Camps and Trails in China Part 7

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 3 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 _pet.i.t dejeuner_, remarkable especially for its "pet.i.tness," is served, and a real _dejeuner_ comes later anywhere from 10 to 12:30.

About 6 o'clock in the evening the open _cafes_ 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. Chemein Dupontes, 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. Dupontes was especially helpful.

Some time before our arrival a tunnel on the railroad from Hanoi to Yun-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. Dupontes arranged to have our 4000 pounds of baggage put in a special third cla.s.s 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. Yun-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 Yun-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 Yun-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 Yun-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 a.s.sisted 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 pa.s.sports had not been vised in Peking, and we pleased him greatly by replying that at the time we were in the capital Yun-nan was an independent province and consequently the Peking Government had not the temerity to put their stamp upon our pa.s.sports.

Inasmuch as Yun-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 zoological study of Yun-nan, offered to a.s.sist 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 Yun-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_ [Footnote: A _li_ in this province equals one-third of an English mile.] from Yun-nan Fu.

On the way we pa.s.sed 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 Yun-nan Fu. These, together with a huge yellow hat, completed a picture which made us roar with laughter; h.e.l.ler gave the caption for it when he shouted, "Here comes the 'Yellow Peril.'"

We surveyed the tiny horses with dismay. As h.e.l.ler 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 businesslike way in which they moved off showed that they were not overloaded.

The Yun-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 midday, 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 s.h.i.+ning so low that they seem like tiny lanterns in the sky.

It is seven days since we left Yun-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, pa.s.s 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 Yun-nan. The main caravan highways are paved with huge stones to make them pa.s.sable 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 ma.s.s which by no stretch of imagination can be called a road. Where the stones are still in place they have been worn to such gla.s.slike smoothness by the thousands of pa.s.sing 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.

Yun-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 s.h.i.+vering 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 gra.s.s-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 erythraeus_ sub sp.) 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 Yun-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 Yun-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 Yun-nan held little of interest for us as naturalists, but as students of native customs they were fascinating, for the life of the province pa.s.sed before us in panoramic completeness.

Chinese villages wherever we have seen them are marvels of utter and abandoned filth and although those of Yun-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 Yun-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.