Jasper County Democrat, Volume 16, Number 82, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 14 January 1914 — The Porcelain Tower [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

The Porcelain Tower

Or Bow Two Americans Were Saved

By CLARISSA MACKIE

Dick Evans sat up in bed and sleepily rubbed his eyes. Again came a cautious kuoek at his door. “Come in!" he called impatiently, and as the sleek head of his Chinese house boy appeared in the aperture he added, “What's the matter, Fan Soo?’’ Fan Soo closed the door softly and tiptoed to the bed. "Him Smiss man boy bring hit. Huily up!” Evans took the note and read the brief cipher message it contained. 1 hen he manufactured a very successful yawn and dismissed the beady eyed Chinese. “Breakfast quick'! Sabe, San Foo? Dust out- of here now!" Fan Soo dusted out, or it might more aptly be termed as “melting from view.” ■

Alone, Dick Evans worked with lightning rapidity. He was in and out of his bath in a jiffy, quickly dressed in fresh white linen and packing a few valuables in his po< kets. When he left -the room there was that he valued contained therein, not even a scrap of paper. After a hasty breakfast he left his bungalow and went down the Canton road toward the city. As the agent of a large importing house in Canton he preferred to live in the suburbs of that rather unfriendly and seething city. His position was very uncertain. Five times,had the agents of his house been driven away by the hostility of the natives and each time had they with customary English doggedness returned to the scene of battle. Now things were rather different. With the country in a state of revolution. south China warring against the northern provinces, it was only a question of days before he would be com-

p&lled to vacate not only his bungalow on the Canton road, but his offices in the city as well. lhe blow had fallen this morning. The “chit - ’ or note that Smith had sent him had contained a few words of warning. A company of soldiers bound nortti would leave the city at 9 o'clock, and that meant that their passage would be marked by robbery and perhaps worse. Dick Evans was going to the house of bis friend, James Smith, and together they might escape if they could leach the city, although it was whispered that all the traveled roads, were Infested with murderous bandits. It was a good three miles to the Smith place, and when he reached it he found it quite deserted save for a fat comprador sunning himself in the gateway of the compound. He gave forth surly answers to Dick’s questions.

Five hundred yards beyond the compound gate Dick came to the old porcelain tower that is a historic feature on the Canton road. Built many centuries before as the private retreat of a rich mandarin, the exquisite porcelain paintings that adorned its inner walls sire still admired. Now the tower was deserted save by bats and rats, and it was whispered among the Chinese that devils haunted its many stories.

As Dick passed the old tower there came the sound of a familiar voice—lt came in a whisper—that voice of James Smith, and it hastened Dick’s steps toward the tower until be was standing in its tall shadow. “Dodge in here. I’ll tell you when I see you. Come up to the top floor!” Dick cast a swift glance around the countryside and saw not a human being. He darted into the deep embrasure of the doorway and found himself at the foot of a winding, rickety ttairway. At last he reached the ninth floor.

where Smith was waiting for him'with pallid, drawn face and haggard eyes that had not known sleep for many hours. “Cut in here so I can close up the place. The rascals will be about onr ears in no time!" be exclakned. “You received my chit?" “An hour ago. What are you doing here?” “Walt. Come with me.” Smith led the way to a door painted with another red dragon and opened it, admitting his friend to the gloomy interior of a large room. “Here we are, and here we remain until fate chooses to release us,” said Smith gloomily as he faced Dick within the locked room. “Have a light, can't you?” was Dick’s first question. Presently a lantern diffused soft light around the dusty room, which was lined with niches, in each one of which was a rather battered idol. Except for a straw paflet on the floor, a jug of water and a bowl of rice, the room was empty. * “What are you,doing here?” asked Dick

“Had a tip from a Chinese friend that our bouses were to be looted and burned today. I sent you word, and I ve taken refuge here after making an observation from the pinnaclq and seeing the brigands coming from one direction and the soldiers from another. Between the two forces our bones would be picked quite clean.” "After they pass we can get away?’' asked Dick thoughtfully. “Maybe." smiled Smith, “provided they don't take it into their heads to level thq. tower to the ground.” “Wish we could give them a stiff scare. You know they are rather suspicious of this place.” “I know it. Give me time to think." For a long time Smith sat on the floor with his head in his hands. At last he arose and uttered a triumphant

whoop. He darted to a carved chest thrust in one corner and from it dragged stiff robes of yellow brocade, soiled and dusty and almost falling to pieces with great age. “If they linger along till dusk I think I can scare them stiff with this priestly garb." he chuckled. “You know one of the traditions connected with this place concerns an old priest of Buddha who starved himself to death in the tower in order to attain celestial rewards. The superstitious say that sometimes the spirit of this old priest comes back to the tower, hungry and forlorn, and cries for food and drink. I shall be that old priest for awhile. Watch me!" When Smith's tall, gaunt frame was wrapped in the yellow robe and a black satin cap was stuck on his dark hair Dick confessed himself amazed at the resemblance to a Buddhist priest painted on one of the porcelain panels of the stairway. The disguise was perfect. . ■ The two men sat and talked beside a ,tiny window that gave a view of the road to the city. “If they only wait until dusk we can scare 'em off. and then we can get away.” Smith repeated over and over again.

The day wore on, and. although they caught occasional glimpses of, approaching soldiers, they did not make much progress, for there were much halting and disputing. It was almost twilight when a company of ragged soldiers stirred the thick white dust of the road, near the porcelain tower. • They’re going to halt there, just as I thought. They’re taking pot shots at the tower. See the ancient cannon they are dragging along.” Dick looked out and saw all the things Smith described. He saw more, for he noticed that they were preparing to load the cannon and gunners were pointing it toward the porcelain tower. ;

“Deuce take it. we're in for it now!” muttered Smith. “Get into your robes. Scare ’em off. man. You can do it. I know the Chinese like a book. They’ll streak it if they see that old yellow back on the balcony of the tower.” Thus Dick encouraged his friend while he helped Smith into the yellow robe. While the gunners were loading the cannon there came the sound of fierce cries from the south, and a band of tattered brigands came racing through the dust of the road. j At the same Instant Smith stepped through a door that led to a small balcony that encircled the tower and, lifting his arms in their flowing sleeves, shrilled down at them a mixture of American slang and bad Chinese that hushed the riotous crowd below.. ' How long he stood there he never knew, but his arms grew' stiff and useless and his neck cramped with Its rigid attitude.

The long silence of the crowd below w'as broken at last by a shrill screech of" terror from a brigand. That was the signal for panic. In ten minutes the long dusty road was empty and a full moon smiled wanly over the place where superstition still held sway. “Ten years from now this could not happen." said Smith as lie entered the city that night with Dick beside him. “The last remnants of superstition and ignorance are flying northward this very moment lashed by their own fears. China has awakened, yawned and nodded off again for another forty winks. After that—well, we’ll ail have to keep pretty wide awake to keep up with her.” Dick Evans, who saw a very profitable business going to the dogs, nodded ruefully. “There’s just one coilsola tion In the whole affair,” he murmured, “and that Is that it forms an excellent excuse for getting back into God’s country again, and I’m going.”

THE DISGUISE WAS PERFECT.