily wooded mountain
slopes interspersed with open parklike meadows--splendid wapiti country.
Our tents were pitched two hundred yards from the Chung-tien road
just within the edge of a stately, moss-draped forest. That night we
celebrated with harmless bombs from the huge fires of bamboo stalks
which exploded as they filled with steam and echoed among the trees
like pistol shots. Marco Polo speaks of the same phenomenon which he
first witnessed in this region over six hundred and thirty years ago.
About nine o'clock in the evening we ran our traps with a lantern and
besides several mice (_Apodemus_) found two rare shrews and a new mole
(_Blarina_). I went out with the hunters at dawn but saw nothing except
an old wapiti track and a little sign. All during the following day a
dense fog hung close to the ground so that it was impossible to hunt,
and, on the night of December 2, it snowed heavily. The morning began
bright and clear but clouded about ten o'clock and became so bitterly
cold that the Lolos would not hunt. They really suffered considerably
and that night they all left us to return to their homes. We were
greatly disappointed, for we had brilliant prospects of good wapiti
shooting but without either men or dogs and in an unknown country there
was little possibility of successful still hunting.
The _mafus_ were very much worried and refused to go further north.
They were certain that we would not be able to cross the high passes
which lay between us and the Mekong valley far to the westward and
complained unceasingly about the freezing cold and the lack of food
for their animals. It was necessary to visit the Mekong River, for
even though it might not be a good big game region it would give us
a cross-section, as it were, of the fauna and important data on the
distribution of small mammals. Therefore we decided to leave for the
long ride as soon as the weather permitted.
CHAPTER XXII
STALKING TIBETANS WITH A CAMERA
_Y. B. A._
The road near which we were camped was one of the great trade routes
into Tibet and over it caravans were continually passing laden with
tea or pork. Many of them had traveled the entire length of Yün-nan to
S'su-mao on the Tonking frontier where a special kind of tea is grown,
and were hurrying northward to cross the snow-covered passes which form
the gateways to the "Forbidden Land."
The caravans sometimes stopped for luncheon or to spend the night near
our camp. As the horses came up, one by one the loads were lifted off,
the animals turned loose, and after their dinner of buttered tea and
_tsamba_[5] each man stretched out upon the ground without shelter of
any kind and heedless of the freezing cold. It is truly the life of
primitive man and has bred a hardy, restless, independent race, content
to wander over the boundless steppes and demanding from the outside
world only to be let alone.
[Footnote 5: _Tsamba_ is parched oats or barley, ground finely.]
They are picturesque, wild-looking fellows, and in their swinging
walk there is a care-free independence and an atmosphere of the bleak
Tibetan steppes which are strangely fascinating. Every Tibetan is a
study for an artist. He wears a fur cap and a long loose coat like a
Russian blouse thrown carelessly off one shoulder and tied about the
waist, blue or red trousers, and high boots of felt or skin reaching
almost to the knees. A long sword, its hilt inlaid with bright-colored
bits of glass or stones, is half concealed beneath his coat, and he is
seldom without a gun or a murderous looking spear.
In the breast of his loose coat, which acts as a pocket, he carries
a remarkable assortment of things; a pipe, tobacco, tea, _tsamba_,
cooking pots, a snuff box and, hanging down in front, a metal charm to
protect him from bullets or sickness.
The eastern Tibetans are men of splendid physique and great strength,
and are frequently more than six feet in height. They have brick-red
complexions and some are really handsome in a full-blooded masculine
way. Their straight features suggest a strong mixture of other than
Mongolian stock and they are the direct antithesis of the Chinese in
every particular. Their strength and virility and the dashing swing
of their walk are very refreshing after contact with the ease-loving,
effeminate Chinaman whom one sees being carried along the road sprawled
in a mountain chair.
Of all natives whom we tried to photograph the Tibetans were the most
difficult. It was almost impossible to bribe them with money or tin
cans to stand for a moment and when they saw the motion picture camera
set up beside the trail they would make long detours to avoid passing
in front of it.
What we could not get by bribery we tried to do by stealth and
concealed ourselves behind bushes with the camera focused on a certain
spot upon the road. The instant a Tibetan discovered it he would run
like a frightened deer and in some mysterious way they seemed to have
passed the word along that our camp was a spot to be avoided. Sometimes
a bottle was too great a temptation to be resisted, and one would stand
timidly like a bird with wings half spread, only to dash away as though
the devil were after him, when he saw my head disappear beneath the
focusing hood.
Wu and a _mafu_ who could speak a little Tibetan finally captured one
picturesque looking fellow. He carefully tucked the tin cans, given
for advance payment, inside his coat, and with a great show of bravery
allowed me to place him where I wished. But the instant the motion
picture camera swung in his direction he dodged aside, and jumped
behind it. Wu tried to hold him but the Tibetan drew his sword, waved
it wildly about his head and took to his heels, yelling at the top of
his lungs. He was well-nigh frightened to death and when he disappeared
from sight at a curve in the road he was still "going strong" with his
coat tails flapping like a sail in the wind.
One caravan came suddenly upon the motion picture camera unawares.
There were several women in the party and, as soon as the men realized
that there was no escape, each one dodged behind a woman, keeping her
between him and the camera. They were taking no chances with their
precious selves, for the women could be replaced easily enough if
necessary.
The trouble is that the Tibetan not unnaturally has the greatest
possible suspicion and dislike for strangers. The Chinese he loathes
and despises, and foreigners he knows only too well are symptoms of
missionaries and punitive expeditions or other disturbances of his
immemorial peace. He is confirmed in his attitude by the Church which
throughout Tibet has the monopoly of all the gold in the country. And
the Church utterly declines to believe that any foreigner can come
so far for any end less foolish than the discovery of gold and the
infringing of the ecclesiastical monopoly.
[Illustration: Travelers in the Mekong Valley]
[Illustration: Two Tibetans]
Major Davies, who saw much of the Yün-nan Tibetans, has remarked that
it is curious how little impression the civilization and customs of the
Chinese have produced on the Tibetans. Elsewhere, one of the principal
characteristics of Chinese expansion is its power of absorbing other
races, but with the Tibetans exactly the reverse takes place. The
Chinese become Tibetanized and the children of a Chinaman married to a
Tibetan woman are usually brought up in the Tibetan customs.
Probably the great cause which keeps the Tibetan from being absorbed
is the cold, inhospitable nature of his country. There is little to
tempt the Chinese to emigrate into Tibet and consequently they never
are there in sufficient numbers to influence the Tibetans around them.
A similar cause has preserved some of the low-lying Shan states from
absorption, the heat in this case being the reason that the Chinese do
not settle there.
CHAPTER XXIII
WESTWARD TO THE MEKONG RIVER
During the night of December 4, there was a heavy fall of snow and in
the morning we awoke to find ourselves in fairyland. We were living in
a great white palace, with ceiling and walls of filmy glittering webs.
The long, delicate strands of gray moss which draped themselves from
tree to tree and branch to branch were each one converted into threads
of crystal, forming a filigree lacework, infinitely beautiful.
It was hard to break camp and leave that silver palace, for every vista
through the forest seemed more lovely than the one before, but we knew
that another fall of snow would block the passes and shut us out from
the Mekong valley. The _mafus_ even refused to try the direct route
across the mountains to Wei-hsi and insisted on going southward to the
Shih-ku ferry and up the Yangtze River on the main caravan route.
It was a long trip and we looked forward with no pleasure to eight days
of hard riding. The difficulty in obtaining hunters since leaving the
Snow Mountain had made our big game collecting negligible although we
had traveled through some excellent country. The Mekong valley might
not be better but it was an unknown quantity and, whether or not it
yielded specimens, the results from a survey of the mammal distribution
would be none the less important, and we felt that it must be done;
otherwise we should have turned our backs on the north and returned to
Ta-li Fu.
As we rode down the mountain trail we passed caravan after caravan of
Tibetans with heavily loaded horses, all bound for that land of mystery
beyond the snow-capped barriers. Often we tried to stop some of the
red-skinned natives and persuade them to pose for a color photograph,
but usually they only shook their heads stubbornly and hurried past
with averted faces. We finally waylaid a Chinese and a Tibetan who were
walking together. The Chinaman was an amiable fellow and by giving
each of them a glass jam tumbler they halted a moment. As soon as the
photograph had been taken the Chinese indicated that he expected us to
produce one and was thoroughly disgusted when we showed him that it was
impossible.
Repassing the Lolo village, we followed the river gorge at the upper
end of which Chung-tien is located and left the forests when we emerged
on the main road. From the top of a ten thousand foot pass there was
a magnificent view down the cañon to the snow-capped mountains, which
were beautiful beyond description in their changing colors of purple
and gold.
Just after leaving the pass we met a caravan of several hundred horses
each bearing two whole pigs bent double and tied to the saddles. The
animals had been denuded of hair, salted, and sewn up, and soon would
be distributed among the villages somewhere in the interior of Tibet.
On the second day we saw before us seven snow-crowned peaks as sharp
and regular as the teeth of a saw rising above the mouth of the stream
where it spreads like a fan over a sandy delta and empties into the
Yangtze. Here the mighty river, flowing proudly southward from its home
in the wind-blown steppes of the "Forbidden Land," countless ages ago
found the great Snow Mountain range barring its path. Thrust aside, it
doubled back upon itself along the barrier's base, still restlessly
seeking a passage through the wall of rock. Far to the north it bit
hungrily into the mountain's side again, broke through, and swung south
gathering strength and volume from hundreds of tributaries as it rushed
onward to the sea.
For two days we rode along the river bank and crossed at the Shih-ku
ferry. There was none of the difficulty here which we had experienced
at Taku, for the river is wide and the current slow. It required
only two hours to transport our entire caravan while at the other
ferry we had waited a day and a half. Strangely enough, although
there are dozens of villages along the Yangtze and the valley is
highly cultivated, we saw no sign of fishing. Moreover, we passed but
three boats and five or six rafts and it was evident that this great
waterway, which for fifteen hundred miles from its mouth influences the
trade of China so profoundly, is here used but little by the natives.
On the ride down the river we had good sport with the huge cranes
(probably _Grus nigricollis_) which, in small flocks, were feeding
along the river fields. The birds stood about five feet high and we
could see their great black and white bodies and black necks farther
than a man was visible. It was fairly easy to stalk them to within a
hundred yards, but even at that distance they offered a rather small
target, for they were so largely wings, neck, legs, and tail. We were
never within shotgun range and indeed it would be difficult to kill the
birds with anything smaller than BB or buckshot unless they were very
near.
[Illustration: The Gorge of the Yangtze River]
Heller shot our first cranes with his .250-.300 Savage rifle. He stole
upon five which were feeding in a meadow and fired while two were
"lined up." One of the huge birds flapped about on the ground for a few
moments and lay still, but the larger was only wing-tipped and started
off at full speed across the fields. Two _mafus_ left the caravan,
yelling with excitement, and ran for nearly half a mile before they
overtook the bird. Then they were kept at bay for fifteen minutes by
its long beak which is a really formidable weapon. As food the cranes
were perfectly delicious when stuffed with chestnut dressing and
roasted. Each one provided two meals for three of us with enough left
over for hash and our appetites were by no means birdlike.
Although the natives attempt to kill cranes they are not often
successful, for the birds are very watchful and will not allow a man
within a hundred yards. Such a distance for primitive guns or crossbows
might as well be a hundred miles, but with our high-power rifles we
were able to shoot as many as were needed for food.
The birds almost invariably followed the river when flying and fed in
the rice, barley, and corn fields not far from the water. It was an
inspiring sight to see a flock of the huge birds run for a few steps
along the ground and then launch themselves into the air, their black
and white wings flashing in the sunlight. They formed into orderly
ranks like a company of soldiers or strung out in a long thin line
across the sky.
When we disturbed a flock from especially desirable feeding grounds
they would sometimes whirl and circle above the fields, ascending
higher and higher in great spirals until they were lost to sight,
their musical voices coming faintly down to us like the distant shouts
of happy children.
When we returned to Ta-li Fu in early January, cranes were very
abundant in the fields about the lake. They had arrived in late October
and would depart in early spring, according to Mr. Evans. We often
saw the birds on sand banks along the Yangtze, but they were usually
resting or quietly walking about and were not feeding; apparently they
eat only rice, barley, corn, or other grain.
This species was discovered by the great traveler and naturalist,
Lieutenant Colonel Prjevalsky, who found it in the Koko-nor region of
Tibet, and it was later recorded by Prince Henri d'Orleans from Ts'ang
in the Tibetan highlands. Apparently specimens from Yün-nan have not
been preserved in museums and the bird was not known to occur in this
portion of China.
Along the Yangtze on our way westward we shot a good many mallard
ducks (_Anas boscas_) and ruddy sheldrakes (_Casarca casarca_); the
latter are universally known as "brahminy ducks" by the foreigners in
Burma and Yün-nan, but they are not true ducks. The name is derived
from the bird's beautiful buff and rufous color which is somewhat like
that of the robes worn by the Brahmin priests. In America the name
"sheldrake" is applied erroneously to the fish-eating mergansers,
and much confusion has thus arisen, for the two are quite unrelated
and belong to perfectly distinct groups. The mergansers have narrow,
hooked, saw-toothed beaks quite unlike those of the sheldrakes, and
their habits are entirely dissimilar.
The brahminy ducks, although rather tough, are not bad eating. We
usually found them feeding in fields not far from the river or in
flooded rice dykes, and very often sitting in pairs on the sand banks
near the water. They have a bisyllabic rather plaintive note which is
peculiarly fascinating to me and, like the honk of the Canada goose,
awakens memories of sodden, wind-blown marshes, bobbing decoys, and a
leaden sky shot through with V-shaped lines of flying birds.
Mallards were frequently to be found with the sheldrakes, and we had
good shooting along the river and in ponds and rice fields. We also saw
a few teal but they were by no means abundant. Pheasants were scarce.
We shot a few along the road and near some of our camps, but we found
no place in Yün-nan where one could have even a fair day's shooting
without the aid of a good dog. This is strikingly different from Korea
where in a walk over the hillsides a dozen or more pheasants can be
flushed within an hour.
After two and one-half days' travel up the Yangtze we turned westward
toward Wei-hsi and camped on a beautiful flat plain beside a
tree-bordered stream. It was a cold clear night and after dinner and a
smoke about the fire we all turned in.
Both of us were asleep when suddenly a perfect bedlam of angry
exclamations and Chinese curses roused the whole camp. In a few moments
Wu came to our tent, almost speechless with rage and stammered, "Damn
fool soldiers come try to take our horses; say if _mafu_ no give them
horses they untie loads. Shall I tell _mafu_ break their heads?" We did
not entirely understand the situation but it seemed quite proper to
give the _mafus_ permission to do the head-breaking, and they went at
it with a will. After a volley of blows, there was a scamper of feet on
the frozen ground and the soldiers retired considerably the worse for
wear.
When the battle was over, Wu explained matters more fully. It appeared
that a large detachment of soldiers had recently passed up this road
to A-tun-tzu and four or five had remained behind to attend to the
transport of certain supplies. Seeing an opportunity for "graft" the
soldiers were stopping every caravan which passed and threatening to
commandeer it unless the _mafus_ gave a sufficient bribe to buy their
immunity. Our _mafus_, with the protection which foreigners gave them,
had paid off a few old scores with interest. That they had neglected no
part of the reckoning was quite evident when next morning two of the
soldiers came to apologize for their "mistake." One of them had a black
and swollen eye and the other was nursing a deep cut on his forehead;
they were exceedingly humble and did not venture into camp until they
had been assured that we would not again loose our terrible _mafus_
upon them.
Such extortions are every day occurrences in many parts of China and
it is little wonder that the military is cordially hated and feared by
the peasants. The soldiers, taking advantage of their uniform, oppress
the villagers in numberless ways from which there is no redress. If
a complaint is made a dozen soldiers stand ready to swear that the
offense was justified or was never committed, and the poor farmer is
lucky if he escapes without a beating or some more severe punishment.
It is a disgrace to China that such conditions are allowed to exist,
and it is to be hoped that ere many years have passed the country will
awake to a proper recognition of the rights of the individual. Until
she does there never can be a national spirit of patriotism in China
and without patriotism the Republic can be one in name only.
CHAPTER XXIV
DOWN THE MEKONG VALLEY
On December 11, we had tiffin on the summit of a twelve thousand
foot pass in a beautiful snow-covered meadow, from which we could
see the glistening peaks of the vast mountain range which forms the
Mekong-Salween divide. In the afternoon we readied Wei-hsi and camped
in a grove of splendid pine trees on a hill overlooking the city. The
place was rather disappointing after Li-chiang. The shops were poor and
it was difficult to buy rice even though the entire valley was devoted
to paddy fields, but we did get quantities of delicious persimmons.
Wu told us that seven different languages were spoken in the city, and
we could well believe it, for we recognized Mosos, Lolos, Chinese, and
Tibetans. This region is nearly the extreme western limit of the Moso
tribe which appears not to extend across the Mekong River.
The mandarin at Wei-hsi received us hospitably and proved to be one of
the most courteous officials whom we met in Yün-nan. We were sorry to
learn that he was killed in a horrible way only a few weeks after our
visit. Trouble arose with the peasants over the tax on salt and fifteen
hundred rebelled, attacked the city, and captured it after a sharp
fight. It was reported that they immediately beheaded the mandarin's
wives and children, and boiled him alive in oil.
[Illustration: A Quiet Curve of the Mekong River]
Although the magistrate offered to assist us in every way we could
obtain no information concerning either hunting grounds or routes
of travel. The flying squirrels which we had hoped to find near the
city were reported to come from a mountain range beyond the Mekong in
Burma, and Wei-hsi was merely a center of distribution for the skins.
Moreover, the natives said it would be impossible to obtain squirrels
at that time of the year, for the mountain passes were so heavily
covered with snow that neither men nor caravans could cross them.
It was desirable, however, to descend to the Mekong River in order
to determine whether there would be a change in fauna, and on Major
Davies' map a small road was marked down the valley. A stiff climb of
a day and a half over a thickly forested mountain ridge, frozen and
snow-covered, brought us in sight of the green waters of the Mekong
which has carved a gorge for itself in an almost straight line from the
bleak Tibetan plateaus through Yün-nan and Indo-China to the sea.
Our second camp was on the river at the mouth of a deep valley, near a
small village. Wu said that the natives were Lutzus and I was inclined
to believe he was right, although Major Davies indicates this region
to be inhabited by Lisos. At any rate these people both in physical
appearance and dress were quite distinct from the Lisos whom we met
later.
They were exceedingly pleasant and friendly and the chief, accompanied
by four venerable men, brought a present of rice. I gave him two tins
of cigarettes and the natives returned to the village wreathed in
smiles.
The garments of the Lutzus were characteristic and quite unlike those
of the Mosos, Lisos or Tibetans. The women wore a long coat or jacket
of blue cloth, trousers, and a very full pleated skirt. The men were
dressed in plum colored coats and trousers.
The natives said that monkeys (probably _Pygathrix_) were often seen
when the corn was ripe and that even yet they might be found in the
forest across the river. Heller spent a day hunting them, but found
none and we obtained only one new mammal in our traps. It was a tiny
mouse (_Micromys_) but the remainder of the fauna was essentially the
same as that of the Yangtze valley and the intervening country.
For three days we traveled down the Mekong River. Although the natives
said that the trail was good, we discovered when it was too late that
it was too narrow and difficult to make it practicable for a caravan
such as ours. It was necessary to continually remove the loads in
order to lift them around sharp corners or over rocks, and the _mafus_
sometimes had to cut away great sections of the bank. Usually only
six or seven miles could be traversed after eight or nine hours of
exhausting work, and we were glad when we could leave the river.
The Mekong, on an average, is not more than a hundred yards wide in
this region and, like the Yangtze, the water is very green from the
Tibetan snows. The prevailing rock is red slate or sandstone instead
of limestone, as in the country to the eastward, and the sides of the
valley are so precipitous that it seems impossible for a human being
to walk over them, and yet they are patched with brown corn fields
from the summit to the water. Considering the small area available for
cultivation there are a considerable number of inhabitants, who have
gathered into villages and seldom live in isolated houses as in the
Yangtze valley. Wherever a stream comes down from the mountain-side
or can be diverted by irrigating ditches, the ground is beautifully
terraced for rice paddys, but in other places, corn and peas appear to
be the principal crops. Very few vegetables, such as turnips, squash,
carrots or potatoes are raised, which is rather remarkable, as they
are so abundant in all the country between the Mekong and the Yangtze
rivers. In several places the water was spanned by rope bridges. The
cables are made of twisted bamboo, and as one end must necessarily be
higher than the other, there are always two ropes, one to cross each
way. The traveler is tied by leather thongs in a sitting position to a
wooden "runner" which slides along the bamboo cable and shoots across
the river at tremendous speed.
The valley is hopeless from a zoölogical standpoint. It is too dry
for small mammals and the mountain slopes are so precipitous, thinly
forested, and generally undesirable, that, except for gorals, no other
large game would live there. The bird life is decidedly uninteresting.
There are no cranes or sheldrakes and, except for a few flocks of
mallards which feed in the rice fields, we saw no other ducks or geese.
On December 20, we turned away from the Mekong valley and began to
march southeast by east across an unmapped region toward Ta-li Fu. We
camped at night on a pretty ridge thickly covered with spruce trees
just above a deep moist ravine. In the morning our traps contained
several rare shrews, five silver moles, a number of interesting mice,
and a beautiful rufous spiny rat. It was too good a place to leave and
I sent Hotenfa to inquire from a family of natives if there was big
game of any sort in the vicinity. He reported that there were goral
not far away, and at half past eight we rode down the trail for three
miles when I left my horse at a peasant's house. They told us that the
goral were on a rocky, thinly forested mountain which rose two thousand
feet above the valley, and for an hour and a half we climbed steadily
upward.
We were resting near the summit on the rim of a deep cañon when Hotenfa
excitedly whispered, "_gnai-yang_" and held up three fingers. He tried
to show the animals to me and at last I caught sight of what I thought
was a goral standing on a narrow ledge. I fired and a bit of rock flew
into the air while the three gorals disappeared among the trees two
hundred feet above the spot where I had supposed them to be.
I was utterly disgusted at my mistake but we started on a run for the
other side of the gorge. When we arrived, Hotenfa motioned me to swing
about to the right while he climbed along the face of the rock wall.
No sooner had he reached the edge of the precipice than I saw him lean
far out, fire with my three-barrel gun, and frantically wave for me
to come. I ran to him and, throwing my arms about a projecting shrub,
looked down. There directly under us stood a huge goral, but just as I
was about to shoot, the earth gave way beneath my feet and I would have
fallen squarely on the animal had Hotenfa not seized me by the collar
and drawn me back to safety.
The goral had not discovered where the shower of dirt and stones came
from before I fired hurriedly, breaking his fore leg at the knee.
Without the slightest sign of injury the ram disappeared behind a
corner of the rock. I dashed to the top of the ridge in time to see him
running at full speed across a narrow open ledge toward a thick mass of
cover on the opposite side of the cañon. I fired just as the animal
gained the trees and, at the crash of my rifle, the goral plunged
headlong down the mountain, stone dead.
It fell on a narrow slide of loose rock which led nearly to the bottom
of the valley and, slipping and rolling in a cloud of red dust, dropped
over a precipice. The ram brought up against an unstable boulder five
hundred feet below us, and it required half an hour's hard work to
reach the spot.
When I finally lifted its head one of the horns which had been broken
in the fall slipped through my fingers, and away went the goral on
another rough and tumble descent, finally stopping on a rock ledge
nearly eleven hundred feet from the place where it had been shot. We
returned to camp at noon bringing joy with us, for, as my wife had
remarked the day before, "We will soon have to eat chickens or cans."
Heller hunted the gorals unsuccessfully the following day and we left
on December 23, camping at night on a flat terrace beside a stream at
the end of a moist ravine. We intended to spend Christmas here for it
was a beautiful spot, surrounded by virgin forest, but our celebration
was to be on Christmas Eve. The following day dawned bright and clear.
There had not been a drop of rain for nearly a month and the weather
was just warm enough for comfort in the sun with one's coat off, but
at night the temperature dropped to about 16°+ or 20°+ Fahr. The camp
proved to be a good one, giving us two new mammals and, just after
tiffin, Hotenfa came running in to report that he had discovered seven
gray monkeys (probably _Pygathrix_) in a cornfield a mile away.
The monkeys had disappeared ere we arrived, but while we were gone
Yvette had been busy and, just before dinner, she ushered us into our
tent with great ceremony. It had been most wonderfully transformed.
At the far end stood a Christmas tree, blazing with tiny candles and
surrounded by masses of white cotton, through which shone red holly
berries. Holly branches from the forest and spruce boughs lined the
tent and hung in green waves from the ridge pole. At the base of the
tree gifts which she had purchased in Hongkong in the preceding August
were laid out.
Heller mixed a fearful and wonderful cocktail from the Chinese wine
and orange juice, and we drank to each other and to those at home
while sitting on the ground and opening our packages. We had purchased
two Tibetan rugs in Li-chiang and Wei-hsi, as Christmas presents for
Yvette. These rugs usually are blue or red, with intricate designs in
the center, and are well woven and attractive.
To the servants and _mafus_ we gave money and cigarettes. When the
muleteers were brought to the tent to receive their gifts they
evidently thought our blazing tree represented an altar, for they
kneeled down and began to make the "chin, chin joss" which is always
done before their heathen gods.
Our Christmas dinner was a masterpiece. Four days previously I had shot
a pair of mallard ducks and they formed the _pièce de résistance_. The
dinner consisted of soup, ducks stuffed with chestnuts, currant jelly,
baked squash, creamed carrots, chocolate cake, cheese and crackers,
coffee and cigarettes.
Christmas day we traveled, and in the late afternoon passed through
a very dirty Chinese town in a deep valley near some extensive salt
wells. Red clay dust lay thick over everything and the filth of the
streets and houses was indescribable. We camped in a cornfield a
mile beyond the village, but were greatly annoyed by the Chinese who
insisted on swarming into camp. Finally, unable longer to endure their
insolent stares, I drove them with stones to the top of the hill, where
they sat in row upon row exactly as in the "bleachers" at an American
baseball game.
When we left the following day we passed dozens of caravans and groups
of men and women carrying great disks of salt. Each piece was stamped
in red with the official mark for salt is a government monopoly and
only licensed merchants are allowed to deal in it; moreover, the
importation of salt from foreign countries is forbidden. For the
purposes of administration, China is divided into seven or eight main
circuits, each of which has its own sources of production and the salt
obtained in one district may not be sold in another.
In Yün-nan the salt of the province is supplied from three regions. The
water from the wells is boiled in great cauldrons for several days, and
the resulting deposit is earth impregnated with salt. This is crushed,
mixed with water, and boiled again until only pure salt remains. After
passing a village of considerable size called Peiping, we began the
ascent of an exceedingly steep mountain range twelve thousand feet
high. All the afternoon we toiled upward in the rain and camped late in
the evening at a pine grove on a little plateau two-thirds of the way
to the summit. During the night it snowed heavily and we awoke to find
ourselves in a transformed world.
Every tree and bush was dressed in garments of purest white and between
the branches we could look westward across the valley toward the
Mekong and the purple mountain wall of the Burma border. There were
still one thousand feet of climbing between us and the summit of the
pass. The trail was almost blocked, but by slow work we forced our way
through the drifts. Some of the mules were already weak from exposure
and underfeeding, and two of them had to be relieved of their loads;
they died the next day. Our _mafus_ did not appear to suffer greatly
although their legs were bare from the knees down and their feet had no
covering except straw sandals. Indeed when we discovered, on the summit
of the pass, a tiny hut in which a fire was burning, they waited only a
few moments to warm themselves.
We met two other caravans fighting their way up the mountain from the
other side, and by following the trail which they had broken through
the drifts we made fairly good time on the descent. There had been no
snow on the broad, flat plain which we reached in the late afternoon
and we found that its ponds and fields were alive with ducks, geese,
and cranes. The birds were wild but we had good shooting when we broke
camp in the morning and killed enough to last us several days.
On December 31, our weary days of crossing range after range of
tremendous mountains were ended, and we stood on the last pass looking
down upon the great Chien-chuan plain. Outside the grim walls of the
old city, which lies on the main A-tun-tzu-Ta-li Fu road, are two large
marshy ponds and, away to the south, is an extensive lake. We camped
just without the courtyard of a fine temple, and at four o'clock Yvette
and I went over to the water which was swarming with ducks and geese.
Neither of us will ever forget that shoot in the glorious afternoon
sunlight. Cloud after cloud of ducks rose as we neared the pond and
circled high above our heads, but now and then a straggling mallard
or "pin tail" would swing across the sky within range; as my gun
roared out the birds would whirl to the ground like feathered bombs
or climb higher with frightened quacks if the shot went wild. An hour
before dark the brahminy ducks began to come in. We could hear their
melodious plaintive calls long before we could see the birds, and we
flattened ourselves out in the grass and mud. Soon a thin, black line
would streak the sky, and as they drew nearer, Yvette would draw such
seductive notes from a tiny horn of wood and bone that the flock would
swing and dive toward us in a rush of flashing wings. When we could see
the brown bodies right above our heads I would sit up and bang away.
Now and then a big white goose would drop into the pond or an ibis flap
lazily overhead, seeming to realize that it had nothing to fear from
the prostrate bodies which spat fire at other birds. The stillness of
the marsh was absolute save for the voices of the water fowl mingled
in the wild, sweet clamor so dear to the heart of every sportsman. As
the day began to die, hung about with ducks and geese, we walked slowly
back across the rice fields, to the yellow fires before our tents. It
was our last camp for the year and, as if to bid us farewell as we
journeyed toward the tropics, the peaks of the great Snow Mountain
far to the north, had draped themselves in a gorgeous silver mantle
and glistened against a sky of lavender and gold like white cathedral
spires.
On January 3, we camped early in the afternoon on a beautiful little
plain beside a spring overhung with giant trees at the head of Erh Hai,
or Ta-li Fu Lake, which is thirty miles long. The fields and marshes
were alive with ducks, geese, cranes, and lapwings, and we had a
glorious day of sport over decoys and on the water before we went on to
Ta-li Fu.
Mr. Evans was about to leave for a long business trip to the south of
the province and we took possession of a pretty temple just within the
north gate of the city. Here we read a great accumulation of mail and
learned that a thousand pounds of supplies which we had ordered from
Hongkong had just arrived.
Through the good offices of Mr. Howard Page, manager of the Standard
Oil Company of Yün-nan Fu, their passage through Tonking had been
facilitated, and he had dispatched the boxes by caravan to Ta-li Fu.
Mr. Page rendered great assistance to the Expedition in numberless
ways, and to him we owe our personal thanks as well as those of the
American Museum of Natural History.
All the servants except our faithful Wu left at Ta-li Fu but, with the
aid of Mr. Hanna, we obtained a much better personnel for the trip to
the Burma frontier. The cook, who was one of Mr. Hanna's converts, was
an especially fine fellow and proved to be as energetic and competent
as the other had been lazy and helpless.
Our work in the north had brought us a collection of thirteen hundred
mammals, as well as several hundred birds, much material for habitat
groups, and a splendid series of photographic records in Paget color
plates, black and white negatives, and motion picture film. But what
was of first importance, we had covered an enormous extent of diverse
country and learned much about the distribution of the fauna of
northern Yün-nan. The thirteen hundred mammals of our collection were
taken in a more or less continuous line across six tremendous mountain
ranges, and furnish an illuminating cross section of the entire region
from Ta-li Fu, north to Chung-tien, and west to the Mekong River.
[Illustration: The Temple in which We Camped at Ta-li Fu]
[Illustration: A Crested Muntjac]
It is apparent that in this part of the province, which is all within
one "life zone" even the smallest mammals are widely spread and that
the principal factor in determining distribution is the flora. Neither
the highest mountain ridges nor such deep swift rivers as the Yangtze
and the Mekong appear to act as effective barriers to migration, and as
long as the vegetation remains constant, the fauna changes but little.
CHAPTER XXV
MISSIONARIES WE HAVE KNOWN
During our work in Fukien Province and in various parts of Yün-nan we
came into intimate personal contact with a great many missionaries;
indeed every traveler in the interior of China will meet them unless
he purposely avoids doing so. But the average tourist seldom sees the
missionary in his native habitat because, for the most part, he lives
and works where the tourist does not go.
Nevertheless, that does not prevent the coastwise traveler from
carrying back with him from the East a very definite impression of the
missionary, which he has gained on board ships or in Oriental clubs
where he hears him "damned with faint praise." Almost unconsciously
he adopts the popular attitude just as he enlarges his vocabulary to
include "pidgin English" and such unfamiliar phrases as "tiffin,"
"bund" and "cumshaw."
This chapter is not a brief for the missionary, but simply a matter of
fair play. We feel that in justice we ought to present our observations
upon this subject, which is one of very general interest, as
impartially as upon any phase of our scientific work. But it should be
distinctly understood that we are writing _only_ of those persons whom
we met and lived with, and whose work we had an opportunity to know and
to see; _we are not attempting generalizations on the accomplishments
of missionaries in any other part of China_.
There are three charges which we have heard most frequently brought
against the missionary: that he comes to the East because he can live
better and more luxuriously than he can at home; that he often engages
in lucrative trade with the natives; and that he accomplishes little
good, either religious or otherwise. It is said that his converts are
only "rice Christians," and treaty-port foreigners have often warned us
in this manner, "Don't take Christian servants; they are more dishonest
and unreliable than any others."
It is often true that the finest house in a Chinese town will be that
of the resident missionary. In Yen-ping the mission buildings are
imposing structures, and are placed upon a hill above and away from the
rest of the city. Any white person who has traveled in the interior of
China will remember the airless, lightless, native houses, opening,
as they all do, on filthy streets and reeking sewers and he will
understand that in order to exist at all a foreigner must be somewhat
isolated and live in a clean, well-ventilated house.
Every missionary in China employs servants--many more servants than
he could afford at home. So does every other foreigner, whatever his
vocation. There is no such thing in China as the democracy of the West,
and the missionary's status in the community demands that certain work
in his house be done by servants; otherwise he and his family would
be placed on a level with the coolie class and the value of his words
and deeds be discounted. But the chief reason is that the missionary's
wife almost always has definite duties to which she could not attend if
she were not relieved from some of the household cares. She leads in
work among the women of the community by organizing clubs and "Mutual
Improvement Societies" and in teaching in the schools or hospitals
where young men and women are learning English as an asset to medical
work among their own people. Servants are unbelievably cheap. While we
were in Foochow a cook received $8.50 (gold) per month, a laundryman
$1.75 (gold) per month, and other wages were in proportion.
In Fukien Province the missionaries receive two months' vacation.
Anyone who has lived through a Fukien summer in the interior of the
province will know why the missionaries are given this vacation. If
they were not able to leave the deadly heat and filth and disease
of the native cities for a few weeks every year, there would be no
missionaries to carry on the work. The business man can surround
himself with innumerable comforts both in his home and in his office
which the missionary cannot afford and, during the summer, life is not
only made possible thereby but even pleasant.
Yen-ping is eight days' travel from Foochow up the Min River and it is
by no means the most remote station in the province. Very few travelers
reach these places during the year and the white inhabitants are almost
isolated. Miss Mabel Hartford lives alone at Yuchi and at one time
she saw only one foreigner in eight months. Miss Cordelia Morgan is
the sole foreign resident of Chu-hsuing Fu, a large Chinese city six
days from Yün-nan Fu. In Ta-li Fu, Reverend William J. Hanna, his wife
and two other women, are fourteen days' ride from the nearest foreign
settlement. In Li-chiang, Reverend and Mrs. A. Kok and their three
small children live with two women missionaries. They are twenty-one
days' travel from a doctor, and for four years previous to our visit
they had not seen a white woman.
These are some instances of missionaries whom we met in China who have
voluntarily exiled themselves to remote places where they expect to
spend their entire lives surrounded by an indifferent if not hostile
population. Can anyone possibly believe that they have chosen this life
because it is easier or more luxurious than that at home?
Some of the men whom we met had left lucrative business positions to
take up medical or evangelistic work in China where their compensation
is pitifully small--not one-third of the salary they were commanding at
home. We did not meet any missionaries who were engaging in trade with
the natives even though in some places there were excellent business
opportunities.
Consider the doctors as examples of the civilizing influences which
missionaries bring with them. We saw them in various parts of China
doing a magnificent wort Dr. Bradley has established a great leper
hospital at Paik-hoi where these human outcasts are receiving the
latest and most scientific treatment and beginning to look at life
with a new hope. In Yen-ping, at the time of the rebellion, we saw Dr.
Trimble working hour after hour over wounded and broken men without a
thought of rest. In Yün-nan Fu, Dr. Thompson's hospital was filled with
patients suffering from almost every known disease. In Ta-li Fu we saw
Mr. Hanna and his wife dispensing medicines and treating the minor ills
of patients waiting by the dozen, the fees received being not enough
to pay for the cost of the medicines. Why is it that every traveling
foreigner in the interior of China is supposed to be able to cure
diseases? Certainly an important reason is because of the work done by
the medical missionaries who have penetrated to the farthest corners of
the most remote provinces.
Aside from their medical work, missionaries are in many instances the
real pioneers of western civilization. They bring to the people new
standards of living, both morally and physically. They open schools
and emancipate the Chinese children in mind and body. They fight the
barbarous customs of foot binding and the killing and selling of girl
babies. Until recent years it was not unusual to meet the village "baby
peddler" with from two to six tiny infants peddling his "goods" from
village to village. Not many years ago such a man appeared before the
mission compound at Ngu-cheng (Fukien) with four babies in his basket.
Three of these had expired from exposure and the kerosene oil which had
been poured down their throats to stupefy them and drown their cries.
The fourth was purchased by the wife of the native preacher for ten
cents in order to save its life. This child was reared and has since
graduated from the mission schools with credit. In Foochow a stone
tablet bearing the following inscription stands beside a stagnant pool:
"Hereafter the throwing of babies into this pool will be punished by
law." This was a result of the work of the missionaries.
Their task is by no means easy and, as Mr. Hanna once remarked,
"Yün-nan Province has broken the heart of more than one missionary."
The Chinese do not understand their point of view, and it is difficult
to make them see it. A Chinaman is a rank materialist and pure altruism
does not enter into his scheme of life. As a rule he has but two
thoughts, his stomach and his cash bag. It is well-nigh impossible to
make him realize that the missionary has not come with an ulterior
motive--if not to engage in trade, perhaps as a spy for his government.
Others believe that it is because China is so vastly superior to the
rest of the world that the missionaries wish to live there. Eventually
the suspicions of the natives become quieted and they accept the
missionary at some part of his true worth.
At the time of the rebellion in Yen-ping we saw Harry Caldwell, Mr.
Bankhardt and Dr. Trimble save the lives of hundreds of people and
the city from partial destruction because the Chinese officers of the
opposing forces would trust the missionaries when they would not trust
each other.
An excellent piece of practical missionary work was done in Fukien
Province, not long after our visit there. As we have related in Chapter
III, several large bands of brigands were established in the hills
about Yuchi. Brigandage began there in the following way. During a
famine when the people were on the verge of starvation, a wealthy
farmer, Su Ek by name, decided to do his share in relieving conditions
by offering for sale a quantity of rice which he had accumulated. He
approached another man of similar wealth who agreed with him to sell
his grain at a reasonable price. Su Ek accordingly disposed of his
rice to the suffering people and, when he had remaining only enough
to sustain his own family until the following harvest, he sent the
peasants to the second man who had also agreed to dispose of his grain.
This farmer refused to sell at the stipulated price, and the people,
angered at his treachery, looted his sheds. He immediately went to
Foochow and reported to the governor that there was a band of brigands
abroad in Yuchi County under the leadership of Su Ek, and that they had
robbed and plundered his property.
Without warning a company of soldiers swooped down upon the community
and arrested a number of men whose names the informer had given. Su Ek
made his escape to the hills but he was pursued as a brigand chief, and
was later joined by other farmers who had been similarly persecuted.
Unable to return to their homes on pain of death they were forced to
rob in order to live.
Su Ek and others were finally decoyed to Foochow upon the promise
that their lives would be spared if they would induce their band to
surrender. They met the conditions but the government officials broke
faith and the men were executed. Similar attempts were made to enter
into negotiations with the brigands and in 1915 two hundred were
trapped and beheaded after pardons had been promised them. Naturally
the robbers refused to trust the government officials again.
The months which elapsed between this act of treachery and the spring
of 1916, were filled with innumerable outrages. Many townships were
completely devastated, either by the bandits or the Chinese soldiers.
Little will ever be known of what actually took place under the guise
of settling brigandage, behind the mountains which separate Yuchi from
the outer world. It is well that it should not be known.
During the spring of 1916 a missionary visited Yuchi. Business called
him outside the city wall and just beyond the west gate he saw the
bodies of ten persons who had that day been executed. Among these were
two children, brothers, the sons of a man who was reported to have
"sold rice to the brigands." The smaller child had wept and pleaded to
be permitted to kneel beside his older brother further up in the row.
He was too small to realize what it all meant but he wanted to die
beside his brother.
In the middle of the field lay a man whose head was partly severed from
his body and who had been shot through and through by the soldiers. He
was lying upon his back in the broiling sun pleading for a cup of tea
or for someone to put him out of his misery. The missionary learned
the man's story. It appeared that years ago a law suit in which his
father had been concerned had been decided in his favor. In order to
square the score between the clans, the son of the man who had lost
the suit had reported that he had seen this man carrying rice to the
brigands. He had been arrested by the soldiers, partially killed, and
left to lie in the glaring sun from nine o'clock in the morning until
dark suffering the agonies of crucifixion. Not one of those who heard
his moans dared to moisten the parched lips with tea lest he too be
executed for having administered to a brigand.
The missionary returned to the city that night vowing that he would
make a recurrence of such a thing impossible or he would leave China.
He took up the matter with the authorities in Peking in a quiet way
and later with the military governor in Foochow. He was well known to
the brigands by reputation and visited several of the chiefs in their
strongholds. They declared that they had confidence in him but none in
the government or its representatives. It was only after assuming full
responsibility for any treachery that the brigands agreed to discuss
terms.
Upon invitation to accompany him to the 24th Township, the missionary
was escorted out to civilization by twenty-five picked men to whom
the chief had entrusted an important charge. As the group neared
the township the missionary sent word ahead to the commander of the
northern soldiers to prepare to receive the brigands.
[Illustration: Seal of a Pardoned Brigand.]
As the twenty-five bandits appeared upon the summit of a hill
overlooking the city, soldiers could be seen forming into squads
outside the barracks. Instantly the brigands halted, snapped back the
bolts of their rifles, and threw in shells. The missionary realized
that they suspected treachery and turning about he said, "I am the
guarantee for your lives. If a short is fired kill me first."
[Illustration: The South Gate at Yung-chang]
[Illustration: A Chinese Bride Returning to Her Mother's Home at New
Year's]
With two loaded guns at his back and accompanied by the brigands he
marched into the city, where they were received by the officials with
all the punctilious ceremony so dear to the heart of the Chinese. It
had been a dangerous half hour for the missionary. If a rifle had been
fired by mistake, and Chinese are always shooting when they themselves
least expect to, he would have been instantly killed.
This conference, and others which followed, resulted in several hundred
pardons being distributed to the brigands by the missionary himself.
The men then returned to their abandoned homes and again took up their
lives as respectable farmers. Thus the reign of terror in this portion
of the province was ended through the efforts of one courageous man. It
is such applied Christianity that has made us respect the missionary
and admire his work.
CHAPTER XXVI
CHINESE NEW YEAR AT YUNG-CHANG
_Y. B. A._
The last half of the expedition began January 18 when we left Ta-li Fu
with a caravan of thirty miles for Yung-chang, eight days' travel to
the south. The _mafus_ although they had promised faithfully to come
"at daylight" did not arrive until nearly noon and in consequence it
was necessary to camp at Hsia-kuan at the foot of the lake.
We improved our time there in hunting about for skins and finally
purchased two fine leopards and a tiger. The latter had been brought
from the Tonking frontier. There were a number of Tibetans wandering
about the market place and in the morning a caravan of at least two
hundred horses followed by twenty or thirty Tibetans, passed into the
city while it was yet gray dawn. They were bringing tea from P'u-erh
and S'su-mao in the south of the province and although they had already
been nearly a month upon their journey there was still many long weeks
of travel before them ere they reached the wind-blown steppes of their
native land.
The trip to Yung-chang proved uninteresting and uneventful. We crossed
a succession of dry, thinly forested mountains from 7,000 to 8,000 feet
high which near their summits were often clothed with a thick growth
of rhododendron trees. The beautiful red flowers flashed like fire
balls among the green leaves, peach trees were in full blossom and in
some spots the dry hills seemed about to break forth in the full glory
of their spring verdure. We crossed the Mekong near a village called
Shia-chai on a picturesque chain suspension bridge of a type which is
not unusual in the southern and western part of the province. Several
heavy iron chains are firmly fastened to huge rock piers on opposite
sides of the river and the roadway formed by planks laid upon them.
Although the bridge shakes and swings in a rather alarming manner when
a caravan is crossing, it is perfectly safe if not too heavily loaded.
In the afternoon of January 21, we rode down the mountain to the great
Yung-chang plain, and for two hours trotted over a hard dirt road.
The plain is eighteen miles long by six miles wide and except for its
scattered villages, is almost entirely devoted to paddy fields. The
city itself includes about five thousand houses. It is exceedingly
picturesque and is remarkable for its long, straight, and fairly clean
streets which contrast strongly with those of the usual Chinese town.
At the west, but still within the city walls, is a picturesque wooded
hill occupied almost exclusively by temples.
We ourselves camped between two ponds in the courtyard of a large and
exceptionally clean temple just outside the south gate of the city. It
was the Chinese New Year and Wu told us that for several days at least
it would be impossible to obtain another caravan or expect the natives
to do any work whatever. It was a very pleasant place in which to stay
although we chafed at the enforced delay, but we made good use of our
time in photographing and developing motion picture film, collecting
birds and making various excursions.
Chinese New Year is always interesting to a foreigner and at Yung-chang
we saw many of the customs attending its celebration. It is a time
of feasting and merry making and no native, if he can possibly avoid
it, will work on that day. Chinese families almost always live under
one roof but should any male member be absent at this season the
circumstances must be exceptional to prevent him from returning to his
home.
It is customary, too, for brides to revisit their mother's house
at New Year's. On our way to Yung-chang and for several days after
leaving the city, we were continually passing young women mounted on
mules or horses and accompanied by servants returning to their homes.
New clothes are a leading feature of this season and the dresses of
the brides and young matrons were usually of the most unexpected hues
for, according to our conception of color, the Chinese can scarcely
be counted conspicuous for their good taste. Purple and blue, orange
and red, pink and lavender clash distressingly, but are worn with
inordinate pride.
These visits are not an unalloyed pleasure to the bride's family. Dr.
Smith says in "Chinese Characteristics":
When she goes to her mother's home, she goes on a strictly business
basis. She takes with her it may be a quantity of sewing for her
husband's family, which the wife's family must help her get through
with. She is accompanied on each of these visits by as many of
her children as possible, both to have her take care of them and
to have them out of the way when she is not at hand to look after
them, and most especially to have them fed at the expense of the
family of the maternal grandmother for as long a time as possible.
In regions where visits of this sort are frequent, and where there
are many daughters in a family, their constant raids on the old
home are a source of perpetual terror to the whole family, and a
serious tax on the common resources.[6]
[Footnote 6: "Chinese Characteristics," by Arthur H. Smith, p. 200.]
Religious rites and ceremonies form a conspicuous part in the New
Year's celebration. At this time the "Kitchen God," according to
current superstition, returns to heaven to render an account of the
household's behavior. The wily Chinese, however, first rubs the lips of
the departing deity with candy in order to "sweeten" his report of any
evil which he may have witnessed during the year.
Usually all the members of the family gather before the ancestral
tablets, or should these be lacking as among many of the laboring
classes, a scroll with a part of the genealogy is displayed and the
spirits of the departed are appeased and honored by the burning of
incense and the mumbling of incantations. While strict attention is
paid to the religious observance to the dead, at New Year's the most
punctilious ceremony is rendered to the living.
After the family have paid their respects to one another the younger
male members go from house to house "kowtowing" to the elders who
are there to receive them. The following days are devoted to visits
to relatives living in the neighboring towns and villages, and this
continues, an endless routine, until fourteen days later the Feast of
the Lanterns puts an end to the "epoch of national leisure."
The Chinese are inveterate gamblers and at New Year's they turn
feverishly to this form of amusement which is almost their only one.
But they also have to think seriously about paying their debts for it
is absolutely necessary for all classes and conditions of men to meet
their obligations at the end of the year.
Almost everyone owes money in China. According to the clan system an
individual having surplus cash is obliged to lend it (though at a
high rate of interest) to any members of his family in need of help.
However, a Chinaman never pays cash unless absolutely obliged to and
almost never settles a debt until he has been dunned repeatedly.
The activity displayed at New Year's is ludicrous.
Each separate individual [says Dr. Smith] is engaged in the task of
trying to chase down the men who owe money to him, and compel them
to pay up, and at the same time in trying to avoid the persons who
are struggling to track him down and corkscrew from him the amount
of his indebtedness to them! The dodges and subterfuges to which
each is obliged to resort, increase in complexity and number with
the advance of the season, until at the close of the month, the
national activity is at fever heat. For if a debt is not secured
then, it will go over till a new year, and no one knows what will
be the status of a claim which has actually contrived to cheat the
annual Day of Judgment. In spite of the excellent Chinese habit of
making the close of a year a grand clearing-house for all debts,
Chinese human nature is too much for Chinese custom, and there are
many of these postponed debts which are a grief of mind to many a
Chinese creditor.
The Chinese are at once the most practical and the most sentimental
of the human race. New Year mist not be violated by duns for debts,
and the debts must be collected New Year though it be. For this
reason one sometimes sees an urgent creditor going about early
on the first day of the year carrying a lantern looking for his
creditor [= debtor]. His artificial light shows that by a social
fiction the sun has not yet risen, it is still yesterday and the
debt can still be claimed. . . .
We have but to imagine the application of the principles which we
have named, to the whole Chinese Empire, and we get new light upon
the nature of the Chinese New Year festivities. They are a time of
rejoicing, but there is no rejoicing so keen as that of a ruined
debtor, who has succeeded by shrewd devices in avoiding the most
relentless of his creditors and has thus postponed his ruin for at
least another twelve months.
For, once past the narrow strait at the end of the year, the
debtor finds himself again in the broad and peaceful waters, where
he cannot be molested. Even should his creditors meet him on New
Year's day, there could be no possibility of mentioning the fact of
the previous day's disgraceful flight and concealment, or indeed
of alluding to business at all, for this would not be "good form"
and to the Chinese "Good Form" (otherwise known as custom), is the
chief national divinity.[7]
[Footnote 7: "Village Life in China," by Arthur H. Smith, 1907, pp.
208-209.]
Yung-chang appears to be almost entirely inhabited by Chinese and in
no part of the province did we see foot-binding more in evidence.
Practically every woman and girl, young or old, regardless of her
station in life was crippled in this brutal way. The women wear long
full coats with flaring skirts which hang straight from their shoulders
to their knees. When the trousers are tightly wrapped about their
shrunken ankles, they look in a side view exactly like huge umbrellas.
One day we visited a cave thirty _li_ north of the city where we hoped
to find new bats. A beautiful little temple has been built over the
entrance to the cavern which does not extend more than forty or fifty
feet into the rock. But twenty _li_ south of Yung-chang, just beyond
the village of A-shih-wo, there is an enormous cave which is reported
to extend entirely through the hill. Whether or not this is true we
can not say for although we explored it in part we did not reach the
end. The central corridor is about thirty feet wide and at least sixty
or seventy high. We followed the main gallery for a long distance,
and turned back at a branch which led off at a sharp angle. We were
not equipped with sufficient candles to pursue the exploration more
extensively and did not have time to visit it again. The cave contained
some beautiful stalactites of considerable size, but the limestone was
a dull lead color. We found only one bat and these animals appear not
to have used it extensively since there was little sign upon the floor.
At Yung-chang we saw water buffaloes for the first time in Yün-nan but
found them to be in universal use farther to the south and west. The
huge brutes are as docile as a kitten in the hands of the smallest
native child but they do not like foreigners and discretion is the
better part of valor where they are concerned.
Water buffaloes are only employed for work in the rice fields but
Chinese cows are used as burden bearers in this part of the province.
Such caravans travel much more slowly than do mule trains although the
animals are not loaded as heavily. Two or three of the leading cows
usually carry upon their backs large bells hung in wooden frameworks
and the music is by no means unmelodious when heard at a distance.
Marco Polo, the great Venetian traveler, refers to Yung-chang as
"Vochang." His account of a battle which was fought in its vicinity in
the year 1272 between the King of Burma and Bengal and one of Kublai
Khan's generals is so interesting that I am quoting it below:
When the king of Mien [Burma] and Bangala [Bengal], in India, who
was powerful in the number of his subjects, in extent of territory,
and in wealth, heard that an army of Tartars had arrived at Vochang
[Yung-chang] he took the resolution of advancing immediately
to attack it, in order that by its destruction the grand khan
should be deterred from again attempting to station a force upon
the borders of his dominions. For this purpose he assembled a
very large army, including a multitude of elephants (an animal
with which his country abounds), upon whose backs were placed
battlements or castles, of wood, capable of containing to the
number of twelve or sixteen in each. With these, and a numerous
army of horse and foot, he took the road to Vochang, where the
grand khan's army lay, and encamping at no great distance from it,
intended to give his troops a few days of rest.
As soon as the approach of the king of Mien, with so great a force,
was known to Nestardin, who commanded the troops of the grand khan,
although a brave and able officer, he felt much alarmed, not having
under his orders more than twelve thousand men (veterans, indeed,
and valiant soldiers); whereas the enemy had sixty thousand,
besides the elephants armed as has been described. He did not,
however, betray any sign of apprehension, but descending into the
plain of Vochang, took a position in which his flank was covered by
a thick wood of large trees, whither, in case of a furious charge
by the elephants, which his troops might not be able to sustain,
they could retire, and from thence, in security, annoy them with
their arrows....
Upon the king of Mien's learning that the Tartars had descended
into the plain, he immediately put his army in motion, took up his
ground at the distance of about a mile from the enemy, and made a
disposition of his force, placing the elephants in the front, and
the cavalry and infantry, in two extended wings, in their rear,
but leaving between them a considerable interval. Here he took
his own station, and proceeded to animate his men and encourage
them to fight valiantly, assuring them of victory, as well from
the superiority of their numbers, being four to one, as from their
formidable body of armed elephants, whose shock the enemy, who had
never before been engaged with such combatants, could by no means
resist. Then giving orders for sounding a prodigious number of
warlike instruments, he advanced boldly with his whole army towards
that of the Tartars, which remained firm, making no movement, but
suffering them to approach their entrenchments.
They then rushed out with great spirit and the utmost eagerness to
engage; but it was soon found that the Tartar horses, unused to the
sight of such huge animals, with their castles, were terrified, and
by wheeling about endeavored to fly; nor could their riders by any
exertions restrain them, whilst the king, with the whole of his
forces, was every moment gaining ground. As soon as the prudent
commander perceived this unexpected disorder, without losing his
presence of mind, he instantly adopted the measure of ordering his
men to dismount and their horses to be taken into the wood, where
they were fastened to the trees.
When dismounted, the men without loss of time, advanced on foot
towards the line of elephants, and commenced a brisk discharge
of arrows; whilst, on the other side, those who were stationed
in the castles, and the rest of the king's army, shot volleys in
return with great activity; but their arrows did not make the same
impression as those of the Tartars, whose bows were drawn with
a stronger arm. So incessant were the discharges of the latter,
and all their weapons (according to the instructions of their
commander) being directed against the elephants, these were soon
covered with arrows, and, suddenly giving way, fell back upon their
own people in the rear, who were thereby thrown into confusion. It
soon became impossible for their drivers to manage them, either
by force or address. Smarting under the pain of their wounds,
and terrified by the shouting of the assailants, they were no
longer governable, but without guidance or control ran about in
all directions, until at length, impelled by rage and fear, they
rushed into a part of the wood not occupied by the Tartars. The
consequence of this was, that from the closeness of the branches
of large trees, they broke, with loud crashes, the battlements or
castles that were upon their backs, and involved in the destruction
those who sat upon them.
Upon seeing the rout of the elephants the Tartars acquired fresh
courage, and filing off by detachments, with perfect order and
regularity, they remounted their horses, and joined their several
divisions, when a sanguinary and dreadful combat was renewed. On
the part of the king's troops there was no want of valor, and he
himself went amongst the ranks entreating them to stand firm, and
not to be alarmed by the accident that had befallen the elephants.
But the Tartars by their consummate skill in archery, were too
powerful for them, and galled them the more exceedingly, from their
not being provided with such armor as was worn by the former.
The arrows having been expended on both sides, the men grasped
their swords and iron maces, and violently encountered each other.
Then in an instant were to be seen many horrible wounds, limbs
dismembered, and multitudes falling to the ground, maimed and
dying; with such effusion of blood as was dreadful to behold. So
great also was the clangor of arms, and such the shoutings and the
shrieks, that the noise seemed to ascend to the skies. The king of
Mien, acting as became a valiant chief, was present wherever the
greatest danger appeared, animating his soldiers, and beseeching
them to maintain their ground with resolution. He ordered fresh
squadrons from the reserve to advance to the support of those that
were exhausted; but perceiving at length that it was impossible any
longer to sustain the conflict or to withstand the impetuosity of
the Tartars, the greater part of his troops being either killed or
wounded, and all the field covered with the carcasses of men and
horses, whilst those who survived were beginning to give way, he
also found himself compelled to take to flight with the wreck of
his army, numbers of whom were afterwards slain in the pursuit....
The Tartars having collected their force after the slaughter of the
enemy, returned towards the wood into which the elephants had fled
for shelter, in order to take possession of them, where they found
that the men who had escaped from the overthrow were employed in
cutting down trees and barricading the passages, with the intent
of defending themselves. But their ramparts were soon demolished
by the Tartars, who slew many of them, and with the assistance of
the persons accustomed to the management of the elephants, they
possessed themselves of these to the number of two hundred or more.
From the period of this battle the grand khan has always chosen
to employ elephants in his armies, which before that time he had
not done. The consequences of the victory were, that he acquired
possession of the whole of the territories of the king of Bangala
and Mien, and annexed them to his dominions.[8]
[Footnote 8: "The Travels of Marco Polo the Venetian." Everyman's
Library. J. M. Dent & Sons, Ltd., London; pp. 255-256.]
CHAPTER XXVII
TRAVELING TOWARD THE TROPICS
We left Yung-chang with no regret on Monday, January 28. Our stay there
would have been exceedingly pleasant under ordinary conditions but it
was impossible not to chafe at the delay occasioned by the caravan.
Traveling southward for two days over bare brown mountain-sides, their
monotony unrelieved except by groves of planted pine and fir trees, we
descended abruptly into the great subtropical valley at Shih-tien.
Mile after mile this fertile plain stretches away in a succession of
rice paddys and fields of sugar cane interspersed with patches of
graceful bamboo, their summits drooping like enormous clusters of
ostrich plumes; the air is warm and fragrant and the change from the
surrounding hills is delightful. However, we were disappointed in the
shooting for, although it appeared to be an ideal place for ducks and
other water birds, we killed only five teal, and the great ponds were
almost devoid of bird life. Even herons, so abundant in the north,
were conspicuous by their absence and we saw no sheldrakes, geese, or
mallards.
At Shih-tien we camped in a beautiful temple yard on the outskirts
of the town, and with Wu I returned to the village to inquire about
shooting places. We seated ourselves in the first open tea house and
within ten minutes more than a hundred natives had filled the room,
overflowed through the door and windows, and formed a mass of pushing,
crowding bodies which completely blocked the street outside. It was
a simple way of getting all the village together and Wu questioned
everyone who looked intelligent.
We learned that shooting was to be found near Gen-kang, five days'
travel south, and we returned to the temple just in time to receive a
visit from the resident mandarin. He was a good-looking, intellectual
man, with charming manners and one of the most delightful gentlemen
whom we met in China.
During his visit, and until dinner was over and we had retired to our
tents, hundreds of men, women and children crowded into the temple
yard to gaze curiously at us. After the gates had been closed they
climbed the walls and sat upon the tiles like a flock of crows. Their
curiosity was insatiable but not unfriendly and nowhere throughout
our expedition did we find such extraordinary interest in our affairs
as was manifested by the people in this immediate region. They were
largely Chinese and most of them must have met foreigners before, yet
their curiosity was much greater than that of any natives whom we knew
were seeing white persons for the first time.
Just before camping the next day we passed through a large village
where we were given a most flattering reception. We had stopped to do
some shooting and were a considerable distance behind the caravan. The
_mafus_ must have announced our coming, for the populace was out _en
masse_ to greet us and lined the streets three deep. It was a veritable
triumphal entry and crowds of men and children followed us for half
a mile outside the town, running beside our horses and staring with
saucer-like eyes.
[Illustration: A Chinese Patriarch]
[Illustration: Young China]
On the second day from Shih-tien we climbed a high mountain and wound
down a sharp descent for about 4,000 feet into a valley only 2,800 feet
above sea level. We had been cold all day on the ridges exposed to a
biting wind and had bundled ourselves into sweaters and coats over
flannel shirts. After going down about 1,000 feet we tied our coats to
the saddle pockets, on the second thousand stripped off the sweaters,
and for the remainder of the descent rode with sleeves rolled up and
shirts open at the throat. We had come from mid-winter into summer in
two hours and the change was most startling. It was as though we had
suddenly ridden into an artificially heated building like the rooms for
tropical plants at botanical gardens.
Our camp was on a flat plain just above the river where we had a
splendid view of the wide valley which was like the bottom of a well
with high mountains rising abruptly on all sides. It was a place of
strange contrasts. The bushes and trees were in full green foliage but
the grass and paddy fields were dry and brown as in mid-winter. The
thick trees at the base of the hills were literally alive with doves
but there were few mammal runways and our traps yielded no results.
That night a muntjac, the first we had heard, barked hoarsely behind
the tents.
The _yamen_ "soldier" who accompanied us from Shih-tien delivered his
official dispatch at the village (Ma-po-lo) which lies farther down the
valley. The magistrate, who proved to be a Shan native, arrived soon
after with ten or twelve men and we discovered that there was but one
man in the village who spoke Chinese.
The magistrate at Ma-po-lo by no means wished to have the
responsibility of our safety thrust upon him and consequently assured
us that there were neither game nor hunters in this village. Although
his anxiety to be rid of us was apparent, he was probably telling the
truth, for the valley is so highly cultivated (rice), and the cover on
the mountain-sides so limited, that it is doubtful if much game remains.
In the morning the entire valley was filled with a dense white fog but
we climbed out of it almost immediately, and by noon were back again
in winter on the summits of the ridges. The country through which we
passed _en route_ to Gen-kang was similar to that which had oppressed
us during the preceding week--cultivated valleys between high barren
mountains relieved here and there by scattered groves of planted fir
trees. It was a region utterly hopeless from a naturalist's standpoint
and when we arrived at a large town near Gen-kang we were well-nigh
discouraged.
During almost a month of travel we had been guided by native
information which without exception had proved worthless. It
seemed useless to rely upon it further, and yet there was no other
alternative, for none of the foreigners whom we had met in Yün-nan knew
anything about this part of the province. We were certain to reach a
tropical region farther south and the fact that there were a few sambur
skins for sale in the market offered slight encouragement. These were
said to come from a village called Meng-ting, "a little more far," to
the tune of four or five days' travel, over on the Burma frontier.
With gloom in our hearts, which matched that of the weather, we left
in a pouring rain on February 6, to slip and splash southward through
veritable rivers of mud for two long marches. In the afternoon of the
second day the country suddenly changed. The trail led through a wide
grassy valley, bordered by heavily forested hills, into a deep ravine.
Along the banks of a clear stream the earth was soft and damp and the
moss-covered logs and dense vegetation made ideal conditions for small
mammalian life.
We rode happily up the ravine and stood in a rocky gateway. At the
right a green-clothed mountain rose out of a tangle of luxuriant
vegetation; to the left wave after wave of magnificent forested ridges
lost themselves in the low hung clouds; at our feet lay a beautiful
valley filled with stately trees which spread into a thick green canopy
overhead.
We camped in a clearing just at the edge of the forest. While the
tents were being pitched, I set a line of traps along the base of the
opposite mountain and found a "runway" under almost every log. About
eight o'clock I ran my traps and, with the aid of a lantern, stumbled
about in the bushes and high grass, over logs and into holes. When I
emptied my pockets there were fifteen mice, rats, shrews, and voles,
representing seven species and _all new to our collection_. Heller
brought in eight specimens and added two new species. We forthwith
decided to stay right where we were until this "gold mine" had been
exhausted.
In the morning our traps were full of mammals and sixty-two were laid
out on the table ready for skinning. The length, tail, hind foot,
and ear of each specimen was first carefully measured in millimeters
and recorded in the field catalogue and upon a printed label bearing
our serial number; then an incision was made in the belly, the skin
stripped off, poisoned with arsenic, stuffed with cotton, and sewed up.
The animal was then pinned in position by the feet, nose, and tail in a
shallow wooden tray which fitted in the collecting trunk.
The specimens were put in the sun on every bright day until they were
thoroughly dry and could be wrapped in cotton and packed in water-tight
trunks or boxes. We have found that the regulation U. S. Army officer's
fiber trunk makes an ideal collecting case. It measures thirty inches
long by thirteen deep and sixteen inches wide and will remain quite
dry in an ordinary rain but, of course, must not be allowed to stand
in water. The skulls of all specimens, and the skeletons of some, are
numbered like the skin, strung upon a wire, and dried in the sun. Also
individuals of every species are injected and preserved in formalin for
future anatomical study.
Larger specimens are always salted and dried. As soon as the skin has
been removed and cleaned of flesh and fat, salt is rubbed into every
part of it and the hide rolled up. In the morning it is unwrapped, the
water which has been extracted by the salt poured off, and the skin
hung over a rope or a tree branch to dry. If it is not too hot and the
air is dry, the skin may be kept in the shade to good advantage, but
under ordinary field conditions it should be placed in the sun. Before
it becomes too hard, the hide is rolled or folded into a convenient
package hair side in, tied into shape and allowed to become "bone dry."
In this condition it will keep indefinitely but requires constant
watching, for the salt absorbs moisture from the air and alternate
wetting and drying is fatal.
We soon trained two of our Chinese boys to skin both large and small
animals and they became quite expert. They required constant watching,
however, and after each hide had been salted either Mr. Heller or I
examined it to make sure that it was properly treated.
On our first day in camp we sent for natives to the village of Mu-cheng
ten _li_ distant. The men assured us that there were sambur, serow, and
muntjac in the neighborhood, and they agreed to hunt. They had no dogs
and were armed with crossbows, antiquated guns, and bows and arrows,
but they showed us the skins of two sambur in proof of their ability to
secure game.
Like most of the other natives, with the exception of the Mosos on the
Snow Mountain, these men had no definite plan in hunting. The first day
I went out with them they indicated that we were to drive a hill not
far from camp. Without giving me an opportunity to reach a position in
front of them, they began to work up the hill, and I had a fleeting
glimpse of a sambur silhouetted against the sky as it dashed over the
summit.
Two days later while I was out with ten other men who had a fairly good
pack of dogs, the first party succeeded in killing a female sambur. The
animal weighed at least five hundred pounds but they brought it to our
camp and we purchased the skin for ten _rupees_. South of Gen-kang the
money of the region, like all of Yün-nan for some distance from the
Burma frontier, is the Indian _rupee_ which equals thirty-three cents
American gold in that part of the province adjoining Tonking, French
Indo-China money is current.
My Journal of February 8 tells of our life at this camp, which we
called "Good Hope."
The weather is delightful for the sun is just warm enough for
comfort and the nights are clear and cold. How we do sleep! It
seems hardly an hour from the time we go to bed until we hear Wu
rousing the servants, and the crackle of the camp-fire outside the
tent. We half dress in our sleeping bags and with chattering teeth
dash for the fire to lace our high boots in its comfortable warmth.
After breakfast when it is full daylight, my wife and I inspect
the traps. The ground is white with frost and the trees and bushes
are dressed in silver. Every trap holds an individual interest and
we follow the line through the forest, resetting some, and finding
new mammals in others. Yvette has conquered her feminine repugnance
far enough to remove shrews or mice from the traps by releasing the
spring and dropping them on to a broad green leaf, but she never
touches them.
We go back to meet the hunters and while I am away with the men,
the lady of the camp works at her photography. I return in the late
afternoon and after tea we wander through the woods together. It
is the most delightful part of the day when the sun goes down and
the shadows lengthen. We sit on a log in a small clearing where we
can watch the upper branches of a splendid tree. It is the home of
a great colony of red-bellied squirrels (_Callosciurus erythræus_
subsp.) and after a few moments of silence we see a flash of brown
along a branch, my gun roars out, and there is a thud upon the
ground.
Yvette runs to find the animal and ere the echoes have died away
in the forest the gun bangs again. We have already shot a dozen
squirrels from this tree and yet more are there. Sometimes a tiny,
striped chipmunk (_Tamiops macclellandi_ subsp.) will appear on the
lower branches, searching the bark for grubs, and after he falls we
have a long hunt to find him in the brown leaves. When it is too
dark to see the squirrels, we wander slowly back to camp and eat a
dinner of delicious broiled deer steak in front of the fire; over
the coffee we smoke and talk of the day's hunting until it is time
to "run the traps."
Of all the work we enjoy this most. With lanterns and a gun we
pick our way among the trees until we strike the trail along which
the traps are set. On the soft ground our feet are noiseless and,
extinguishing the lanterns, we sit on a log to listen to the night
sounds. The woods are full of life. Almost beside us there is a
patter of tiny feet and a scurry among the dry leaves; a muntjac
barks hoarsely on the opposite hillside, and a fox yelps behind us
in the forest. Suddenly there is a sharp snap, a muffled squeal,
and a trap a few yards away has done its work. Even in the tree
tops the night life is active. Dead twigs drop to the ground with
an unnatural noise, and soft-winged owls show black against the sky
as they flit across an opening in the branches.
We light the lanterns again and pass down the trail into a cuplike
hollow. Here there are a dozen traps and already half of them
are full. In one is a tiny brown shrew caught by the tail as he
ran across the trap; another holds a veritable treasure, and at
my exclamation of delight Yvette runs up excitedly. It is a rare
Insectivore of the genus _Hylomys_ and possibly a species new to
science. We examine it beside the lantern, wrap it carefully in
paper, and drop it into a pocket by itself.
The next bit of cotton clings to a bush above a mossy log. The trap
is gone and for ten minutes we hunt carefully over every inch of
ground. Finally my wife discovers it fifteen feet away and stifles
a scream for in it, caught by the neck and still alive, is a huge
rat nearly two feet long; it too is a species which may prove new.
When the last trap has been examined, we follow the trail to the
edge of the forest and into the clearing where the tents glow in
the darkness like great yellow pumpkins. Ours is delightfully
warmed by the charcoal brazier and, stretched comfortably on the
beds, we write our daily records or read Dickens for half an hour.
It is with a feeling of great contentment that we slip down into
the sleeping bags and blow out the candles leaving the tent filled
with the soft glow of the moonlight.
CHAPTER XXVIII
MENG-TING: A VILLAGE OF MANY TONGUES
During the eight days in which we remained at the "Good Hope" camp,
two hundred specimens comprising twenty-one species were added to our
collection. Although the altitude was still 5,000 feet, the flora was
quite unlike that of any region in which we had previously collected,
and that undoubtedly was responsible for the complete change of fauna.
We were on the very edge of the tropical belt which stretches along
the Tonking and Burma frontiers in the extreme south and west of the
province.
It was already mid-February and if we were to work in the
fever-stricken valleys below 2,000 feet, it was high time we were on
the way southward. The information which we had obtained near Gen-kang
had been supplemented by the natives of Mu-cheng, and we decided to go
to Meng-ting as soon as possible.
The first march was long and uneventful but at its end, from the summit
of a high ridge, we could see a wide valley which we reached in the
early morning of the second day. The narrow mountain trail abruptly
left us on a jutting promontory and wandered uncertainly down a steep
ravine to lose itself in a veritable forest of tree ferns and sword
grass. The slanting rays of the sun drew long golden paths into the
mysterious depths of the mist-filled valley. To the right a giant
sentinel peak of granite rose gaunt and naked from out the enveloping
sea of green which swelled away to the left in huge ascending billows.
We rested in our saddles until the faint tinkle of the bell on the
leading mule announced the approach of the caravan and then we
picked our way slowly down the steep trail between walls of tangled
vegetation. In an hour we were breathing the moist warm air of the
tropics and riding across a wide valley as level as a floor. The long
stretches of rank grass, far higher than our heads, were broken by
groves of feathery bamboos, banana palms, and splendid trees interlaced
with tangled vines.
Near the base of the mountains a Shan village nestled into the grass.
The bamboo houses, sheltered by trees and bushes, were roofed in the
shape of an overturned boat with thatch and the single street was wide
and clean. Could this really be China? Verily, it was a different China
from that we had seen before! It might be Burma, India, Java, but never
China!
Before the door of a tiny house sat a woman spinning. A real Priscilla,
somewhat strange in dress to be sure and with a mouth streaked with
betel nut, but Priscilla just the same. And in his proper place beside
her stood John Alden. A pair of loose, baggy trousers, hitched far up
over one leg to show the intricate tattoo designs beneath, a short
coat, and a white turban completed John's attire, but he grasped a gun
almost as ancient in design as that of his Pilgrim fathers. Priscilla
kept her eyes upon the spinning wheel, but John's gaze could by no
stretch of imagination be called ardent even before we appeared around
a corner of the house and the pretty picture resolved into its rightful
components--a surprised, but not unlovely Shan girl and a well-built,
yellow-skinned native who stared with wide brown eyes And open mouth at
what must have seemed to him the fancy of a disordered brain.
[Illustration: A Shan Village]
[Illustration: A Shan Woman Spinning]
For into his village, filled with immemorial peace and quiet, where
every day was exactly like the day before, had suddenly ridden two
big men with white skins and blue eyes, and a little one with lots of
hair beneath a broad sun helmet. And almost immediately the little
one had jumped from the horse and pointed a black box with a shiny
front at him and his Priscilla. At once, but without loss of dignity,
Priscilla vanished into the house, but John Alden stood his ground, for
a beautiful new tin can had been thrust into his hand and before he had
really discovered what it was the little person had smiled at him and
turned her attention to the charming street of his village. There the
great water buffaloes lazily chewed their cuds standing guard over the
tiny brown-skinned natives who played trustingly with the calves almost
beneath their feet.
Such was our invasion of the first Shan village we had ever seen, and
regretfully we rode away across the plain between the walls of waving
grass toward the Nam-ting River. Two canoes, each dug out of a single
log, and tightly bound together, formed the ferry, but the packs were
soon across the muddy stream and the mules were made to swim to the
other bank. Shortly after leaving the ferry we emerged from the vast
stretches of rank grass on to the open rice paddys which stretched
away in a gently undulating plain from the river to the mountains.
Strangely enough we saw no ducks or geese, but three great flocks of
cranes (probably _Grus communis_) rose from the fields and wheeled in
ever-widening spirals above our heads until they were lost in the blue
depths of the sky.
Away in the distance we saw a wooded knoll with a few wisps of smoke
curling above its summit, but not until we were well-nigh there did
we realize that its beautiful trees sheltered the thatched roofs of
Meng-ting. But this was only the "'residential section" of the village
and below the knoll on the opposite side of a shallow stream lay the
shops and markets.
We camped on a dry rice dyke where a fringe of jungle separated us from
the nearest house. As soon as the tents were up I announced our coming
to the mandarin and requested an interview at five o'clock. Wu and I
found the _yamen_ to be a large well-built house, delightfully cool
and exhibiting several foreign articles which evinced its proximity to
Burma.
We were received by a suave Chinese "secretary" who shortly introduced
the mandarin--a young Shan not more than twenty years old who only
recently had succeeded his late father as chief of the village. The boy
was dressed in an exceedingly long frock coat, rather green and frayed
about the elbows, which in combination with his otherwise typical
native dress gave him a most extraordinary appearance.
We soon discovered that the Chinese secretary who did all the talking
was the "power behind the throne." He accepted my gift of a package of
tea with great pleasure, but the information about hunting localities
for which we asked was not forthcoming. He first said that he knew of a
place where there were tiger and leopard, but that he did not dare to
reveal it to us for we might be killed by the wild animals and he would
be responsible for our deaths; bringing to his attention the fact
that tigers had never been recorded from the Meng-ting region did not
impress him in the slightest.
It did tend to send him off on another track, however, and he
next remarked that if he sent us to a place where the hunting was
disappointing we probably would report him to the district mandarin.
Assurances to the contrary had no effect. It was perfectly evident that
he wished only to get us out of his district and thus relieve himself
of the responsibility of our safety. During the conversation, which
lasted more than an hour, the young Shan was not consulted and did not
speak a word; he sat stolidly in his chair, hardly winking, and except
for the constant supply of cigarettes which passed between his fingers
there was no evidence that he even breathed.
The interview closed with assurances from the Chinaman that he would
make inquiries concerning hunting grounds and communicate with us in
the morning. We returned to camp and half an hour later a party of
natives arrived from the _yamen_ bearing about one hundred pounds of
rice, a sack of potatoes, two dozen eggs, three chickens, and a great
bundle of fire wood. These were deposited in front of our tent as gifts
from the mandarin.
We were at a loss to account for such generosity until Wu explained
that whenever a high official visited a village it was customary for
the mandarin to supply his entire party with food during their stay. It
would be quite polite to send back all except a few articles, however,
for the supplies were levied from the inhabitants of the town. We kept
the eggs and chickens, giving the _yamen_ "runners" considerably more
than their value in money, and they gratefully returned with the rice
and potatoes.
On the hill high above our camp was a large Shan Buddhist monastery,
bamboo walled and thatched with straw, and at sunset and daybreak a
musical chant of childish voices floated down to us in the mist-filled
valley. All day long tiny yellow-robed figures squatted on the mud
walls about the temple like a flock of birds peering at us with bright
round eyes. They were wild as hawks, these little priests and, although
they sometimes left the shelter of their temple walls, they never
ventured below the bushy hedge about our rice field.
In the village we saw them often, wandering about the streets or
sitting in yellow groups beneath the giant trees which threw a welcome
shade over almost every house. They were not all children, and finely
built youths or men so old that they seemed like wrinkled bits of lemon
peel, passed to and fro to the temple on the hill.
There is no dearth of priests, for every family in the village with
male children is required to send at least one boy to live a part of
his life under the tutelage of the Church. He must remain three years,
and longer, if he wishes. The priests are fed by the monastery, and
their clothing is not an important item of expenditure as it consists
merely of a straw hat and a yellow robe. They lead a lazy, worthless
life, and from their sojourn in religious circles they learn only
indolence and idleness.
The day following our arrival in Meng-ting the weekly market was held,
and when Wu and I crossed the little stream to the business part of the
village, we found ourselves in the midst of the most picturesque crowd
of natives it has ever been my fortune to see. It was a group flashing
with color, and every individual a study for an artist. There were
blue-clad Chinese, Shans with tattooed legs, turbans of pink or white,
and Burmans dressed in brilliant purple or green, Las, yellow-skinned
Lisos, flat-faced Palaungs, Was, and Kachins in black and red strung
about with beads or shells. Long swords hung from the shoulders of
those who did not carry a spear or gun, and the hilts of wicked looking
daggers peeped from beneath their sashes. Every man carried a weapon
ready for instant use.
Nine tribes were present in the market that day and almost as many
languages were being spoken. It was a veritable Babel and half the
trading was done by signs. The narrow street was choked with goods
of every kind spread out upon the ground: fruit, rice, cloth, nails,
knives, swords, hats, sandals, skins, horns, baskets, mats, crossbows,
arrows, pottery, tea, opium, and scores of other articles for food or
household use.
Dozens of natives were arriving and departing, bringing new goods or
packing up their purchases; under open, thatched pavilions were silent
groups of men gambling with cash or silver, and in the "tea houses"
white-faced natives lay stretched upon the couches rolling "pills" of
opium and oblivious to the constant stream of passers-by.
It was a picturesque, ever changing group, a kaleidoscopic mass of life
and color, where Chinese from civilized Canton drank, and gambled,
and smoked with wild natives from the hills or from the depths of
fever-stricken jungles.
After one glimpse of the picture in the market I dashed back to camp
to bring the "Lady of the Camera." On the way I met her, hot and
breathless, half coaxing, half driving three bewildered young priests
resplendent in yellow robes. All the morning she had been trying vainly
to photograph a priest and had discovered these splendid fellows when
all her color plates had been exposed. She might have succeeded in
bringing them to camp had I not arrived, but they suddenly lost courage
and rushed away with averted faces.
When the plate holders were all reloaded we hurried back to the market
followed by two coolies with the cameras. Leaving Yvette to do her work
alone I set up the cinematograph. Wu was with me and in less than a
minute the narrow space in front of us was packed with a seething mass
of natives. It was impossible to take a "street scene" for the "street"
had suddenly disappeared. Making a virtue of necessity I focused the
camera on the irregular line of heads and swung it back and forth
registering a variety of facial expressions which it would be hard to
duplicate. For some time it was impossible to bribe the natives to
stand even for a moment, but after one or two had conquered their fear
and been liberally rewarded, there was a rush for places. Wu asked
several of the natives who could speak Chinese if they knew what we
were doing but they all shook their heads. None of them had ever seen a
camera or a photograph.
The Kachin women were the most picturesque of all the tribes as well
as the most difficult to photograph. Yvette was not able to get them
at all, and I could do so only by strategy. When Wu discovered two
or three squatting near their baskets on the ground I moved slowly
up behind them keeping in the center of the crowd. After the "movie
camera" was in position Wu suddenly "shooed" back the spectators and
before the women realized what was happening they were registered on
twenty-five or thirty feet of film.
[Illustration: A Kachin Woman in the Market at Meng-ting]
[Illustration: One of Our Shan Hunters with Two Yellow Gibbons]
One of the Kachin men, who had drunk too much, suddenly became
belligerent when I pointed the camera in his direction, and rushed at
me with a drawn knife. I swung for his jaw with my right fist and he
went down in a heap. He was more surprised than hurt, I imagine, but it
took all of the fight out of him for he received no sympathy from the
spectators.
Poor Yvette had a difficult time with her camera operations and a less
determined person would have given up in despair. The natives were so
shy and suspicious that it was well-nigh impossible to bribe them to
stand for a second and it was only after three hours of aggravating
work in the stifling heat and dust that she at last succeeded in
exposing all her plates. Her patience and determination were really
wonderful and I am quite sure that I should not have obtained half her
results.
The Kachin women were extraordinary looking individuals. They were
short, and strongly built, with a mop of coarse hair cut straight all
around, and thick lips stained with betel nut. Their dress consisted of
a short black jacket and skirt reaching to the knees, and ornamented
with strings of beads and pieces of brass or silver. This tribe forms
the largest part of the population in northern Burma and also extends
into Assam. Yün-nan is fortunate in having comparatively few of them
along its western frontier for they are an uncivilized and quarrelsome
race and frequently give the British government considerable trouble.
There were only a few Burmans in the market although the border is
hardly a dozen miles to the west, but the girls were especially
attractive. Their bright pretty faces seemed always ready to break into
a smile and their graceful figures draped in brilliant sarongs were in
delightful contrast to the other, not over-dean, natives.
The Burma girls were not chewing betel nut, which added to their
distinction. The lips of virtually every other woman and man were
stained from the red juice, which is in universal use throughout India,
the Malay Peninsula, and the Netherlands Indies. In Yün-nan we first
noted it at the "Good Hope" camp, and the Shans are generally addicted
to the practice.
The permanent population of Meng-ting is entirely Shan, but during the
winter a good many Cantonese Chinamen come to gamble and buy opium. The
drug is smuggled across the border very easily and a lucrative trade
is carried on. It can be purchased for seventy-five cents (Mexican) an
ounce in Burma and sold for two dollars (Mexican) an ounce in Yün-nan
Fu and for ten dollars in Shanghai.
Opium is smoked publicly in all the tea houses. The drug is cooked
over an alcohol lamp and when the "pill" is properly prepared it is
placed in the tiny bowl of the pipe, held against the flame and the
smoke inhaled. The process is a rather complicated one and during it
the natives always recline. No visible effect is produced even after
smoking several pipefuls, but the deathly paleness and expressionless
eye marks the inveterate opium user.
There can be no doubt that the Chinese government has been, and is,
genuinely anxious to suppress the use of opium and it has succeeded to
a remarkable degree. We heard of only one instance of poppy growing in
Yün-nan and often met officials, accompanied by a guard of soldiers,
on inspection trips. Indeed, while we were in Meng-ting the district
mandarin arrived. We were sitting in our tents when the melodious
notes of deep-toned gongs floated in through the mist. They were like
the chimes of far away cathedral bells sounding nearer and louder, but
losing none of the sweetness. Soon a long line of soldiers appeared
and passed the camp bearing in their midst a covered chair. The
mandarin established himself in a spacious temple on the opposite side
of the village, where I visited him the following day and explained
the difficulty we had had at the Meng-ting _yamen_. He aided us so
effectually that all opposition to our plans ended and we obtained a
guide to take us to a hunting place on the Nam-ting River, three miles
from the Burma border.
CHAPTER XXIX
CAMPING ON THE NAM-TING RIVER
Every morning the valley at Meng-ting was filled with a thick white
mist and when we broke camp at daylight each mule was swallowed up in
the fog as soon as it left the rice field. We followed the sound of
the leader's bell, but not until ten o'clock was the entire caravan
visible. For thirty U the valley is broad and flat as at Meng-ting and
filled with a luxuriant growth of rank grass, but it narrows suddenly
where the river has carved its way through a range of hills.
The trail led uncertainly along a steep bank through a dense, tropical
jungle. Palms and huge ferns, broad-leaved bananas, and giant trees
laced and interlaced with thorny vines and hanging creepers formed a
living wall of green as impenetrable as though it were a net of steel.
We followed the trail all day, sometimes picking our way among the
rocks high above the river or padding along in the soft earth almost
at the water's edge. At night we camped in a little clearing where
some adventurous native had fought the jungle and been defeated; his
bamboo hut was in ruins and the fields were overgrown with a tangle of
throttling vegetation.
We had seen no mammals, but the birds along the road were fascinating.
Brilliant green parrots screamed in the tree tops and tiny sun-birds
dressed in garments of red and gold and purple, flashed across the
trail like living jewels. Once we heard a strange whirr and saw a huge
hornbill flapping heavily over the river, every beat of his stiff wing
feathers sounding like the motor of an aëroplane. Bamboo partridges
called from the bushes and dozens of unfamiliar bird notes filled the
air.
At eleven o'clock on the following morning we passed two thatched
huts in a little clearing beside the trail and the guide remarked
that our camping place was not far away. We reached it shortly and
were delighted. Two enormous trees, like great umbrellas, spread a
cool, dark shade above a sparkling stream on the edge of an abandoned
rice field. From a patch of ground as level as a floor, where our
tents were pitched, we could look across the brown rice dykes to the
enclosing walls of jungle and up to the green mountain beyond. A
half mile farther down the trail, but hidden away in the jungle, lay
a picturesque Shan village of a dozen huts, where the guide said we
should be able to find hunters.
As soon as tiffin was over we went up the creek with a bag of steel
traps to set them on the tiny trails which wound through the jungle in
every direction. Selecting a well-beaten patch we buried the trap in
the center, covered it carefully with leaves, and suspended the body of
a bird or a chunk of meat by a wire over the pan about three feet from
the ground. A light branch was fastened to the chain as a "drag." When
the trap is pulled this invariably catches in the grass or vines and,
while holding the animal firmly, still gives enough "spring" to prevent
its freeing itself.
Trapping is exceedingly interesting for it is a contest of wits between
the trapper and the animal with the odds by no means in favor of the
former. The trap may not be covered in a natural way; the surroundings
may be unduly disturbed; a scent of human hands may linger about the
bait, or there may be numberless other possibilities to frighten the
suspicious animal.
In the evening our guide brought a strange individual whom he
introduced as the best hunter in the village. He was a tall Mohammedan
Chinese who dressed like a Shan and was married to a Shan woman. He
seemed to be afflicted with mental and physical inertia, for when he
spoke it was in slow drawl hardly louder than a whisper, and every
movement of his body was correspondingly deliberate. We immediately
named him the "Dying Rabbit" but discovered very shortly that he really
had boundless energy and was an excellent hunter.
The next morning he collected a dozen Shans for beaters and we drove a
patch of jungle above camp but without success. There were many sambur
tracks in the clearings, but we realized at once that it was going to
be difficult to get deer because of the dense cover; the open places
were so few and small that a sambur had every chance to break through
without giving a shot.
Nearly all the beaters carried guns. The "Dying Rabbit" was armed with
a .45-caliber bolt action rifle into which he had managed to fit a .808
shell and several of the men had Winchester carbines, model 1875. The
guns had all been brought from Burma and most were without ammunition,
but each man had an assortment of different cartridges and used
whichever he could force into his rifle.
[Illustration: Our Camp on the Nam-ting River]
[Illustration: The Shan Village at Nam-ka]
The men worked splendidly under the direction of the "Dying Rabbit."
On the second day they put up a sambur which ran within a hundred feet
of us but was absolutely invisible in the high grass. When we returned
to camp we found that a civet (_Viverra_) had walked past our tent and
begun to eat the scraps about the cook box, regardless of the shouts of
the _mafus_ and servants who were imploring Heller to bring his gun.
After considerable difficulty they persuaded him that there really was
some cause for their excitement and he shot the animal. It was probably
ill, for its flesh was dry and yellow, but the skin was in excellent
condition.
Civets belong to the family _Viverridæ_ and are found only in Asia and
Africa. Although they resemble cats superficially they are not directly
related to them and their claws are only partly retractile. They are
very beautiful animals with a grayish body spotted with black, a ringed
tail, and a black and white striped pointed head. A scent gland near
the base of the tail secretes a strong musk-like odor which, although
penetrating, is not particularly disagreeable. The animals move about
chiefly in the early morning and evening and at night and prey upon
birds, eggs, small mammals, fish, and frogs. One which we caught and
photographed had a curious habit of raising the hair on the middle of
its back from the neck to the tail whenever it was angry or frightened.
Although there were no houses within half a mile of camp we were
surprised on our first night to hear cocks crowing in the jungle. The
note was like that of the ordinary barnyard bird, except that it ended
somewhat more abruptly. The next morning we discovered Chanticleer and
all his harem in a deserted rice field, and he flew toward the jungle
in a flash of red and gold.
I dropped him and one of his hens with a right and left of "sixes" and
found that they were jungle fowl (_Gallus gallus_) in full plumage. The
cock was a splendid bird. The long neck feathers (hackles) spread over
his back and wings like a shimmering golden mantle, but it was hardly
more beautiful than the black of his underparts and green-glossed
tail. Picture to yourself a "black-breasted red" gamecock and you have
him in all his glory except that his tail is drooping and he is more
pheasant-like in his general bearing. The female was a trim little
bird with a lilac sheen to her brown feathers and looked much like a
well-kept game bantam hen.
The jungle fowl is the direct ancestor of our barnyard hens and
roosters which were probably first domesticated in Burma and adjacent
countries long before the dawn of authentic history. According to
tradition the Chinese received their poultry from the West about 1400
B.C. and they are figured in Babylonian cylinders between the sixth
and seventh centuries B.C.; although they were probably introduced in
Greece through Persia there is no direct evidence as to when and how
they reached Europe.
The black-breasted jungle fowl (_Gallus gallus_) inhabit northern
India, Burma, Indo-Chinese countries, the Malay Peninsula, and the
Philippine Islands; a related species, _G. lafayetti_, is found in
Ceylon; another, _G. sonnerati_, in southern India, and a fourth, _G.
varius_, in Java.
We found the jungle fowl wild and hard to kill even where they were
seldom hunted. During the heat of the day they remain in thick cover,
but in cloudy weather and in the early morning and evening they come
out into clearings to feed. At our camp on the Nam-ting River we could
usually put up a few birds on the edge of the deserted rice fields
which stretched up into the jungle, but they were never far away from
the edge of the forest.
We sometimes saw single birds of either sex, but usually a cock had
with him six or eight hens. It was interesting to watch such a flock
feeding in the open. The male, resplendent in his vivid dress, shone
like a piece of gold against the dull brown of the dry grass and
industriously ran about among his trim little hens, rounding up the
stragglers and directing his harem with a few low-toned "clucks"
whenever he found some unusually tempting food.
It was his duty, too, to watch for danger and he usually would send
the flock whirring into the jungle while they were well beyond shotgun
range. When flushed from the open the birds nearly always would alight
in the first large tree and sit for a few moments before flying deeper
into the jungle. We caught several hens in our steel traps, and one
morning at the edge of a swamp I shot a jungle fowl and a woodcock with
a "right and left" as they flushed together.
We were at the Nam-ting camp at the beginning of the mating season
for the jungle fowl. It is said that they brood from January to April
according to locality, laying from eight to twelve creamy white eggs
under a bamboo clump or some dense thicket where a few leaves have
been scratched together for a nest. The hen announces the laying of
an egg by means of a proud cackle, and the chicks themselves have the
characteristic "peep, peep, peep" of the domestic birds. After the
breeding season the beautiful red and gold neck hackles of the male
sometimes are molted and replaced by short blackish feathers.
There seems to be some uncertainty as to whether the cocks are
polygamous, but our observations tend to show that they are. We never
saw more than one male in a flock and in only one or two instances
were the birds in pairs. The cocks are inveterate fighters like the
domestic birds and their long curved spurs are exceedingly effective
weapons.
We set a trap for a leopard on a hill behind the Nam-ting River camp
and on the second afternoon it contained a splendid polecat. This
animal is a member of the family Mustelidæ which includes mink, otter,
weasels, skunks, and ferrets, and with its brown body, deep yellow
throat, and long tail is really very handsome. Polecats inhabit the
Northern Hemisphere and are closely allied to the ferret which so often
is domesticated and used in hunting rats and rabbits. We found them
to be abundant in the low valleys along the Burma border and often
saw them during the day running across a jungle path or on the lower
branches of a tree. The polecat is a blood-thirsty little beast and
kills everything that comes in its way for the pure love of killing,
even when its appetite has been satisfied.
On the third morning we found two civets in the traps. The cook told
me that some animal had stolen a chicken from one of his boxes during
the night and we set a trap only a few yards from our tent on a trail
leading into the grass. The civet was evidently the thief for the cook
boxes were not bothered again.
Inspecting the traps every morning and evening was a delightful part of
our camp life. It was like opening a Christmas package as we walked up
the trails, for each one held interesting possibilities and the mammals
of the region were so varied that surprises were always in store for
us. Besides civets and polecats, we caught mongooses, palm civets, and
other carnivores. The small traps yielded a new _Hylomys_, several new
rats, and an interesting shrew.
We saw a few huge squirrels (_Ratufa gigantea_) and shot one. It was
thirty-six inches long, coal black above and yellow below. The animals
were very shy and as they climbed about in the highest trees they were
by no means easy to see or shoot. They represent an interesting group
confined to India, Siam, the Malay Peninsula, the islands of the Dutch
East Indies, and Borneo.
CHAPTER XXX
MONKEY HUNTING
Our most exciting sport at the Nam-ting camp was hunting monkeys. Every
morning we heard querulous notes which sounded much like the squealing
of very young puppies and which were followed by long, siren wails;
when the shrill notes had reached their highest pitch they would sink
into low mellow tones exceedingly musical.
The calls usually started shortly after daylight and continued until
about nine o'clock, or later if the day was dark or rainy. They would
be answered from different parts of the jungle and often sounded from
half a dozen places simultaneously. The natives assured us that the
cries were made by _hod-zu_ (monkeys) and several times we started in
pursuit, but they always ceased long before we had found a way through
the jungle to the spot from which they came. At last we succeeded in
locating the animals.
We were inspecting a line of traps placed along a trail which led up
a valley to a wide plateau. Suddenly the puppy-like squealing began,
followed by a low tremulous wail. It seemed almost over our heads but
the trees were empty. We stole silently along the trail for a hundred
yards and turned into a dry creek bed which led up the bottom of the
forested ravine. With infinite caution, breathing hard from excitement,
we slipped along, scanning the top of every tree. A hornbill sitting
on a dead branch caught sight of us and flapped heavily away emitting
horrid squawks. A flock of parrots screamed overhead and a red-bellied
squirrel followed persistently scolding at the top of its voice, but
the monkeys continued to call.
The querulous squealing abruptly ceased and we stood motionless beside
a tree. For an instant the countless jungle sounds were hushed in a
breathless stillness; then, low and sweet, sounded a moaning wail which
swelled into deep full tones. It vibrated an instant, filling all the
forest with its richness, and slowly died away. Again and again it
floated over the tree tops and we listened strangely moved, for it was
like the music of an exquisite contralto voice. At last it ceased but,
ere the echoes had reached the valley, the jungle was ringing with an
unlovely siren screech.
The spell was broken and we moved on, alert and tense. The trees
stretched upward full one hundred and fifty feet, their tops spread out
in a leafy roof. Long ropelike vines festooned the upper branches and a
luxuriant growth of parasitic vegetation clothed the giant trunks in a
swaying mass of living green. Far above the taller trees a gaunt gray
monarch of the forest towered in splendid isolation. In its topmost
branches we could just discern a dozen balls of yellow fur from which
proceeded discordant squeals.
It was long range for a shotgun but the rifles were all in camp. I
fired a charge of B.B.'s at the lowest monkey and as the gun roared out
the tree tops suddenly sprang into life. They were filled with running,
leaping, hairy forms swinging at incredible speed from branch to
branch; not a dozen, but a score of monkeys, yellow, brown, and gray.
The one at which I had shot seemed unaffected and threw itself full
twenty feet to a horizontal limb, below and to the right. I fired again
and he stopped, ran a few steps forward and swung to the underside
of the branch. At the third charge he hung suspended by one arm and
dropped heavily to the ground stone dead.
We tossed him into the dry creek bed and dashed up the hill where the
branches were still swaying as the monkeys traveled through the tree
tops. They had a long start and it was a hopeless chase. At every
step our clothes were caught by the clinging thorns, our hands were
torn, and our faces scratched and bleeding. In ten minutes they had
disappeared and we turned about to find the dead animal. Suddenly
Yvette saw a splash of leaves in the top of a tree below us and a big
brown monkey swung out on a pendent vine. I fired instantly and the
animal hung suspended, whirled slowly around and dropped to the ground.
Before I had reloaded my gun it gathered itself together and dashed off
through the woods on three legs faster than a man could run. The animal
had been hiding on a branch and when we passed had tried to steal away
undiscovered.
We found the dead monkey, a young male, in the creek bed and sat down
to examine it. It was evidently a gibbon (_Hylobates_), for its long
arms, round head, and tailless body were unmistakable, but in every
species with which I was familiar the male was black. This one was
yellow and we knew it to be a prize. That there were two other species
in the herd was certain for we had seen both brown and gray monkeys
as they dashed away among the trees, but the gibbons were far more
interesting than the others.
[Illustration: The Head of a Gibbon Killed on the Nam-ting River]
[Illustration: A Civet]
Gibbons are probably the most primitive in skull and teeth of all
the anthropoid, or manlike, apes,--the group which also includes the
gorilla, chimpanzee, and orangutan. They are apparently an earlier
offshoot of the anthropoid stem, as held by most authorities, and the
giant apes and man are probably a later branch. Gibbons are essentially
Oriental being found in India, Burma, Siam, Tonking, Borneo, and the
Islands of Hainan, Sulu, Sumatra, and Java.
For the remainder of our stay at the Nam-ting River camp we devoted
ourselves to hunting monkeys and soon discovered that the three species
we had first seen were totally different. One was the yellow gibbon,
another a brown baboon (_Macacus_), and the third a huge gray ape with
a long tail (_Pygathrix_) known as the "langur." On the first day all
three species were together feeding upon some large green beans and
this happened once again, but usually they were in separate herds.
The gibbons soon became extremely wild. Although the same troop could
usually be found in the valley where we had first discovered them, they
chose hillsides where it was almost impossible to stalk them because
of the thorny jungle. Usually when they called, it was from the upper
branches of a dead tree where they could not only scan every inch
of the ground below, but were almost beyond the range of a shotgun.
Sometimes we climbed upward almost on our hands and knees, grasping
vines and creepers, drawing ourselves up by tree trunks, crawling under
thorny shrubs and bushes, slipping, falling, scrambling through the
indescribable tangle. We went forward only when the calls were echoing
through the jungle, and stood motionless as the wailing ceased. But in
spite of all our care they would see or hear us. Then in sudden silence
there would be a tremor of the branches, splash after splash of leaves,
and the herd would swing away through the trackless tree tops.
The gibbons are well named _Hylobates_ or "tree-walkers" for they
are entirely arboreal and, although awkward and almost helpless on
the ground, once their long thin hands touch a branch they become
transformed as by a miracle.
They launch themselves into space, catch a limb twenty feet away,
swing for an instant, and hurl themselves to another. It is possible
for them to travel through the trees faster than a man can run even on
open ground, and when one examines their limbs the reason is apparent.
The fore arms are so exceedingly long that the tips of the fingers can
touch the ground when the animal stands erect, and the slender hands
are longer than the feet.
The gibbons were exceedingly difficult to kill and would never drop
until stone dead. Once I shot an old male with my 6-1/2 mm. Mannlicher
rifle at about one hundred yards and, even though the ball had gone
clear through his body, he hung for several minutes before he dropped
into a tangle of vines.
It was fifteen minutes before we were able to work our way through
the jungle to the spot where the animal had fallen, and we had been
searching for nearly half an hour when suddenly my wife shouted that
a monkey was running along a branch above our heads. I fired with the
shotgun at a mass of moving leaves and killed a second gibbon which had
been hiding in the thick foliage. Instead of running the animals would
sometimes disappear as completely as though they had vanished in the
air. After being fooled several times we learned to conceal ourselves
in the bushes where we could watch the trees, and sooner or later the
monkeys would try to steal away.
The langurs and baboons were by no means as wild as the gibbons and
were found in larger herds. Some of the langurs were carrying babies
which clung to their mothers between the fore legs and did not seem to
impede them in the slightest on their leaps through the tree tops.
The young of this species are bright orange-red and strangely unlike
the gray adults. As they grow older the red hair is gradually replaced
by gray, but the tail is the last part of the body to change. Heller
captured one of the tiny red monkeys and brought it back to camp in his
coat pocket. The little fellow was only a few days old, and of course,
absolutely helpless.
When it was wrapped in cotton with only its queer little wizened face
and blue eyes visible it had a startling resemblance to a human baby
until its long tail would suddenly flop into sight and dispel the
illusion. It lived only four days in spite of constant care.
There are fifty-five species of langurs (_Pygathrix_) all of which are
confined to the Orient. In some parts of India the animals are sacred
and climb about the houses or wander in the streets of villages quite
without fear. At times they do so much damage to crops that the natives
who do not dare to kill the animals themselves implore foreigners to
do so. The langurs are not confined to the tropics, but in the Tibetan
mountains range far up into the snow and enjoy the cold weather. In the
market at Li-chiang we saw several skins of these animals which had
been brought down by the Tibetans; the hair was long and silky and was
used by the Chinese for rugs and coats.
The species which we killed at the Nam-ting River camp, like all
others of the genus _Pygathrix_, was interesting because of the long
hairs of the head which form a distinct ridge on the occiput. We never
heard the animals utter sounds, but it is said that the common Indian
langur, _Pygathrix entellus_, gives a loud whoop as it runs through the
tree tops. Often when a tiger is prowling about the jungle the Indian
langurs will follow the beast, keeping in the branches just above its
head and scolding loudly.
The baboon, or macaque, which we killed on the Nam-ting was a close
relative of the species (_Macacus rhesus_) which one sees parading
solemnly about the streets of Calcutta, Bombay, and other Indian
cities. In Agra, the home of the beautiful Taj Mahal, the Monkey Temple
is visited by every tourist. A large herd of macaques lives in the
grounds and at a few chuckling calls from the native attendants will
come trooping over the walls for the food which is kept on sale at the
gate. These animals are surprisingly tame and make most amusing pets.
On one of our hunts my wife and I discovered a water hole in the midst
of a dense jungle where the mud was trodden hard by sambur, muntjac,
wild boar, and other animals. We decided to spend a night watching
beside it, but the "Dying Rabbit" who was enthusiastic in the day time
lost his courage as the sunlight waned. Very doubtfully he consented to
go.
Although the trip netted us no tangible results it was an experience of
which we often think. We started just at dusk and installed ourselves
in the bushes a few yards from the water hole. In half an hour the
forest was enveloped in the velvety blackness of the tropic night. Not
a star nor a gleam of light was visible and I could not see my hand
before my face.
We sat absolutely motionless and listened to the breath of the jungle,
which although without definite sound, was vibrant with life. Now and
then a muntjac barked hoarsely and the roar of a sambur stag thrilled
us like an electric shock. Once a wild boar grunted on the opposite
bank of the river, the sound coming to us clear and sharp through the
stillness although the animal was far away.
Tiny forest creatures rustled all about us in the leaves and a small
animal ran across my wife's lap, leaping frantically down the hill as
it felt her move. For five hours we sat there absolutely motionless.
Although no animals came to the water hole we were silent with a great
happiness as we groped our way back to camp, for we had been close
to the heart of the jungle and were thrilled with the mystery of the
night.
CHAPTER XXXI
THE SHANS OF THE BURMA BORDER
We saw many Shans at the Nam-ting River, for not only was there
a village half a mile beyond our camp, but natives were passing
continually along the trail on their way to and from the Burma
frontier. The village was named Nam-ka. Its chief was absent when we
arrived, but the natives were cordial and agreed to hunt with us; when
the head man returned, however, he was most unfriendly. He forbade the
villagers from coming to our camp and arguments were of no avail. It
soon became evident that only force could change his attitude, and one
morning, with all our servants and _mafus_, we visited his house. He
was informed that unless he ceased his opposition and ordered his men
to assist us in hunting we would take him to Meng-ting for trial before
the mandarin. He grudgingly complied and we had no further trouble.
We found the Shans at Nam-ka to be simple and honest people but
abnormally lazy. During our three weeks' stay not a single trap was
stolen, although the natives prized them highly, and often brought to
us those in which animals had been caught. Shans were continually about
our camp where boxes were left unlocked, but not an article of our
equipment was missed.
[Illustration: A Shan Girl]
[Illustration: A Shan Boy]
The Nam-ka Shans elevated their houses on six-foot poles and built an
open porch in front of the door, while the dwellings at Meng-ting and
farther up the valley were all placed upon the ground. The thatched
roofs overhung several feet and the sides of the houses were open so
that the free passage of air kept them delightfully cool. Moreover,
they were surprisingly clean, for the floors were of split bamboo, and
the inmates, if they wore sandals, left them at the door. In the center
of the single room, on a large flat stone, a small fire always burned,
but much of the cooking was done on the porch where a tiny pavilion had
been erected over the hearth.
The Shans at Nam-ka had "no visible means of support." The extensive
rice paddys indicated that in the past there had been considerable
cultivation but the fields were weed-grown and abandoned. The villagers
purchased all their vegetables from the Mohammedan hunter and two other
Chinese who lived a mile up the trail, or from passing caravans whom
they sometimes entertained. In all probability they lived upon the sale
of smuggled opium for they were only a few miles from the Burma border.
Virtually every Shan we saw in the south was heavily tattooed. Usually
the right leg alone, but sometimes both, were completely covered
from the hip to the knee with intricate designs in black or red. The
ornamentations often extended entirely around the body over the abdomen
and waist, but less frequently on the breast and arms.
All the natives were inordinately proud of these decorations and
usually fastened their wide trousers in such a way as to display them
to the best advantage. We often could persuade a man to pose before the
camera by admiring his tattoo marks and it was most amusing to watch
his childlike pleasure.
The Shan tribe is a large one with many subdivisions, and it is
probable that at one time it inhabited a large part of China south
of the Yangtze River; indeed, there is reason to believe that
the Cantonese Chinamen are chiefly of Shan stock, and the facial
resemblance between the two races certainly is remarkable.
Although the Shans formerly ruled a vast territory in Yün-nan before
its conquest by the Mongol emperors of China in the thirteenth century
A. D., and at one time actually subdued Burma and established a
dynasty of their own, at present the only independent kingdom of the
race is that of Siam. By far the greatest number of Shans live in
semi-independent states tributary to Burma, China, and Siam, and in
Yün-nan inhabit almost all of the southern valleys below an altitude of
4,000 feet.
The reason that the Chinese allow them to hold such an extent of
fertile land is because the low plains are considered unhealthy and the
Chinese cannot, or will not, live there. Whether or not the malarial
fever of the valleys is so exceedingly deadly remains to be proved, but
the Chinese believe it to be so and the result is the same. Where the
Shans are numerous enough to have a chief of their own they live in a
semi-independent state, for although their head man is subordinate to
the district Chinese official, the latter seldom interferes with the
internal affairs of the tribe.
The Shans are a short, strongly-built race with a distinct Mongolian
type of features and rather fair complexions. Their dress varies
decidedly with the region, but the men of the southern part of the
province on the Nam-ting River wear a pair of enormous trousers, so
baggy that they are almost skirtlike, a white jacket, and a large
white or pink turban surmounted by a huge straw hat. The women dress in
a white jacket and skirt of either striped or dark blue cloth; their
turbans are of similar material and may be worn in a high cylinder, a
low oval, or many other shapes according to the particular part of the
province in which they live.
CHAPTER XXXII
PRISONERS OF WAR IN BURMA
_Y. B. A._
The camp at Nam-ka was a supremely happy one and we left it on March
7, with much regret. Its resources seemed to be almost exhausted and
the Mohammedan hunter assured us that at a village called Ma-li-ling
we would find excellent shooting. We asked him the distance and he
replied, "About a long bamboo joint away." It required three days to
get there!
Whether the man had ever been to Ma-li-ling we do not know but we
eventually found it to be a tiny village built into the side of a hill
in an absolutely barren country where there was not a vestige of cover.
Our journey there was not uneventful. We left Nam-ka with high hopes
which were somewhat dampened after a day's unsuccessful hunting at the
spot where our caravan crossed the Nam-ting River.
With a Shan guide we traveled due north along a good trail which led
through dense jungle where there was not a clearing or a sign of life.
In the afternoon we noted that the trail bore strongly to the west
and ascended rapidly. Soon we had left the jungle and emerged into an
absolutely treeless valley between high barren hills. We knew that the
Burma frontier could not be far away, and in a few moments we passed
a large square "boundary stone"; a hundred yards on the other side
the hills were covered with bright green stalks and here and there a
field glistened with white poppy blossoms. The guide insisted that we
were on the direct road to Ma-li-ling which for the first time he said
was in Burma. On our map it was marked well over the border in Chinese
territory and we were greatly puzzled.
About six o'clock the brown huts of a village were silhouetted against
the sky on a tiny knoll in the midst of a grove of beautiful trees,
and we camped at the edge of a water hole. The pool was almost liquid
mud, but we were told that it was the only water supply of the village
and its cattle. As though to prove the statement a dozen buffalos
ambled slowly down the hill, and stood half submerged in the brown
liquid, placidly chewing their cuds; meanwhile blue-clad Shan women
with buckets in their hands were constantly arriving at the pond for
their evening supply of water. We had no filter and it was nauseating
to think of drinking the filthy liquid but there was no alternative and
after repeated boiling and several strainings we settled it with alum
and disguised its taste in tea and soup.
After dinner we questioned the few natives who spoke Chinese, but we
became only more and more confused. They knew of no such place as
Ma-li-ling and our Shan guide had discreetly disappeared. But they
were familiar with the trail to Ma-li-pa, a village farther west in
Burma and, moreover, they said that two hundred foreign soldiers were
stationed there. We were quite certain that they must be native Indian
troops but thought that a white officer might perhaps be in command.
We did not wish to cross the frontier because of possible political
difficulties since we had no permits to shoot in Burma, but there
seemed to be no alternative, for we were hopelessly bewildered by the
mythical Ma-li-ling. We eventually discovered that there were two
villages by that name--one in Burma, and the other in China, where it
was correctly placed on the map which we were using.
While we were discussing the matter a tremendous altercation arose
between the Chinese _mafus_ and the servants. For some time Roy did not
interfere, supposing it to be a personal quarrel, but the disturbance
at last became unbearable. Calling Wu we learned that because we had
been so careful to avoid English territory the _mafus_ had conceived
the idea that for some reason we were afraid to meet other foreigners.
Since we had inadvertently crossed into Burma it appeared to them that
it would be an opportune time to extort an increase of wages. They
announced, therefore, that unless extra money was given them at once
they would untie the loads and leave us.
They were hardly prepared for what followed, however. Taking his
Mannlicher rifle, Roy called the _mafus_ together and told them that if
any man touched a load he would begin to shoot the mules and that if
they made the slightest resistance the gun would be turned on them. A
_mafus'_ mules represent all his property and they did not relish the
turn affairs had taken. They subsided at once, but we had the loads
guarded during the night. In the morning the _mafus_ were exceedingly
surprised when they learned that we were going to Ma-li-pa and their
change of front was laughable; they were as humble and anxious to
please as they had been belligerent the night before.
The trail led over the same treeless rolling hills through which we
had passed on the previous afternoon. There was only one village,
but it was surrounded by poppy fields in full blossom. It must be a
rather difficult matter for a native living in China near the border
to understand why he should not be allowed to produce the lucrative
opium while only a few yards away, over an imaginary line, it can be
planted without restriction. Poppies seem to grow on hillsides better
than on level ground. The plants begin to blossom in late February
and the petals, when about to fall, are collected for the purpose of
making "leaves" with which to cover the balls of opium. The seed pods
which are left after the petals drop off are scarified vertically, at
intervals of two or three days, by means of a sharp cutting instrument.
The operation is usually performed about four o'clock in the afternoon,
and the opium, in the form of dried juice, is collected the next
morning. When China, in 1906, forbade the consumption of opium and the
growing of poppies, it was estimated that there were from twenty-five
to thirty millions of smokers in the Empire.
We reached Ma-li-pa about one o'clock in the afternoon and found it
to be a straggling village built on two sides of a deep ravine, with
a mixed population of Shans and Chinese. It happened to be the weekly
market day and the "bazaar" was crowded. A number of Indian soldiers in
khaki were standing about, and I called out to Roy, "I wonder if any of
them speak English." Instantly a little fellow approached, with cap in
hand, and said, "Yes, Madame, I speak English."
One cannot realize how strange it seemed to hear our own language
from a native in this out-of-the-way spot I He was the "compounder,"
or medical assistant, and told us that the hundred native troops were
in charge of a white officer whose house was on the opposite side of
the river gorge. He guided us to a temple and, while the mules were
being unloaded, in walked a tall, handsome young British officer who
introduced himself as Captain Clive. He was almost speechless with
surprise at seeing me, for he had not spoken a sentence in English or
seen a white person since his arrival at this lonely post five months
before.
He asked us at once to come to his quarters for tiffin and we accepted
gladly. On the way he gave us our first news of the outside world, for
we had been beyond communication of any sort for months, and we learned
that the United States had severed diplomatic relations with Germany.
Captain Clive's bungalow was a two-room bamboo house with a broad
verandah and thatched with straw. It was delightfully cool and dark
after the glare of the yellow sun-baked plains about us, and in perfect
order. The care which Britishers take to keep from "letting down"
while guarding the frontiers of their vast empire is proverbial, and
Captain Clive was a splendid example of the Indian officer. He was as
clean-shaved and well-groomed as though he had been expecting us for
days and the tiffin to which we sat down was as dainty and well served
as it could have been in the midst of civilization.
The great Lord Clive of India was an ancestor of our young officer who
had been temporarily detached from his regiment, the 129th Baluchis,
and sent on border duty. He was very unhappy, for his brother officers
were in active service in East Africa, and he had tried to resign
several times, but the Indian government would not release him. When
we reached Rangoon some months later we were glad to learn that he had
rejoined his regiment and was at the front. Ma-li-pa was a recently
established "winter station" and in May would be abandoned when the
troop returned to Lashio, ten days' journey away. Comfortable barracks,
cook houses, and a hospital had been erected beside a large space which
had been cleaned of turf for a parade ground.
Captain Clive was in communication by heliograph with Lashio, at the
end of the railroad, and received a _résumé_ of world news two or
three times a week. With mirrors during the day and lanterns at night
messages were flashed from one mountain top to another and, under
favorable conditions, reached Lashio in seven or eight hours.
We pitched our tents a short distance from the barracks in an open
field, for there was no available shade. Although Captain Clive was
perfectly satisfied with our passports and credentials he could not
let us proceed until he had communicated with the Indian government by
heliograph. The border was being guarded very closely to prevent German
sympathizers from crossing into Burma from China and inciting the
native tribes to rebellion.
In December, 1915, a rather serious uprising among the Kachins in
the Myitkyina district on the upper waters of the Irawadi River had
been incited by a foreigner, I believe, and Clive had assisted in
suppressing it. The Indian government was taking no further chances
and had given strict orders to arrest and hold anyone, other than a
native, who crossed the border from China.
Very fortunately H. B. M. Consul-General Goffe at Yün-nan Fu had
communicated with the Lieutenant-Governor of Burma concerning our
Expedition and we consequently expected no trouble, but Captain
Clive could not let us proceed until he had orders to do so from the
Superintendent of the Northern Shan States. Through a delayed message
this permission did not reach him for five days and in the meantime
we made the most of the limited collecting resources which Ma-li-pa
afforded.
Clive ordered his day like all the residents of Burma. He rose at six
o'clock and after coffee and rolls had drill for two hours. At half
past ten a heavy meal took the place of breakfast and tiffin; tea,
with sandwiches and toast, was served at three o'clock, and dinner at
eight. His company was composed of several different native tribes,
and each religious caste had its own cook and water carrier, for a
man of one caste could not prepare meals for men of another. It is an
extraordinary system but one which appears to operate perfectly well
under the adaptable English government. Certainly one of the great
elements in the success of the British as colonizers is their respect
for native customs and superstitions!
The company drilled splendidly and we were surprised to hear all
commands given in English although none of the men could understand
that language. This is done to enable British and Indian troops to
maneuver together. Captain Clive, himself, spoke Hindustani to his
officers. In the evening the men played football on the parade
ground and it seemed as though we had suddenly been transported into
civilization on the magic carpet of the Arabian Nights.
Every morning we went shooting at daylight and returned about nine
o'clock. Conditions were not favorable for small mammals and although
we could undoubtedly have caught a few civets, mongooses, and cats we
did not set a line of steel traps for we expected to leave at any time.
Our attention was mostly devoted to bird collecting and we obtained
about two hundred interesting specimens.
We had our mid-morning meal each day with Captain Clive and he dined
with us in the evening. He had brought with him from Lashio a large
quantity of supplies and lived almost as well as he could have done at
home. Although the days were very warm, the nights were cold and a camp
fire was most acceptable.
Captain Clive was on excellent terms with the Chinese authorities and,
while we were there, a very old mandarin, blind and infirm, called
to present his compliments. He had been an ardent sportsman and was
especially interested in our guns; had we been willing to accept the
commission he would have paid us the money then and there to purchase
for him a Savage .250-.300 rifle like the one we were carrying. The old
gentleman always had been very loyal to the British and had received
several decorations for his services.
A few days after our arrival a half dead Chinaman crawled into camp
with his throat terribly cut. He had been attacked by brigands only a
few miles over the border and had just been able to reach Ma-li-pa. The
company "compounder" took him in charge and, when Clive asked him about
the patient, his evasive answers were most amusing; like all Orientals
he would not commit himself to any definite statement because he might
"lose face" if his opinion proved to be wrong.
Captain Clive said to him, "Do you think the Chinaman will die?"
Looking very judicial the native replied, "Sir, he _may_ die, and yet,
he may live." "But," said Clive, "he will probably die, won't he?"
"Yes," was the answer, "and yet perhaps he will live." That was all the
satisfaction he was able to get.
Clive told us of another native who formerly had been in his company.
He had been transferred and one day the Captain met him in Rangoon.
When asked if his pay was satisfactory the answer was typical, "Sir, it
is good, but not _s-o-o_ good!"
On the afternoon of our fourth day in Ma-li-pa a heliograph from
Rangoon announced that "The Asiatic Zoölogical Expedition of the
American Museum of Natural History is especially commended to His
Majesty's Indian Government and permission is hereby granted to carry
on its work in Burma wherever it may desire." This was only one of the
many courtesies which we received from the British.
The morning following the receipt of the heliogram we broke camp at
daylight. When the last mule of the caravan had disappeared over the
brown hills toward China we regretfully said farewell and rode away. If
we are ever again made "prisoners of war" we hope our captor will be as
delightful a gentleman as Captain Clive.
CHAPTER XXXIII
HUNTING PEACOCKS ON THE SALWEEN RIVER
From Ma-li-pa we traveled almost due north to the Salween River. The
country through which we passed was a succession of dry treeless hills,
brown and barren and devoid of animal life. On the evening of the third
day we reached the Salween at a ferry a few miles from the village of
Changlung where the river begins its great bend to the eastward and
sweeps across the border from China into Burma.
The stream has cut a tremendous gorge for itself through the mountains
and the sides are so precipitous that the trail doubles back upon
itself a dozen times before it reaches the river 3,500 feet below.
The upper half of the gorge is bare or thinly patched with trees, but
in the lower part the grass is long and rank and a thin dry jungle
straggles along the water's edge. The Salween at this point is about
two hundred yards wide, but narrows to half that distance below the
ferry and flows in a series of rapids between rocky shores.
The valley is devoid of human life except for three boatmen who tend
the ferry, but the deserted rice fields along a narrow shelf showed
evidence of former cultivation. On the slopes far up the side of the
cañon is a Miao village, a tribe which we had not seen before. Probably
the valley is too unhealthy for any natives to live close to the
water's edge and, even at the time of our visit in early March, the
heated air was laden with malaria.
The ferrymen were stupid fellows, half drugged with opium, and assured
us that there were no mammals near the river. They admitted that they
sometimes heard peacocks and, while our tents were being pitched on
a steep sand bank beneath a giant tree, the weird catlike call of a
peacock echoed up the valley. It was answered by another farther down
the river, and the report of my gun when I fired at a bat brought forth
a wild "pe-haun," "pe-haun," "pe-haun" from half a dozen places.
The ferry was a raft built of long bamboo poles lashed together
with vines and creepers. It floated just above the surface and was
half submerged when loaded. The natives used a most extraordinary
contrivance in place of oars. It consisted of a piece of tightly woven
bamboo matting three feet long and two feet wide at right angles to
which was fastened a six-foot handle. With these the men nonchalantly
raked the water toward them from the bow and stem when they had poled
the raft well into the current. The invested capital was not extensive,
for when the ferry or "propellers" needed repairs a few hours' work in
the jungle sufficed to build an entirely new outfit.
All of the peacocks were on the opposite side of the river from our
camp where the jungle was thickest. On the first morning my wife and
I floated down the river on the raft for half a mile and landed to
stalk a peacock which had called frequently from a rocky point near
the water's edge. We picked our way through the jungle with the utmost
caution but the wary old cock either saw or heard us before we were
within range, and I caught just a glimpse of a brilliant green neck
as he disappeared into the bushes. A second bird called on a point a
half mile farther on, but it refused to come into the open and as we
started to stalk it in the jungle we heard a patter of feet among the
dry leaves followed by a roar of wings, and saw the bird sail over the
tree tops and alight on the summit of a bush-clad hill.
This was the only peacock which we were ever able to flush when it had
already gained cover. Usually the birds depend entirely upon their
ability to hide or run through the bushes. After several attempts we
learned that it was impossible to stalk the peacocks successfully. The
jungle was so crisp and parched that the dry leaves crackled at every
step and even small birds made a loud noise while scratching on the
ground.
The only way to get the peacocks was to watch for them at the river
when they came to drink in the early morning and evening. Between
two rocky points where we had first seen the birds there was a long
curved beach of fine white sand. One morning Heller waited on the point
nearest camp while my wife and I posted ourselves under a bush farther
down the river. We had been sitting quietly for half an hour when we
heard a scratching in the jungle. Thinking it was a peacock feeding we
turned our backs to the water and sat motionless peering beneath the
bushes. Meanwhile, Heller witnessed an interesting little drama enacted
behind us.
An old male peacock with a splendid train stole around the point
close to the water, jumped to a high stone within thirty yards of us
and stood for a full minute craning its beautiful green neck to get
a better view as we kneeled in front of him totally unconscious of
his presence. After he had satisfied his curiosity he hopped off the
observation pinnacle and, with his body flattened close to the ground,
slipped quietly away. It was an excellent example of the stalker being
stalked and had Heller not witnessed the scene we should never have
known how the clever old bird had fooled us.
The following morning we got a peahen at the same place. Heller had
concealed himself in the bushes on one side of the point while I
watched the other. Shortly after daylight an old female sailed out
of the jungle on set wings and alighted at the water's edge. She saw
Heller almost instantly, although he was completely covered by the
vines, and started to fly, but he dropped her with a broken wing.
Recovering herself, she darted around the rocky point only to meet a
charge of B.B.'s from my gun. She was a beautiful bird with a delicate
crown of slender feathers, a yellow and blue face patch and a green
neck and back, but her plumes were short and inconspicuous when
compared with those of the male.
Probably these birds had never before been hunted but they were
exceedingly shy and difficult to kill. Although they called more or
less during the entire day and we could locate them exactly, they were
so far back in the jungle that the crackling of the dry leaves made a
stalk impossible. We tried to drive them but were unsuccessful, for
the birds would never flush unless they happened to be in the open and
cut off from cover. Apparently realizing that their brilliant plumage
made them conspicuous objects, the birds relied entirely upon an actual
screen of bushes and their wonderful sight and hearing to protect
themselves from enemies.
They usually came to the river to drink very early in the morning and
just before dusk in the afternoon, but on cloudy days they might appear
at almost any hour. If undisturbed they would remain near the water's
edge for a considerable time or strut about the sand beach just at the
edge of the jungle. At the sound of a gun or any other loud sharp noise
the peacocks would answer with their mournful catlike wail, exactly as
the domesticated birds will do.
The Chinese believe that the flesh of the peafowl is poison and our
servants were horrified when they learned that we intended to eat it.
They fully expected that we would not survive the night and, even when
they saw we had experienced no ill effects, they could not be persuaded
to touch any of it themselves. An old peacock is too tough to eat, but
the younger birds are excellent and when stuffed with chestnuts and
roasted they are almost the equal of turkey.
The species which we killed on the Salween River is the green peafowl
(_Pavo munticus_) which inhabits Burma, Sumatra, Java, and the Malay
Peninsula. Its neck is green, instead of purple, as is that of the
common Indian peacock (_Pavo cristatus_), and it is said that it is the
most beautiful bird of the world.
The long ocellated tail coverts called the "train" are dropped about
August and the birds assume more simple barred plumes, but the molt is
very irregular; usually the full plumage is resumed in March or even
earlier. The train is, of course, an ornament to attract the female
and, when a cock is strutting about with spread plumes, he sometimes
makes a most peculiar rustling sound by vibrating the long feathers.
The eight or ten eggs are laid on the bare ground under a bush in the
dense jungle, are dull brownish white and nearly three inches long. The
chicks are sometimes domesticated, but even when born in captivity, it
is said they are difficult to tame and soon wander away. The birds are
omnivorous, feeding on insects, grubs, reptiles, flower buds, young
shoots, and grain.
The common peafowl (_Pavo cristatus_) is a native of India, Ceylon, and
Assam. It is held sacred by some religious castes and we saw dozens of
the birds wandering about the grounds of the temples in Benares, Agra,
and Delhi. Peafowl are said to be rather disagreeable pets because they
often attack infirm persons and children and kill young poultry.
In some parts of Ceylon and India the birds are so abundant and easily
killed that they do not furnish even passable sport, but in other
places they are as wild and difficult to shoot as we found them to be
on the Salween River. In India it is a universal belief among sportsmen
that wherever peafowls are common, there tiger will be found.
A very beautiful variety which seems to have arisen abruptly in
domestication is the so-called "japanned" or black-shouldered peacock
named _Pavo nigripennis_ by Mr. Sclater. In some respects it is
intermediate between _P. munticus_ and _P. cristatus_ and apparently
"breeds true" but never has been found in a wild state. Albino
specimens are by no means unusual and are a feature of many zoölogical
gardens.
Peacocks have been under domestication for many centuries and are
mentioned in the Bible as having been imported into Palestine by
Solomon; although the bird is referred to in mythology, the Greeks
probably had but little knowledge of it until after the conquests of
Alexander.
In the thick jungle only a few hundred yards from our camp on the
Salween River I put up a silver pheasant (_Euplocamus nycthemerus_),
one of the earliest known and most beautiful species of the family
Phasianidæ. Its white mantle, delicately vermiculated with black,
extends like a wedding veil over the head, back and tail, in striking
contrast to the blue-black underparts, red cheek patches, and red legs.
This bird was formerly pictured in embroidery upon the heart and back
badges of the official dresses of civil mandarins to denote the rank
of the wearer, and is found only in southern and western China. It is
by no means abundant in the parts of Yün-nan which we visited and,
moreover, lives in such dense jungle that it is difficult to find. The
natives sometimes snare the birds and offer them for sale alive.
We also saw monkeys at our camp on the Salween River, but were not
successful in killing any. They were probably the Indian baboon
(_Macacus rhesus_) and, for animals which had not been hunted, were
most extraordinarily wild. They were in large herds and sometimes came
down to the water to skip and dance along the sand and play among the
rocks. The monkeys invariably appeared on the opposite side of the
river from us and by the time we hunted up the boatmen and got the
clumsy raft to the other shore the baboons had disappeared in the tall
grass or were merrily running through the trees up the mountain-side.
The valley was too dry to be a very productive trapping ground for
either small or large mammals, but the birds were interesting and we
secured a good many species new to our collection. Jungle fowl were
abundant and pigeons exceedingly so, but we saw no ducks along the
river and only two cormorants.
Very few natives crossed at the ferry during our stay, for it is a long
way from the main road and the climb out of the gorge is too formidable
to be undertaken if the Salween can possibly be crossed higher up where
the valley is wide and shallow. While we were camped at the river the
heat was most uncomfortable during the middle of the day and was but
little mitigated by the wind which blew continually. During mid-summer
the valley at this point must be a veritable furnace and doubtless
reeks with fever. We slept under nets at night and in the early
evening, while we were watching for peacocks, the mosquitoes were very
troublesome.
CHAPTER XXXIV
THE GIBBONS OF HO-MU-SHU
It is a long hard climb out of the Salween valley. We left on March 24
and all day crawled up the steep sides on a trail which doubled back
and forth upon itself like an endless letter S. From our camp at night
the river was just visible as a thin green line several thousand feet
below, and for the first time in days, we needed a charcoal fire in our
tents.
We were _en route_ to Lung-ling, a town of considerable size, where
there was a possibility that mail might be awaiting us in care of the
mandarin. Although ordinarily a three days' journey, it was more than
four days before we arrived, because I had a sharp attack of malaria
shortly after leaving the Salween River and we had to travel half
stages.
When we were well out of the valley and at an altitude of 6,000 feet,
we arrived at a Chinese town. Its dark evil-smelling houses, jammed
together in a crowded mass, and the filthy streets swarming with ragged
children and foot-bound women, were in unpleasant contrast to the
charming little Shan villages which we had seen in the low country. The
inhabitants themselves appeared to no better advantage when compared
with their Shan neighbors, for their stares and insolent curiosity were
almost unbearable.
The region between the Salween River at Changlung and Lung-ling is as
uninteresting to the zoölogist as it could possibly be, for the hills
are dry and bare and devoid of animal life. Lung-ling is a typical
Chinese town except that the streets are wide and it is not as dirty
as usual. The mandarin was a jolly rotund little fellow who simulated
great sympathy when he informed me that he had received no mail for
us. We had left directions to have a runner follow us from Yung-chang
and in the event that he did not find our camp to proceed to Lung-ling
with the mail. We learned some weeks later that the runner had been
frightened by brigands and had turned back long before he reached
Meng-ting.
We had heard from our _mafus_ and other natives that black monkeys were
to be found on a mountain pass not far from the village of Ho-mu-shu,
on the main Yung-chang-Teng-yueh road and, as we were certain that they
would prove to be gibbons, we decided to make that our next hunting
camp. It was three stages from Lung-ling and, toward evening of the
second day, we again descended to the Salween River.
The valley at this point is several miles wide and is so dry that the
few shrubs and bushes seem to be parched and barely able to live.
At the upper end a picturesque village is set among extensive rice
fields. Although a few Chinese live there, its inhabitants are chiefly
Shans who are in a transitory state and are gradually adopting Chinese
customs. The houses are joined to each other in the Chinese way and are
built of mud, thatched with straw. In shape as well as in composition
they are quite unlike the dwellings of the southern Shans. The women
wore cylindrical turbans, about eighteen inches high, which at a
distance looked like silk hats, and the men were dressed in narrow
trousers and jackets of Chinese blue. I believe that some of the Shan
women also had bound feet but of this I cannot be certain.
We camped on a little knoll under an enormous tree at the far end of
the village street, and a short time after the tents were up we had a
visit from the Shan magistrate. He was a dapper energetic little fellow
wearing foreign dress and quite _au courant_ with foreign ways. He even
owned a breech-loading shotgun, and, before we left, sent to ask for
shells. He presented us with the usual chickens and I returned several
tins of cigarettes. He appeared to be quite a sportsman and directed us
to a place on the mountain above the village where he said monkeys were
abundant.
We left early in the morning with a guide and, after a hard climb,
arrived at a little village near the forest to which the magistrate had
directed us. Not only did the natives assure us that they had never
seen monkeys but we discovered for ourselves that the only water was
more than a mile away, and that camping there was out of the question.
The next day, April 1, we went on to Ho-mu-shu. It is a tiny village
built into the mountain-side with hardly fifty yards of level ground
about it, but commanding a magnificent view over the Salween valley.
Although we reached there at half past two in the afternoon the _mafus_
insisted on camping because they swore that there was no water within
fifty _li_ up the mountain. Very unwillingly I consented to camp
and the next morning found, as usual, that the _mafus_ had lied for
there was a splendid camping place with good water not two hours from
Ho-mu-shu. It was useless to rage for the Chinese have no scruples
about honesty in such small matters, and the head _mafu_ blandly
admitted that he knew there was a camping place farther on but that he
was tired and wanted to stop early.
As we gained the summit of the ridge we were greeted with a ringing
"hu-wa," "hu-wa," "hu-wa," from the forest five hundred feet below us;
they were the calls of gibbons, without a doubt, but strikingly unlike
those of the Nam-ting River. We decided to camp at once and, after
considerable prospecting, chose a flat place beside the road. It was
by no means ideal but had the advantage of giving us an opportunity
to hunt from either side of the ridge which for its entire length was
scarcely two hundred feet in width. The sides fell away for thousands
of feet in steep forest-clad slopes and, as far as our eyes could
reach, wave after wave of mountains rolled outward in a great sea of
green.
Our camp would have been delightful except for the wind which swept
across the pass night and day in an unceasing gale. My wife and I set
a line of traps along a trail which led down the north side of the
ridge, while Heller chose the opposite slope. We were entranced with
the forest. The trees were immense spreading giants with interlaced
branches that formed a solid roof of green 150 feet above the soft
moss carpet underneath. Every trunk was clothed in a smothering mass
of vines and ferns and parasitic plants and, from the lower branches,
thousands of ropelike creepers swayed back and forth with every breath
of wind. Below, the forest was fairly open save for occasional patches
of dwarf bamboo, but the upper canopy was so close and dense that even
at noon there was hardly more than a somber twilight beneath the trees.
Our first night on the pass was spent in a terrific gale which howled
up the valley from the south and swept across the ridge in a torrent
of wind. The huge trees around us bent and tossed, and our tents seemed
about to be torn to shreds. Amid the crashing of branches and the roar
of the wind it was impossible to hear each other speak and sleep was
out of the question. We lay in our bags expecting every second to have
the covering torn from above our heads, but the tough cloth held, and
at midnight the gale began to lull. In the morning the sun was out in
a cloudless sky but the wind never ceased entirely on the pass even
though there was a breathless calm among the trees a few hundred feet
below.
My wife and I had just returned from inspecting our line of traps about
nine o'clock in the morning when the forest suddenly resounded with
the "hu-wa," "hu-wa," "hu-wa" of the gibbons. It seemed a long way off
at first, but sounded louder and clearer every minute. At the first
note we seized our guns and dashed down the mountain-side, slipping,
stumbling, and falling. The animals were in the giant forest about
five hundred feet below the summit of the ridge and as we neared them
we moved cautiously from tree to tree, going forward only when they
called. It was one of the most exciting stalks I have ever made, for
the wild, ringing howls seemed always close above our heads.
We were still a hundred yards away when a huge black monkey leaped
out of a tree top just as I stepped from behind a bush, and he saw me
instantly. For a full half minute he hung suspended by one arm, his
round head thrust forward staring intently; then launching himself
into the air as though shot from a catapult he caught a branch twenty
feet away, swung to another, and literally flew through the tree tops.
Without a sound save the swish of the branches and splash after splash
in the leaves, the entire herd followed him down the hill. It was out
of range for the shotgun and my wife was ten feet behind me with the
rifle, but had I had it in my hand I doubt if I could have hit one of
those flying balls of fur.
We returned to camp with sorrow in our hearts, but two days later
we redeemed ourselves and brought in the first new gibbons. We were
sitting on a bed of fragrant pine needles watching for a squirrel
which had been chattering in the upper branches of a giant tree, when
suddenly the wild call of the monkeys echoed up the mountain-side.
They were far away to the left, and we ran toward them, stumbling and
slipping on the moss-covered rocks and logs, the "hu-wa," "hu-wa,"
"hu-wa" sounding louder every moment. They seemed almost under us at
times and we would stand motionless and silent only to hear the howls
die away in the distance. At last we located them on the precipitous
side of a deep gorge filled with an impenetrable jungle of palms and
thorny plants. It was an impossible place to cross, and we sat down,
irresolute and discouraged. In a few moments a chorus of howls broke
out and we saw the big black apes swinging along through the trees,
two hundred yards away. Finally they stopped and began to feed. They
were small marks at that distance but I rested my little Mannlicher on
a stump and began to shoot while Yvette watched them with the glasses.
One big fellow swung out on a branch and hung with one arm while he
picked a cluster of leaves with the other. Yvette saw my first shot
cut a twig above his head but he did not move, and at the roar of the
second he dropped heavily into the vines below. A brown female ran
along the branch a few seconds later and peered down into the jungle
where the first monkey had fallen. I covered her carefully with the
ivory head of the front sight, pulled the trigger, and she pitched
headlong off the tree.
For a few seconds there was silence, then a splash of leaves and three
huge black males leaped into full view from the summit of a tall tree.
They were silhouetted against a patch of sky and I fired twice in quick
succession registering two clean misses. The bullets must have whizzed
too close for comfort and they faded instantly into the forest like
three black shadows.
For ten minutes we strained our eyes into the dense foliage hoping to
catch a glimpse of a swaying branch. Suddenly Yvette heard a rustling
in the low tree beneath which we were sitting and seized me violently
by the arm, screaming excitedly, "There's one, right above us. Quick,
quick, he's going!"
I looked up and could hardly believe my eyes for not twenty feet away
hung a huge brown monkey half the size of a man. Almost in a daze I
fired with the shotgun. The gibbon stopped, slowly pivoted on one long
arm and a pair of eyes blazing like living coals, stared into mine.
I fired again point blank as the huge mouth, baring four ugly fangs,
opened and emitted a blood-curdling howl. The monkey slowly swung back
again, its arm relaxed and the animal fell at my feet, stone dead.
It was a magnificent old female. By a lucky chance we had chosen, from
all the trees in the forest, to sit under the very one in which the
gibbon had been hiding and she had tried to steal away unnoticed.
While my wife waited to direct me from the rim of the gorge, I climbed
down into the jungle to try and make my way up the opposite side where
the other monkeys had fallen. It was dangerous work, for the rocks were
covered with a thin layer of earth which supported a dense growth of
vegetation. If I tried to let myself down a steep slope by clinging to
a thick fern it would almost invariably strip away with a long layer of
dirt and send me headlong.
After two bad falls I reached the bottom of the ravine where a mountain
torrent leaped and foamed over the rocks and dropped in a beautiful
cascade to a pool fifty or sixty feet below. The climb up the opposite
side was more difficult than the descent and twice I had to return
after finding the way impassable.
A sheer, clean wall almost seventy feet high separated me from the
spot where the gibbons had fallen. I skirted the rock face and had
laboriously worked my way around and above it when a vine to which I
had been clinging stripped off and I began to slide. Faster and faster
I went, dragging a mass of ferns and creepers with me, for everything I
grasped gave way.
I thought it was the end of things for me because I was hardly ten feet
above the precipice which fell away to the jagged rocks of the stream
bed in a drop of seventy feet. The rifle slung to my back saved my
life. Suddenly it caught on a tiny ragged ledge and held me flattened
out against the cliff. But even then I was far from safe, as I realized
when I tried to twist about to reach a rope of creepers which swung
outward from a bush above my head.
[Illustration: A Suspension Bridge]
[Illustration: Mrs. Andrews Feeding One of Our Bear Cubs]
How I managed to crawl back to safety among the trees I can remember
only vaguely. I finally got down to the bottom of the cañon, but felt
weak and sick and it was half an hour before I could climb up to the
place where my wife was waiting. She was already badly frightened
for she had not seen me since I left her an hour before and, when I
answered her call, she was about to follow into the jungle where I had
disappeared. We left the two monkeys to be recovered from above and
went slowly back to camp.
The gibbons of Ho-mu-shu are quite unlike those of the Nam-ting River.
They represent a well-known species called the "hoolock" (_Hylobates
hoolock_) which is also found in Burma.
The males, both old and young, are coal black with a fringe of white
hairs about the face, and the females are light brown. Their note is
totally unlike the Nam-ting River gibbons and, instead of sitting
quietly in the top of a dead tree to call to their neighbors across the
jungle for an hour or two, the hoolocks howl for about twenty minutes
as they swing through the branches and are silent during the remainder
of the day. They called most frequently on bright mornings and we
seldom heard them during cloudy weather.
Apparently they had regular feeding grounds, which were visited every
day, but the herds seemed to cover a great deal of territory. Like the
gibbons of the Nam-ting River, the hoolocks traveled through the tree
tops at almost unbelievable speed, and one of the most amazing things
which I have ever witnessed was the way in which they could throw
themselves from one tree to another with unerring precision.
On April 5, we received the first mail in nearly three months and our
share amounted to 105 letters besides a great quantity of magazines.
Wu had ridden to Teng-yueh for us and, as well as the greatly desired
mail, had a basket of delicious vegetables and a sheaf of Renter's
cablegrams which were kindly sent by Messrs. Palmer and Abertsen,
gentlemen in the employ of the Chinese Customs, who had cared for our
mail. Mr. Abertsen also sent a note telling us of a good hunting ground
near Teng-yueh.
We spent an entire afternoon and evening over our letters and papers
and, through them, began to get in touch with the world again. It is
strange how little one misses the morning newspaper once one is beyond
its reach and has properly adjusted one's mental perspective. And it
is just as strange how essential it all seems immediately one is again
within reach of such adjuncts of civilization.
On April 6, we had the first rain for weeks. The water fell in
torrents, and the roar, as it drummed upon the tent, was so incessant
that we could barely hear each other shout. Because of the long dry
spell our camp had not been made with reference to weather and during
the night I waked to find that we were in the middle of a pond with
fifteen inches of water in the tent. Shoes, clothes, guns, and cameras
were soaked, and the surface of the water was only an inch below the
bottoms of our cots. This was the beginning of a ten days' rain after
which we had six weeks of as delightful weather as one could wish.
CHAPTER XXXV
TENG-YUEH; A LINK WITH CIVILIZATION
After a week on the pass above Ho-mu-shu we shifted camp to a village
called Tai-ping-pu, ten miles nearer Teng-yueh on the same road. The
ride along the summit of the mountain was a delight, for we passed
through grove after grove of rhododendrons in full blossom. The trees
were sometimes thirty feet in height and the red flowers glowed like
clusters of living coals among their dark green leaves. In the northern
part of Yün-nan the rhododendrons grow above other timber line on
mountains where it is too high even for spruces.
It rained continually during our stay at Tai-ping-pu. I had another
attack of the Salween malaria and for five or six days could do little
work. Heller, however, made good use of his time and killed a beautiful
horned pheasant, Temminck's tragopan (_Ceriornis temmincki_), besides
half a dozen langurs of the same species as those we had collected on
the Nam-ting River. He also was fortunate in shooting one of the huge
flying squirrels (_Petaurista yunnanensis_) which we had hoped to get
at Wei-hsi. He saw the animal in the upper branches of a dead tree on
the first evening we were in Tai-ping-pu but was not able to get a
shot. The next night he watched the same spot and killed the squirrel
with a charge of "fours." It measured forty-two and one-quarter inches
from the nose to the end of the tail and was a rich mahogany red
grizzled with whitish above; the underparts were cream white. As in
all flying squirrels, the four legs were connected by a sheet of skin
called the "patagium" which is continuous with the body. This acts as
a parachute and enables the animal to sail from tree to tree for, of
course, it cannot fly like a bat As these huge squirrels are strictly
nocturnal, they are not often seen even by the natives. We were told by
the Lutzus on the Mekong River that by building huge fires in the woods
they could attract the animals and shoot them with their crossbows.
A few weeks later we purchased a live flying squirrel from a native and
kept it for several days in the hope that it might become tame. The
animal was exceedingly savage and would grind its teeth angrily and
spring at anyone who approached its basket. It could not be tempted
to eat or drink and, as it was a valuable specimen, we eventually
chloroformed it.
Just below our camp in a pretty little valley a half dozen families
of Lisos were living, and we hired the men to hunt for us. They were
good-natured fellows, as all the natives of this tribe seem to be, and
worked well. One day they brought in a fine muntjac buck which had been
killed with their crossbows and poisoned darts. The arrows were about
twelve inches long, made of bamboo and "feathered" with a triangular
piece of the same wood. Those for shooting birds and squirrels were
sharpened to a needle point, but the hunting darts were tipped with
steel or iron. The poison they extracted from a plant, which I never
saw, and it was said that it takes effect very rapidly.
The muntjac which the Lisos killed had been shot in the side with
a single arrow and they assured us that only the flesh immediately
surrounding the wound had been spoiled for food. These natives like
the Mosos, Lolos, and others carried their darts in a quiver made from
the leg skin of a black bear, and none of the men wished to sell their
weapons; I finally did obtain a crossbow and quiver for six dollars
(Mexican).
Two days before we left Tai-ping-pu, three of the Lisos guided my wife
and me to a large cave where they said there was a colony of bats. The
cavern was an hour's ride from camp, and proved to be in a difficult
and dangerous place in the side of a cliff just above a swift mountain
stream. We strung our gill net across the entrance and then sent one of
the natives inside to stir up the animals while we caught them as they
flew out. In less than half an hour we had twenty-eight big brown bats,
but our fingers were cut and bleeding from the vicious bites of their
needle-like teeth. They all represented a widely distributed species
which we had already obtained at Yün-nan Fu.
From Lung-ling I had sent a runner to Mr. Evans at Ta-li Fu asking him
to forward to Teng-yueh the specimens which we had left in his care,
and the day following our visit to the bat cave the caravan bearing
our cases passed us at Tai-ping-pu. We, ourselves, were about ready
to leave and two days later at ten o'clock in the morning we stood on
a precipitous mountain summit, gazing down at the beautiful Teng-yueh
plain which lay before us like a relief map. It is as flat as a plain
well can be and, except where a dozen or more villages cluster on bits
of dry land, the valley is one vast watery rice field. Far in the
distance, outside the gray city walls, we could see two temple-like
buildings surrounded by white-walled compounds, and Wu told us they
were the houses of the Customs officials.
Teng-yueh, although only given the rank of a "ting" or second-class
Chinese city, is one of the most important places in the province, for
it stands as the door to India. All the trade of Burma and Yün-nan
flows back and forth through the gates of Teng-yueh, over the great
caravan road to Bhamo on the upper Irawadi.
An important post of the Chinese Foreign Customs, which are
administered by the British government as security for the Boxer
indemnity, is situated in this city, and we were looking forward with
the greatest interest to meeting its white population. At the time of
our visit the foreigners included Messrs. H. G. Fletcher and Ralph C.
Grierson, respectively Acting Commissioner and Assistant Commissioner
of Customs; Messrs. W. R. Palmer and Abertsen, also of the Customs;
Mr. Eastes, H. B. M. Consul; Dr. Chang, Indian Medical Officer, and
Reverend and Mrs. Embry of the China Inland Mission; Mr. Eastes,
accompanied by the resident mandarin, was absent on a three months'
opium inspection tour so that we did not meet him.
We reached Teng-yueh on Sunday morning and camped in a temple outside
the city walls. Immediately after tiffin we called upon Mr. Grierson
and went with him to the Customs House where Messrs. Abertsen and
Palmer were living. We found there a Scotch botanist, Mr. Forrest, an
old traveler in Yün-nan who was _en route_ to A-tun-tzu on a three-year
plant-hunting expedition for an English commercial firm. We had heard
much of Forrest from Messrs. Kok and Hanna and were especially glad
to meet him because of his wide knowledge of the northwestern part
of the province. Mr. Forrest was interested chiefly in primroses
and rhododendrons, I believe, and in former years obtained a rather
remarkable collection of these plants.
From Mr. Grierson we first learned that the United States had declared
war on Germany. It had been announced only a week before, and the
information had reached Teng-yueh by cable and telegraph almost
immediately. It came as welcome news to us Americans who had been
vainly endeavoring to justify to ourselves and others our country's
lethargy in the face of Teuton insolence, and made us feel that once
again we could acknowledge our nationality with the pride we used to
feel.
On Monday Mr. Grierson invited us to become his guests and to move
our caravan and belongings to his beautiful home. We were charmed
with it and our host. The house was built with upturned, temple-like
gables, and from his cool verandah we could look across an exquisite
flower-filled garden to the blue mountains from which we had had our
first view of Teng-yueh the day before. The interior of the dwelling
was as attractive as its surroundings, and the beautifully served meals
were as varied and dainty as one could have had in the midst of a great
city.
Like all Britishers, the Customs men had carried their sport with them.
Just beyond the city walls an excellent golf course had been laid out
with Chinese graves as bunkers, and there was a cement tennis court
behind the Commissioner's house. Mr. Grierson had two excellent polo
ponies, besides three trained pointer dogs, and riding and shooting
over the beautiful hills gave him an almost ideal life. We found that
Mr. Fletcher had a really remarkable selection of records and an
excellent Victrola. After dinner, as we listened to the music, we had
only to close our eyes and float back to New York and the Metropolitan
Opera House on the divine harmony of the sextet from "Lucia" or
Caruso's matchless voice. But none of us wished to be there in body for
more than a fleeting visit at least, and the music already brought with
it a lingering sadness because our days in the free, wild mountains of
China were drawing to a close.
During the week we spent with Mr. Grierson we dried and packed all
our specimens in tin-lined boxes which were purchased from the agent
of the British American Tobacco Company in Teng-yueh. They were just
the right size to carry on muleback and, after the birds and mammals
had been wrapped in cotton and sprinkled with naphthalene, the
cases were soldered and made air tight. The most essential thing in
sending specimens of any kind through a moist, tropical climate such
as India is to have them perfectly dry before the boxes are sealed;
otherwise they will arrive at their destination covered with mildew and
absolutely ruined.
On the day of our arrival in Teng-yueh we purchased from a native two
bear cubs (_Ursus tibetanus_) about a week old. Each was coal black
except for a V-shaped white mark on the breast and a brown nose. When
they first came to us they were too young to eat and we fed them
diluted condensed milk from a spoon.
The little chaps were as playful as kittens and the story of their
amusing ways as they grew older is a book in itself. After a month one
of the cubs died, leaving great sorrow in the camp; the other not only
lived and flourished but traveled more than 16,000 miles.
He went with us on a pack mule to Bhamo, down the Irawadi River to
Rangoon, and across the Bay of Bengal to Calcutta. He then visited
many cities in India, and at Bombay boarded the P. & O. S. S. _Namur_
for Hongkong and became the pet of the ship. From China we took him
to Japan, across the Pacific to Vancouver, and finally to our home
at Lawrence Park, Bronxville, New York. After an adventurous career
as a house pet, when his exploits had made him famous and ourselves
disliked by all the neighbors, we regretfully sent him to the National
Zoölogical Park, Washington, D. C, where he is living happily at the
present time. He was the most delightful little pet we have ever owned
and, although now he is nearly a full grown bear, his early life is
perpetuated in motion pictures and we can see him still as he came to
us the first week. He might well have been the model for the original
"Teddy Bear" for he was a round ball of fur, mostly head and ears and
sparkling little eyes.
CHAPTER XXXVI
A BIG GAME PARADISE
A few months previous to our arrival, Mr. Abertsen had discovered a
splendid hunting ground near the village of Hui-yao, about eighty _li_
from Teng-yueh. He had been shooting rabbits and pheasants and, while
passing through the village, the natives told him that a large herd of
_gnai-yang_ or "wild goats" lived on the side of a hill through which a
branch of the Shweli River had cut a deep gorge.
Although Abertsen was decidedly skeptical as to the accuracy of the
report he spent two days hunting and with his shotgun killed two
gorals; moreover, he saw twenty-five others. We examined the two skins
and realized at once that they represented a different species from
those of the Snow Mountain. Therefore, when we left Teng-yueh our first
camp was at Hui-yao.
Heller and I started with four natives shortly after daylight. We
crossed a tumble-down wooden bridge over the river at a narrow cañon
where the sides were straight walls of rock, and followed down the
gorge for about two miles. On the way Heller, who was in front, saw two
muntjac standing in the grass on an open hillside, and shot the leader.
The deer pitched headlong but got to its feet in a few moments and
struggled off into the thick cover at the edge of the meadow. It had
disappeared before Heller reached the clearing but he saw the second
deer, a fine doe, standing on a rock. Although his bullet passed
through both lungs the animal ran a quarter of a mile, and he finally
discovered her several hours later in the bushes beside the river.
In a short time we reached an open hillside which rose six or seven
hundred feet above the river in a steep slope; the opposite side was
a sheer wall of rock bordered on the rim by an open pine forest. We
separated at this point. Heller, with two natives, keeping near the
river, while I climbed up the hill to work along the cliffs half way to
the summit.
In less than ten minutes Heller heard a loud snort and, looking up, saw
three gorals standing on a ledge seventy-five yards above him. He fired
twice but missed and the animals disappeared around a corner of the
hill. A few hundred yards farther on he saw a single old ram but his
two shots apparently had no effect.
Meanwhile I had continued along the hillside not far from the summit
for a mile or more without seeing an animal. Fresh tracks were
everywhere and well-cut trails crossed and recrossed among the rocks
and grass. I had reached an impassable precipice and was returning
across a steep slope when seven gorals jumped out of the grass where
they had been lying asleep. I was in a thick grove of pine trees and
fired twice in quick succession as the animals appeared through the
branches, but missed both times.
I ran out from the trees but the gorals were then nearly two hundred
yards away. One big ram had left the herd and was trotting along
broadside on. I aimed just in front of him and pulled the trigger as
his head appeared in the peep sight. He turned a beautiful somersault
and rolled over and over down the hill, finally disappearing in the
bushes at the edge of the water.
The other gorals had disappeared, but a few seconds later I saw a small
one slowly skirting the rocks on the very summit of the hill. The first
shot kicked the dirt beside him, but the second broke his leg and he
ran behind a huge boulder. I rested the little Mannlicher on the trunk
of a tree, covering the edge of the rock with the ivory head of the
front sight and waited. I was perfectly sure that the goral would try
to steal out, and in two or three minutes his head appeared. I fired
instantly, boring him through both shoulders, and he rolled over and
over stone dead lodging against a rock not fifty yards from where we
stood.
The two natives were wild with excitement and, yelling at the top of
their lungs, ran up the hill like goats to bring the animal down to
me. It was a young male in full summer coat, and with horns about two
inches long. Our pleasure was somewhat dampened, however, when we went
to recover the first goral for we found that when it had landed in the
grass at the edge of the river it had either rolled or crawled into the
water. We searched along the bank for half a mile but without success
and returned to Hui-yao just in time for tiffin.
In the afternoon we shifted camp to a beautiful little grove on the
opposite side of the river behind the hunting grounds. Heller, instead
of going over with the caravan, went back along the rim of the gorge
in the pine forest where he could look across the river to the hill
on which we had hunted in the morning. With his field glasses he
discovered five gorals in an open meadow, and opened fire. It was
long shooting but the animals did not know which way to run, and he
killed three of the herd before they disappeared. Our first day had,
therefore, netted us one deer and four gorals which was better than at
any other camp we had had in China.
We realized from the first day's work that Hui-yao would prove to be a
wonderful hunting ground, and the two weeks we spent there justified
all our hopes. At other places the cover was so dense or the country so
rough that it was necessary to depend entirely upon dogs and untrained
natives, but here the animals were on open hillsides where they could
be still hunted with success. Moreover, we had an opportunity to learn
something about the habits of the animals for we could watch them
with glasses from the opposite side of the river when they were quite
unconscious of our presence.
There was only one day of our stay at Hui-yao that we did not bring in
one or more gorals and even after we had obtained an unrivaled series,
dozens were left. Shooting the animals from across the river was rather
an unsportsmanlike way of hunting but it was a very effective method of
collecting the particular specimens we needed for the Museum series.
The distance was so great that the gorals were unable to tell from
where the bullets were coming and almost any number of shots might be
had before the animals made for cover. It became simply a case of long
range target shooting at seldom less than three hundred yards.
Still hunting on the cliffs was quite a different matter, however, and
was as good sport as I have ever had. The rocks and open meadow slopes
were so precipitous that there was very real danger every moment, for
one misstep would send a man rolling hundreds of feet to the bottom
where he would inevitably be killed.
The gorals soon learned to lie motionless along the sheerest cliffs or
to hide in the rank grass, and it took close work to find them. I used
most frequently to ride from camp to the river, send back the horse by
a _mafu_, and work along the face of the rock wall with my two native
boys. Their eyesight was wonderful and they often discovered gorals
lying among the rocks when I had missed them entirely with my powerful
prism binoculars. Their eyes had never been dimmed by study and I
suppose were as keen as those of primitive man who possibly hunted
gorals or their relatives thousands of years ago over these same hills.
There were many glorious hunts and it would be wearisome were I to
describe them all, but one afternoon stands out in my memory above the
others. It was a brilliant day, and about four o'clock I rode away from
camp, across the rice fields and up the grassy valley to the long sweep
of open meadow on the rim of the river gorge.
Sending back the horse, "Achi," my native hunter, and I crawled
carefully to a jutting point of rocks and lay face down to inspect the
cliffs above and to the left. With my glasses I scanned every inch of
the gray wall, but could not discover a sign of life. Glancing at Achi
I saw him gazing intently at the rock which I had just examined, and in
a moment he whispered excitedly "_gnai-yang_." By putting both hands
to the side of his head he indicated that the animal was lying down,
and although he pointed with my rifle, it was full five minutes before
I could discover the goral flat upon his belly against the cliff, with
head stretched out, and fore legs doubled beneath his body. He was
sound asleep in the sun and looked as though he might remain forever.
[Illustration: A Sambur Killed at Wa-tien]
[Illustration: The Head of a Muntjac]
By signs Achi indicated that we were to climb up above and circle
around the cliff to a ragged promontory which jutted into space within
a hundred yards of the animal. It was a good three quarters of an hour
before we peered cautiously between two rocks opposite the ledge where
the goral had been asleep. The animal was gone. We looked at each other
in blank amazement and then began a survey of the ground below.
Halfway down the mountain-side Achi discovered the ram feeding in an
open meadow and we began at once to make our way down the face of the
cliff. It was dangerous going, but we gained the meadow in safety
and worked cautiously up to a grassy ridge where the goral had been
standing. Again we crawled like snakes among the rocks and again an
empty slope of waving grass met our eyes. The goral had disappeared,
and even Achi could not discover a sign of life upon the meadow.
With an exclamation of disgust I got to my feet and looked around.
Instantly there was a rattle of stones and a huge goral leaped out of
the grass thirty yards away and dashed up the hill. I threw up my rifle
and shot hurriedly, chipping a bit of rock a foot behind the animal.
Swearing softly at my carelessness, I threw in another shell, selected
a spot in front of the ram, and fired. The splendid animal sank in its
tracks without a quiver, shot through the base of the neck.
I had just ejected the empty shell when Achi seized me by the arm,
whispering "_gnai-yang, gnai-yang, gnai-yang, na, na, na, na_" and
pointing to the cliffs two hundred yards above us. I looked up just in
time to see another goral flash behind a rock on the very summit of
the ridge. An instant later he appeared again and stopped broadside on
with his noble head thrown up, silhouetted against the sky. It was
a perfect target and, resting my rifle on a flat rock, I covered the
animal with the white bead and centered it in the rear sight. As I
touched the hair trigger and the roar of the high-power shell crashed
back from the face of the cliff, the animal leaped with legs straight
out, whirling over and over down the meadow and bringing up against a
boulder not twenty yards from the first goral.
That night as I walked over the hills in the cool dusk I would not have
changed my lot with any man on earth. The breathless excitement of
the stalk and the wild thrill of exultation at the clean kill of two
splendid rams were still rioting in my veins. I came out of the valley
and across the rice fields to the blazing camp fire. Yvette ran to the
edge of the grove, her hands filled with wet photographic negatives.
"How many?" she called. "Two," I answered, "and both big ones. How many
for you?" "Fourteen color plates," she sung back happily, "and all
good."
CHAPTER XXXVII
SEROW AND SAMBUR
We had a delightful visit from Mr. Grierson during our first week in
camp. He rode out on Thursday afternoon and remained until Sunday,
bringing us mail, war news, and fresh vegetables, and returning with
goral meat for all the foreigners in Teng-yueh. On the afternoon of his
visit I had killed three monkeys which represented a different species
from any we had obtained before. They were the Indian baboon (_Macacus
rhesus_) and were probably like those of the Salween River at Changlung.
I found two great troupes of the monkeys running along the opposite
river bank. The first herd was climbing up the almost perpendicular
rock walls, swinging on the bushes and sometimes almost disappearing
in the tufts of grass. I could not approach nearer than one hundred
and fifty yards and did some very bad shooting at the little beasts,
but a running monkey at that distance is a pretty uncertain mark, and
it requires a much better shot than I am to register more hits than
misses. I did kill two, but both dropped into the river and promptly
sank, so that I gave it up.
Less than a half mile farther on another and larger troupe appeared
among the boulders just at the water's edge. Profiting by my
experience, I kept out of sight among the bushes and watched the
animals play about until one hopped to a rock and sat quietly for an
instant. I got six in this way, but we were able to recover only three
of them from the water.
Heller shot three muntjac at Hui-yao, besides the doe which he killed
on the first day. One of the largest bucks had a pair of beautiful
antlers three and one half inches long from the burr to the tip. The
skin-covered projections, or pedicels, of the frontal bone, from the
summits of which the antlers grow, measured two and one-half inches
from the skull to the burrs. Evidently the muntjac are somewhat
irregular in shedding for, although they were all in full summer
pelage, two already had lost their antlers while the other had not.
I can think of no more delicious meat than the flesh of these little
deer and they seem to be as highly esteemed by the English sportsmen of
India as they are by the foreigners of China.
I did not see a muntjac while at Hui-yao, but was fortunate in killing
a splendid coal-black serow which represents a subspecies new to
science; although the natives said that serow were known to occur in
the thick jungle on the south side of the river, none had been seen
for years. Heller and I had gone to this part of the gorge to hunt for
a troupe of monkeys which he had located on the previous day. We had
separated. Heller keeping close to the water while I skirted the cliffs
near the summit not far from the road which led through the pine forest.
I was walking just under the rim of the gorge when suddenly with a
snort a large animal dashed out of a thicket below and to the left. I
caught a glimpse of a great coal-black body and a pair of short curved
horns as the beast disappeared in a shallow gully, and realized that
it was a serow. A few seconds later it reappeared, running directly
away from me along the upper edge of the gorge. I fired and the animal
dropped, gave a convulsive twist, rolled over, and plunged into the
cañon.
As the serow disappeared we heard a chorus of excited yells from below,
and it was evident that some natives near the water had seen it fall.
I had slight hope that they might have rescued it from the river, but
my heart was heavy as we worked along the cliff trying to find a place
where it was possible to descend. A wood cutter whom we discovered a
short distance away guided us down a trail so steep that it seemed
impossible for a human being to walk along it, and in proof I slid
the last half of the way to the rocks at the river's edge, narrowly
escaping a broken neck.
When we reached the stream it was only to find a flat wall against
which the water surged in a mass of white foam, separating us from
the place where the serow had fallen. I tried to wade around the rock
but in two steps the water was above my waist. It was evident that we
would have to swim, and I began to undress, inviting Achi and the wood
cutter to follow; the former refused, but the latter pulled off his few
clothes with considerable hesitation.
It was a swim of only about forty feet around the face of the cliff but
the current was strong and it was no easy matter to fight my way to the
other side. After I had climbed out upon the rocks I called to the wood
cutter to follow and he slipped into the water. Evidently the current
was more than he had bargained for and a look of fear crossed his face,
but he went manfully at it.
He had almost reached the rock on which I was standing with
outstretched hand when his strength seemed suddenly to go and he cried
out in terror. I jumped into the water, hanging to the rocks with one
hand and letting my legs float out behind. The wood cutter just managed
to reach my big toe, to which he clung as if it had in reality been
the straw of the drowning man and I dragged him up stream until, to my
intense relief, he could grasp the rocks.
We picked our way among the boulders for a few yards and suddenly
came upon the serow lying partly in the water. I felt like dancing
with delight but the sharp rocks were not conducive to any such
demonstrations and I merely yelled to Achi who understood from the
tone, if not from my words, that the animal was safe.
The men who had shouted when the animal fell over the cliff were only
fifty feet away, but they too were separated from it by a wall of rock
and surging water. They said that there was an easier way up the cliff
than the one by which we had descended, and prepared a line of tough
vines, one end of which they let down to us. We made it fast to the
serow and I kept a second vine rope in my hands, swimming beside the
animal as they dragged it to the other shore. It was landed safely and
the wood cutter was hauled over by the same means.
I had intended to swim back for my clothes but discovered that Achi had
disappeared, taking my garments and those of the wood cutter with him.
He evidently intended to meet us on the hilltop, but it left us in the
rather awkward predicament of making our way through the thick brush
with only the proverbial smile and minus even the necktie.
The men fastened together the serow's four legs, slipped a pole beneath
them and toiled up the steep slope preceded by a naked brown figure
and followed by a white one. The side of the gorge was covered with
vines and creepers, many of them thorny, and pushing through them with
no bodily protection was far from comfortable.
When we arrived at the road on the rim of the gorge I was dismayed
to find that Achi was not there with my clothes. The wood cutter did
not appear to be greatly worried and indicated that we would find him
farther up the road. I walked on dubiously, expecting every second to
meet some person, and sure enough, a Chinese woman suddenly appeared
over a little hill. I dived into the tall ferns beside the road,
burrowing like a rabbit, and from the frightened way in which she
hurried past, she must have thought she had seen one of her ancestral
spirits stalking abroad. We eventually found the boy, and, decently
dressed, I faced the world again with confidence and happiness.
On the way back to camp we saw a goral on the cliffs across the river.
It was high up and fully three hundred and fifty yards away but, of
course, quite unconscious of our presence. My first two shots struck
close beside the animal, but at the third it rolled over and over down
the hill, lodging among the rocks just above the river.
Our entry into camp was triumphal, for fully half the village acted as
an escort to the serow, an animal which few had ever seen. It was a
female, and probably weighed about two hundred and fifty pounds. The
mane was short and black and strikingly unlike the long white manes
of the Snow Mountain serows; the horns were almost smooth. Getting
this specimen was one of the lucky chances which sometimes come to
a sportsman, for one might hunt for weeks in the same place without
ever seeing another serow, as the jungle is exceedingly dense and the
cliffs so steep that it is impossible to walk except in a few spots.
The animal had been feeding on the new grass just at the edge of the
heavy cover and probably had been sleeping under a bush when she was
disturbed.
Besides mammals and birds we made a fairly good collection of reptiles
and lizards at Hui-yao, but in all other parts of the province which
we visited they were exceedingly scarce. In fact, I have never been in
a place where there were so few reptiles and batrachians. We obtained
only one species of poisonous snake here. It was a small green viper
which we sometimes saw coiled on a low bush watching mouse holes in the
grass. Several species of nonpoisonous snakes were more common but were
nowhere really abundant.
We left Hui-yao the day after I killed the serow for a village called
Wa-tien where there was a report of sambur. None of us had any real
hope of finding the huge deer after our former unsuccessful hunts, but
we camped in the early afternoon on an open hilltop five miles from
Wa-tien where the natives assured us the animals often came to eat the
young rice during the night.
We engaged four men with three dogs as hunters, but awoke to find a
dense fog blanketing the valley and mountains. It was not until half
past nine that the gray mist yielded to the sun and left the hills
clear enough for us to hunt. We climbed a wooded ridge directly behind
the camp and skirted the edge of a heavily forested ravine which the
men wished to drive.
Heller took a position in a bean field while I climbed to a sharp ridge
above and beyond him. In less than half an hour the dogs began to yelp
in an uncertain way. I saw one of them running down hill, nose to the
ground, and a few seconds later Heller fired twice in quick succession.
Two sambur had skirted the edge of the wood less than one hundred yards
away, but he had missed with both shots.
The trail led into a deep ravine filled with dense underbrush. In a
few moments the dogs began to yelp again and, while Heller remained
on the hillside to watch the open fields, I followed the hounds along
the creek bed. Suddenly the whiplike crack of his Savage 260-800 rifle
sounded five times in quick succession just above our heads, and we
climbed hurriedly out of the gorge.
Heller shouted that he had fired at a huge sambur running along the
edge of a bean field but the animal showed no sign of being hit. We
easily picked up the trail in the soft earth and in a few moments found
several drops of blood, showing that at least one bullet had found its
mark. The blood soon ceased and we began to wonder if the sambur had
not been merely scratched.
Heller had seen the deer disappear in a second ravine, a branch of the
one out of which it had first been driven, and while he watched the
upper side I worked my way to the bottom to look for tracks. A few
moments later the natives began to shout excitedly just above me, and
Heller called out that they had found the deer, which was lying stone
dead half way down the side of the gorge in a mass of thick ferns.
The sambur had been hit only once but the powerful Savage bullet had
crashed through the shoulder into the lungs; it was quite sufficient
to do the work even on such a huge animal and the deer had run less
than one hundred yards from the place where it had been shot.
It was a splendid male, carrying a magnificent pair of antlers which
measured twenty-seven inches in length. The deer was about the size
of an American wapiti, or elk, and must have weighed at least seven
hundred pounds, for it required eight men to lift it. The Chinese
hunters were wild with excitement, but especially so when we began
to eviscerate the animal, for they wished to save the blood which is
considered of great medicinal value. They filled caps, sacks, bamboo
joints, and every receptacle which they could find after each man had
drunk all he could possibly force down his throat and had eaten the
huge clots which choked the thorax.
When the sambur was brought to camp a regular orgy was held by our
servants, _mafus_, and dozens of villagers who gathered to buy, beg,
or steal some of the blood. Our interpreter, Wu, took the heart as his
perquisite, carefully extracted the blood, and dried it in a basin. The
liver also seemed to be an especial desideratum, and in fact every part
of the viscera was saved Because the antlers were hard they were not
considered of especial value, but had they been in the velvet we should
have had to guard them closely; then they would have been worth about
one hundred dollars (Mexican).
We expected from our easy hunt of the morning that it would not be
difficult to get sambur, and indeed, Heller did see another in the
afternoon but failed to kill it. Unfortunately, a relative of one of
the hunters died suddenly during the night and all the men went off
with their dogs to the burial feast which lasted several days, and we
were not able to find any other good hounds.
[Illustration: A Mountain Chair]
[Illustration: The Waterfall at Teng-yueh]
There were undoubtedly several sambur in the vicinity of our camp but
they fed entirely during the night and spent the day in such thick
cover that it was impossible to drive them out except with good beaters
or dogs. We hunted faithfully every morning and afternoon but did not
get another shot and, after a week, moved camp to the base of a great
mountain range six miles away near a Liso village.
The scenery in this region is magnificent. The mountain range is the
same on which we hunted at Ho-mu-shu and reaches a height of 11,000
feet near Wa-tien. It is wild and uninhabited, and the splendid forests
must shelter a good deal of game.
The foothills on which we were camped are low wooded ridges rising out
of open cultivated valleys, which often run into the jungle-filled
ravines in which the sambur sleep. Why the deer should occur in this
particular region and not in the neighboring country is a mystery
unless it is the proximity of the great forested mountain range. But in
similar places only a few miles away, where there is an abundance of
cover, the natives said the animals had never been seen, and neither
were they known on the opposite side of the mountain range where the
Teng-yueh-Ta-li Fu road crosses the Salween valley.
On May 20, we started back to Hui-yao to spend three or four days
hunting monkeys before we returned to Teng-yueh to pack our specimens
and end the field work of the Expedition. On the way my wife and I
became separated from the caravan but as we had one of our servants for
a guide we were not uneasy.
The man was a lazy, stupid fellow named Le Ping-sang (which we had
changed to "Leaping Frog" because he never did leap for any cause
whatever), and before long he had us hopelessly lost.
It would appear easy enough to ask the way from the natives, but the
Chinese are so suspicious that they often will intentionally misdirect
a stranger. They do not know what business the inquirer may have in
the village to which he wishes to go and therefore, just on general
principles, they send him off in the wrong direction.
Apparently this is what happened to us, for a farmer of whom we
inquired the way directed us to a road at nearly right angles to the
one we should have taken, and it was late in the afternoon before we
finally found the caravan.
CHAPTER XXXVIII
LAST DAYS IN CHINA
It was of paramount importance to pack our specimens before the
beginning of the summer rains. They might be expected to break in full
violence any day after June 1, and when they really began it would be
impossible to get our boxes to Bhamo, for virtually all caravan travel
ceases during the wet season. Therefore our second stay at Hui-yao was
short and we returned to Teng-yueh on May 24, ending the active field
work of the Expedition exactly a year from the time it began with our
trip up the Min River to Yen-ping in Fukien Province.
Mr. Grierson had kindly invited us again to become his guests and
no place ever seemed more delightful, after our hot and dusty ride,
than his beautiful garden and cool, shady verandah where a dainty
tea was served. Our days in Teng-yueh were busy ones, for after the
specimens were packed and the boxes sealed it was necessary to wrap
them in waterproof covers; moreover, the equipment had to be sorted and
sold or discarded, a caravan engaged, and nearly a thousand feet of
motion-picture film developed. This was done in the spacious dark room
connected with Mr. Grierson's house which offered a welcome change from
the cramped quarters of the tent which we had used for so many months.
Much of the success of our motion film lay in the fact that it was
developed within a short time after exposure, for had we attempted
to bring or send it to Shanghai, the nearest city with facilities for
doing such work, it would inevitably have been ruined by the climatic
changes. Although cinematograph photography requires an elaborate and
expensive outfit and is a source of endless work, nevertheless, the
value of an actual moving record of the life of such remote regions is
worth all the trouble it entails.
The Paget natural color plates proved to be eminently satisfactory
and were among the most interesting results of the expedition. The
stereoscopic effects and the faithful reproduction of the delicate
atmospheric shading in the photographs are remarkable. Although
the plates had been subjected to a variety of climatic conditions
and temperatures by the time the last ones were exposed in Burma,
a year and a half after their manufacture, they showed no signs of
deterioration even when the ordinary negatives which we brought with us
from America had been ruined. The other photographs, some of which are
reproduced in this book, speak for themselves.
The entire collections of the Expedition were packed in forty-one cases
and included the following specimens:
2,100 mammals
800 birds
200 reptiles and batrachians
200 skeletons and formalin preparations for
anatomical study
150 Paget natural color plates
500 photographic negatives
10,000 feet of motion-picture film.
Since the Expedition was organized primarily for the study of the
mammalian fauna and its distribution, our efforts were directed
very largely toward this branch of science, and other specimens were
gathered only when conditions were especially favorable. I believe that
the mammal collection is the most extensive ever taken from China by a
single continuous expedition, and a large percentage undoubtedly will
prove to represent species new to science. Our tents were pitched in
108 different spots from 15,000 feet to 1,400 feet above sea level,
and because of this range in altitudes, the fauna represented by our
specimens is remarkably varied. Moreover, during our nine months in
Yün-nan we spent 115 days in the saddle, riding 2,000 miles on horse or
mule back, largely over small roads or trails in little known parts of
the province.
In Teng-yueh we were entertained most hospitably and the leisure hours
were made delightful by golf, tennis, riding, and dinners. Mr. Grierson
was a charming host who placed himself, as well as his house and
servants, at our disposal, utter strangers though we were, and we shall
never forget his welcome.
We decided to take four man-chairs to Bhamo because of the rain which
was expected every day, and the coolies made us very comfortable upon
our sleeping bags which were swung between two bamboo poles and covered
with a strip of yellow oil-cloth. They were the regulation Chinese
"mountain schooner," at which we had so often laughed, but they proved
to be infinitely more desirable than riding in the rain.
With the forty-one cases of specimens we left Teng-yueh on June 1,
behind a caravan of thirty mules for the eight-day journey to Bhamo
on the outskirts of civilization. Our chair-coolies were miserable
specimens of humanity. They were from S'suchuan Province and were all
unmarried which alone is almost a crime in China. Every cent of money,
earned by the hardest sort of work, they spent in drinking, gambling,
and smoking opium. As Wu tersely put it "they make how much--spend how
much!"
About every two hours they would deposit us unceremoniously in the
midst of a filthy village and disappear into some dark den in spite of
our remonstrances. We would grumble and fume and finally, getting out
of our chairs, peer into the hole. In the half light we would see them
huddled on a "kang" over tiny yellow flames sucking at their pipes.
At tiffin each one would stretch out under a tree with a stone for a
pillow and his broad straw hat propped up to screen him from the wind.
With infinite care he would extract a few black grains from a dirty
box, mix them with a little water, and cook them over an alcohol lamp
until the opium bubbled and was almost ready to drop. Then placing it
lovingly in the bowl of his pipe he would hold it against the flame and
draw in long breaths of the sickly-sweet smoke. The men could work all
day without food, but opium was a prime necessity.
It was almost impossible to start them in the morning and it became
my regular duty to make the rounds of the filthy holes in which they
slept, seize them by the collars and drag them into the street. Force
made the only appeal to their deadened senses and we were heartily sick
of them before we reached Bhamo.
The road to Bhamo is a gradual descent from five thousand feet to
almost sea level. Because of the fever the valleys are largely
inhabited by "Chinese Shans" who differ in dress and customs from the
Southern Shans of the Nam-ting River. Few of the men were tattooed and
the women all wore the enormous cylindrical turban which we had seen
once before in the Salween Valley.
[Illustration: Map I: The red line indicates the travels of the Expedition]
At noon of the fifth day we crossed the Yün-nan border into Burma. It
is a beautiful spot where a foaming mountain torrent rushes out of the
jungle in a series of picturesque cascades and loses itself in a living
wall of green. The stream is spanned by a splendid iron bridge from
which a fine wide road of crushed stone leads all the way to Bhamo.
What a difference between the country we were leaving and the one we
were about to enter! It is the "deadly parallel" of the old East and
the new West. On the one side is China with her flooded roads and
bridges of rotting timber, the outward and visible signs of a nation
still living in the Middle Ages, fighting progress, shackled by the
iron doctrines of Confucius to the long dead past. Across the river is
English Burma, with eyes turned forward, ever watchful of the welfare
of her people, her iron bridges and macadam roads representing the very
essence of modern thought and progress.
With paternal care of her officials the British government has provided
_dâk_ (mail) bungalows at the end of each day's journey which are open
to every foreign traveler. They are comfortable little houses set on
piles. Each one has a spacious living room, with a large teakwood table
and inviting lounge chairs. In a corner stands a cabinet of cutlery,
china, and glass, all clean and in perfect order. The two bedrooms are
provided with adjoining baths and a covered passageway connects the
kitchen with the house. All is ready for the tired traveler, and a
boy can be hired for a trifling sum to make the punkah "punk." Such
comforts can only be appreciated when one has journeyed for months in a
country where they do not exist.
Our last night on the road was spent at a _dâk_ bungalow near a village
only a few miles from Bhamo. We were seated at the window, when, with
a rattle of wheels, the first cart we had seen in nine months passed
by. That cart brought to us more forcibly than any other thing a
realization that the Expedition was ended and that we were standing on
the threshold of civilization.
As Yvette turned from the window her eyes were wet with unshed tears,
and a lump had risen in my throat. Not all the pleasures of the city,
the love of friends or relatives, could make us wish to end the wild,
free life of the year gone by. Silently we left the house and walked
across the sunlit road into a grove of graceful, drooping palms; a
white pagoda gleamed between the trees, and the pungent odor of wood
smoke filled the air.
The spot was redolent with the atmosphere of the lazy East; the East
which, like the fabled "Lorelei," weaves a mystic spell about the
wanderer whom she has loved and taken to her heart, while yet he feels
it not. And when he would cast her off and return to his own again she
knows full well that her subtle charm will bring him back once more.
* * * * *
The next morning we entered Bhamo. It is a city of low, cool houses,
wide lawns and tree-decked streets built on the bank of the muddy
Irawadi River. Only a few miles away the railroad reaches Katha, and
palatial steamers run to Mandalay and Rangoon. We called upon Mr.
Farmer, the Deputy Commissioner, who offered the hospitality of the
"Circuit House" and in the evening took us with him to the Club.
[Illustration: Map II: Route of the Expedition in Yün-nan]
A military band was playing and men in white, well-dressed women, and
officers in uniform strolled about or sipped iced drinks beside the
tennis court. We felt strange and shy but doubtless we seemed more
strange to them for we were newly come from a far country which they
saw only as a mystic, unknown land.
On June 9, at noon, we embarked for the 1,200-mile journey to
Rangoon, exactly nine months after we had ridden away from Yün-nan
Fu toward the Mountain of Eternal Snow. Our further travels need not
be related here. When we reached civilization we expected that our
transport difficulties were ended; instead they had only begun. India
was well-nigh isolated from the Pacific and to expose our valuable
collection to the attacks of German pirates in the Mediterranean and
Atlantic was not to be considered even though it necessitated traveling
two thirds around the world to reach America safely.
We left Rangoon for Calcutta, crossed India with all our baggage to
Bombay, and after a seemingly endless wait eventually succeeded in
arriving at Hongkong by way of Singapore. There we separated from our
faithful Wu and sent him to his home in Foochow. It was hard to say
"good-by" to Wu, for his efficient service, his enthusiastic interest
in the work of the Expedition, and, above all, his willingness to do
whatever needed to be done, had won our gratitude and affection. We
ourselves went northward to Japan, across the Pacific to Vancouver,
and overland to New York, arriving on October 1, 1917, nearly nineteen
months from the time we left. We were never separated from our
collections for, had we left them, I doubt if they would ever have
reached America. It was difficult enough to gather them in the field,
but infinitely more so to guide the forty-one cases through the tangled
shipping net of a war-mad world.
They reached New York without the loss of a single specimen and are
now being prepared in the American Museum of Natural History for the
study which will place the scientific results of the Asiatic Zoölogical
Expedition before the public.
* * * * *
The story of our travels is at an end. Once more we are indefinable
units in a vast work-a-day world, bound by the iron chains of
convention to the customs of civilized men and things. The glorious
days in our beloved East are gone, and yet, to us, the Orient seems
not far away, for the miles of land and water can be traversed in a
thought. Again we stand before our tent with the fragrant breath of the
pines about us, watching the glistening peaks of the Snow Mountain turn
purple and gold in the setting sun; again, we feel the mystic spell of
the jungle, or hear the low, sweet tones of a gibbon's call. We have
only to shut our eyes to bring back a picture of the bleak barriers of
the Forbidden Land or the sunlit streets of a Burma village. Thank God,
we saw it all together and such blessed memories can never die.
INDEX
Abercrombie & Fitch Co., 76
Abertsen, Mr., Chinese Customs, employee of, 290, 294;
discovered hunting ground near Hui-yao, 298;
killed two gorals, 298
Africa, 4
Akeley, Carl E., 4, 76
Alaska, 4
Allen, Dr. J. A., x
American flags, 43
American Legation, Peking, xi
American Museum Journal, ix
American Museum of Natural History, 2, 5, 77, 200;
trustees of, specimens being prepared at, 321
Americans, 11
Ammunition, loss of, 79
Amoy, 16
_Anas boscas_ (Mallard ducks), 186
Anglo-Chinese College, 4
Animal life, lack of, 89
Annamits, 78
Antlers, 306, 312
Ape, gray (_Pygathrix_), 255
_Apodemus_ (white-footed mouse), 122, 176
Asia, x
_Asia_ Magazine, quoted from, 152
Asiatic Zoölogical Expedition, 2;
members of, 8
Assam, 241
Assistants, 4
A-tun-tzu, 198, 294
Babies, killing and selling of, 206
Baboon, brown (_Macacus_), 255
Baboon, Indian (_Macacus rhesus_), 279
Bamboo chickens, 26
Bandits, attack of, 95
Bankhardt, Mr., 82, 40, 42, 207
Bat apartment house, 80
Bat cave, description of, 29;
experience of girl in, 81
Bats, method of killing, 80
Batrachians, 310
Bear cubs (_Ursus tibetanus_), purchased at Teng-yueh, 296
Bedding, 93
Berger, Anna Katherine, acknowledgment to, xi
Bering Strait, 1
Bernheimer, Mr. and Mrs. Charles L., x
Betel nut, 241, 242
Bhamo, 294, 315, 317, 319;
railroad from, 81;
road to, 318;
description of, 320
Big Ravine, description of, 26;
temples near, 26
Birds, game, 90
_Blarina_, 176
Boat, Chinese, eye on, 15
Bode, Mr., 99
Bohea Hills, 64
Bound feet, 34
Bowdoin, George, x
Bradley, Dr., 78;
established leper hospital at Paik-hoi, 205
Brahmin priests, 186
Brahminy docks, 186;
habits of, 187
Bridge, suspension, description of, 218
Bridges, rope, 199
Brigand, seal of a pardoned, 210
Brigandage, 207, 208, 211
Brigands, 86;
beheading of, 41;
infest Yün-nan, 88;
description of, 96
British American Tobacco Co., Hongkong, 97, 100
British East Africa, 4
Brooke, Englishman, killed by Lolos, 174
Buffaloes, 265;
water, 218
Bui-tao, 60, 61
Bureau of Foreign Affairs, Director of, x
Burial, expenses of, 89
Burma, 8, 91, 191;
border of, 197, 241;
girls of, 242, 248, 248;
mammals caught near, 250;
frontier of, 264, 265, 294, 316;
boundary of, 319
Burmans, 289, 241
Calcutta, 297, 321
Caldwell, Rev. Harry R., xi, 8, 17, 20, 21, 22, 28, 24, 26, 27, 28, 29;
letter from, 82;
house of, 86;
stationed at Futsing, 44;
tiger hunting, method of, 45, 46, 55, 56, 61, 64, 141;
obtains serows at Yen-ping, 142;
purchases serow skins in Fukien, 148, 152, 154, 207
California, 8
_Callosciurus erythræus_, 89, 280
Camera equipment, 75
Canadian Pacific R.R. Co., Hongkong, General Passenger Agent of, xi
Cantonese, chiefly of Shan stock, 262
_Capricornulus crispus_, 140
_Capricornis sumatrensis_, 141
_Capricornis sumatrensis argyrochætes_, 29, 141
_Capricornis sumatrensis milne-edwardsi_, 141
Caravan, robbing of, 96; buying of, 104; renting of, 104
Caravan ponies, 104
Caravans, distance traveled by, 158, 197
Cary, F. W., Commissioner of Customs, 4, 77
_Casarca casarca_ (ruddy sheldrake), 186
Caverns, 162
Central Asia, 1
Central Asian plateau, 1
_Cervus macneilli_, 175
Chair-coolies, 317
Chairs, description of, 92, 517
Chang, Dr., 294
Chang-hu-fan, 20; night at, 21
Changlung, 273;
ferry at, 274, 281
Chien-chuan, 198
Chi-li, 7
China, 1, 2;
aboriginal inhabitants of, 3;
press, 13;
inland mission, 78, 101
Chinaman, Cantonese, 242
Chinese, Republic, xi, 2;
army of, 7;
face saving, 11;
Foreign Office, 11;
screaming, habit of, 15;
lack of sympathy of, 19;
not affected by sun, 22;
love of companionship, 22;
bride of, 69;
wedding of, 72;
dress of, 72;
Commissioner of Foreign Affairs, meeting with, 82;
education of, 88;
villages, description of, 90;
etiquette of, 102, 158, 190;
New Year, 212, 213, 214;
collecting debts of, 216
Chipmunk (_Tamiops macclellandi_), 230
Chi-yuen-kang, 26, 27, 29
Chou Chou, 99
Christians, native, persecution of, 21
Christianity, lesson in, 39
Christmas, 195;
celebration of, 196
Chu-hsuing Fu, 94, 204
Chung-tien, 172, 175, 176, 183, 201
Civet (_Viverra_), 246, 247
Clive, Captain, 268, 270, 378
Clothing, 75
Colgate, Mr. and Mrs. Sidney M., x
Collecting case, 228
Color plates, 240
Confucius, rules of, 67
Cook, difficulty in obtaining, 17;
description of, 105
Coolies, 54
Cormorants, 280
Corn, 91
Cows, used as burden-bearers by Chinese, 218
Cranes, 184; habits of, 185, 199, 236
Crossbows, 229
Cui-kau, 18;
description of, 80
Da-Da, 45, 54
Daing-nei, 54, 66
_Dâk_ (mail) bungalows, 319
Da-Ming, 33
Darjeeling, 144
Davies, Major H. R., ix, 93;
quoted, 137, 138, 139, 191
Dead, burying of, 151
Deer, 246, 301, 312, 313
Deer, barking, 63
Denby, Hon. Charles, 9
Dennet, Tyler, quoted, 152
D'Ollone, Major, member French Expedition, 174
D'Orleans, Prince Henri, 186
Dog, red, death of, 135
Dogs, description of, 115;
for food, 115
Doumer, M., Governor-General of French Indo-China, 93
Duai Uong, 51
Ducks, 90, 198;
brahminy, shooting off 199
Dupontès, Georges Chemin, assistance of, to expedition, 80
Eastes, Mr., Consul, 294
Education, foreign, 71
_Elaphodus_, 182
Elephants, 219, 222
Elk, 1
Ellsworth, Lincoln, x
Embry, Rev. and Mrs., China Inland Mission, members of, 294
Empress Dowager, 70;
issued edict prohibiting opium growing, 91
Equipment, purchase of, 4
Erh Hai or Ta-li Fu Lake, 199
Etiquette, 102
Europe, 1
European war, 8
Evans, H. G., xi;
assistance of, 100, 106, 186, 200, 298
Expedition, announcement of, 5;
applicants for positions on, 5;
results of, 316
Expeditions, preliminary, 2
Eye on Chinese boat, 15
Farmer, Mr., 320
Fauna, mammalian, 316
_Felis temmincki_, 108
_Felis uncia_, 108
Ferry, 160
Fletcher, H. G., 294, 295
Flying squirrel, 108, 191
Foochow, 8, 10, 11, 15, 16;
foreign residents of, 17;
streets of, 17, 23, 24, 85, 40;
mail from, 48;
schools for native girls at, 67;
woman's college at, 67, 206, 207, 209, 321
Food box, 74
Foot binding, origin of, 69;
method of, 70;
Natural Foot Society of, 70;
agitation against, 71
Forbidden City, 12
Ford, James B., x
Foreign Office, 97
Forest conservation, lack of, 88
Formosa, 11
Forrest, Mr., 294
Fossil animals, 108;
beds, 108
Francolins, 26
French Consul, 78
Frick, Childs, x
Frick, Henry C, x
Fukien Province, China, 8, 6, 10;
deforestation of, 24;
mammals of, 25, 26, 28, 29;
climate and temperature of, 68;
collecting in summer at, 68;
birds of, 64;
herpetology of, 64;
trapping for small mammals at, 64;
zoölogical study of, 64;
language of, 65;
travel in, 65;
servants in, 65;
serows hunted in, 148, 204;
missionary work in, 207
Funeral customs, 151, 158
Futsing, 43;
blue tiger hunting at, 54
Galapagos Islands, 4
_Gallus gallus_, 247
_Gallus lafayetti_, 248
_Gallus sonnerati_, 248
_Gallus varius_, 248
Gamblers, 215
Geese, 90, 198
Gen-kang, 224, 226, 229, 288
Gibbon (_Hylobates_), 258;
description of, 254, 255, 281, 284;
hunting of, 285
Goffe, Consul-General at Yün-nan Fu, 270
Goitre, prevalence of, 92
Gorals, 25, 76;
first hunt for, 120;
ceremonies at death of, 121, 123;
collecting for groups, 126;
color of, 126;
invisibility of, 128;
description of, 144;
horns of, 144;
distribution of, 144;
hunting of, 144, 194;
fighting of, 145;
habits of, 146;
feet of, 146, 194;
hunting of, at Hui-yao, 302, 309
Great Invisible, 44
Grierson, Ralph C, xi, 294, 295, 305, 317
_Grus communis_, 236
_Grus nigricollis_, 184
Habala, 164; hunting at, 165, 167
Haendel-Mazzetti, Baron, 113, 123, 126, 164
Hainan, description of, 77;
fauna of, 77
Haiphong, 77;
arrival at, 78, 79
Hanna, Rev. William J., xi, 79, 89, 101, 106, 201, 204, 205, 206, 294
Hanoi, description of, x, 79
_Harper's Magazine_, ix
Hartford, Mabel, 22, 23, 204
Heller, Edmund, 3, 4, 10, 61, 75, 79, 85, 94, 104, 105, 115, 116, 122,
123, 134, 135, 136, 146, 150, 161, 162, 173, 185, 195, 196, 227, 229,
247, 275, 276, 284, 291, 298, 299, 300, 306, 311, 312
Himalaya Mountains, 1
Hoi-hau, 77
Homes, 69
Ho-mu-shu, 281;
monkeys found near, 282, 283, 289, 291, 318
Hongkong, purchase of supplies at, 74, 200, 297, 321
Hoolock (_Hylobates hoolock_), 289
Hornbill, 245, 252
Horses, size of, 85, 104
Hospital attendants, 38
Hotenfa, 129, 130, 181, 182, 134, 185, 161, 171, 174, 193, 194, 195
Hsia-kuan, description of, 99, 108, 212
Hui-yao, 142, 145, 298, 300, 301, 306;
reptiles and lizards found at, 310, 313, 315
Hunan, 85, 86
Hung-Hsien, 11
Hunters, 114
Hutchins, Commander Thomas, 10
Hwa Shan (Flower Mountain), massacre at, 28
_Hylobates_, 254, 289
_Hylomys_, 281, 251
_Hystrix_, 116
India, 1, 57, 321
Inns, 98
Irawadi River, 81, 269, 297, 320
Japan, 5, 8
Japanese newspaper reporters, 6
Joline, Mrs. Adrian Hoffman, x
Jungle fowl, 247, 248;
habits of, 248, 280.
Kachins, 289, 269;
women, appearance of, 241
Katha, 320
Kellogg, C. R., xi, 11, 15, 17, 48, 61, 66
Kok, Rev. and Mrs. A., xi;
Pentecostal missionary, 108;
assistance of, 112, 204, 294
Koko-nor, 186
Koo, Wellington, 9
Korea, 6;
pheasants found in, 187
Kraemer, M., xi
Kucheng, 28
Kwang-si, 9
Kwei-chau Province, 8, 9, 137
Lane & Crawford Company of Hongkong, 77
Lang, Herbert, photograph of serow loaned by, 144
Languages and dialects, number of, 138;
reason for, 188, 139
Langur, 255
Langurs (_Pygathrix_), 257, 258
Lao-kay, first hotel on railroad, 81
Lapwings, 199
Las, 239
Lashio, 269
Legge, Prof. J., quoted, 68
Leopards, 25, 64
Leper hospital, 78
_Li_, length of, 84
Li-chiang, 96;
animal life on route to, 107;
arrival at, 107;
camp in, 108;
collecting in, 109;
mammals of, 109;
important fur market at, 110;
inhabitants of, 117;
return to, 150, 155, 157, 190, 196, 254, 257
Li-Hung Chang, 7
Ling-suik, monastery of, 61;
description of, 62;
priests at, 62;
collecting at, 63
Lisos, 191, 289, 292
Livingstone, H. W., xi, 19
Loads, weight of, 54
Lolos, 8, 184, 186;
depredations of, 137;
independence of, 188, 170;
dress of, 178;
capes worn by, 174, 188, 190
London Zoölogical Society's Garden, 141
Long Ravine, blue tiger seen at, 57
Lucas, Dr. F. A., acknowledgement to, x
Lui, Mr., salt commissioner at Hsia-kuan, 99
Lung-ling, 281, 282, 294
Lung-tao, 45, 54, 60, 63
Lutzus, 191, 292
McMurray, J. V. A., xi
_Macacus rhesus_, 258, 279, 305
_Mafus_, description of, 87
Mail, 290
Malaria, 274, 991
Malay Peninsula, 57
Ma-li-ling, 264, 266
Ma-li-pa, 265;
poppy fields at, 267, 269, 270, 272, 273
Mallard ducks, 186, 199
Mammals, small, importance of, 110;
preparing of, 227
Man, primitive, migrations of, 1
Man-eater, killing of, 49
Mandalay, 320
Mandarins, relations with, 102, 243
Ma-po-lo, low valley at, 225;
game at, 226;
fog in, 226
Marco Polo, 104
Massacre in Hwa Shan (Flower Mountain), 23
Meadow vole (_Microtus_), 118, 122
Mekong, 191, 197
Mekong river, description of, 192, 193, 201, 292
Mekong-Salween divide, 190
Mekong valley, 177, 182;
vegetables in, 193;
zoölogy of, 193
Meng-ting, 226, 233;
description of, 236;
mandarin of, 236;
Buddhist monastery at, 238;
market at, 238;
Cantonese visit and buy opium at, 242;
fog at, 244;
valley at, 244;
birds at, 244
Mergansers, 186
Methodist mission, 24
Mexico, 4
Miao village, 273
Mice, 176
_Micromys_, 192
_Microtus_, meadow vole, 118, 122, 173
Min River, 15;
life on, 19, 88, 204
Mission hospital, 36;
China Inland, 101
Missionaries, 35, 40, 59, 67, 202;
servants of, 203;
natives trading with, 205;
civilizing influence of, 206
Mohammedan Chinese, married to a Shan, 246
Mohammedan hunter, 261, 264
Mohammedan war, 101
Mole, 176
Molloy, Agnes F., acknowledgment to, xi
Money, carrying of, 97;
transmitting of, 97
Monkey, 192, 195
Monkey temple, 258
Moose, 1
Morgan, Cordelia, 94, 95, 204
Mosos, 110;
description of, 111, 155, 165;
capes worn by, 174, 190, 229
Motion pictures, 76;
developing of, 315
Mountain goat, 1
"Mountain Goat Hunting with Camera," quoted from, 147
Mouse (_Micromys_), 192
Moving picture film, 166
Mu-cheng, 229, 238
Muntjac, description of, 28, 132, 225, 258, 292
Museum authorities, 9
Mustelidæ, 250
Myitkyina district, 269
_Næmorhedus griseus_, 144
Nam-ka, Shans at, 260;
description of, 260;
camp at, 264
Nam-ting River, ferry at, 235, 243;
camping at, 244, 245;
hunters at, 246;
camp on, 249;
polecat trapped at, 250;
monkeys, hunting at, 252;
hornbill, seen at, 253;
monkeys found at, 258;
Shans seen at, 260;
caravan crossed, 264, 284, 289, 291, 318
_Namur_, S. S., 297
Natives, 91;
inaccuracy of, 158
New York, return to, 321
Ngu-cheng, 205
Non-Chinese tribes, 3
North America, 1
Northern soldiers, 35, 42
Northern troops, 40
Opium, 91;
growing of, 91;
inspection of, 91;
scandal, 91;
smuggling of, 91, 267;
smoking of, 318
Osborn, Henry Fairfield, quoted, 146, 147
Pack saddle, description of, 85
Pack, weight of, 85
Page, Howard, 82, 84, 200
Paget color plates, 166, 200, 316
Pagoda Anchorage, 15, 66
Paik-hoi, 78;
leper hospital at, 205
Palaungs, 239
Palmer, Mr., 290, 294
Pandas, coats of, 103
Pangolin, scales of, 103
Parrots, 244
Partridges, bamboo, 245
Passports, 11
_Pavo cristatus_, 277
_Pavo munticus_, 277
Peacock, black-shouldered, 279
Peacock, hunting of, 274;
habits of, 277;
eggs of, 277;
domestication of, 278
Peacock, Indian, 277
Peafowl, killed on Salween River, 277;
flesh of, 277
Peking, 6, 7, 11, 12, 82, 209
_Petaurista yunnanensis_, 103
Phasianidæ, 279
Pheasants, shooting of, 90;
Lady Amherst's, 150;
silver, 279;
horned, 291
Phete, 167; country about, 168;
natives of, 168, 170
Photographic work, 166
Photographs in natural colors, 4
Photography, cinematograph, 316
Pigeons, 280
Pigs, killing of, 22;
wild, 25, 64;
treatment of, 90, 188
Pin-toil, 199
Pleistocene, 1
Pocock, Mr., 141
Polecat, 250
Polo, Marco, 176;
quoted, 219
Poppy blossoms, 265
Poppy fields, 91
Porcupine, description of, 115
Portable dark room, 166
Prjevalsky, Lieutenant-Colonel, 186
P'u-erh, 212
_Pygathrix_ (monkeys), 192, 195, 258
Railroad, Hanoi to Yün-nan, 80;
description of, 81
Rain, last of the season, 185, 290, 315, 317
Rainey, Paul J., 4
Rangoon, 269, 272, 279, 320, 321
_Ratufa gigantea_, 251
Rebellion of 1918, 8
Reinsch, Hon. Paul, xi, 10, 11
Republic, 16
Rhododendrons, 291
Rice, 168
Rice fields, 89
Rifle, Mannlicher, 75, 256, 266, 300;
Savage, 75, 271;
Winchester, 60, 75
Riot in Shanghai, 152
Roads, descriptions of, 87
Rocky Mountain sheep, 1
Roosevelt, Colonel Theodore, 4
_Rupicapra_, 140
Rupicaprine antelopes, horns of, 140
Salt, preparation of, 196, 197
Salween River, 278, 278;
heat of, 280, 282, 288, 305
Sambur, 226, 229;
hunting of, 311;
blood of, 312
Sammons, Mr., American Consul-General, 12
Sampans, first night in, 20
San Francisco, 5
Scandinavian steamer, 11
Schools for native girls, 67
Sclater, Mr., 278
Screaming, Chinese habit of, 15
Sedan chairs, 16
Serows, 25;
hunt for, 27;
habits of, 29, 64;
hunting for, 184;
description of, 185;
color variation of, 186;
Japanese, 140;
difference from gorals, 140;
horns of, 141;
relationship of, 141;
appearance of, 141;
killed on Snow Mountain, 142;
obtained by Mr. Caldwell at Yen-ping, 142;
distribution of, 142;
habits of, 148;
weight of, 148, 305;
hunting of at Hoi-yao, 306, 307, 308, 309
Servants, wages of, 204
Shanghai, 11, 12;
riot in, 152, 316
Shans, 8, 225, 288, 242, 282;
description of village of, 284, 245;
houses of, 260;
heavily tattooed, 261;
tribes of, 262;
description of, 262, 288, 318
Sheldrakes, 186
Sherwood, George H., assistance rendered to Expedition by, x
Shia-chai, 218
Shih-tien, 223;
bird life at, 223;
natives, curiosity of, 224, 225
Shih-ku ferry, 182, 184
Shoverling, Daly & Gales, ammunition, guns, tents, furnished by, 4
Shrew, 178, 251
Shweli River, 145
Singapore, 321
Slave raiding, 189
Smith, Arthur H., quoted, 158, 214, 215
Snow Mountain, camp at, 112;
traveling to, 112;
description of hunters at, 114;
mammalogy of, 116;
camp on slopes of, 118;
mammals collected at, 127;
serows killed on, 142, 166, 176, 182, 184
Soldiers, guard of, 97;
guns of, 97;
expense of, 97;
use of, 97;
treatment by natives of, 98;
fight with, 187;
extortions of, 188
South America, 4
Specimens, packing of, 296, 315
Squirrel, flying (_Petaurista yunnanensis_), 291;
_Ratufa gigantea_, 251;
red-bellied (_Callosciurus erythræus_), 89, 280
S'suchuan Province, 8, 137, 174
S'su-mao, 178, 212
Standard Oil Co., xi;
launch of, 19, 82, 200
Su Ek, 207
Sun-birds, 244
_Sung-kiang_, S. S., 78
Tablets, ancestral, description of, 215
Tai-ping-pu, 291, 298
Taku, 160, 184
Taku ferry, 164
Ta-li Fu, soldiers guard to, 88;
road to, 99;
graves at, 100;
lake at, 100;
mandarin at, 100;
pagodas at, 100, 104, 105, 188, 186, 198, 200, 201
Ta-li Fu Lake, description of, 199
_Tamiops macclellandi_, 280
Taoist temple, 26
Tao-tai, 85
Tartars, 219, 221
Temple, camp in, 86
Teng-yueh, 4, 141, 289, 291, 298, 294, 295, 298, 318;
return to, 315, 317
Tents, 74
_Tenyo Maru_, 5, 9
Thompson, Dr., 205
Tibet, 8, 108, 172, 178;
monopoly of gold in, 181, 188
Tibetan plateaus, 191
Tibetans, description of, 178;
photographing of, 179;
dislike for strangers of, 180;
influence of Chinese on, 181, 183, 190, 191, 212
Tiger, 22, 25, 64;
man-eating, 44;
lairs of, 45;
stalking a goat, 45;
habits of, 46;
daring of, 47;
strength of, 48;
excitement of hunting, 49;
weight of, 50;
blood of, 50;
skins in temples of, 51;
food of, 51;
hunting in lair of, 51;
flesh and bones of, 51;
marking trees by, 52;
skins of, 103
Tiger, blue, 8, 43, 55;
description of, 56;
hunting of, 57;
trying to trap, 60
Tonking, 3, 77, 81, 93, 178, 212
Tragopan, Temminck's, 291
Transportation, difficulties of, 321
Trapping, methods of, 110
Traps, steel, 75;
method of setting, 245
Trees, marking of, by tiger, 52
Tribes, non-Chinese, description of, 138
Trimble, Dr., 32;
house of, 34, 36, 37, 205, 207
Trowbridge, Captain Harry, 77, 78, 79
Tsai-ao, General, 9
_Tsamba_, 178
Ts'ang mountains, 100
Tsinan-fu, 12
_Tupaia belangeri chinensis_, 89
United States, 4
Universal Camera, 76
_Ursus tibetanus_, 296
Vegetarians, 23
_Viverra_, 246
Viverridæ, 247
Vochang, 218
Vole, 173
Von Hintze, Admiral, 11
Wapiti, 1, 175
War, Mohammedan, 101
Was, 239
Waterhole, 258
Wa-tien, 310, 313
Wei-hsi, 182, 187, 190, 196
White Water, 149;
camp at, 149;
weather at, 149
Wild boar, 258
Wilden, Henry M., French Consul, 82
Wolves, 25
Woman's college at Foochow, 67
Women, position of, in China, 67
Worship, ancestor, 156
Wu Hung-tao, interpreter, x, 4, 77, 87, 102, 105, 108, 123, 136, 168,
187, 191, 200, 213, 238, 267, 289, 294, 312, 318, 321
_Yamen_, 39
Yangtze River, 19, 81, 137, 150;
road to, 157;
crossing of, 161;
barrier to mammals, 163, 184, 187, 193, 201, 262
Yangtze gorge, description of, 160, 164, 167
Yen-ping, 20, 22;
climate of, 24;
description of, 24;
residence of Mr. Caldwell at, 24;
Methodist Mission at, 24;
trapping at, 25;
rebellion in, 33;
refugees from, 33;
fighting in, 34;
attacked by rebels in, 35;
wounded in, 36;
schools for native girls at, 67;
Chinese wedding at, 72;
missionary buildings of, 203, 205, 207
Yokohama, 5
Yuan, 7, 8, 10, 12
Yuan Shi-kai, 7, 10;
death of, 12, 14, 34
Yuchi, 22;
brigands at, 23, 24, 35, 36, 204, 207, 208, 211
Yung-chang, Chinese New Year at, 212;
road to, 212, 214;
water buffaloes at, 218;
battle at, 218
Yung-chang-Teng-yueh road, 282
Yün-nan, xi;
size of, 2;
topography of, 3;
boundaries of, 3;
fauna of, 3;
natives of, 3;
language of, 3, 10, 25;
infested with brigands, 83;
zoölogical study of, 83;
meaning of, 88;
summer climate of, 99
Yün-nan Fu, 9;
foreign residents of, 82;
foreign office at, 97;
Dr. Thompson's hospital at, 205
Zoölogical Garden, Berlin, 144
Zoölogical Park, Calcutta, 144
* * * * *
Transcriber Note
Minor typos corrected. Hyphenation was generally standardized to
the most frequently utilized version. Text was rearranged to avoid
splitting by images. The terms Irawadi and Irrawaddy seem to both apply
to the same River and valley. Both names retained.
*** End of this LibraryBlog Digital Book "Camps and Trails in China - A Narrative of Exploration, Adventure, and Sport in Little-Known China" ***
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