A little farther up-stream, on the bank, are
the lights of another village; and as I crouch here in the darkness I can
see the torches of the pursuing party entering this village, and can hear
them making shouting inquiries of their neighbors about the foreign
devil.
The thicket is alive with ravenous mosquitoes that issue immediately
their peculiar policy of assurance against falling asleep. Unappeased
hunger, mosquitoes, and the perilousness of the situation occupy my
attention for some hours, when, seeing nothing further of the vengeful
aspirants for my gore, I drag my weary way up-stream, through sand and
shallow water. Keeping in the river-bed for several miles, I finally
regain the bank, and, although my inflamed knee treats me to a twinge of
agony at every step, I steadily persevere till morning.
An hour or two of morning light brings me to the town of Quang-shi, after
an awful tugging through sand-hills, unbridged ravines and water. Hardly
able to stand from fatigue and the pain of my knee, the desperate nature
of the road, or, more correctly, the entire absence of anything of the
kind, and the disquieting incident of the night, awaken me to a realizing
sense of my helplessness should the people of Quang-shi prove to be
hostile.
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