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LIBRARY OF THE
UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS \
AT URBANA-CHAMPAIGN

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
X 23560L
Bl- 4

STRONG MAN’S PREY

 

The person charging this material is re-
sponsible for its return to the library from
which it was withdrawn on or before the
Latest Date stamped below.

Theft, mutilation, and underlining of books are reasons
for disciplinary action and may result in dismissal from

the University.
To renew call Telephone Center, 333-8400

UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS LIBRARY AT URBANA-CHAMPAIGN

JUL 29 79&3

 

 

<A

 

 

L161—0-1096

 
 
STRONG MAN’S
PREY

A. J. BROOMHALL

London
CHINA INLAND MISSION
Overseas Missionary Fellowship
Newington Green, N.16
1953
First published 1953

Published by the China Inland Mission
Newington Green, London, N.16
and printed by
The Camelot Press Ltd., London and Southampton

Trade Agents: The Lutterworth Press,
London and Redhill
 

495
R79)
O/l CONTENTS

Chapter

03 O\

10
II
12
13
14
I35
16

17
18
J 19
'~ 20

Open Letter
Illustrations and maps

PHASE OF ANTICIPATION

The Great Cold Mountains
More Lions Chained
The Brink

PHASE OF EXPLORATION

The Plunge

Learning to Pray

The Place Prepared
“Barbaric Halls”
“Swift to Shed Blood”

PHASE OF OCCUPATION

The Team

Tavern and Trail

Mud Walls and Memories
Wild and Lonely

April Fools

Reek of the Pit

“All is Satanic”

“No God, No Hope!”

PHASE OF BEXPULSION

Cloudbanks
The Break
Heartbreak Hill
Last Look Back

Glossary

Page

13
23
33

45
62
71
86
97

109
12§
139
153
166
176
187
195

223
237
249
253
“Can a strong man’s prey be snatched away?
Can prisoners of a tyrant ever escape?

“Yes! prisoners may be snatched, even from a strong man;
Even the prey of tyrants may escape.

“I will maintain your cause, and your sons I will rescue,
Forcing your foes to prey upon themselves . . .

“Then shall the whole world learn that it is I Who saves you,
I, the Eternal, your Deliverer.” '

ISATAH  49.24-26
Moffatt’s Translation
 

OPEN LETTER

CHINA INLAND MISSION,
OVERSEAS MISSIONARY FELLOWSHIP,
33 CHANCERY LANE,
' SINGAPORE.

Easter, 1953.

EAR Ruth, Janet and Joan,—Here is the story of our bid for the

heart of Nosuland. It was not a dream—the characters are as
much alive as ever. And this time I have not hidden you in the story
as I did in Strong Tower, but have come right out in the open.
But then, Strong Tower was about one man in particular, and his
background among the so-called “civilized” Nosu. Strong Man’s
Prey is general, and about the wild Nosu only.

I've written it for a wider circle than our own, and made it
unblushingly purposeful. So many have asked, “What are conditions
like?”” and “How do you go about it?”” and so on. So at the risk of
spoiling the story for some, I've made it a history of day to day
life with its travels, problems and delights. After all, missionary life
isn’t all made up of moving incidents! You certainly took the
“plain” with the “coloured.” I have tried to spare you, but couldn’t
avoid being personal.

Unless my memory has played me false everything is true to fact.
But it is incomplete. I had to leave out and then cut out much that
was of academic interest, or it would have been too heavy going.
But there is enough to show what men are like without Christ,
what sort of environment we left the Christians in, how much the
foreign missionary is needed, and what opportunities are wasted
through shortage of manpower. There are other parts of Sikang
where the Nosu are as “independent” of the government, I know,
but I have used the term in its historic application to the Great Cold
Mountains.

I wish that space allowed me to enlarge on the grand pioneers of
the past, Samuel Pollard, Gladstone Porteous and the rest; and to
give the background history of the Nosu. That had to be deleted
too. If people want to know, remind them of the footnotes. I'm
sorry too that some of our Chinese colleagues do not feature very
8 STRONG MAN'S PREY

well, but the truth is there, that without help the Chinese church
will find it hard to evangelize its pagan neighbours.

Anyway, my prayer is that it will arouse lethargic Christians in
the homelands, and drive them to pray, and to volunteer to go
where the way is still open and the need as great.

Yours, you know how gratefully,
KB,

 
 

ILLUSTRATIONS
(between pp. 96 and 97)

A NOSU TRIBESMAN AND HIS YOUNG CHINESE SLAVE
(U.S. Army photo)
THE BATCII MOUNTAINS (12,700 FEET), OVERLOOKING CHAOKIOH

BIRD S-EYE VIEW OF CHAOKIOH FORT. (I) BARN AND BARNYARD,
(2) coTTaGE, (3) WELL YARD, (4) CLINIC, (S) BARRACKS,
(6) INN, (7) HUANG HOME, (8) NORTH GATE, (9) LITTLE WITCH'S
HOVEL, (10) HSIENFU BUILDINGS (YAMEN), (II) CHIANG HOME
AND TELEGRAPH OFFICE, (I2) ROW OF HOMES AND ‘‘OFFICES ,
(13) DRILL GROUND, (14) SOUTH GATE, (I5) GRAVES

AN OLD CHIEF OF INDEPENDENT NOSULAND

PITA M'NIO, ONE OF THE WHITE NOSU (RETAINER) WORKMEN WHO
BUILT THE CLINIC IN CHAOKIOH

YOUNG NOSU SERFS

WIFE OF BLACK NOSU CHIEF AT CHUHEH, AND MOTHER OF THE BOY
WHO WAS CURED OF PNEUMONIA

CHUHEH VALLEY FROM THE LEOPARD’S MOUTH
NOSU LADY WITH PERSONAL RETAINER

GROUP OF WILD NOSU AT CHUHEH, OUTSIDE THE OLD WINE TAVERN
WHICH THE MISSION HAD BOUGHT

INDEPENDENT NOSU CHIEF
TWO CHUHEH CHIEFS

TWO OPIUM-SOTTED PRINCES OF THE SHAMA CLAN

MAPS

West China showing Nosuland Endpapers
Independent Nosuland showing routes %
 
PHASE OF ANTICIPATION

“I follow . . . that I may lay hold of that for which Christ laid
hold of me.” i

 
 
 

CHAPTER ONE
THE GREAT COLD MOUNTAINS

FTER the war ended, headlines began appearing in the
newspapers:

FLYERS HELD TO RANSOM BY WILD TRIBESMEN; ARMY SEARCH
FOR AIRMEN HELD AS SLAVES; LOLO SLAVE-RAIDERS LED US TO
SAFETY!

Photographs showed search parties in the mountains, soldiers
talking with uncouth hill men, and with Chinese slaves held captive
by these Lolos in their well-guarded territory.

Day after day for months on end, plane-loads of men, munitions
and supplies had been flown from Assam, over The Hump, to feed
the allied bases in west China. In all weathers they had come, and
the toll in casualties among the mountains was great. One area where
the losses had been heavy was a massive range known as The Great
Cold Mountains, inhabited by a striking race of people known as
Lolos, or more appropriately, the Nosu. Airmen who crashed
among them and later made their way back to civilization, brought
varying tales of hospitality and suffering, depending possibly on
their own attitude to men as brave as themselves, if strange and
primitive. But the fate of their companions who might have sur-
vived was doubtful until long afterwards. Some were never heard
of again, and a spate of rumour grew out of their silence. The Nosu
were seen wearing bangles made from aeroplane parts, but gave no
news of the machines or crews from which they had come. Could
it be a fact, as was alleged, that they were holding white men in
captivity?

It was in this way that, from the obscurity of ages, the Nosu
suddenly emerged into the limelight. Musty monographs on library
shelves contained a little about them, jumbled references by travellers
of many years ago. Here and there a missionary had visited them
and pleaded that they should not be forgotten. But decade had
followed decade, and they remained unknown until the hunt for
dead pilots and wrecked aircraft and (who could tell?), British and
American slaves, became gossip of the moment on everybody’s
tongue.
14 STRONG MAN’'S PREY

Ten years previously I had been reading a book on China when
I came across a reference to: ““a mountain territory of wild tribesmen
which strangers enter at their peril.” There was no reason why the
word picture should burn itself into my mind, yet there it was, the
spark of fascination fell, and a fire was kindled. And then in another
book soon afterwards I met the same again, by strange coincidence.
Captain Scott of the Antarctic recorded how on his last expedition
his companions entertained each other in the long winter hours
with tales of their adventures. One of the most fascinating stories
had been about Lolo-land, a feast in “a barbaric hall hung with
skins and weapons, the men clad in buckskin dyed red and bristling
with arms,” and a tragedy in which the speaker’s friend, Lieut.
Francis Brooke, had been killed by the Nosu.

Somehow this Lolo-land began to draw me. I was already bound
for China as a missionary doctor, and it seemed now that God was
showing me the work to do. I started searching for information,
and the more that came to light the more convinced I was that here
was my vocation. Yet the truth in many ways was so repellant.
Such a life work was not to be undertaken lightly. It would need
sound preparation and experience. Consequently several years were
given to an apprenticeship among the Chinese and subjugated
tribesmen of west China, and in 1946, the will of God now clear
beyond a doubt, the great adventure was beginning. For a while
the land of the Lolos, “Independent”” Nosuland, had come into the
public eye, but whether or not it would soon be forgotten, the day
of grace was dawning for its proud, primitive people. God had not
zlalled us alone. Two other missions were concerned about them

s0.

Nosuland is a romantic place, fascinating and yet fearsome. Like
a huge beast crouched in the great loop of the Yangtze River, in the
latitude of Everest and the longitude of Singapore, the tumbled
terrain raises its spine, the Great Cold Mountains, into blue, cloud
flecked heavens. Its main peaks, the Dragon’s Head and the Snow
Mountains of Shama, are separated by a deep gash called the Valley
of the Beautiful Maiden, and surrounded by a host of landmarks
with equally fanciful names. Like a fortress it is moated by the
River of Gold (or Golden Sand) on the east and by Marco Polo’s
Valley of Caindu on the west. Everywhere wild hills fall steeply to
the fields of hardy Chinese peasants with their towered and turreted
farmsteads. A chain of market towns strung round the borders has
always supported garrisons of troops needed to contain the perpetu-
 

THE GREAT COLD MOUNTAINS X8

ally ebullient Nosu, trading centres where watchful Chinese and
Nosu meet for mutual profit.

But the two races are by nature enemies. Ever since the Manchus
drove their forbears from the land they called their own, the Nosu
have considered the Chinese their rightful prey, and used them
mercilessly. From motor roads and steam launches to the borders of
Independent Nosuland is a mere day or two’s march, but in that
time the traveller is carried back a thousand years to a barbarously
crude world. A million or more tribesmen and their vassals live up
in those mountains, but quite as many more are scattered through
the provinces of Yunnan and Kweichow. These others have been
subjugated by the Chinese and are fast losing their racial charac-
teristics. But safe in their mountains the unyielding core of the
Nosu race resist conquest and cling tenaciously to their feudal castes.
Their last kings died in battle with the Manchus, but their princes,
noblemen, lairds, serfs and slaves continue in this mountain fastness
into which they were forced to withdraw.: The Chinese, more
numerous and better armed, still struggle to subdue them, but the
Nosu accept their temporary reverses and when the time is ripe rise
up and smite their unloved conquerors.

They are lithe, handsome men of fine physique, taller and slimmer
than the Chinese, and many are Aryan in feature with a hint of the
Tibetan in their cheeks and nostrils. Vigorous and healthy, alert and
active, generous and careless, they live in the immediate present,
leaving the future to care for itself. Life for them is “‘a rough and
tumble and a bloody jest,” for while they are a princely, daring,
danger-loving people, they are fickle, mean, immoral and cruel,
thinking of nothing so much as the bitter feuds among themselves.

To fall captive to men like these would be no joke. Therefore the
Allied governments were sending strong groups of officers and men to
track all rumours to their source and rescue the unfortunates. Money
was not spared. Equipment, gifts and firearms were not stinted.

For us the story was inevitably different. The handful of explorers
and missionaries (we knew of only eight or nine), who had crossed
the threatening borders of Nosuland, told of conditions arduous in
the extreme. Of these, three, on different occasions, had been killed

1 The Nosu race is geographically divided into i. the so-called Independent
Nosu limited to the enclave within the great loop of the Yangtze River, and
ii. the “subjugated” or “friendly” Nosu who have accepted Chinese sovereignty
and are widely scattered through south-west China. Both groups are subdivided
socially into Black Nosu, the landowners, and White Nosu, their retainers.
16 STRONG MAN'S PREY

by the Nosu. Lieut. Brooke was one. But others had spent several
days in Nosuland and emerged unharmed. Samuel Pollard, “apostle
to the tribes” was the very first. Vicomte d’Ollone, a French army
officer, led a well-armed expedition through from one side to the
other, and wrote a thrilling story of their adventures.? T. Cook and
P. King of the China Inland Mission crossed the northern border at
different times, but never gained a foothold within.

The territory itself, ten thousand square miles and more, was said
to be a well-nigh trackless maze of valleys and mountain slopes
between five and fifteen thousand feet above the sea. Travellers
made their way along rocky river beds, through mountain torrents
in which they could barely stand, sometimes stumbling through
dark forests of towering trees and tangled undergrowth, but mostly
slogging along stony trails behind indefatigable guides. No westerner
had ever lived there, and the longest time spent within the border
was two weeks. Was it mad to think of going in to settle, living as
close to the Nosu as they would allow? The challenge of a neglected
race, unenlightened, victims of superstition and unrelieved suffering,
was the answer God kept constantly before me. It was forty years
since Pollard had pleaded the Nosu cause. A failure to go now might
mean that many would wait on indefinitely, ignorant of the gospel
of the love of God in Christ Who could make so much difference
to them.

But a lifetime in such an environment! A wave of revulsion
against undoubted hardship for myself, more so for my wife and
children, and for any who might join us there often swept over me.
Objections were raised by well-meaning friends, strong and dis-
turbing truths.

‘It is not fair on your family!”

“Janet is heart and soul with me,” I could answer, “repelled but
impelled, despite herself.” |

“What of your children?”

“No worse than for some families in secular employment abroad,
and better in many ways. We will not take them where conditions
are too hard.”

“Look at the risks!”

“No greater than pioneers in all countries have contended with:
and our Mission was established to take the gospel inland, ‘where
Christ has not been named.’ ”

“Someone, but not you. You're not the right type!”

1 See In Forbidden China: Allen & Unwin.
 

THE GREAT COLD MOUNTAINS 17

“Show me a substitute, and I might think again.”

So the die was cast, we sent out an open letter appealing for
colleagues, and from heaven dropped the most unexpected response.
Instead of the adventurous young men we looked for, a single lady
fifty years of age, known widely for her efficient school and
dispensary work, and her always immaculate appearance, wrote:

“Bven if I'm good for nothing else, I could be a companion for
Janet.”

So with Ruth Dix we became no longer a single-handed couple
but a team, for we gained a fount of information and a “handyman”
who could turn her varied talents to anything from the farmyard
to the operating theatre. And often in tight corners in succeeding
years, the imperturbability of Ruth did much to see us through.

Part of the story has been told before, of our adventures among
the “civilized” branch of the Nosu race in Kweichow province.
They ended when the Japanese thrust suddenly in our direction and
orders came to evacuate immediately. But they gave us an introduc-
tion to life in the raw, acquaintance with robber bands, long whis-
pered talks with frightened men, familiarity with dogs, dirt, flies,
mud and mountain life, the companionship of tribal Christians, and
we were taught lessons it was imperative to learn.

As welanded in Shanghai, this time with the Great Cold Mountains
as our goal, we had some idea what to expect; we knew that Nosu-
land would be tough, disappointing, dangerous, and events would
not be likely to evolve as planned. How it would work out we had
no idea, but just the sense that “blow would follow blow, and
(perhaps) hopes and achievements crash together” before the
onslaughts of the Devil. In that case we must not let discouragement
enter in, not even if our lifework were apparently to be shattered
time and again. No feebler outlook would justify embarking on an
enterprise like this.

Preparations were few: we intended travelling and living as
simply as we could. The first move was to be an exploration by
myself while the women waited at Loshan, the city chosen to be
our remote base. Drugs and equipment for the main advance would
be assembled there. I planned to tour the west and northern borders
of Nosuland, visiting the towns of Sichang, Mapien and Luipo,
before returning through Kweichow. If the unexpected happened
and it became possible to get right up into Nosuland I would do

1 See Strong Tower.

B
18 STRONG MAN'S PREY

so, and attempt to cross the territory so that an impression of the
wildest regions would be obtained.

When the choice of an advanced base had been made, we would
proceed together and start learning the Nosu language, doctoring
and preaching wherever there were opportunities. Once the confi-
dence of the Nosu had been gained by contacts with us on the
borders, perhaps'it would be possible for all three of us to move into
the mountains—and then, O daydreams! we could see them turning
to the Lord, the miracle of conversion changing vicious savages into
sons of God, a Christian church emerging as a flame of light in
moral blackness. A simple clinic might develop into an ‘extensive
medical work valued by the Nosu who at present attributed all
sickness to the spite of evil spirits.

Very pretty, but for the incalculable. Only three years later, as
these dreams were coming true, red sunrise gleamed its warning,
and soon the storm broke over us which cut short the venture and
still wraps the Nosu in a lurid mist of uncertainty. But at that time
it was still unthinkable that the Communists would sweep all before
them and pierce even into Nosuland.

At the end of March, 1947, we arrived in Chengtu in the far west
of China, and immediately got down to business. Waiting there for
us was an interesting man, half tribal, half Chinese. Slight, quiet and
unobtrusive, with large nose and deep dark eyes like some bird
of prey, he would leap suddenly into life and take every situation
by storm, be it bargaining, chatting or giving his opinion. Five
years ago his eyes had flashed with keenness when we talked of
entering Nosuland, and he had said, “Whenever you go I will come
with you!” Sure enough here he was, untamed, untamable, poten-
tially as much a liability as an asset, but the only one known to us
who was game to go. He was a Christian, a preacher, but converted
less than ten years from a dissolute existence with no object. Earlier
his home had been not far from Nosuland. From the start his super-
abounding gusto and grand ideas were hard to keep in check, and
when he tried to assume the leadership of the party I nicknamed
him “the Boss.”

News in the Chinese papers was disturbing. Six or seven years
before, the Nosu of Chaokioh (pronounced Jowjior), where the
Chinese maintained a garrison in the centre of their territory, had
risen in revolt and sacked the fort, levelling all but one building
to the ground, and using it as a cattle kraal. A powerful Chinese
force had retaliated and burned down a thousand Nosu homes,
 

THE GREAT COLD MOUNTAINS 19

reoccupying the fort. But elsewhere in Nosuland the clans were
defiant, and became threatening on the north-west border. A puni-
tive attack in strength with mortars and air cover subdued with
difficulty the mobile but ill-armed Nosu chiefs, just as our advance
to the same region drew near. Unrest could thwart our purpose or
compromise it by giving the impression to the Nosu that somehow
our coming was associated with the Chinese resurgence of power.
And could make it difficult for us to obtain the necessary travel
permits.

While the Boss took his share of duties, I went in search of a
Commissioner who had been instructed to assist us. The official
received me coldly.

“Sit,” he said rudely, motioning me to a sofa. “So you are going
to inspect the conditions and health of the border peoples! Is that
not so? Then I look upon this as an insult. They are my responsibility,
and I need no help from a foreigner.”

This was alarming. Vainly I expostulated that if the wording of
my Chinese introduction to him was unfortunate, the blame lay not
with me but with the government department at the coast. As for
me, I asked the favour of his influence in procuring travel permits,
and apologized for any injury he might have suffered to his feelings.
It was useless.

“Injury or none, it makes no difference,” he continued, “there is
no need for you to make this journey.”

Nothing would soothe him. But having had instructions to assist,
he could not refuse help. He directed me to the right authorities with
his card, but from the smirking demeanour of the underlings who
received me, it was clear that a phone message had preceded me.
A senior secretary spoke with the greatest courtesy.

“There is nothing we would leave undone to help you, but, alas,
we have no powers to let you travel in the areas you mention.”

Obstruction! Without passes it would be impossible to move.
Any petty underling might turn me back with ignominy, as had
happened to no less 2 man than the great explorer von Richthofen.
But time was precious.

Wondering what to do I hunted out a scholar of the university
who had recently been to Nosuland, a Chinese with a true affection
for the tribesmen. He hailed me with delight and filled my notebook
with addresses and information that might be useful on the journey.
But to set us going he was powerless. One more thing he had to say,
however: in the city at the moment was a student, son of a professor,
20 STRONG MAN'S PREY

who to pay his way through college ran a business and was shortly
going in his own truck all the way to Sichang on the western border.
The offer of such transport was too good to be refused. But for
something of this nature we could hope for nothing better than a
crawling, overloaded public vehicle, always breaking down, and
famous with a reputation for bad accidents. So he took us over,
and still blindly believing that as it was God’s will for us to get
there He would provide us with a permit, we bought reservations.

The next day I called on the general who was Governor of the .
province, with an introduction from a friend of his. My card was
taken in, and soon I was led through quiet courtyards to a guest-
room where I waited. A door opened, and in walked—the Com-
missioner. Smiling he said, “The General is engaged at a committee
and has asked me to act for him. What may I do?”

I knew the game was up, but tried my boldest.

“T'll call again,” I feinted.

“If it is your permit,” offered my obstructor, “I will consult his
Excellency. Please be seated.”

Within a minute he was back. “The Governor would gladly help
you,” he insisted, “but as you will have read, the road is very
dangerous just now, and he is not prepared to have you run the risk
of harm from robbers or rebel tribesmen. Couldn’t the usual office
help you? Then your best expedient would be to try your consul
in Chungking!”

And with this quip he bowed me ceremoniously out. The court-
yards and the Residential drives were twice as long as when I
entered. And stationed here and there along them were armed
guards I had not noticed, men with long faces and a disapproving
frown.

I returned home baffled, to a sympathetic household. Correspond-
ence through the consul was a sure way to get bogged down.
Somehow the solution must be hiding round the corner. Yes, but
somehow the Commissioner like Bunyan’s lion in the way, was
likely to be lurking there too. How could we elude him?

Then a brainwave came to someone:

“Try the police station,” he said. “Sometimes the fellow handling
foreigners’ affairs can be quite helpful.”

“Please come in. Please do not stand on ceremony. You are
welcome!” the police officer expatiated, practising his idiom. And
on finding someone ready to talk simple English to his heart’s
content, he expanded when the subject of the pass was broached.
 

THE GREAT COLD MOUNTAINS 21

“No,” he admitted, returning to Chinese to conduct his business,
“I have no means of giving you a pass to carry you so far, through
several provinces and back to here, but this I can do for you, I can
sign a paper that will see you through one city to a second. Is that
any use?”’ |

It was perfect! In no time the permit was burning holes in my
pocket; it was all I needed to allow me through our base at Loshan
to Sichang. Once in Sichang we would use this precedent to carry
us the next stage. We were past the Lion, and we had found him
chained! All that remained was to complete our buying, and leave
the Commissioner and all his plots behind.

Arranging for the Boss to follow with Ruth Dix aboard the
Sichang truck, we hurried en famille to Loshan where Ruth, Janet
and the children were to stay. Like Christiana and her companions
at the House Beautiful, they were to have the hospitality of a
“Prudence and Piety,” and though we little thought it at the time,
one of the two was to join us in Nosuland. Joan Wales, petite in
stature but not spirit, was still in the stage of language study. From
our first meeting a bond was forged which, fortunately unknown
to us at the time, was to be tempered in fiery trials before long.
Already Nosuland seemed near, for in the town one day as I was
engaged in buying simple barter, trinkets, cloth and needles, in the

ope of meeting Nosu during the five or more days of the journey
before me, a full-dressed Nosu chief appeared, in cape and
voluminous blue cotton trousers.

Soon after reaching Loshan I was looking for the police station,
to register the party as residents, when an official outside the county
yamen accosted me.

“Are you the gentleman proceeding to Sichang?” he asked.

“I am,” I answered, wondering what next.

“Will you please come in here,” he beckoned, leading the way,
and penetrated through several office buildings to the Secretary’s
sanctum. There, to my surprise, they brought in tea, and with the
greatest deference the Secretary stated that had the Magistrate not
been away he would himself have entertained me.

“We have had a telegram from the General in command down at
Sichang,” he continued, “to say that you are to be given every
assistance of which you may be in need, and expedited in your
travels.”

This was mystery. Who had publicized our plans? And then my
heart sank. Obviously, the Lion, the Commissioner! Unable to
22 STRONG MAN'S PREY

prevent our going to Sichang, he had clearly schemed to thwart us
when we reached there. Thereupon I was escorted to the police,
and thence by the chief of police himself to the residence of the
highest authority in Loshan, the official who controlled the seven
counties north of Nosuland. All were courtesy itself, and not a hint
of insincerity appeared. The suggestion that we should be taking the
wild Nosu to our hearts reacted with apparent gratitude in these
men who saw political advantages in anything that might tame
them.

“Why go so far?” they said. “Stay on the northern border, and
we will give you all the help you need.” But some years previously
two members of the Mission, Mr. and Mrs. P. King, had tried there
and met with scant success. And, anyway, while the Lion was in
office it would be impossible to establish work within his jurisdic-
tion. So with enquiries as to our comfort and accommodation, they
bowed me away.

O faithless generation! All along the route from Loshan to Sichang
this welcoming reception was the same. And at the end intensified.
As for the Lion, never a squeak was heard from him again.

A week passed, and the truck arrived at last. Ruth had given up
waiting and came ahead. The Boss followed. But the truck driven
by the student Wang was overloaded and top-heavy. It had broken
down several times already, and two tyres had burst on the way
down from Chengtu. The temptation to increase his takings by
accepting freight beyond the limit of common sense had been too
strong. How he would get through three hundred miles of hills and
handicaps was anybody’s guess. Apart from this, the makeshift
repairs to bridges and embankments, and inadequate retaliation on
raiding bands of bandits and the Nosu, made the dangers of the
road considerable. Recently two public trucks had met with fatal
accidents, and rumours of the hazards were daily circulating in the
city.

But our course was clear. Difficulties had melted rapidly when
tackled with undoubting prayer, and the day arrived for us to take
the plunge.
 

CHAPTER TWO
MORE LIONS CHAINED

FF at last. The driver and mechanic had been tinkering with

the truck until it roared impatiently to be gone. On went our
baggage, and up clambered the other passengers, mostly merchants,
perching precariously above the bales of cotton yarn and factory—
made knick-knacks they were taking to Sichang. The Boss chose to
be outside.

“It will be easier to jump clear if necessary!”” he explained.

But I accepted a niggardly share of space inside the cab with the
driver and two others.

Lumbering unsteadily out of the yard, we turned on to the moun-
tain road and settled down to a noisy fifteen miles an hour. The
speed was limited by potholes. Conversation waned and there was
time to take stock. I had with me just a bed-bag and blanket, a very
light camp-bed, and two small cases of supplies, each weighing
fifty pounds. In appearance it might have been the property of any
Chinese traveller. One case held drugs, instruments and some tinned
rations for emergencies; the other had the barter, gifts and personal
provisions, mosquito net and changes of clothing. In a haversack
beside me were my camera, water-bottle, torch, diary and first-aid
bundle. Preparing for a rough time and much riding I had come in
wind-jacket, cord breeches and riding boots, being unaware then of
how every exotic feature about a foreigner increases curiosity and
alienates him from people in the backwoods.

The road led westwards into the foothills, and after fifty miles
climbed steeply. For the next few days the mountain scenery
exceeded in magnificence all I could remember of other parts of
China. At first passable, with coarsely metalled surface, the road
degenerated as it gained in altitude. From ample width it shrank to
single track dimensions, pitted with sloughs and pools of water.
Often it was tantalizingly reminiscent of a farm track down a
Devonshire combe, and sure to be unnavigable bog after much rain.
Bridges and culverts in disrepair, and subsidences prompted all
passengers to descend at frequent intervals while the truck man-
ceuvred past. “‘For many miles the track clung by its eyelashes’ to
hillside and cliff face,” my diary records, “and everyone was
24 STRONG MAN’S PREY

nervous though the worst was still ahead. The Boss forsook his
perch on top and travelled nearly all the day standing on the running
board, partly through cautiousness, but also as a lookout, telling
the driver when he was too near the edge.”

Truck and crew were rakes and irresponsible, and breakdowns
wasted many hours. Their unreliability made the journey a night-
mare. Army maps marked this road as safe for jeeps only. Yet here
were overloaded trucks passing along it daily, and with men like
ours in charge I little wondered at the stories of disaster, or the pools
of frozen blood at one point where a vehicle had capsized. Ten miles
an hour was frequently too fast a speed for safety.

On the third day we crossed a pass and started downwards. To
save his fuel Wang, the driver, switched off his engine and began
to coast, depending on his brake-rods to keep control of our four
or five tons. Three feet away the brink of drops between one
hundred and a thousand feet stared at us. Many times my heart was
in my mouth, and mile after mile the palms of my hands were moist
in apprehension as involuntarily I gripped the seat of the swaying
truck. At last I spoke up.

“Look here,” I protested, “do you want to kill us all? Keep
her in gear and go more slowly. I'll pay for the gas if you can’t
afford it!”

To recover his “face” he did as I suggested, but at the night’s
lodging on a bitterly cold, exposed hillside, I wrote in my diary,
“It really is the mercy of God that we are in tonight.”

Early the next morning we were roused by shouts from Wang.

“All aboard, all aboard! We’re going to reach Fulin for breakfast.”

So unwashed and hungry—a poor supper had hardly made up for
existence on two potatoes throughout the previous day—we
bundled out and mounted the groaning truck again. Soon we were
among more precipices. The awfulness of our setting, as the road
lay on a ledge carved in the rock-face of a thousand-foot crevice
called The Chasm, so dismayed us that most passengers chose to
walk. Only military necessity could have dictated taking a road
through there. They built it when the Japanese had seized the
Yangtze, to link up with the Burma road. And when Sichang was
chosen as a “last stand” capital of China, this fearsome stretch was
blasted through regardless of a tragic toll in lives.

With long early morning shadows cast before us and the single
pearly cone of Minya Gonka gleaming far off above the peaks of
Tibet, we drew in beside some crude cottages and boiled a little
 

MORE LIONS CHAINED 25

brackish water, just enough for each to have a cup-full, before
starting down an easy gradient toward the town.

At last the roadway widened and improved. The driver heaved
a sigh of satisfaction and relaxed, and cheerfully we all looked for-
ward to the breakfast now long overdue. Instead of giddy drops
below us, there were fields and terraces sloping gently down, green
and inviting with young tufts of corn. Our speed increased, a little
recklessly I was thinking, for Wang the driver was sitting obliquely
to his controls, pushed over by a stout old woman on his right.
A merchant, slight in build, sat on the left between me and the
cab door. Wang was too cramped for safety. But all the way I
had been thinking often of the words, “Behold I send an Angel
before thee, to keep thee in the way, and to bring thee into the
place which I have prepared.” I was convinced that though they
were addressed to Moses, God brought them to my attention as
applicable to Nosuland and me. Therefore in the dangers of the
journey I believed that I would come through unscathed.

Seeing some deep ruts ahead Wang slowed down and moved
over to the edge of the embankment. Suddenly we lurched and
shuddered. The front wheels sank in powdery earth, turned towards
the embankment, and we stopped dead. Immediately the truck
began to heel over and the voice of Wang said, “Wan-la! We've
had it!”

The Boss was standing on the running board as usual, and I saw
him jump and tumble down the slope, running for his life. Others
on the top leapt off as best they could. But in the cab there was no
time to move. Slowly we tilted and then Crash! we somersaulted
sideways down the hill. The first impact was on the side of the
embankment, a drop of ten feet, giving us momentum. Smoothly
we rolled upside-down, wheels in the air, then Crash! again, down
on the driver’s side. Sedately the truck rose up once more on to its
wheels, and we were sitting more or less as we began. It seemed as
if the truck was hesitating to make up its mind. Then crasu! a
final sickening impact, and it lay still.

Inside we had been tightly wedged against each other, and my
feeling as we started to roll over, was to my surprise one of sublime
contentment with a fillip of amusement. Saturated as my mind was
with thoughts of the “Angel” who would “keep” me, I felt sure
that nothing worse than injury would be my lot, but realized that
this might be because I was so softly upholstered by fellow-
passengers. As we tumbled, first the stout old woman and Wang
26 STRONG MAN’S PREY

crushed me with a breathtaking thud down on the poor merchant,
then Bang! our heads met the cab-roof, then Ouch! the merchant,
Wang and I were cushioned by the woman. A moment of relief
as we sat waiting, and then with the final thud Wang and the
woman were hurled past me to the bottom, and I found myself
on top. j

Imlll)aediately the Boss and another horrified spectator climbed up
and helped to extricate us. Petrol, oil and acid from the batteries
were trickling everywhere, and drums of fuel punctured in the fall
were pouring out their contents on the freight. But fire did not
break out, and we were unwounded. Once outside, however, we
could see how narrowly we had escaped. A yard or two beyond
the truck the hillside ended in a gulley dropping sixty feet down to
a rocky stream where lying in the water and among the rocks were
bales of merchandise.

Above, the scene was fearful. The battered corn was strewn with
groaning people and crushed baggage. As I went from one to
another I could see that several were severely injured, needing
morphia at once. Hunting for the drugs, we found them underneath
the truck. A crowd of peasants from the fields had gathered, and we
called them to help. They dug a pit near to the drug case, and ten or
twenty men with poles levered the truck up till the case was free
to fall into the hole and be extracted. Among the broken contents
I found the morphia unharmed.

One man throughout the journey had been boasting that his luck
was perfect. Business prospered, and in more than one town on his
route he had a wife and family. So at the danger spots, when every-
one descended, he remained blithely where he was. When we
turned turtle, he, unlike the cautious, always on their guard, was
lying full length with a handkerchief across his face, and with those
who could not jump in time was crushed and left behind as we went
onward. This man died, but all the rest recovered.

By the time they had been dealt with and were escorted or
carried on improvised stretchers to the town of Fulin, it was late
afternoon. The Boss and I did what we could to reassure the dazed
and frightened driver. Then gathering our relics we began to walk
the four or five miles to the town. Now I felt as if I had been in a
good fight, aching, stiff and bruised, with bits of skin off here and
there but no more obvious damage. Soon however crippling internal
pains made walking difficult. I feared that deeper injury was making
itself known, until it dawned on me that we had worked and
 

MORE LIONS CHAINED ' 27

sweated since the morning with no nourishment beyond a cup of
peasant tea.

Fulin is a little place, as decadent and idolatrous as any town in
China. I was immediately struck by the cadaverous pallor of
innumerable opium sots going slowly about their business. It is
another world, a law unto itself. The great man of the district was a
local warlord, General Yang. As leader of the Elder Brethren, a
secret society, he was greatly respected throughout the countryside.

Years ago General Yang took pity on two little Nosu princes
whose fathers had been killed in battle, and virtually adopted them.
He educated and encouraged them, and eventually helped them to
regain their hereditary lands. One, Prince Ling, I had just missed
meeting in Chengtu. But later we were to be thrown together in
adventurous conditions. The other’s wife was in Fulin when we
arrived.

The day after our accident and a bad night, I was sleeping off my
pains when a messenger was shown in bearing a card from “Pristine
Jade,” the general’s aged wife. I was to go at once and meet the
princess. It was my first contact with a Nosu woman of any import-
ance. I had read about them in the geographical reports by Colborne
Baber who had been in this very place in 1877, and accounts by
Pollard,* and T. Cook. “Tall graceful creatures, obviously gentle-
women,” they were said to be. That gentility impresses every
traveller who meets them.

The princess was true to type, tall and faultlessly erect, but thin
and wan from much opium smoking. Her finely pleated skirts swept
on the floor and broke over her heel as she advanced, revealing bare
feet. A long jacket was embellished with red and blue and white
appliqué. On her head a cartwheel turban draped with strings of
beads and precious stones gave her a dignity of movement by its
weight alone. And in her hand she carried a long, three-foot pipe
which she sucked at nervously.

A feast was spread, but while the household and I made the most
of it, she only picked at the food provided, and rose frequently to
wander to the door and gaze thoughtfully out. She was ill at ease,
and slipped away as soon as she was able. By then the courtyard was
filling with Nosu of her retinue, fifty at least. The sight of them
gave me a foretaste of joys to come when, deep in Nosuland, such
company was our daily lot. I chatted with those who could speak

1See In Unknown China by Samuel Pollard.
28 STRONG MAN'S PREY

Chinese, and from then on had no lack of friends in Fulin. Finding
I was glad to spend time with them, many of them came round to
the inn from time to time, and squatting on the floor in circles
taught us Nosu phrases, and passed on information that was always
to be useful.

Had I known that coming from Loshan a few days behind us was
a convoy of Friends Ambulance Unit vehicles with two Englishmen
in command, I might have exchanged our accident for an assault
by bandits. High in the mountains through which we had come,
they were attacked by fifty men, beaten, stripped, bound up, and
forced to carry much of their consignment of hospital supplies on
their own backs to the bandits” hideout. When they were set free
and came on to Fulin we joined up, recuperated together, and the
Boss and I finished our journey to Sichang with them. :

On the last day of April the convoy started off. As a precaution
against more robbery all our valuables were screwed into the
panelling of the truck doors, but I was less concerned about meeting
plain bandits, who, as the Chinese of the borders say, “‘want goods,
not men,” than about falling foul of slave-raiding Nosu. The
Chinese have an exaggerated fear of them because of the long
history of marauding in days gone by. Even twenty years ago it was
a constant danger, but not recently.

Throughout the Chienchang valley, of which Sichang is the
centre, the villages and homes of the Chinese colonists show signs
of having been built to withstand a seige. Raids in force by the
Nosu from the hills were frequent and ferocious. Sometimes a pro-
jected raid by the arrogant Nosu was heralded some months before-
hand to strike terror into their victims. The invaders would then ;
sweep down suddenly, and vigorous youths, young women, cattle
and salt would be unsparingly carried away. Unresisting people
would come to no harm, and could be ransomed, though the price
was usually too high. But force was met with merciless ferocity. As
Baber commented, the frontier at almost any point of which the
Chinese were hunted in this way, is more than three hundred miles
long, and lies wholly within the territory of China proper.

But although these large scale inroads had ceased, the kidnapping
of men, and even of whole pack-trains, was still occurring. During
our time in Fulin stories were current of a certain Nosu named
Vuniu at a place called Pheasant Hollow on the road ahead of us,
whose disdain of the authorities was such that robberies were
common near his haunts, and travellers were sometimes carried off

 
 

MORE LIONS CHAINED 29

and sold as slaves. There was a custom, we were told, by which
young Nosu braves attending each other’s weddings would arrive
with a gift of several newly caught Chinese, roped or chained, or
if necessary splinted with a rod bound behind each knee to prevent
them running.

It was unlikely that Vuniu would try experiments with west-
erners, but there was no knowing, the Boss informed me. Moreover
here for the first time reports reached us that there were airmen
still in bondage. Looking back it seems improbable, but at the time,
so closely following upon our adventures, it had to be taken seri-
ously. Even a spell of slavery, now or later on in Nosuland, could
conceivably be God’s purpose for me. It was scarcely what anyone
would choose, but the spiritual adventure was outweighing the
physical, and I wrote in my diary:

“I feel these days that I am not my own, but borne along instead
in the will of God, and this is peace. He is working miracles for us
all along the way and will go on doing so.”

So with a light heart I climbed aboard and we started out.

Once across the Tatu River, the River of Silver Sand, we were
in country where the Nosu predominated but bowed to Chinese
rule. We began meeting them in full tribal costume, turbans, cloaks,
capacious blue cotton trousers, ivory studded belts and bandoliers,
and often had the chance of talking with them. Most were friendly.
Some even examined all we were wearing, and did not resent our
interest in them, or being faced with the glinting eye of a camera.
The older women wore a tam-o’-shanter type of cotton cap which
looked ridiculously like a mimicry of academic headgear. The

younger women and girls, however, were charming with their hair
" plaited on each side and carried up over a square of finely embroid-
ered material which was both bonnet and eyeshade.

The buildings took on a familiar appearance with strong towers,
and rifle slits in the walls instead of windows. The roofs were
nothing more than split pine planks held on by stones, a feature
common throughout Nosuland. Seeing them, it was easy to under-
stand how Lieut. Brooke had met his death by stoning from the
roof of the house in which he had taken refuge. But it was obvious
that they were far from rainproof.

Over the top of the first range the road ran through open valleys
and rolling pasture lands where grazing flocks of sheep were
watched by yodelling shepherds, and passed rich basins of fertile
soil dotted with Nosu hamlets and farms. Now my heart was in my
30 STRONG MAN’S PREY

mouth in a different way. I began to ache with longing to be
settled among these people, the goal of so many years, intense
anticipation. They were just what I had imagined and expected, so
picturesque, so attractively aloof, yet warmly unbending to beam
with appreciation of friendliness. But through all these miles of
inhabited mountain there were no Christians, nor one to take an
interest in their souls. As we drove on I found myself praying and
yearning over them, glad to jump off and stay among these very
folk for ever. For another hundred miles, however, conditions were
no different. And all the way to east and west of us for hundreds
more it was the same. These were the so-called “subjugated” Nosu,
within easy reach of the arm of the law—accessible to anyone who
would deny himself enough to live among them.

“What's wrong with the church,” I found myself crying in-
wardly, “that Christians should stand so thickly in the homelands
while thousands upon thousands and thousands more are neglected
out here?”” But it was impossible for me to disregard our commission
to the Independent Nosu in those uninviting mountains I could see
in the dim distance, in order to work here.

We stopped above an isolated village, and crowds of Nosu ran
clamouring to see us. First came the men, girdled with bandoliers
heavy with ammunition, carrying their rifles with unconscious ease.
Behind them flocked women and children, chattering with glee
over this opportunity to inspect the trucks and their occupants so
closely. A matriarch of seventy with a back like a ram-rod and a
museum of silver ornaments and beads around her head and neck
walked grimly to and fro, and sternly declined to let me take her
photograph. Bevies of young fry twittered “A-Bee! A-Bee!”—the
exclamation of amazement, and with interlocking arms flitted about
so thickly that I could not stand far enough away to get snaps of
them. Finally two stalwarts and two girls obligingly posed together
with a grace and freedom alien to their neighbours the Chinese.

A long stiff climb that taxed the engines to their utmost brought
us to the hunting grounds of Vuniu, the kidnapper. We came
through a cutting and were confronted with a dead dog hanging
on a crude gibbet of sticks, a symbol of cursing on his enemies.
Outside his village another putrifying corpse was dangling, and
further on an ox head was impaled on a pole, facing in the other
direction. This was Pheasant Hollow.

As the convoy came up past the first houses, the leading truck
engine spluttered and failed. We all stopped. And now a very
 

MORE LIONS CHAINED 31

different swarm of people surrounded us. Ominously, all were men.
There was not a woman to be seen anywhere. They came to the
truck doors and asked at once for wine. When told that we
had none, a group near the front began speaking loudly and im-
patiently. '

“Who in their senses would travel without wine! None of that
nonsense! Or, if no wine, then wine-money. . . .” And they de-
manded one hundred and twenty thousand dollars, about one
pound sterling from each truck.

The men who spoke to me were at first quieter. I happened to
have learned the Nosu for “I have no wine,” which tickled their
sense of humour, but they persisted. Two of them had long,
deep scars running across their faces, like any pirate of fiction. And
the one who did the talking was an obnoxious young man in blue
uniform, copied from the Chinese, and a smart turban finished off
in a short whip-like spike as his “heavenly horn.” He would not
believe that my water-bottle contained merely water, and spat with
disgust when I let him taste it. When his manner began to get ugly
I remembered a Nosu proverb I had been memorising, and tried it
on him, “If you don’t drink wine your head won’t ache,” at which
they all threw back their heads and roared with laughter.

“Head ache!” they guffawed. “Not ours!”

But Vuniu, for it was he himself, was becoming more troublesome
when excitement further up the line drew his attention and he
moved away. Some of the drivers and the Boss were in a quarrel
with a group of Nosu.

It was apparent that they were getting worsted, and frightened
too, when the Boss recalled that he had with him a card signed by
Prince Ling, and another by old General Yang. At once peace was
restored. But we were not sorry when the faulty engine started
running again, and leaving them ten thousand dollars “cumshaw”
we said goodbye. They stood watching thirstily as the trucks filed
by. Whether they would have dared to go further in molesting a
group like ours there is no knowing, but it was good to leave
Vuniu and his gruesome corpses behind and to strike into open
country once more.

With the crossing of the watershed the famous Chienchang
valley begins, stretching down to near the Yangtze. It is the route
that Marco Polo, Kublai Khan and many famous travellers have
followed. To be here is to feel an intruder in a pageant of history.
Over a hundred miles in length, it is less than five miles wide on
32 STRONG MAN’S PREY

an average, truly a moat to Independent Nosuland which rises on
its eastern flank.

And now a disappointment greeted me. At last we were on the
very edge of the promised land, and all that could be seen was dry
barren slopes, completely devoid of trees. The only redeeming
feature was an exquisite beauty in the tones of earth and rocks.
Every shade from palest cream to deepest umber, and from softest
pink to purplish red was splashed about the hillsides. Between the
fields and along the roadside cacti were thriving, some as big as
trees. And every few miles down the valley a Chinese or enlightened
Nosu village, market, or small town stood back among the fields,
watched over by the inevitable white towers of refuge. But
Nosuland itself looked arid.

The presence of an air-strip at last proclaimed that we were near-
ing our destination, Sichang. As we turned off eastwards from the
valley into a wide basin in the hills, there lay before us a picture of
unusual beauty: beyond a crescent lake a tree~clad hill with temples
clustered on its slopes led one’s gaze upwards toa great snow-capped
mountain massif, while near at hand, spread out along the glacis of
the very ramparts of Nosuland was Sichang itself. No more lovely
spot could be desired—and it was to be the base for operations into

those stern highlands that looked so forbidding.
 

CHAPTER THREE
THE BRINK

HE unattractiveness of Nosuland mattered not a scrap—on the

way here I had found out for the first time that the interior
was accessible, accessible now. It was thrilling news. It cancelled all
the plans-on-paper we had made, the patient plodding at some
border point, trying to win a way gradually into the confidence of
the Nosu until some were willing to conduct us to their homes,
and later let us remain. There was nothing to prevent me going
right into the centre of the territory straight away, and discovering
whether our team would be welcomed to move up and start work
amongst them. In the heart of their own country we could begin
conquering their hearts without territorial handicaps.

But if I was to go I must move quickly. The rainy season was
approaching, when roads and rivers would at times become impas-
sable. Meanwhile riding and pack-animals must be found, an
interpreter must be employed, and a stock of barter laid in, for no
money was in use across the border. And, still more to the point,
the knotty problem of permits must be raised again. Without them
other preparations would be empty.

As the convoy squealed to a halt, a crowd began to gather round
it. There was something different about the crowd, a reflection on
its faces of the sunshine and fresh atmosphere of Sichang; a cheerful
friendliness, a holiday mood, a prosperous and care-free attitude, it
seemed to be, a welcoming spirit. And it was not just my own sense
of well-being, it was always there. From the first we were accepted,
and till the time of final parting loved the town.

Soon the chairman of a Chinese missionary body, the Border
Service Mission, arrived and gave us all an invitation to make use
of the church premises. Years before there had been an American
mission in the district, and its property had been taken over. One
of their activities was a hostel for such Nosu as came into Sichang
trading, and to our joy the Boss and I were given a room adjoining
it. There for three weeks we were in contact daily with the Nosu,
being broken in for what we were to encounter later on. Without
this introduction the first impacts might have been a shock.

The telephone bell rang, and it was the commanding general

C
34 STRONG MAN’S PREY

himself enquiring after the F.A.U. men and their injuries, and to
ask me to call on him.

“Actually I've rung up several times,” he said in answer to our
thanks for his solicitude, as he motioned the Boss and me into easy
chairs in his sitting room. “We heard about your adventures and
have been most concerned for you all.”

We talked a while and then he came to the point.

“Now how about your plans for working in Nosuland?”” he said,
to my surprise. “I have heard that you have come to look for an
opening. Let me tell you this before we go further: we welcome
you very warmly, we only wish there were more of our own
countrymen willing to take up your kind of service, and I want
you to know that if there is anything you need you can count on
our help to secure it.”

He could scarcely have been more generous. After the obstacles
met with in Chengtu this was almost too good to be true. And °
there was no catch in it. An extension of the permit to travel was
forthcoming at once, with no restrictions, and he even had a map
of Nosuland, copied from his own, delivered to me.

“Don’t be surprised by the crudity of this map,” he laughed, “it
is the best we can manage—made up from the information brought
out by travellers. The tribesmen are so jealous of their mountains
that it is more than your life’s worth to try map-making.”

As long as he was stationed in Sichang he was to give his fatherly
patronage to our venture, even to sending a sack of flour seventy
miles to us when he knew that the currency inflation was causing
us difficulties. Already everything was combining to convince me
that this was God’s place for us, that no prolonged survey of the
other border towns would be necessary. The “Angel” had come
before me and was leading to the “place prepared” in Nosuland. If
Chaokioh, in the heart of the Great Cold Mountains, was His
chosen centre from which we could reach out into the wild clans
all around, its suitability was due to a remarkable state of affairs.

In the heyday of Manchu power a route through Nosuland was
forced and held by garrisons of several thousands of soldiers so that
silver, lead and copper mines could be exploited near the Dragon’s
Head. A small stone-walled fort was built at the key-point,
Chaokioh, and is still standing though its buildings have repeatedly
been sacked. The Chinese Revolution was the signal for a massacre
of the Manchus, but in time the Chinese returned and by stern
handling of clans in the proximity set up limited authority in the
e ————

S

 

THE BRINK 35

fort. For years the only way for civilians to reach this outpost of the
Chinese raj was by finding Nosu chiefs who would escort the
traveller by stages through the hills, guaranteeing his safety from
attack.

At the time of my call to Nosuland this was still so. But in the
last few years a change had come about. By arrangement between
the Chinese and the Nosu, who were still suffering from recent
reprisals against them, merchants and officials were to be protected
by the clans whose villages they passed on the way in. Compensation
was to be by payments of salt for every packload travelling through.
Virtually it was a diplomatic triumph for the Chinese, for the terri-
tory of the clans between Sichang and Chaokioh became moderately
safe for a few miles on each side of the route. In fact, a corridor
existed linking Chaokioh with the outer world. Living in there,
missionaries would be within reach of law and order while being
near to the wildest, most intractable Nosu.

Our friend the old general was the supreme authority in the whole
region, but in practice the civil administration could have thwarted
us if they had been so inclined. Political tension in Sichang was con-
siderable. Three or four armies, independent of each other and with -
little more than a nominal affiliation were garrisoned in the district.
One was responsible to the warlord governor of the province and
his organization, the Colonizing Bureau, with only the feeblest
loyalty to the central government. Another belonged to an adven-
turer whose sole claim to legality was that his hold over the border
Nosu exceeded any that the government could boast. Watching
both were the Nationalist troops under the general!

However, all was well. The Secretary at the Bureau was most
cordial. He was in close touch with conditions in Nosuland, and
did not minimize the frailty of the hold his people had up there.
The risks too, he commented on candidly.

“Remember this, the Nosu are fickle, and out for what they can
get,” he advised us. “If you stay close to our garrison and outposts
you may be safe, but we cannot promise you anything. You may
befriend the tribesmen and be intimate with them for years, but
when it suits them they will turn on you. That reminds me,” he
added, ringing for a runner, “the garrison commander is here in the
building at the moment. I'll introduce you.”

A man came in who failed to conceal the insincerity of his greet-
ing. It was clear that he was a scoundrel. He offered to escort us up
to Chaokioh, but I felt our presence would not be welcome. As it
36 STRONG MAN’S PREY

turned out he was busy opium-trading, and immersed in graft. Our
presence would have been embarrassing to him. We always tried
thereafter to give him as wide a berth as etiquette allowed, but it
was not always easy, for he was the officer in command of the
garrison of decrepit renegades, mostly escaped slaves, who manned
the fort. He and the magistrate together represented sovereign
power, but protection by them was of doubtful value. And before
long he himself had to flee for his life, from the Nosu he oppressed.

Preparations brought us into touch with all manner of people.
“You must come and have a meal with us,” they would say. What
they meant was a feast—frogs’ legs, sea slugs, fat duck, and all the
best that Sichang could supply—but the interminable waiting and
interminable talking associated with these occasions brought us
some valuable information. Without knowledge of the country it
would have been rash to enter. Francis Brooke died through neglect
of the fundamental need to have an escort.

What was most apparent, though, was a uniform attitude toward
the Nosu, an aversion ranging from contentedness with isolation
from them, right through to the extremes of horror and hatred.
Unconscious scorn and superiority was the attitude even of Chris-
tians devoted to working for them, the familiar attitude of the
“enlightened” toward “natives.” Everywhere the terms used in
speaking of the Nosu were derogatory. Only the officials and the
church used the accepted term “Ihren” to which the Nosu do not
object as it means “original inhabitants”; but “Lolo,” “Mantzu” or
worse were commonly heard. Their meaning is “savages,” “dogs”
and “perverts.” Sometimes the Nosu flared up in dangerous anger
when these names were used of them.

But at the same time there was an awe and glamour due to
magnified tales of Nosu prowess. I met a chief with a legendary
reputation for fearlessness and fierce fighting, a primitive cave-man.
It was boasted of him that in battle he wore a white cloak and rode
a white horse in sheer bravado. And later I was to see them emerge
from cover to draw fire upon themselves in a feudal fight. Things
like these acquired a superstitious aura among the Chinese, and
behind the hatred of the Nosu lay a deep respect. Superficially it was
all the other way.

“Go as far as Chaokioh or Chuheh but no further,” we were told
repeatedly. “Anywhere out of reach of Chinese arms you are not
safe. If you go beyond those points you may be sold. The Mantzu
 

 

THE BRINK 37

are so fickle. Your escorts may be the ones who sell you, and you
will then get handed on from place to place until it will be impos-
sible to trace you.”

“They are so mean and covetous,” said others. “They will want
your possessions, and rob you if you don’t hand over.”

“Win them by love!” they laughed at my theories. “You think
that kindness and friendship will be better than force majeure! Well,
you are free to try it. But take our advice and carry guns!”

“Didn’t your own Duke Chu Ko-liang say ‘Conquer their
minds, then conquest of their bodies will be simple’?” I reminded
some. “‘And Jesus Christ has shown that love is the strongest force
on earth. I hope you will have a chance to see it demonstrated.”

They smiled condescendingly. “Fear, not love,” they persisted,
“is what the Mantzu need to learn.”

Meanwhile our own contacts with the Nosu were plentiful and
were showing us intimately what to expect. The quarters we
occupied next door to their hostel in the church premises ensured
that. They had a dormitory with a wooden platform on which to
sleep, and a kitchen adjoining it. But the Nosu, who liked to stay
there when they were visiting Sichang, preferred to curl up in the
yard or in a doorway, and often left the unaccustomed comfort of
the rooms untouched. The hostel was too unlike home: the paved
court was one stage nearer. They came nevertheless in twos and
threes, or sometimes in parties of a score or more. Whenever we
had nothing else to do we sat with them and tried to learn their
language. But the Nosu are the world’s worst teachers! No amount
of diplomacy can keep them interested for long, and much time
passed in talking a mixture of Chinese and Nosu, with English
thrown in to amuse them, about everything under the sun.

It was not what they said that taught us most, however, but what
we saw. Their minds were never long off the subject of wine, and
very eatly we had to decide on a policy toward it. To sit and talk
together at once prompted the thought of a tongue loosener, and
they would suggest sending for a drink. I demurred.

“We're not casual friends, the kind who treat you to a drink
today and do not know you tomorrow,” I told them. “We have
come to be like brothers to you, to heal and help you, not give you
poison!”

They laughed usually, for most of them are sports, and may have
thought me eccentric. But if a few were resentful, they did not
often show it.
/
38 STRONG MAN’S PREY

One day there was a particularly merry crowd at the hostel,
flushed and garrulous. They had spent the night drinking and woke
from a brief sleep laughing and quarrelling. A White Nosu retainer
hid his master’s pistol, and there was an unpleasant scene while he
was beaten until he disclosed it. A little later uproar broke out and
this White was the centre of it again. His master told other retainers
to bind him, and he resisted violently, wrestling, kicking, biting and
hitting out against them. But immediately the chief intervened to
seize him he became completely docile. The chief wrenched his
hands behind his back and bound them so tightly with a thong that
the man wept and wailed with pain. But he denied having taken
the pistol, blamed others, the men who had tried to overpower him,
and at last when he could stand his tortures no longer, he said he
had given it to the Chinese.

Then I recalled a strange incident among many other things that
these drunks had done in the last few hours. I had seen the White
apparently picking a flower, a most unnatural thing to do. I walked
over to the daisy patch in a large flower bed, and looked in amongst
the plants. There lay the pistol.

The look of surprise on the faces of the chief and his party when
the pistol was seen in my possession is unforgettable. But when I
handed it to him the chief turned livid and began to load it, cursing
the White. Afraid lest in his drunken anger he kill his man, I took
the now gibbering slave by the shoulders and forced him at a run
before me, out through the main gates of the compound and into
the street, locking them behind him.

If this was the behaviour of the “tame” Nosu who came and went
in Chinese territory, what were the “wild” Nosu going to be like
when they drank too much? And where were we to stop if we
allowed drinking on premises for which we were responsible, let
alone if we condoned the habit? Better to take up cudgels against
it from the start. But it was a policy bound to involve us in many
misunderstandings and complications, as it did, and we began at
once to rack our brains for substitutes with which to regale our
Nosu friends. Prince Ling had introduced a kind of fermented rice
called “laotsao” which sated the consumer before it intoxicated him,
but this was not the answer to our problem. Nor did we ever find
a satisfactory one. For the time being whatever happened to be
handy, nuts, biscuits, tea or fruit, showed all but the inveterate
tipplers that our intentions were friendly, and came near enough to
the custom of providing something to welcome a guest.
DG

e i, o

 

THE BRINK 39

The Boss and I decided we would travel as simply as practicable,
depending on goodwill rather than numbers of companions or
armed escorts, in trying to get anywhere. Travellers had recently
been moving freely between Sichang and Chaokioh, so at least the
lane of territory into the centre was safe, however much or little to
each side of it was similarly accessible. With few in our party and

~ little baggage we would be mobile and most likely to get deep

into the wilder regions where Chinese control does not extend.

There was a saying current among the Christians which if correct
was very reassuring.

“The tribesmen fear the government and soldiers,” they said,
“and hate the merchants whose only aim is to acquire their wealth
and give as little in exchange as possible. As for the captive Chinese,
they despise them and often treat them little better than animals.
But we who go in among them as friends, to serve them, they
recognize as different, and say, “We are your people!” ”

The General too was all encouragement. “If I were you,” he
said, “I would start in Chuheh, ten miles beyond Chaokioh. We
have some young men of Madame Chiang’s New Life Movement
there, you know. They say the valley is a Garden of Paradise, and
the people most friendly. We have plans to push a motor road
through from here to Szechwan, along the old Manchu route via
Chuheh. That will be a help to you eventually.”

But he did not know that his young men were leading a Jekyll
and Hyde existence as immoral opium-traders, increasingly hated
by the Nosu. A visit was enough to show us at once the difficulties
we would encounter from such men when we returned to live near
them.

“Within two years of your settling in Nosuland,” the Secretary
at the Colonizing Bureau told me, “you will be able to travel any-
where you like without escort and without fear.”

I believe he was right—if only conditions had permitted us to
travel widely. But how little could then be foreseen of the turning
tide or coming cataclysm! At present prospects were rosy.

Travelling conditions would be rugged, that was certain. Once
over the border little worthy of the name of road would be found
anywhere. At best a track worn by the hooves of animals and the
foot of man would be discernible. Often even that would be lost in
river bed or rocky mountainside. Few bridges either, so that if we
were not mounted we would have to wade or swim. At night there
would be no inns, so food must be prepared, and barter and gifts
40 STRONG MAN’S PREY

for the Nosu in whose homes we stayed, except along the trade
route as far as Chaokioh.

So we bought rice and salt, in cones of fifty or sixty pounds
weight, and cloth and yarn and hair cord and needles, little mirrors
for the wives of chiefs we met, and embroidery thread for their
daughters, all that was repeatedly said to be necessary to ensure
coming out safely as well as going in among the wild clans. Local
mountain ponies were not big enough to take my weight and length
of leg, so Belinda joined the team. She was a mottled creamy-grey
mule, taller and stronger than most. And she was the last to part
from us four years later. She would go anywhere, keep her feet on
any surface, and when she was hungry she would eat pine needles,
bamboo, leather straps, or even the wooden troughs that insulted
her by their emptiness when there was no fodder to be had.

But still there was no interpreter, and without one we were worse
than powerless. To venture into independent country without the
help of someone familiar with the language and customs would be
playing with fire. So there was nothing for it but to wait. Several
well-wishers were engaged in looking for a man to suit us. And
because of the importance of this man’s part in the whole venture,
not only we but many supporters in China and at home were pray-
ing for a man whom God would claim for His work in Nosuland.
He could make or mar the expedition by a word of wrong advice
or an undiplomatic interpretation in a time of difficulty. We were
in no hurry. Better the right man later, than just anyone in a hurry
to avoid some soakings in the rainy season which was fast descending.

The advice being given us at every turn by everyone who knew
first, second or third-hand about Nosuland, was so conflicting and
confusing that we made common sense our guide, trusting God to
keep us from mistakes. Apart from Him it was a game of blind man’s
buft, a plunge into the dark, as foolhardy and perilous as the soldiers
of the War Graves Commission thought when they generously
offered to come to the rescue if any harm should come to us.

The strain of waiting expectantly, keyed up to whatever might
happen, was by now considerable. I was likely to be longer in “the
forbidden land” than any white man had previously been, and to go
where none had been before. The prospect of being right in the land
of promise and the dreams of years was exhilarating. But, deter-
mined to succeed if it were humanly possible, I had daily less confi-
dence in the Boss, the companion on whom I had hoped to rely if
things went wrong, and I could do no more to hasten our departure.
 

 

THE BRINK 41

At last, on May 18th, as I was reading, and praying for more
- colleagues to seize the opportunities open to us, a tall young Nosu
walked into my room. He had just walked twenty-five miles from
his home, and was dusty and tired, but he came in with a spring
and a grace that captured my attention.

As we summed each other up his steady eyes and unassuming
smile attracted me.

“They told me you are needing an interpreter,” he said, “and I
am free to come.”

“Tell me who you are,” I answered.

“Iam a Nosu,” by which he meant he was a Black, of high rank,
“and my wife is from the Ahu clan, the largest and most influential.
But my father died, and my immediate relatives have fallen on evil
days. We have moved into the valley near the motor road you came
by, and I was educated at the Chinese Middle School in this town.
I've been to Chaokioh once, and know the way, but if you want to
go further we will need to find a trustworthy chief to go with us.
Customs vary from place to place.”

His simple frankness and his manner charmed me. So Chao signed
on as our interpreter, and hurried home again to leave some money
with his family and collect his things together for an early start. He
was just the kind we wanted, tall, strong, aged twenty-three or four,
open and honest in appearance, humble yet definite in speaking,
and sure of his own mind. He was one of a group of young Nosu
who through the foresight of Prince Ling and others had been given
an education and were coming increasingly into their own. As he
bowed and withdrew, I could not help feeling that here was perhaps
the man God had chosen to lead the unborn church in Nosuland,
the man we had been praying for. I hastened to send off two tele-
grams, to Shanghai and Loshan:

“ENTER NOSULAND TWENTY-FOURTH. CHALLENGE PRAY CON-
VERSION YOUNG EDUCATED NOSU GUIDE. JOHN 14.13.”

“Whatsoever ye shall ask in My Name that will I do,
that the Father may be glorified in the Son.”

Was it too much to ask? If so why come at all to Nosuland?
There were far greater hopes and obstacles ahead. True the man’s
own freewill must come into the picture, for God would not coerce
him, but we had started by asking God to bring a man who would
respond, and now were merely asking that as we travelled with him
42 STRONG MAN’S PREY

and chatted often about the reasons for our coming, he might see
the point. What encouragement for the rest of our life-work it
would be if as a test-case this man should be converted!

The last piece of the jig-saw puzzle had fallen into place; goodbye
now to those who said “Nothing to fear, safe and straightforward!”
and those who looked with long faces and murmured “Impossible,
absurd to attempt it!” We called on the General as a formal courtesy,
and he kept us talking.

“When the War Graves team went in,” he chuckled, “we had to
find reasons for not letting them go further than Chuheh. It would
never do to have international complications cropping up over a
hunt for dead men. Why add to their number?”’ He puffed at his
cheroot. “But in your case it’s different, fewer questions would be
asked: go where you like, and good luck to you!”

And the American soldiers too. “Well goodbye, and all the best!”
they wished us. “We like your choice. The Nosu may be dirty with
earth and smoke, but they are healthy and spirited folk. We'll be
seeing you!” But before we returned to Sichang their work was
finished and they had gone.

On the twenty-third Chao arrived back. It was high time we
departed. My money was exhausted, and although I could have
wired for more and waited for it, all I wanted now was to be off.
There would be time enough to get cash from Chengtu when we
reached Chaotung or Luipo, wherever we emerged from Nosuland.
Always hoping that we would not cross the border as Brooke
crossed it, head, limbs and torso at different points.

I went to sleep with the Last Command and a Triumph Song
racing in my mind:

“Go ye into all the world and preach the Gospel to every crea-
ture”’; “Lo, [ am with you always, even unto the end of the world.”

And, “Now is come Salvation, and Strength, and the Kingdom
of our God, and the Power of His Christ.”
PHASE OF EXPLORATION

“Behold, I send an Angel before thee, to keep thee in the way,
and to bring thee into the place which I have prepared.”

 
 
 

CHAPTER FOUR
THE PLUNGE

E were riding toward Nosuland. The scene was vivid,

unforgettable. The sky was banked with cumulus that threw
black shadows on the mountains while our route was bright with
sunshine. We were moving south of east into a cul-de-sac between
the lake and the lacerated hills. To the north the line of hill-tops
undulated brokenly at eight thousand feet, and their completely
lifeless slopes were unrelieved by tree or rock between the nullahs
that fell sharply and disgorged fans of pitiless stone upon the Chinese
fields. Ahead because more distant, the higher ridges could be seen,
and two deep valleys framed Heartbreak Hill up which tomorrow’s
trail could be seen winding tortuously.

The contrast between the bright foreground and those dark
walls voiced eloquently the feelings in my own heart. All that was
known and experienced, safe and secure, was coming to an end,
meeting Hill Difficulty and black presentiment. Expressions from
my reading kept coming to mind, “the country of terrible renown,
girdled by precipices,” “which strangers enter at their peril.” The
years of glamour and romantic anticipation were changing into cold
reality. I felt alone and very small, with no companions but the Boss
and Chao with whom to meet the actuality however grim or plain
it proved to be. Those mountains, how they repelled! And yet how
they drew me, fascinated, toward their gloomy recesses. It was a
thrilling experience, akin to sweeping down a single-track railway
into a tunnel, as I had done by pump-trolley during the war, know-
ing that traffic ran unsignalled in both directions. But this time it
was not accident but premeditated malice that we had been warned
against.

Behind us the picture was very different. In the distance jagged
peaks like spines on a dragon’s back stood erect to greet the sun,
and wreaths of mist began to form in coils beneath them. The haze
above Sichang concealed the city walls which might just have been
seen when the path carried us over a rim of low hills, the hearthstone
of Nosuland, but further south the temple hill lay mirrored in the
lake, its buildings in shadow. Over its shoulder one gleam of river,

the Anning, was visible, and beyond that valley the slumbrous bulk
46 STRONG MAN’S PREY

of the snow mountain, rivalling Mont Blanc in altitude and appear-
ance, reared its cap into the clouds.

My memory of this whole panorama is intimate and indelible,
framing the sunlit scene of cacti, grass tussocks, grazing cattle, mud-
walled hamlets, whitewashed strong towers and advancing pack-
animals. Within the course of a few miles the countryside changed
from the prosperous well-cultivated farming land typical of the
Chinese, to the bare primitive starved land of the Nosu. The nearer
to the border of Nosuland, the less cared for it became, except in
the immediate vicinity of the fortified hamlets. The whole impres-
sion was one of a beleaguered colony, an attempt to live and farm
in close proximity to danger, though it was ten years and more
since the Nosu had made a raid of any magnitude.

The actual entry into Nosuland was to be the next day, after a
night at the foot of the long climb. The pack-animals knew where
to make for, and scrambled through the rocks of the last river-bed
in keen anticipation of the rest and fodder waiting for them. A few
farmsteads, forming the hamlet of Lokai, lay along the banks, and in-
to one of these they turned. We followed, through a first gateway be-
tween stone walls four feet thick and twenty high, and into a narrow
passage-way which led to another strong gate. Inside, a cramped
courtyard gave on to stables on the other side with accommo-
dation for fifty horses and as many travellers. Two towers dominated
the buildings, and on all sides rifle slits opened in the directions from
which attack might come. Essentially no more than a home used as
an inn, the structure and atmosphere of the place was of a fort. We
were told that walls as strong as these were scaled and burrowed
through by the Nosu from time to time, when they came on a slave-
raiding foray. Any semblance of determination had long since
departed, however, from what had once been a well-to-do establish-
ment: the ravages of opium addiction had brought the family very
low, and far from owning firearms with which to repulse attack,
even their furniture was scarce, sold to buy opium.

With the precision of men doing the work they were born and
bred to, the muleteers divided, two to an animal, and lifted the
loads. The mules leapt forward, and the loads were set down or
carried into the house. One by one the train was unsaddled, and the
stench of suppurating sores rose hotly from chafed backs, until with
curses the men herded the poor beasts out to the river side to roll in
the dust and sand.

The Boss and Chao and I found space in an airy attic and carried
 

THE PLUNGE 47

up our bedding and loose belongings. To leave a thing, whether
harness or saddle-pad or flask, unwatched, was to risk never seeing
it again. The drain of opium-smoking on all and more that a man
can earn or glean in every way possible, is such that muleteers and
members of the family would not have hesitated to take anything
of value.

Wood smoke and opium fumes, acrid and reeking, could not keep
us awake once we had eaten and settled in the loft above the mule-
teers by their fire. The scrunch, scrunch of their guillotine chopping
straw for the horses went on till nearly midnight. And occasionally
the scream and thud of jealous animals kicking and biting each
other over the fodder spread in the huge trough to which ten or
fifteen of them were tethered, pierced through our dreamless sleep.
But it seemed as if we had barely lain down when the cocks began
crowing and the men were up again to prepare for the long day’s
travel.

The rising sun splashed with cerise and gold the hills and clouds
beyond the lake, but by the time the caravan was ready and we
started off, it was well up, and larks were singing their heads off
high over Heartbreak Hill. This, the 25th of May, 1947, was the
day I had been living for, for years. I worked my way forward past
the pack-train, and as soon as the route was clear urged Belinda on
until the others were all left behind. Climbing steeply for several
hundreds of feet, we reached a level place, and halting by a tomb
which marks the boundary between the county of Sichang and
Nosuland, watched the steaming animals pant slowly up toward us.

I threw off the wide-brimmed coolie hat that I was wearing, and
like Pollard, the first white man ever to set foot on Independent
Nosu soil, prayed aloud, thanking God for bringing me here, and
claiming Nosuland for Him, with the petition that I might be given
a part in bringing her proud people to His feet.

From this natural terrace all the beauty of the Sichang valley and
the lake were spread before us, and the pinnacles of a thousand hills
succeeded one another in all directions—north, south and west,
nothing but mountains and mist-wreathed valleys. To the east
several more hours of climbing lay ahead, up to a pass at ten thousand
feet, and then nothing but mountains and high valleys across the
broken tablelands as far as the sunken gorges of the Yangtze and
beyond.

I stroked Belinda’s nose and discussed the prospect with her:
48 STRONG MAN’S PREY

“Couldn’t be grander, could it?” I mused. In answer her two
intelligent ears pricked forward and her muscles rippled.

As if to prove to us that we were in Nosuland the sound of rifle
fire was carried from the distance on the fresh breeze.

“Probably a feud,” the interpreter explained when he arrived,
“but possibly just young bloods firing for pleasure.”

The only sign of life was a mile away to the north, on another
hillside where a solitary cottage drew our attention to a few black
specks moving aimlessly, some shepherds and their flock. Apart
from a group or two of cloaked and turbaned men and women
making for a Chinese market, no one appeared until the trail turned
in to a flat basin half a mile wide where every cultivable slope and
space was tilled and a small village crowned a knoll above the
sluggish stream. The homes were all of pounded mud, roofed with
crude planks held on by stones, and a thorn-capped wall enclosed
them.

Little knots of Nosu squatting in the sun rose quickly when they
saw the caravan approaching, and by the time we who had fallen
to the rear came up to them, there were thirty or more armed men
assembled, haggling with the muleteers. All pack-loads were lifted
from the animals and set down on the grass while the men talked.
It was one of the “road-guards” we had heard of, in action.

Fairly managed, this would have been an excellent system. In
return for keeping the route free from raiding bands the Nosu would
have received ample repayment, more than under the old system
whereby they had to travel long distances with the merchants whom
they were protecting. But the Nosu are covetous and unscrupulous.
If travellers are weak or few, unaccompanied by troops or men of
influence, they weigh out the salt on heavily biassed scales, or after
the correct amount has been delivered they will demand more, “for
friendship’s sake,” or wine, or cloth, or clothing in addition. Often
these hold-ups last until the muleteers and merchants are in danger
of being benighted on the mountains, and have to yield, or until a
reckless man tries to force the issue and a fight develops. Sometimes
the covenanted five or six squads of guards along the route are sup-
plemented by self-appointed “pirate” guards. The pirates are the
worst, being little more than self-limited robbers. When Chinese
influence waned, as when the civil war went badly for the govern-
ment, the Nosu appeared in scores and bled the merchants until
traffic ceased.

Chao the interpreter rose to the occasion well. Singling out the

 

 
 

 

THE PLUNGE 49

leading chief by his demeanour and the attitude of others to him,
for serfs are often better dressed than their masters, he walked up to
him, and nodding casually squatted near by. After a moment he
spat, and flung a stone at a pack-horse straying too close. To show
haste or deference would have been a poor beginning.

“Englishman!” he said at length, indicating me. I was standing
a few feet away drinking in the fascinating scene, the deeply wrinkled
features and the grime-caked limbs, the woman with the bearing of
an aristocrat and the sores of a beggar, the inscrutability of the old
chief. ~

“Washed and dressed properly they would grace a good club in
London,” I was thinking, when Chao spoke again.

“His name is Dr. Hai. He has come from far far away to help us
Nosu. He knows how to heal diseases. He’s not a merchant or a
government man. He wants to live in Nosuland and be one of us.
You ought not to ask him for toll-salt.”

At once the Nosu were all ears, and soon I was beseiged with
patients seeking attention. I had to tear myself away to press on
with the journey. And they took no toll.

The caravan was moving at last. The leading mules with red
pompoms on their harness and jingling bells below their necks were
already struggling up the slope out of the valley. The pace they set
was steady, strong, and all that the smaller beasts could manage.
The muleteers tramped by them, at intervals along the line, steady-
ing them at ditches or where the track clung to the hillside above
deep ravines, guiding them past obstacles with calls, whistles, curses
and well-aimed stones, and as needed putting a shoulder to the load
to help a plunging sweating animal up a steep step he could not
manage alone.

On Belinda I was as happy as a schoolboy, enjoying her delight
in exercise and outpacing others. But the Boss was in the wars.
The black horse we had found him threw him off time and again,
until I feared he would lose heart and leave us, as he had already
spoken of doing. If I had felt the strain of entering the unknown, he
had much more, wondering how his wife and children would get
on if he failed to return. But pluckily he persisted.

Near the summit we came to a place known as the Last Look
Back. Beside the trail there was a mound on which men sat to rest.
It gave a fine view in clear weather down to the crescent lake and
temple hill, and as we took our fill of this last glimpse of civilization
for several weeks, and of Sichang perhaps for months, Chao mused:

D
50 STRONG MAN’S PREY

“The name is an allusion to the moment before death when man
regrets his evil deeds and finds he is too late to mend his ways
before entering the Shades.”

It was too good an opportunity to miss. We talked with him
about how a man may find salvation even when it is too late to
mend his ways, and Chao was stirred to hear it.

Once past this point, Nosuland wraps round the traveller its
mantle of foreboding. He never knows when ambuscades may rise
to spirit him away into captivity, or when a violent attack may end
his life. Conversely, the return journey gives him the joy of seeing
suddenly, on reaching this place, the tranquil panorama of the Sichang
valley and the Anning River like a silver ribbon spread out to
entice him; and the long descent is eased by the relief of reaching
safety.

We often passed this way, and never did I lose during four years
that sense of entering the Shades when going in, or of flinging off
a film of evil when I crossed the border back again. It was not fear
of what the Nosu might attempt, once we knew them well enough
(we often rode alone or with but one companion when we knew
the way), yet that aura of maleficence clung to me. It was shared by
others in the team.

The rain-washed westerly slopes gave place to rolling pastures,
and here and there some cultivated oatlands. But the Nosu homes
were hidden in the sheltered vales, and few came into sight. Mile
after mile we looked for signs of life and saw no more than shep-
herds with their flocks, and then suddenly a troupe of fifty or more
would appear, collecting firewood.

It was somewhere up there in the moorlands that we came across
a band of seven Nosu lepers making for sanctuary in Chinese terri-
tory. Near the lake there was an isolated region where many had
congregated, safe from molestation. These had been begging grain
from relatives, and were now carrying it on their backs, small
proceeds from much painful labour. Two or three were in advanced
stages of the disease, with deformed hands and feet. They sat down
on a bank and rested while we chatted with them from the saddle.
Some were from the Chaokioh-Chuheh area to which we were
going, and their woebegone expressions lighted up a little when we
spoke of hoping to do something for them one day. They thought
it might be possible to find a plot of land where they could settle in
a colony if ever we established work in Nosuland, and thereby
raised my hopes unduly.

 

 
 

a

 

 

THE PLUNGE SI

Chao was ill at ease so near them, and when we moved on told
us the reason. |

“Nosu look upon all disease as due to demon influence,” he
explained. “Leprosy is caused by an unusually virulent evil spirit.
When therefore a healthy person is too near a leper, the demon may
attack him, insidiously at first, but later getting full control. In the
mountains and amongst the Chinese who share these beliefs, no
leper is allowed to die except by violence. Otherwise the demon
would transfer his hold to another human being. By making the
leper drunk and sewing him up in the hide of a cow that has
been sacrificed, he and the demon can be exterminated together.

‘They are thrown into a river or burned or buried—alive.

“There was a young leper down our way,” he continued, “whose
family decided he must die. But he refused to get drunk or submit
to burning. They caught him, roped him up and cast him on a
funeral pyre. But the flames burned through the ropes and he
escaped and fled. His own father and brothers chased him, brought
him back and burned him to death, so anxious were they to eradicate
the disease from their home.”

As we rode we talked a long time about this and other Nosu
practices, and the interpreter was glad to find us interested, and
struck by our unusual outlook on these things. He had learned in
school the scientific viewpoint, and knew of leprosy prevention, but
the Christian attitude (the element of compassion and concern for
the individual, not only as a patient), prompted him to question us
at length. We gave him a New Testament to read, and he started
from the beginning.

In failing light, after a long, hard day, we descended to the village
of Lolo Vale at nine thousand feet. The people, Blacks as well as
Whites, were poor and beggarly, in spirit as in dress. But for their
fat-tailed sheep, shorn like poodles with shoulders and rump
untouched, a humorous sight, they would have been hard put to it
for any livelihood. As it was, the village of fifty or sixty families
clustered together on each side of a torrent, lived as much on the
proceeds of accommodating travellers, as from their farming. The
muleteers had standing arrangements with the householders and
went straight to their respective homes. We as strangers were
received by an old couple gnarled with age and destitute of every-
thing but the barest necessities of life. They came out to greet us
when the dogs barked, and invited us into their spacious hovel.
52 STRONG MAN’S PREY

Standing by the one and only way in, my head was at eaves’
level. Drying vegetables, shrivelled turnips and wild celery, fes-
tooned the projecting roof beams, and cast up on to the rough
planks that did duty as a roof, were corn stalks and trodden oat
straw, fit for nothing that I could see. A dessicated bird’s corpse
dangled at the doorway with a few small twigs and feathers, a
charm left by the sorcerer-priest.

We tethered our animals to the beams and unsaddled them, carry-
ing the equipment with us into the house. I had to bend low to pass
under the lintel which was at shoulder height, and inside could not
move until my eyes were adapted to the darkness. A small fire was
alight in the stone hearth near one corner of the room, but there was
no other source of light. By then what daylight pierced between the
roof-planks was not enough to make much difference. Carrying the
heavy armful of harness and belongings I stepped forward toward
the fire and was sent reeling by a sharp blow across the forehead.
I had struck a low rafter and the mat of plaited bamboos resting on
it. Careful to avoid the horse trough, water-butt and ladder that
impeded my approach, I had not seen the danger in the shadows.

The old Nosu was amiable enough, welcoming us to join him by
the fire, but his wife was shrewd and crafty. We had not been in
the house more than an hour when she was found stealing one of
our straps. Later, long after we had settled down to sleep, I heard a
gentle rustling and switched on my torch. To her immense surprise
it revealed her at the trough gathering up the straw she had sold us
for the horses. What could be simpler, she had thought, than to
wait till we were asleep, and then to pretend that it had all been
eaten.

Soon our ignorance led us into difficulties. We found that eggs,
vegetables, meat, even the dried relics under the eaves, were too
precious to the poverty stricken old folk for them to sell us any, so
we had to be content with rice alone. After a long day’s travel with
much climbing and only a biscuit or two at noon, most of us were
hungry. T had a water-bottle with me, but had shared the meagre
pint with others, and was parched and ready for a satisfying meal.
Moreover Chao’s ideas of cooking were amateur, and we had to
make the most of underdone rice and nothing to go with it. Twenty-
five miles over the mountains and nothing but an indigestible bowl-
full at the end felt like hardship at the time, and it was with the
greatest difficulty that I managed to force it down against waves of
nausea, but to Chao it was apparently so commonplace that I had
 

 

 

THE PLUNGE 53

to revise my outlook. By then nothing could keep off sleep. It
surged over me, and this first night in Nosuland I drifted away to
the sound of a crescendo of voices arguing over debts in the room
beside me, and of thunder coming nearer.

It was scarcely a room. More like a barn, it was made habitable
by two bamboo mats spread on the floor by the fire. The hearth was
no more than three stones fixed beside a depression in the ground,
so arranged that the cauldron was supported above the flames.
There were no luxuries, no furniture, apart from a bin or two and a
box for implements. One end actually was the stable. I slept beside
the horse-trough, with Belinda champing over me, and on my other
side our pack-loads separated me from the group around the fire.
Beyond them was a matting enclosure where some fowls croaked
sleepily, and at the other end a doorway leading into what looked
like an unused cattle-pen.

One of the Chinese coolies working for us had not been in
Nosuland before, and afraid of going outside, for fear of the savage
dogs, at the call of nature he crept into that inner room. When he
emerged, the old man observed him.

“What are you doing in there?” he yelled. “Why have you been
into our hakvu? Don’t you know that only we may go in there, not
even Whites may cross the threshold? That’s where my spirit
bundles (ancestor relics) are!” And he and his old woman raved and
cursed the hapless coolie.

I woke up as soon as the shouting started, but their mixture of
Nosu and garbled Chinese was unintelligible. Chao understood it
and presently explained. The man was our employee. He had
violated the privacy and sanctity of the secret quarters where the
spirit symbols of the family were kept. Worse still, he had defiled
it. They would not hear of anything but that the man be handed
over to them. And I was to be responsible for the expense of calling
a sorcerer-priest to purify the place.

For a time nothing would pacify them. I rose and intervened,
trying by roundabout enquiry to calm the offended Nosu. Chao
himself was perturbed, uncertain how much trouble might develop
if malicious neighbours should come and join in. But eventually
the old man succumbed to exhaustion and with a final threat curled
up to sleep where he had been sitting.

Thunder was rolling round us and the rain began pattering on the
roof, and dripping everywhere. The Boss and I had come prepared,
and simply spread our oilsheets over our bed-bags and when
54 STRONG MAN’S PREY

necessary over our heads too; but the less fortunate could be heard
searching in the darkness by the feeble glow of red embers for a dry
patch of earth to lie on. Hardship is relative. A night like that would
have left me unhappy for a day or two; they barely mentioned it,
and were as cheerful the next day as ever.

I was hardly asleep again, it seemed, when I became aware of
rhythmic drumming and loud shrieks not far off'in the village, down
by the river. Subconsciously the memory of Vicomte d’Ollone and
his party of explorers sleeping in this very place with revolvers ready
to hand, and the expectation of more trouble from the householder
in the morning, built up a picture in my mind of an assault upon us.

I called out to Chao: “Wake up! What’s that racket?”

His heavy breathing in the hay loft close above my head ceased
while he said: “A sorcerer exorcising spirits.” And the breathing
continued.

The Nosu gift for being lost in sleep one moment and wide
awake the next struck me then and often afterwards as remarkable.
Chao had not lived a life of danger, but when travelling he was able
never to be more than just asleep, and always listening for unusual
sounds.

With first light the old man started on his tirade again, but
Providence was kind, it happened that his daughter-in-law lay ill
and he wanted me to treat her. He had to choose between her and
the advantages of compensation for the offence, and so for one
pound of salt the chapter was closed, and I was taken to see the girl.

Mountain galleries, wooded cliffs, furrowed ranges fading far
into the distance, slippery mud slopes and flat alluvial basins were
the setting of the next two days’ trek. In the Boglands where the
animals floundered helplessly, up to their bellies in mud, so that the
muleteers had to wade in to extricate them, we came to the only
bridge, a rickety affair of planks on trestles. One of our beasts fell
through. But on and on we plodded, sometimes drenched by rain,
and sometimes scorched by the sun until our faces blistered, some-
times ploughing through deep rivers and rocky torrents, experi-
encing richly the incomparable joys of life in the open wilds. They
come as near to spiritual delights as anything material can bring you.

From the top of a steep range, densely forested, we caught our
first glimpse of the Dragon’s Head. Somewhere in the haze between
it and the nearer Batcii mountains lay our goal, the valley of Chao-
kioh. Near us as we peered into the fascinating distance lay the
 

 

 

THE PLUNGE 55

ruins of a Manchu fort, high on a pinnacle, and further down the
thick mud walls of a derelict stockade stood as a reminder of the
days when Chinese power in Nosuland was greater than today. It is
boasted that a mere handful of soldiers has more than once defied
an army to pass through this line of steeply tilted hills and gulleys,
called the Soso Range.

The easiest ravine to traverse, the Soso Vale, dropped rapidly
through pines, oaks, cedars and attendant trees festooned with moss
and ferns, beside the rocks and waterfalls of its idyllic stream. But
in the several miles of its lonely course there have been many
tragedies. It is an ideal place for robberies, kidnappings and murders.
Few strangers dare pass through without company, or to be far out
of sight of each other among the trees. Houses there are, but hidden
in the deep nooks of the hills.

As we descended there was no sign of man, but shrill whistles
that might have come from hawks or parakeets rose from concealed
shepherds who had seen the pack-train approaching. They sum-
moned members of another road-guard to assemble and intercept
us. It was uncanny, feeling that though we could see no one we were
being watched. The ubiquity of the Nosu never fail to intrigue me.
Walking and climbing were so natural to them that they thought
nothing of climbing to an eminence, alone or in a group, and there
squatting with their cloaks wrapped round them, smoking, talking,
drinking in appreciatively the unobstructed views. Even their cloaks
of tweed or felt, black, brown, blue or undyed natural tones, blended
with the rocks, bushes and shadows of the mountain side, unless the
wearer sat up on the skyline, as they loved to do.

At the bottom we came out into a wide fertile valley where the
Border Service Mission had a few young Chinese and Nosu men in
charge of a small school. Here in Four Fields, as in the valley of Three
Bends further on, there was a Chinese family or two, remnants from
the massacres of bygone years. They had been spared by Nosu
chiefs to whom they, had paid adequate protection money. When
the jingle of mule bells heralded our approach, the little colony came
out to welcome us, and prevailed upon us to spend two nights in
the mission shack.

It was a rest from travel, but in no other way. Nosu crowded in
to see the lanky stranger, feeling his clothes, comparing heights, and
asking innumerable questions about his family and customs. Doctor-
ing filled much of the time, and when some light relief seemed
indicated I produced a toy snake to tease them. It was intended
56 STRONG MAN’S PREY

to make friends with children, but the adults were no less attracted.
When it peeped out from my sleeve and shot forth wriggling its
lurid segments, they ran screaming, “Busheu! a snake! A-Bee,
Busheu!” But when I hung it round my neck and put its gruesome
head into my mouth, and demonstrated slowly that each segment
was a piece of painted wood, they fought to borrow it to play off
on their friends.

Then I was reduced to screwing off my thumb, showing it dis-
coloured in the other hand and absent from the first, and suddenly
restoring it intact. The Nosu are above all things superstitious. They
stared incredulously and some backed away. This power was suspi-
cious. But some saw through the trick at once, and soon a crowd
of boys and girls were clinging round me until they had had their
fears allayed and learned how to perform it.

Chao was delighted. “The Nosu say your heart is good,” he
reported. And that was gratifying, for it was hard work at high
pressure all day long. As I was able I turned the conversation to
enquire about Nosu beliefs and terms for their deities, and to tell
them the gospel we had come to teach. Their knowledge of Chinese
was not equal to any conversation outside the range of trading and
daily intercourse, and I knew no Nosu beyond a few phrases. Nor
did we get far through interpretation. It was an uphill struggle for
them as well as me, and very soon they would change the subject.

Only two days previously there had been fierce fighting round
the valley. It had been going on for many weeks. The age-long
feud between the Hma clan of the Four Fields and the Asu of the
Three Bends had flared up, and when the Asu did not send a foray
against the Four Fields, one of the Hma leaders would take out a
band to raid the Asu villages. Organized, consecutive attack was not
the game, but hit and run vendettas, nourished by the tales of insults
and atrocities attributed to each side. The murder or death in action
of a prominent chief would light the flames of hatred and passion
such as were burning now.

Most Nosu clans reserve their women for the safer task of bring-
ing up supplies or watching from secure hill-tops for the enemy.
But two of our callers at Four Fields were well known fighters. Their
regal bearing, with long sweeping skirts, and chains of beads and
silver ornaments about their necks, ears and turbans, suggested the
drawing room rather than the battlefield. But their reputation was
for fearless fighting, ever since their husbands had been killed.

One brought her son, Laho, to see us, a charming boy of thirteen
 

 

THE PLUNGE 57

and an aristocrat to his finger-tips. When they had gone Chao told
me about him.

“You wouldn’t think it, would you, but that child is accepted as
a man among his clan. The other day the Asu suddenly attacked,
and his mother locked him safely in the house and went to fight.
She wasn’t going to lose her son as she had lost her husband. But
Laho thought,

‘T'm a Black, son of a chief. I'm really head of the family. 'm a
man, I ought to fight too. If women can go out to fight, why
can’t I?’

“He tried the door, but that was hopeless. There was only one
other way out, apart from burrowing through the walls, and that
was through the roof. He broke open the chest in which he knew
there was another rifle and some ammunition, slung them round
him, and then began to climb. From the grain bin he could reach the
lower rafters, and from the rafters he could part the roof planks and
clamber out. From there he jumped on to an outhouse, and so down
to the ground. His mother’s first dismay soon changed to pride as
her son lay by her, firing at the line of enemy figures on the opposite
hill. He’s quite the hero now.”

It did not take long to see that the Nosu think in terms of feuds
and courage, hatred and bravado, as much as of their day to day
affairs, their amours and their opium. During the second evening
Chao and two others were singing a Nosu song.

“Teach it to me,” I said. “T want to sing it to my friends.”

“Quite impossible,” they answered. “It would never do for you
to sing those words if you are teaching the gospel!”

I pressed them, for I wanted to know the sort of thing the Nosu
sang about. Their plaintive, often weird-sounding tunes would
float down from the hill-sides as we travelled, and sometimes a
singer would be egged on by his friends with hoots of laughter.
And then at last:

“All right,” I conceded, “think out a few verses that you wouldn’t
mind me knowing.” ;

They consulted together in Nosu and agreed on three which they
were not ashamed to repeat, setting them down in writing with the
tonic sol-fa for me. A free translation runs like this:

“Lilii Lingor the beautiful girl was seduced by Oupa Umle;
Her husband dashed the fellow’s brains out.”

That was a poor start. The next two verses were better.
58 STRONG MAN’S PREY

“When you're fighting in a battle, don’t think of living;
When you're working in the fields, don’t think of dying.

“When a man dies, he should leave a good name behind him
As a tiger leaves his valuable skin when he dies.”

This is one of the most popular songs, heard wherever you go in
Nosuland, but the innuendoes or plain crudity of its verses always
embarrassed and stopped the singers once they heard us tell about
God’s attitude to sin. Their consciences were suppressed but fully
alive. The look on Chao’s face as he heard us speak, amazement
mixed with dawning realization that what we were saying fitted in
with what he knew deep in the lowest recesses of his heart, made me
pray the harder for his conversion. He was responding already.

Nosu feuds have this in common, third parties are immune from
harm, as long as there is no mistake of identity. Our Four Fields
friends were not entirely happy about our crossing, unaccompanied,
the mountain known as the Little Hen that lay between them and
the Asu on the other side. They took us up the tragically eroded
slopes, and finding none of the enemy in sight left us to continue
alone. The fact that we had been on the best of terms with the Hma
clan made no difference to the warmth of the reception given by
their mortal enemies when we reached the Valley of Three Bends.
It was a most surprising and encouraging state of affairs to find, and
augured well for medical missionary work amongst them.

The River of Three Bends is so named because it meanders north,
south, north, and then south again before falling rapidly to join the
River of Gold, the Yangtze. We had crossed it once already, and
now forded it twice more at hip depth. Those who were on foot
and could persuade a pack-animal to pause long enough, leapt on
to its back and so crossed dry. The rest removed their trousers and
plunged in, gasping with the cold. Only the Great Hen, an 8,500 ft.
mountain, remained between us and Chaokioh, our immediate
destination. A taxing climb brought us to the wind-swept summit,
where the spine and sheer end of the Dragon’s Head showed briefly
through driven cloud. And across the heights of Shama low cloud-
banks indicated the position of the gorges where in a fierce con-
tinuous rapid two hundred miles in length, the Yangtze churned
its way.

It was thrilling to peer into the distance across the mountains we
might yet penetrate. But more thrilling still, near at hand, was the
 

THE PLUNGE 59

enchanting sight of Chaokioh below us as we started our descent.
For ten years my dreams had come back and back to this point.
Now here I was. Again instead of green trees and fields it was a
disappointment to find dry brown hills and poor infertile soil. But
the jagged crest of the Batcii Mountains, at 12,700 ft., framed on
the north-west an attractive basin four miles long by one or two
wide. Its surface undulated freely and was broken up by ribs of
high land thrust into its bowl. Below its farther rim the Chaokioh
River glinted black and silver as the clouds chased over, flowing to
meet the River of Three Bends as it emerged from its last sweep
through a shadowy gorge. .

Chao stood beside me. “Dead in the centre there, do you see the
fort?” he asked.

I followed his pointing finger and could just see, minutely, the
straight walls, lonely among ricefields. Not a single tree was stand-
ing, behind which lurking tribesmen could take cover. Only on the
fringes where the land rose into the foothills, were there little
woods, and clumps of hand-set poplars marking the villages of the
Batcii clansmen.

“Over there where the rivers meet,” Chao said, “you can see the
remnants of the old fort, dismantled when they built this one. And
there, at the opposite end of the valley, is a low saddle of red and
grey sandstone hills. That is the Leopard’s Mouth, a nomansland
unsafe to cross because the wild Ahu, my wife’s distant relatives,
like to kidnap people there. Beyond it, the deep valley you see is
Chuheh. Chinese control goes no further than that. And that village
within rifle range of the fort, do you see?—the soldiers of the
garrison dare not risk approaching it. They would be shot!”

Eagerly I drank it in. Many were the reasons why this should be
the advanced base from which to push out into wilder Nosuland
with the message of deliverance that had so long been denied to the
Nosu. Only a few weeks earlier the way here had seemed firmly
closed. Now, oh, glory be to God, we had arrived! All round us
for as far as eye could see, and out into the haze, clan after clan of
sovereign Nosu lived and fought and passed their days in degrada-
tion and suffering, in ignorance of the simple truths that could
transform them and their environment and give them life eternal,
as it had their cousins in other provinces. If the Batcii clan of Chao-
kioh and the Hma of Chuheh would but welcome us and make
possible the laying of spiritual foundations, what might not the
work soon develop into!
60 STRONG MAN'S PREY

I voiced some of these feelings, and the Boss, true to his nature.
kindled with enthusiasm and enlarged on how his family would
live out in Sichang while he roamed with pioneering zeal to preach
the gospel. Once again that quizzical expression came over Chao’s
face, as if he could not understand but envied us that something
which distinguished us from everyone he knew. Was this “gospel”
so miraculous that it could change the Nosu, free them from fear
of demons, change their hate to love for one another? It needed
thinking over.

As we started off again a silent band of armed men suddenly
appeared, as if to intercept us. The thought flashed through each of
our minds that we had been unwise to come so far ahead of the
main caravan, and even Chao feared they were raiders. It was a new
experience to be in a country where rifles and sheath knives are the
companions of the common man. Whatever the intentions of the
party, when they had stared grimly at us, without a flicker of a
smile, and acknowledged Chao’s greeting in Nosu with a nod, they
passed us by and went their way.

My spirits were high, borne up by the exhilaration of achievement,
so that my legs grew wings. With Belinda sliding on her haunches
down the hill behind me I outstripped the others, singing and
thanking God aloud for bringing us through safely to the heart of
Nosuland. Suddenly once more, from nowhere came three Nosu
men to meet me. They must have been sitting watching our
approach but blended with the hillside, for I had not seen them.
Together they transferred their cloaks over to their left shoulders,
and as I wondered what was going to happen, bowed low to the
ground with bended knee and swung the cloaks across in front of
them in an Elizabethan gesture. I responded awkwardly and asked
them who they were.

“Noblemen of the Asu clan,” they answered. “Asu Asu, chief of
the village you see yonder, Asu Sirji my son; and Asu Ulho my
nephew.” His Chinese speech was just intelligible.

“And Iam Doctor Hai,” I volunteered (tongue in cheek), wishing
to draw him out, “friend of the Nosu and hoping to be allowed to
live among you. Would you welcome me and my family and
friends to settle in this district?”

“We have heard about your coming and are glad.” Old Asu Asu
hailed a retainer from the background and ordered him to take
Belinda’s rein. “Sit down here by the roadside, you have plenty of
time. When will your family come to join you? I would like you
 

THE PLUNGE 61

to choose my village to settle in. But if you must go further, then
be assured of this, if anyone molests you I will send armed men to
take vengeance on them.”

I wondered for a moment if the strange old chief was drunk. His
eyes were red with smoke and dusty winds. But he was fatherly and
absolutely sober. Grandiloquence with strangers is characteristic of
the Nosu. Chao and the Boss arrived and joined us on the grassy
bank, and we talked until the mule bells sounded from the trail
above. In my provisions I had brought enough luxuries to permit
of two or three sweets or sugar lumps each day, a relief from the
unaccustomed diet, and had enough there with me to distribute
some amongst them. Fudge and sugar. Their delight was puerile.
But the old man put his carefully away for the grandchildren.

Once more we forded the river at the foot of the Great Hen,
crossed its wide shingle-beds and cantered the last two miles, where
the track was unbroken. Dogs barked and snarled at the horses” heels
outside a flourishing big village, the home of V’ha a blind chief, and
women weaving in the shelter of the village walls stood up to get
a better sight of the strange foreigner and his big mule. The walls
of Chaokioh came nearer, twenty feet in height, built of cut stone,
and at the arched gateway thirty of the most impressive Nosu I had
seen removed their turbans and bowed an unexpected welcome.
CHAPTER FIVE
LEARNING TO PRAY

HE candle had burned low, and everyone was asleep before I

had finished writing up my diary that night. Thunder and rain,
the beginning of the season, had roared over us but were abating. It
was nearly midnight, and the snores of the officials in the magis-
trate’s tumble-down residency, to which we had been taken,
reverberated softly through thin partitioning walls. Rain dripped
from the battered tile roof on to the smoke-grimed boarding of the
loft above and leaked like stale tobacco juice on to our bedding and
my book.

I was exultant. The goal of years had been reached, the people all
along the route and here at journey’s end had beamed their pleasure
and appreciation of our purpose. The Nosu deputation at the gate,
I found to my dismay, had been there expressly to receive me. I had
fondly imagined that our coming was inconspicuous, and pausing
only a moment to wave to them from the saddle, had ridden
through the archway. But although surprised (for as I later learned
I should have dismounted some yards away and met them on foot),
they had followed me in, and at the subsequent introduction had
been charmingly tolerant of my boorish behaviour. The leading
chiefs were big imposing men, dignified, determined, a few of them
tall, and most with “heavenly horns” and scarlet ear-rings to com-
plete the picture of distinction, led by a Falstaff who appeared to be
their spokesman.

“They seem really touched that we should love their race and
come so far to help them,” I wrote. “Oh the soul-stirring moments
that crowd one on top of the other—the welcomes, the laughter, the
pathos, the longing that they may see the Light—it is almost too
much for me at times. ‘My heart is enlarged,’” like St. Paul’s, with
loving them. They are all I expected and better: strong, proud,
dignified as guardsmen, open, friendly when sure of you, and often
really handsome. Their skins are darker than the Chinese, and I am
surprised to find how large a proportion already speak fairly clear
Chinese.”

Before parting we planned a parley to which they promised to
bring a fully representative group of chiefs with whom I hoped to

 
 

LEARNING TO PRAY 63

discuss our offer, to live amongst them permanently, to preach the
True God and practise medicine. The magistrate had not returned,
from a tour for “suppressing opium cultivation,” but his deputies
made genial hosts, and after supper we talked at length about the
Nosu. As in Sichang the feeling between the Chinese and Nosu was
conspicuous, one of mutual scorn and distrust, though in official
contacts such as we had just witnessed they were affable.

“Why should you choose to help the Lolos?” was the question
put by several. “Aren’t there enough Chinese? Savages! they’re not
worth the trouble!”

But it was getting cold, and rats were scuttling about me as I
wrote. The kitchen slops and refuse lying around nourished a
multitude of them. I joined the sleepers—and woke to find the
world astir. All the staff, with the exception of the opium smokers
who were still abed, were busy washing in the hall outside, wringing
their face towels out in hot water and fomenting their faces, scrub-
bing their teeth and gargling over the sunken court. None needed
to shave more often than about once a week, and I could see the
underlings were amused by my procedure.

Breakfast was not till ten o’clock as the custom was to have two
meals a day, so I wandered out. The hsienfu, or magistrate’s resi-
dency, was the only building that had survived the latest Nosu
revolt. Previously it had been an inn, but being the only erection
with a proper roof its superiority was unchallenged. The other
twenty buildings were roofed with planks in Nosu style. It stood at
the centre of the fort, facing the southern entrance, made of mud
bricks with a wooden frame. But with a coat of whitewash and some
slogans painted round its walls it outshone the glory even of a Nosu
mansion. A simple barracks of pounded mud was the nearest rival,
for the straggling row of houses between the north and south gates
looked as if they could not stand much longer. All the remaining
space within the fort was vacant, some of it cultivated, but mostly
left as it had lain since the sack of Chaokioh seven years before. It
was a scene of ruin, but there was about it also an indefinable
cosiness and warmth. Another hamlet, Little Chaokioh, of perhaps
twenty more families of Chinese colonists and escaped slaves, lay
outside the walls a few hundred yards off.

With darkness the Nosu had all had to leave, but with the new
day they were beginning to come in again, and to go from door to
door selling firewood, eggs or wool. The Blacks were gathering near
the houses that distilled wine, or finding a sheltered stretch of wall
64 STRONG MAN'S PREY

by which to sit and gossip. Ragged guards of the local militia stood
at the hsienfu door and lounged beside the iron-studded wooden
gates of the fort. From the lean-to sheds that did duty as their sentry
boxes, coils of wood-smoke filtered through the roofs, tainted with
the sickly scent of opium. And the impoverished peasants who had
come in as colonists and scraped a precarious livelihood from the
fields they had been allotted, led out their ponies, or chased their
pigs on to the waste ground to root.

I climbed up on to the broad wall and wandered round, taking
stock of everything. This was Chaokioh, the county town! Town it
was not: nor was it quite a village. Gone long ago was the town in
miniature that had existed under the Manchus, with its temple,
law court, yamen and shops. All had been sacked; only the inn
and walls were left, and rain had made breaches in them. On
two sides the turretting was intact, but elsewhere that too was in
ruins. Yet the title Chaokioh Hsien was equivalent to that of
Sichang and of important cities throughout China. Few Chinese
knew, who studied the maps, that the extent of control exercised
from this county seat of government was a corridor no more than
seventy miles long by ten or less in width, and that the remaining
thousands of square miles were independent in all but official
records. Its central position in the county gave it strategic value and
an appearance of power, but in fact no Chinese dared go further
than Chuheh, ten miles away, without the protection of a Nosu
chief. And the road to Chuheh was unsafe for any without an armed
escort. Even Chaokioh itself seldom passed through a year without
alarm of some kind or another, for the hatred between Nosu and
Chinese was at best flimsily disguised.

Sauntering down the rubble-strewn waste in front of the row
of hovels, I was surprised to see placards hanging at the doors of
some, and read “Department of Law,” “Taxation office,” “Tele-
graph and Post Office.” Superficially there was nothing to distin-
guish them from the stables and barns in which the common people
lived, except these boards, but inside, the official rooms were
papered with outdated documents and newspapers from Sichang,
and contained a table, bench and bed or two. Whereas the peasants
lived in darkness and squalor, the officials thus had slightly more
civilized surroundings; and in the quarters of an enlightened few the
rain that leaked through on to all alike was deflected to the floor
by an oilcloth or mat!

Derelict and dirty. What was it about these men that led them to

 

 
 

LEARNING TO PRAY ; 65

live in degradation when they knew how to be clean? I could not
answer my own queries at the time. But it was not long before we
knew, and knew so intimately that it took the grace of God to stay
there. Moral derelicts, so many of them were, the offscourings of
society, prodigals who by their education were able to hold a
position where vice and drug addiction would be tolerated.

Some were different. At the centre, opposite the magistrate’s
hsienfu, I was hailed by the telegraphist, a Shanghai man who had
married in Sichang and been sent here for a tour of duty. Radio-
telegraphy in the heart of Nosuland was the last thing we had
thought to find. But after the uprisings of the past decades the
Government had felt it essential to keep in touch with this outpost
in Chaokioh. Mr. Chiang was a delightful man, out of his element
and therefore overjoyed to see the Boss and me, a link with home.
He sought our company whenever he could, and asked if he might
join us when we met to read the Bible. Others too, farmers and
traders, lacked the conceited indifference of the renegades. About
them there was an atmosphere hard to define, an alertness and
resilience which we learned in time came from a pioneering spirit,
and found most refreshing. The obstacles and dangers they had to
contend with marked them out from the soft townsman.

When the magistrate returned he at once fell in with our plan to
call a meeting with the Batcii chiefs, and himself convened it. This
was not what I had wanted, for the less we were associated with
official action the freer would be our contacts with the Nosu. But
just as it had been impossible to refuse the hospitality of the hsienfu,
and live in a hay loft, so now as guests of the magistrate there was
no alternative but to accept his help.

The chiefs turned up in force, sending their sons or stewards
where they could not come themselves, and sat together in the
hsienfu hall. The magistrate addressed them in Chinese and his
remarks were translated into Nosu by an ancient interpreter, a relic
of the early days, who had seen both Brooke and d’Ollone.

“I have called you here because there has been too much thieving
going on recently,” the magistrate declared unauspiciously after
formal opening remarks, “and I mean it to be stopped. You are the
chiefs of your villages, and your Whites will listen if you tell them
what I say. Tell them this: any thief caught stealing will be put in
prison, and his chief will have to buy him out. Any man seen near
the walls of this fort after the gates have been shut will be fired on.

o
66 STRONG MAN'S PREY

I will not have the surreptitious entries there have been in the last
few months. Anyone found climbing the walls or burrowing in
will not only be shot dead but will have to be bought back by his
chief.” ‘

This and much else about slavery and opium-growing was shouted
first by the magistrate and then by the interpreter. The faces of the
Nosu were inscrutable. They were unmoved. But when they were
at last called on to speak, Falstaff rose ponderously and said with a
show of sincerity: :

“Father and mother of us all, Sir, I beg leave to report that all the
chiefs of the Batcii clan are grieved beyond words to learn that such
things have been going on. (Groans of appropriate distress from his
companions.) It shall be stopped. But if some low-down dog of a
slave should so disregard your orders and our threats, we beg of
you to kill him and dispose of his corpse. It would not be worth
buying back.”

After an hour or more of this most unsuitable preamble, when I
was wondering how to back out of my arrangement to address the
Nosu, but saw no way of doing so without giving offence, I heard
the magistrate introducing me.

“The Government as you know has always had the best interests
of the Thren at heart. You are so ignorant of the causes of disease and
methods of cure, that we want you to be enlightened. Only you in
all the length and breadth of China have no doctors. (A lie of course. )
It is time you caught up with the rest. So we have brought a foreign
doctor here to help you. He is travelling through Nosuland to
choose a place to work in, and he wants to speak a few words to

ou.

Whether he thought I could not understand him I do not know.
I was non-plussed. Such patently false claims were hard to deny in
his presence, and yet I had to speak. Positive statements of truth
were my best weapon. -

“Chiefs of the Batcii clan,” I started, and the interpreter trans-
lated sentence by sentence into Nosu, “for ten years I have been
looking forward to this moment. Ever since the reports of the
French and English explorers of forty years ago came to my ears I
have been attracted to your race. Your fear of demons, your
ignorance of how to overcome them, your many enemies and your
prowess in battle have all been told me. You believe in the God of
Heaven, Mo’m Apu, and so do I It is He Who made me wish to
leave my mother-country more than one year’s walk away from

 

 
 

LEARNING TO PRAY 67

here, and come to China. And it is He Who has persuaded the
government and the general in Sichang and the magistrate to let me
come and offer my services to you. If you are willing I can bring
my wife and children and my friends, and scttle among you and be
your friends. We know how to heal many of your diseases, and we
will teach you how to escape the power of the demons and become
the people of Mo’m Apu.

“Do not think that we will come with many presents and material
advantages for you. Our gifts will be ourselves and all we can teach
you. We have no feuds, and those who would be our enemies we
will consider as no less our friends. That is the teaching of Mo’'m
Apu. He Himself has made a way for all those who have offended
Him to become His friends again. If you approve of what I have
said, and welcome us amongst you, please let me know so that I
may report to the leaders of the mission I represent.”

As I spoke the faces of the Nosu warmed with feeling. Grunts and
exclamations escaped them. And when I bowed and sat down the
forty or more of them leapt as one man to their feet and cried out
in a spontaneous demonstration of approval. But the faces of the
Chinese were not happy. Here was an entente they had never known.
It was disturbing. From that point some of the underlings became
obstructive. The magistrate, however, was a big-hearted man (we
always kept on friendly terms), and played his game like a sportsman.

Later on I asked a very handsome leading chief named Batcii
Vulii, 2 man of about fifty, to put in writing for me the assurances
of the clan.

“This letter is addressed to the directors of the China Inland
Mission,” he wrote after consulting me. “The coming of this
Doctor Hai we Nosu respectfully welcome. His medicines we will
greatly value. His lady need have no fear of coming too, nothing
shall harm her. We Nosu chiefs fully guarantee this.

Written by Batcii Vulii of Chaokioh on the sth day of the sth
moon.

Such a simple letter took him more than an hour to work out in
his native script, with the help of the interpreter, Chao, and more
time to copy, so its brevity may be excused. The spirit in which he
wrote it left me in no doubt, however, of his sincerity.

That was the point. It was not enough to hear professions ot
welcome, so readily forthcoming through purely oriental courtesy.
How to determine the true feeling of the people was the rub.
Having a second missionary companion would have made it
68 STRONG MAN'S PREY

simpler, for as time progressed the mixed motives of the Boss offset
the contribution he could have made. And Chao could not appre-
ciate the problems from my point of view, valuable as was the light
he shed on Nosu customs and forms of speech.

The task before me was to judge the real attitude of the Nosu
and Chinese, apart from the advantages they would gain from
having medical facilities amongst them, and to discover whether the
accessible population especially among the wild clans, the com-
munications, the living conditions, the risks or security, and the
scope for development, justified launching our enterprise in this

place.

From the time of our arrival we were kept busy making friends,
seeing sick people, gleaning information from all who had any to
give, and planning the next stages of the journey. Inevitably it
involved talking and sipping tea by the fruitless hour with indolent
men who must nevertheless be treated courteously. We had meant
to move on without delay to Chuheh, but the magistrate let us
know that he wanted us to wait for him. He was concerned about
our safety if we should attempt to cross the Leopard’s Mouth before
he had been over with a show of force. It was not long since three
of his men, although armed, had been abducted and recovered only
at great trouble and expense.

So while the Boss made friends with the magistrate’s staff, the
interpreter came everywhere with me to help me understand the
Nosu and the peculiar colloquial Chinese spoken at Chaokioh. It
gave us time for many talks together. Since we had met in Sichang
our friendship had grown apace, but he had been cautious and
uncommunicative on any but impersonal subjects. Now his curiosity
was awakening, and every day he followed our example of reading
the Bible before breakfast. He had dug well into his New Testament
and was enjoying the narrative, but the Lord’s Prayer had so struck
him that he came back to it again and again. I was surprised at first,
because I had never lived the sort of life in which the Lord’s Prayer
is so strikingly applicable. But to Chao with his knowledge of life
in the Nosuland border regions it appeared extraordinarily apt, a
masterpiece of religious expression.

“Is it all right if T pray this prayer?” he asked one morning.

“The Bible says ‘God does not hear sinners,” ” I answered him,
trying to conceal my delight, and meaning to provoke him into
deeper thought. ““ ‘If I harbour evil in my heart the Lord will not

 
LEARNING TO PRAY ' 69

hear me,” it says too. But the contrite sinner is a different matter,
He welcomes us to pray when we are sorry for our sins.”

Chao did not answer, but I noticed that he prayed, and with the
Lord’s Prayer open before him. After that we talked a great deal
more, and he was full of thoughtful questions. I lent him a handbook
of doctrine to study, and he asked if he might keep it. But his
interest was without conviction yet, and I began to fear that it would
slacken or grow stale. Even the third chapter of St. John failed to
disturb him though he discussed it with me and read a booklet on
the “New Birth.” He went with Mr. Chiang the telegraphist and the
Boss sometimes, to study the Bible together, and came back im-
pressed not so much by the subject as with the Boss’s knowledge of
his textbook.

Then I realized that my own praying was at fault. I was trying
to help Chao towards true spiritual conversion, and praying that I
might succeed, and yet my prayers were based on hope, and a
vague faith in God’s promises, and nothing firmer. Couldn’t they
depend on something surer in a matter so near to God’s own
purposes? There was no question that He did not wish that any
“should perish, but that all should come to repentance.” Was there
nothing within the bounds of His sovereignty and Chao’s free will,
that I could apply to the situation? I looked up some of the verses
on prayer that came to mind, and the answer was plain.

“Whatever you ask in prayer, believe that you receive it, and
you will.”

“Whatever you ask in My Name I will do it, that the Father may
be glorified in the Son; if you ask anything in My name I will do it.”

“If you abide in Me, and My words abide in you, ask whatever
you will and it shall be done for you. . . . I chose you and appointed
you that you should go and bear fruit . . . so that whatever you ask
the Father in My name, He may give it you.”

“And this is the confidence which we have in Him, that if we ask
anything according to His will He hears us. And if we know that
He hears us in whatever we ask, we know that we have obtained
the requests that we made of Him.”

What could be plainer? And these were only a few of the many
on the same subject. I studied them again. They were promises that
could be claimed, but on certain conditions: the first, on condition
I believed that God would keep His word; the second, on condition
that it was something consistent with my position as His representa-
tive and servant so that it would be signed, as it were, in His name—
70 STRONG MAN’S PREY

which cut out any selfish or irresponsible requests made on the
strength of the first promise; the third, that I was living in touch
with Him all the time, taking my orders direct and obeying them,
not clinging to any sin or selfish demand that I was unwilling to
forsake; and the last, on condition that what I asked was in keeping
with His own will, in which case there were grounds for confidence,
not merely hope.

Among our many callers there was a chief of about my own age,
a man made famous by the fact that he had played a leading part in
the revolt against the government seven years previously. Batcii Aku
was a household name throughout Nosuland for that reason, and
there were those who recommended that if we intended to travel
through independent territory we could not do better than have
Aku as our guarantor and escort. When he came to see us he would
sit and chat so naturally that we soon became good friends.

I had been pondering the subject of prayer one day, sitting on
my campbed in the hsienfu, when in walked Chao and Aku together.
At the sight of them, two Nosu Blacks, men of the noble rank,
young, strapping, intelligent, potential forces for good or ill, and
naturally endowed with many graces, I was seized with a tremendous
desire that both of them might be among the spoils of victory.
When they had gone I turned up the promises in my Bible and
wrote beside them in the margin the names of the two men and the
date, praying precisely that they might both believe in Christ and
be the nucleus of the church in Nosuland. To help them reach that
point from then on became my chief immediate object. With Chao
there were plenty of contacts, for we shared the same candle and
talked into the night repeatedly. But with Aku it was impossible to
talk except in the company of his fellow-chiefs and retainers, who
cither stole the conversation or by their presence hindered serious
discussion. And often he was the worse for liquor.

Then came the day to go across to Chuheh.

 
CHAPTER SIX
THE PLACE PREPARED

MOTLEY cavalcade rode out across the fields toward the

north, led by the magistrate and several secretaries with an
escort of militia. They would not hear of our travelling separately,
for a mishap on the Leopard’s Mouth, so near to the county seat,
would have meant intolerable loss of face. So we were there with
the Chinese on the banks of the Chaokioh River when the swollen
stream was reached.

The rain had been falling in earnest, and with my inexperience at
the time the river looked impassable. It was a hundred yards in
width, with treacherous pits and potholes in its bed. The water was
racing with such speed and force that one of the bodyguard who
stripped and waded in was carried off and had to be rescued by
a Nosu. Another Nosu tried to find a shallower place where our
horses would have some chance of keeping their feet. He too
stripped naked and by starting higher up and working with the
current, managed to discover where the river bed was silted and the
water only waist deep.

Belinda joined the rebellious animals until a few had taken the
plunge. Then, with men goading her from behind, I managed to
persuade her to the water’s edge. One frantic moment of hesitation,
a drop of several feet, and the water caught us and hurled us side-
ways. Somehow I kept my seat, and somehow Belinda found her
feet. This was the first river she had crossed in spate. She plunged
forward, turning sensibly into the stream to take the force of it on
her breast, and lifted wildly staring eyes toward the far bank. And
so we reached the other side.

At the foot of the Leopard’s Mouth, another mile ahead, a crowd
of Nosu lined the track, waiting for me. Men and women and
children with smallpox full out on their faces mingled freely with
the healthy. One or two of the babies were already blind. What
could I do? Piteous tales had been told us about the ravages of small-

~ pox and measles, killing off scores of the young adults as well as
children. Ruinous sacrifices to placate the demons only made the
people poor. The scourge swept on relentlessly. They besought me
to do something. When I begged them to believe that there was

 
72 STRONG MAN’S PREY

nothing in the circumstances that I could do, they thought I was
playing for advantage and offered silver, livestock, anything I
wanted from them. But I had to ride on, leavmg a few vials of eye-
drops and some antiseptics, useless except as a gesture.

Up the Leopard’s Mouth we streamed, safe as houses in so large
a company, and at the summit saw the place where the three men
had been waylaid, as innocent a spot as any on the lovely flower-
sprinkled pastures. But the isolation up there in the no-man’s-land
between the two rival clans, the Batcii and the Hma, gruesome with
the remnants of a crucified dog half-eaten by carrion birds, made it
ideal for kidnappers. At any time of day or night there was unlikely
to be a soul within half a mile, and then only a shepherd.

From the top of the escarpment that dropped down to six thous-
and feet, a thousand lower than Chaokioh, there was a fine outlook
over the whole valley of Chuheh. Like a huge rice-bowl with
crenellated sides, the valley lay in sunshine, lush and fertile after the
dry plain above. Farming was advanced by almost a month, and
the green fields of wheat and oats well-grown lay patterned on the
slopes above the rice terraces: Trees shaded the five villages in view,
and across the far side a river flowed through willow and poplar
groves, to turn and leave the valley by a narrow gorge. It was a
beautiful place, though hardly the Garden of Paradise some had
claimed it to be. High hills surrounded it, and beyond their rim the
distant Dragon’s Head towered hugely.

It was strange to be here at last, and to be looking at and over the
last limit of subjugated soil to the wild mountains and wild people
of the clans beyond. Only fifteen miles away Brooke lost his life,
and in the direction we were looking we could travel daily for a
week and come across no other Chinese than slaves, no dearth of
them.

Half an hour later Hma Vuta, a leading chief of Chuheh, wel-
comed us with bows on the threshing floor outside his home. He
was an elderly man, stout, but strong and active, with the kindest
face and eyes that I had seen in any Nosu man. His command of the
Chinese language was the best that we had heard apart from Nosu
with a Chinese education, and his voice was mellow. At once it
became clear why “Hma Vuta” was the name so often heard. He
was not only attractive but enlightened, travelled and ambitious for
the advancement of his people. His son Bizeu, a boy of thirteen, and
his wife came out to join him, and the children of his serfs clung
 

THE PLACE PREPARED 03

round his legs or asked to be picked up, just as if they were his own.

The government officials rented a plot of his land, and lived in
two hovels, dirty, dark and offensive, within the enclosing walls.
The yard outside was boggy with undrained slush, and our animals
were led through the living quarters to reach the stabling above
which we were to sleep. There were no windows, and the only
light to reach us came through the Nosu roof. So did the rain when
thunder and torrential downpours began after dark. We slept under
our oilsheets, rising from time to time when the leaks became
immoderate, or when the horses, cramped in an inadequate enclo-
sure, fought over their fodder. Though this was in name the outpost
of the Youth Corps, and existed for the education and political
indoctrination of the Nosu in Kuomintang ideas, in practice it was
little more than a wine tavern and trading post.

The magistrate returned to Chaokioh the next day. Hma Vuta
escorted him over the Leopard’s Mouth and arrived back very
elated: he had heard the news that Falstaff, the senior chief of his
Batcii enemy had died. We were amazed that such a charming
gentleman should be so overjoyed by the death of one man, and
asked the reason. _

“Dogs and swine!” he answered. “Oh those Batcii, how they
love to kill and wound our people. Not even our children in the
fields are safe when they come out to snipe.”

“But why don’t you make peace with them? Why not talk it
out and settle your differences? It is absurd to go on killing each
other’s best young people.” For the Batcii had told us the same thing.

“We are willing, but the Batcii are devils, they delight to slay,
they will not make peace except on their own terms.”

That too was the same answer as the Batcii clan had given us; each
insisted that the other was to blame, and when they met, as from
year to year they did, to arrange competsation and the terms of
peace, each demanded that the other admit the greater liability.

“Five cows and twenty sheep they demand from us over and
above anything they yield to us. Can you wonder that we laugh
when the demons come and claim them!”

We had been invited into his home, and were sitting round the
fire in his large bare hall. The arched stones of his fireplace were
finely engraved, and he had a Chinese bed and a cupboard for his
bowls, but all else was plain and utilitarian, grain-bins, mill-stone,
water-butts, cattle-pen, all in the same room. His brother had recently
died, and the widow and her son and daughter by Nosu custom
74 STRONG MAN’S PREY

were now his own wife and children. They were there with us.

The conversation was a perfect background for the gospel, and
we took the opportunity to explain the very different attitude of God
to those who are His enemies; that while mankind chose to reject
and crucify Him, Christ Jesus laid down His life voluntarily for
those who hated Him. Hma Vuta was enthralled. It was a new idea
but quite impractical in Nosuland! In my baggage I had brought
some large gospel pictures, one of which I fetched and gave to him.
He pasted it with rice gruel to his wall, and three years later it
was still there, a constant reminder of that and many other talks we
had on the same subject.

Our intention to stay only two or three days, long enough to
assess the attitude of the Hma clan to us and our proposals, and to
examine the valley with a view to settling, had not taken into
account the weather. From the village on the hillside we enjoyed a
superb view of rain storms over the valley. Sheets and sheets of
driving water hurled themselves down on us day and night. A brief
break in the clouds would raise our hopes for a few hours, and then
down it would come again. Not for ten days was there a chance
of crossing the river back to Chaokioh. The water rose and over-
swept its banks. Trees and rocks were washed down on the flood.
No one could survive in the tumbling cauldron of mud-laden
water that hissed and fumed past for twenty-four hours after such
cloud-bursts. In the dry intervals we went about as much as we
could, visiting other villages and chiefs, watching the Nosu going
about their daily occupations in the fields, or the women weaving
tweeds for their own skirts or their men’s cloaks. But there were
hours and hours in which we talked, learning from Chao and Vuta
all we could about the Nosu, or trying to learn their language.

They revealed more than they realized about themselves. When
I asked for sentences to illustrate a point of grammar or construction,
or wanted to compile a list of useful day-to-day expressions to
memorize and employ, all the gist of what they had to offer was
confined to wine, feuds, firearms, ancestry and prowess.

“Give me some sentences for use along the road when we are
travelling,” I asked them. They thought a moment.

“K’a ko bo? Where are you going? Djuhii bo! Going to Chuheh!”
they would begin. And then, “Who is your escort? Why have you
no rifle? Have you any feuds in your country? Have you brought
some wine with you?” and so on, all the questions I would be likely

to be asked.

 
 

THE PLACE PREPARED 5

It was from Vuta that I heard the first story of a white man held
as a slave. “He is tall and lame and bearded, with much fairer skin
than ours,” he said. “And he is good at curing diseases, I am told.
Every time an aeroplane goes over he stands and watches it, and
tears come into his eyes. But he is too useful for them to let him go.”

I tried to find out more, but for a long time could learn nothing,
until one day, back in Chinese territory, this explanation was pro-
vided. Deserters from the Burma front had sometimes travelled
overland by the mountain roads to elude recapture, and being
northerners, bigger and more bearded then south-western Chinese,
were mistaken for foreigners. Even after the American investigators
declared all these rumours unfounded this story stayed in circulation.

Patients kept on coming, and our time was full with work of one
kind and another. Tragic cases, hopeless without better medical
facilities than I had available, were brought or shown me when we
were out on our tours of the valley. Gunshot wounds with splintered
bones, leprosy (men doomed to die or be expelled), Hma Vuta’s own
nephew bitten by a mad dog, waiting for hydrophobia to develop,
babies only a few days old, already blind through ignorance and
dirt. Case after case, neglected because the Nosu only knew how to
slay sacrifices to placate the demons causing the disease. Invitations
to go out to see them, sometimes several days’ journeying away,
kept coming in, but the swollen rivers prevented distant travel. In
the Chuheh valley itself it was hard enough to get about. As we
passed the people working in the rice fields, rain or no rain, they
would call out,

“You've cured my son!” or “I'm better, I'll bring you some eggs
tomorrow,” or, in the case of one young chief who had secretly
revealed to me that he had leprosy beginning, “You really are
meaning to return, are you?”

“If you all want us,” I replied.

“Want you!” he answered with tears of apprehension in his eyes,
i‘What shall we do otherwise?” He was put to death a few months
ater.

But the temper of the Chuheh Nosu was different from those at
Chaokioh. They were rougher, more demanding, rude and domin-
eering, accustomed to get what they wanted by jungle law, half
way in enlightenment between the Batcii with their long association
with the Chinese, and the Ahu, Alu, Mpo and other clans beyond
the pale. There was more violence reported, more consorting with
slave traders and slave raiders. Men whose homes were in the valley,
76 STRONG MAN’S PREY

not even the highlands, were known to take part in slave raids on
occasion.

If we were to bring women and children here, we must first be
very sure that the guarantees by chiefs like Vuta were effective, and
that wicked men would not harm them. In Chuheh we would
be so near to the people that we would have all the advantages of
observing their lives—the quarrelling, though the rarity of this was
striking, the drunkenness, the atmosphere of hatred and fear bred by
the feuds—and also the chance to understand their viewpoint and back-
ground. The sorcerers’ shricks and drumming in the dead of night,
the wails and rifle firing when a corpse was taken to the funeral
pyre, and the homely household calls (Ji-ja-0-0-0-0! to summon
hens), these would become familiar instead of being hair-raising,
and the people would become our intimates. It would all help to fit
us for the tougher task of penetrating far into the mountains in due
course.

On the 12th of June Chao and I were sitting in our loft above the
stable, and he was reading while I wrote my diary. Suddenly he
looked up and said, as I had been praying so intensely that he would:

“How can I be ‘born again’?”

He had been reading the third chapter of St. John’s gospel again,
enthralled by the thought of being made a new man, a child of God.

For an hour we talked while I outlined all that it would mean for"

him to burn his boats and be a Christian, showing him in the Bible
verse after verse, that he might know it was not my own ideas I
was teaching him, but the Word of God. He drank it all in, asking
careful questions, showing that he understood, point by point, the
need for contrition; that he must believe in Jesus Christ as God, and
that He died to save him from the consequences and grip of his sin;
that rebirth is a spiritual miracle, not anything he could achieve, but
something he would recognize and know to be fact when he had
experienced it. Finally I asked him: ,

“Have you yet confessed to God that you are a sinner, as you tell
me you are?”’

“No!” he replied. “But I want to. And I want to be born again
and belong to Him.”

So we knelt down to pray. Most sincerely he prayed after me,
asking the Lord’s forgiveness and surrendering himself to God for
ever; and rose solemn and thoughtful. ’

Every day after that we spent some time reading and talking

 
THE PLACE PREPARED T

together, for I knew that there was little time before we would have
to part, and he would be left alone for months at least, with no one
to help him. He was slow to tell his friends, but when he plucked
up courage the relief he felt was noticeable in his whole demeanour.
As for me, the conversion of the first Nosu only three weeks after
entering Nosuland was exhilarating and increased the urgency of
my prayers for Batcii Aku.

But already we had been too long in Chuheh. Our supplies would
soon run out if we did not get on with our journey. All attempts
to find escorts to take us north-west to Luipo had failed. Chaotung
was the next goal to aim for, but Vuta and the Hma clan were
involved in large-scale hostilities with other clans between us and
the Yangtze, and dare not take us through. While it rained, however,
and the rivers were engorged, nothing could hasten our departure.

By the 16th I was getting desperate and began praying for a change
in the weather. For the sake of completing the commission God had
- given me, for the sake of the people to whom we were becoming
a burden, from every point of view it was time we went. So I
opened my Bible, read through the promises again, and asked
deliberately, that the level of the river might subside enough to let
us over.

We called on Hma Vuta and said goodbye, presenting him with
a fine scarf, and his wife with a mirror and needles, and asked him
to find carriers for us. Vuta called his “slaves of the hearth” and
bade them kill a chicken. While we sat and talked the feast was
prepared, and served immediately. Vuta took the bird’s head from
the wooden dish, and stripped the meat from it. Then he tore
the lower jaw out and examined the bones, sucking them clean.
We waited in suspense, for this was divination, he was consulting
an oracle to see if I was a good man and would have good luck and
return in peace. If the ends of the bones turned in the wrong direc-
tion, he might decline to help more than he was obliged. With a
shout of satisfaction he passed the jaw around for all to see. It was
a perfect omen.

Very soon the rain lessened, and the clouds broke. Then some
Whites whom Vuta had called to carry our bedding bundles came
to the door. i

“It’s worth trying the river,” they said. “We can go about eight
miles z,l’nd look for a good place, and if it is still too deep come home
again.

Wonderful! It did not take long to saddle up the horses and bundle
78 STRONG MAN’S PREY

our loads together, and we were off, Hma Vuta leading, to see us
safely past the danger point on the Leopard’s Mouth. As we went
the sun came out, and Nosu working in the fields called out goodbye.

“Don’t forget to come back!” “Bring your family next time!”

On the top, when Vuta dared go no nearer to his enemies’ terri-
tory, he cut a long stick from a bush and chanting too rapidly for
me to distinguish separate words, nicked the twig from top to
bottom with his knife and counted the notches. With a frown he
handed the knife to one of his retainers and bade him do the same.
The man went through the ritual and together they discussed the
result. In the Chaokioh valley far ahead of us we heard firing as the
Batcii answered sniping from the top of the Hma clan hills. Vuta
was concerned because we had to pass between the opposing
factions, and the twig oracle he was consulting only stated that we
would probably be safe.

Near the river we were taken in to rest at the home of a Batcii
chief while his Whites prospected to see if the way was clear for us
to go on. He said there was a gravel bank across the river lower
down where we would be able to cross safely, and my heart sang.
Not only had the water level fallen, but the bed had come up to
meet it. What was there to fear from Nosu feuds if God had done
this to help us!

As we sat with the chief and his son, a sudden howling, whooping,
from the hill outside brought them to their feet. They seized their
rifles and ran out, fired a few shots, and returned to sit and smoke as
previously. A man on watch had sighted the enemy on the hill-
crest, that was all—a minor incident in the daily round. The howls
were the conventional summons to come and fight. :

At last the Whites returned and reported all clear. We filed down
to the river bank and prepared to cross. The Nosu cast off their
clothes. I, on Belinda, merely removed my riding boots and slung
them round my neck. As we approached the water, chocolate
coloured with churned mud, and swirling hideously with crested
waves, from five hundred feet above us on the hilltop several shots
rang out. There was absolutely no shelter. If they fired at us they
could hardly miss. Away across the fields near a village of the
Batcii we could see men taking cover in the rifle-butts made for the
purpose, and every now and then one would step out and parade
for a few paces to draw fire. When the Hma had let off a volley
at him they themselves would show a head or two above the hill-
crest, and so the duel went on.

 
 

THESPEACESPREPARED 79

Chao raised his voice as loudly as he could and shouted:
L e BN S, Ai! This is the yarih (the
foreigner) and his party! Don’t fire at us!”

Whether they could hear I do not know, but Chao and all the
escort seemed content. Apparently immune, we plunged into the
stream. But the animals were quivering with fear, afraid of the
tumultuous water and the staccato barking overhead, “Ta-tung!
Ta-tung!”, as the Nosu express the sound of shot and echo, shot and
echo, in the mountains. The water rose above our saddles till we
were sitting in it, but the animals plunged on, and we were over.
Up through the fields we rode, past crouching Whites, women and
children, many of them, down in the ditches or behind mud banks
and stone butts built for their protection, almost to the village that
was being fired on. That the whine of passing bullets could be
heard. And then we were safely in a gulley out of danger.

Back in Chaokioh we were beseiged as before, and one or two
minor medical successes were quickly reported so that more and
more sick people came. The chief Batcii Vulii’s wife was dramati-
cally cured of puerperal sepsis, and severe burns on a child’s leg
healed up so quickly that tall stories by the magistrate’s underlings
were believed, and one or two desperate sufferers came pleading
with me to operate on them immediately, regardless of my having
no facilities for doing so. Soon it became clear that nothing short
of a clinic or hospital would meet the needs. But so often were the
patients said to be too ill to come, or too far away, or prevented by
their inability to walk or ride, that medical work, if we were to
return and attempt it systematically, would need branch dispen-
saries and visits to their homes. The suggestion that they should carry
their patients to us was received with horror: only corpses are carried
on stretchers, they protested. To carry a living man like that would
be the best way to ensure that he would die. A boy of fourteen shot
himself while drunk, but they chose to let him die or recover at
home rather than carry him to us for treatment.

The Chinese did not like to see the Nosu receiving so much atten-
tion. One day when I was sitting in the home of a Chinese trader
with a group of Nosu who had come to drink wine, the Chinese
to impress me shook his fist in their faces shouting,

“You dirty lot of slaves, dogs of savages, you ought to be
annihilated!”

This was typical of the attitude of his countrymen. The Nosu took
80 STRONG MAN'S PREY

it quietly, but it was galling to see their humiliation. There was
nothing servile or obsequious about them, but rather a mood of
endurance, a biding of their time until they could hit back and
break free. Batcii Aku, the young chief for whom I was praying,
gave this impression very strongly. He was still being penalized for
his leadership of the rising years before, but each time he led his
sefs into the government premises bearing sacks of rice in payment
of his fines and taxes, he muttered his hatred of the Chinese to us,
and told us again about the injustice of his lot.

Another day an incident took place that led me to believe that
my intentions toward the Nosu were being interpreted as sincere.
Two chiefs and their retainers walked into my room as I was sitting
alone, and solemnly removing their turbans bowed deeply. The
younger, a strapping youth of twenty, from the folds of his felt
cloak produced a fowl and pressed it into my hands. Simultaneously
the other, with short silvered hair uncovered, launched into a flood
of rhetoric.

“Doctor Hai,” he started, using the garbled form of Chinese that
the Nosu teach each other, “you have come to our Nosu land. You
have come many miles, through many dangers. We Nosu say that
a man who has travelled far has proved his worth. But you are also
wise and learned. We Nosu are like cattle. You have matches that
burn with a clear flame long enough to light a pipe. Some of your
matches have been dipped in wax. We Nosu could never make
wonders like that. We strike a spark with flint and steel, and the dry
edelweiss tinder slowly glows, there is no flame.

“We have no cure for sickness. Our people with malaria sweat
and shiver, and our sorcerers cannot expel the evil spirits. Your
medicines expel them immediately. We are dull and live in darkness,
but with your coming the sun has risen on Nosuland and we are
glad to have you amongst us. You must go to fetch your family,
but you will return. There is no clan in Nosuland that will welcome
“you more warmly than we of the Batcii clan now do. Therefore you
must not look further but return with all speed to us here.

“This is my brother’s son. I am his foster-father. Today I have
brought him to present to you. As your son he will be immune
from harm by man or beast. Only lightning and snakes in the grass
will be able to touch him now that he is yours. He will obey you,
and he will come and work with you when you get back here.
Guchio is his name, but you shall name him what you will.” And
again he and Guchio bowed low and solemnly.

 

 
 

THE PLACE PREPARED 81

I followed closely, trying not to miss one pearl, but the pleasure
that this long confession gave me made it hard to wait until I
could reply. Then I said, '

“Batcii Latii, Batcii Guchio, in your country and in mine there
are rich and poor, nobles and squires and peasants. And both you
and we believe that Mo’m Apu the God of Heaven is greater than us
all. To Him it matters little if we are lairds or serfs so long as we obey
Him. For too long already evil spirits have intimidated you Nosu
and made you fear them and pay sacrifices to placate them. Now
God has sent me and my friends amongst you, to be your friends
and to heal your diseases; but more, to bid you turn and worship
the only true God. I am complimented by your words and thank
you for them. But when you say that the sun has risen on Nosuland
you are speaking more truly than you think. If you will listen to
what we teach you, a new day will indeed dawn in Nosuland and
you will have light in your hearts instead of darkness.”

As well as I could, for Chao was not there to help me, I explained
the deeper reasons for our coming, and exhorted them to take my
words to heart. Then, remembering that recipients of this honour
had to give a token of acceptance to the “son,” I unpacked a shining
jack-knife and bestowed it on him. Circumstances later showed that
the uncle’s motives had not been beyond reproach, but Guchio and
I became good friends, and of the chiefs of the Batcii, he and Vulii
and Aku were the last to bid us farewell when we left as exiles nearly
four years later. |

There was no question now that here in Chaokioh we were in an
unpredictably ideal position. I summed it up like this:

“Even one year ago we as foreigners might not have been allowed
to settle in so isolated a place. But since the Chinese have regained
the upper hand and consolidated their control, as far as I can tell it
has become safe even to bring women and children into the very
centre of the Nosu territory. Northwards for eight days’ travel
there are none but wild Nosu, sovereign and independent. South-
ward for as far it is the same. Eastwards for three days the Nosu are
supreme, and only Chinese with Nosu escorts dare move about.
But along the trail between Chaokioh and Sichang the Nosu clans
are held in check, and with a few precautions anyone can travel
- without fear. That is the significant point. We can be in the heart of
Nosuland, and yet still be where there is law and order.

“From the heights of the Great Hen we have seen another big

F
82 STRONG MAN'S PREY

valley stretching south-eastwards from the Old Fort, and it is as
populous and promising as Chaokioh and Chuheh themselves. Over
the mountain sides in all directions hamlets are thinly scattered. On
the basis of these indications I reckon that some thirty thousand
souls are within one march of Chaokioh, and the whole of the Great
Cold Mountains must contain a million, a figure smaller than has
been stated by several writers.

“But that is not all. In Nosuland there are three main dialects, and
Chaokioh is the one area where they all meet. For the purpose of
learning the language and translation this is promising. Here the
variations can be noticed in normal contacts. And strange to say,
the meeting of the groups is shown in the variety of dress found.
The northern clans on the whole wear very voluminous trousers
like skirts split at the knee. The southerners have tight ‘drainpipes’
close round the calf and ankle. And those in the west like a mid-
width leg ending half-way below the knee. All three styles are in
evidence at Chaokioh, and the Batcii clan, though western in
dialect wear whichever fashion pleases them, more often the
attractive full ankle-length split skirt.

“Are you surprised, then, that I feel convinced that this could be
bettered by no other place in Nosuland, and that I ought to hasten
through the rest of the journey and return as soon as possible to
start work? The ‘place prepared’ has been indicated unmistakably.”

Only two ways out of Nosuland remained: back to Sichang and
thence in a long and expensive détour to Kweichow, where I must
go before returning home; or directly across wild Nosu territory
and the Yangtze to Chaotung, a short cut of two hundred miles.
Only a third of this journey would be in crude or dangerous cir-
cumstances, and the fact that no westerner had ever travelled that
way before did not mean that it could not be done. Given bona fide
escorts there was no reason why we should not get through as
safely as the opium traders and gun runners.

One of these men, an evil beast soon to be brought to justice by
a man whom he had sold into slavery but who had managed to
escape, told me, “Batcii Aku is the man you need. He is respected
to the very borders, and he has relatives in every clan along your
route.

But, alas, Aku had gone into hiding from the officials he hated.

“He is away looking for a second wife,” his clansmen said.

I put my plans to the magistrate, and found him willing for me
 

THEYPTACESPREPARED 83

to proceed, so long as my Nosu guarantors were strong. Aku, he
agreed, was just the man. So, taking Aku’s part, I enquired,

“How about Aku’s fines? If I get him here to escort me, will he
be held and pressed for payment?”

“I'll see that he’s not,” the magistrate promised. “I'm responsible
for your safety.”

“So I sent a messenger to bring Aku back. Meanwhile stories had
been coming in of the fighting that Hma Vuta had mentioned,
between us and the River of Gold, and the Boss became nervous of
our going near it. Then while we were waiting for Aku, feasts in
celebration of a Chinese holiday were held, and Vulii, much the
worse for wine, announced that three thousand men were fighting
actually across the road we meant to take.

The fat was in the fire. Immediately the magistrate’s underlings
started talking hard, joined by the Boss who caught the prevalent
alarm and sided with them.

“It is absurd,” they cried, “to think of plunging into trouble.
Better return to Sichang and follow Chinese roads, however much
slower and more expensive it would be.”

But I was not convinced. Vulii was drunk.

“How is it we have not heard more about this?” I asked. “Even
if it is true, can’t we make a minor détour round the battlefield? The
risks are slight compared with the advantages of taking the direct
foitels

The argument passed back and forth. The opposition made no
bones of suggesting that I was unbalanced. For myself there was
more to it than merely a matter of policy and economy. I proposed
to cross the territory that was Satan’s seat. It was an act of defiance,
of challenge to the powers of evil to stop the ambassadors of Christ,
of “binding the strong men” and breaking into his domain, of
planting the flag, claiming wildest Nosuland for the Lord. And
apart from this occasion, how was Aku to hear and believe the
gospel in answer to my prayers?

I went away alone and thought the whole matter through. How
much was the zest of life, the spice of adventure, colouring my
motives? How much did pride, the chance of emulating d’Ollone,
without his funds and weapons and prestige, lure me into attempting
an untried route? What was God’s mind on the subject? The more
I prayed and pondered, the surer I became that this was right, we
must not be deflected. I re-read the promises on prayer that I had
come to trust, and feeling that again it was His will, and to His
84 STRONG MAN’S PREY

glory, that I could claim success in Jesus’ name, because I was
“abiding in Him” obediently, not doubting His word or power, I
deliberately accepted our safe passage to Chaotung as guaranteed by
God, and went back to the magistrate calm and confident.

Chao, I found, was quietly of my opinion, and the magistrate had
come round to the same viewpoint. That was enough. In the even-
ing Aku reached us. He too saw no reason why we should not go
as far as possible, and send a scout ahead if there was trouble likely
on our line of march. But he spoke of staying with me for six
months and seeing the world at my expense. At first I failed to
grasp his point as he was very decorous, but gradually it dawned on
me that he was drunk. He next wanted me to ensure that the Hma
clan would not attack his villages in his absence, and said that he
would have to take a valuable horse to present to his relatives, and
three bolts of cloth for every chief whom we would visit on the
way, at my expense, of course. There was nothing to be done but
wait till he was sober.

The Boss grew more alarmed than ever, at the prospect of trust-
ing ourselves to such an irresponsible drunkard and opium addict,
but I remained satisfied that if Aku was approved by the magistrate
who knew him well, we need not fear. After all, his home and lands
were forfeit if he sank to treachery. But feeling ran high among the
opposition, and every argument against our going was worn to
shreds in an attempt to make the magistrate prevent us. Having
gone so far they would “lose face” if their protests were rejected.

I was convinced that this was no ordinary tussle. Apollyon was
challenging our right of way. So I went up on the wall of the fort
alone to pray, and claiming again the immutable promises of God,
I gave thanks in expectation of the answer, and cried defiance to the
devil in the name of his Conqueror. Chao found me there and we
discussed the spiritual issues together. It seemed strange that he, the
newly won believer, should already be a closer friend and stauncher
companion than the established but wild and intolerant Boss. Every
day we enjoyed a spell of reading, praying and even singing together,
and Chao was lapping up all I taught him with enthusiasm.

On June 25th our hopes became distinctly brighter. The magistrate
himself met Aku sober and discussed arrangements for our journey.
We were to pay three bolts of cloth to Aku for his services as escort,
and two to each of five chiefs who would see us safely through his
area. We were to start in two days’ time, and take three days to
reach the Yangtze.
 

THE PLACE PREPARED 85

During these days of delay the weather had been perfect, and it
was galling to wait and watch the rainclouds mounting up again
while we procrastinated. I was tempted to pray for the fine weather
to hold, but saw that personal discomfort was no justification for
doing so. In fact a little chastening might be a good thing. However,
when a storm broke in the night, and the next morning torrents of
rain were swelling the Chaokioh River and threatening to prevent
our going, I invoked my friends the promises again. Our situation
was getting critical. I reckoned that even now we had barely enough
supplies to get us through, and more postponements would destroy
our prospects utterly. Within an hour, whether by natural or divine
coincidence, the sky showed blue, and fine weather held until we
were well on our way.
CHAPTER SEVEN
“BARBARIC HALLS”

HE adventure started badly. June the 27th dawned a perfect

day with baking sun and fleecy hovering flecks of cloud luring
us out, but Aku and his carriers failed to appear. I found he had been
arrested by the militia. It was early afternoon before I had succeeded
in persuading the magistrate to keep his promise of immunity. But
then at the last moment the expedition received a shock that was all
but its death blow. As the carriers picked up their loads and started
off Aku remarked that the journey would take longer than planned
and there would be more guarantor-escorts to pay.

I was stunned. To be launching out into the unknown with an
irresponsible tribesman as our only human security was bad enough,
but to do so knowing that supplies would barely see us through and
were now certainly inadequate to bring us back if the way should
be blocked, for a moment made me think of calling the journey off.
What could I do? To telegraph for funds and lay in more barter
would remove anxiety. But the delay that meant was unthinkable.
I called Aku and Chao aside and impressed upon them the seriousness
of the situation.

“Look here,” T said, “as things stand we can go and meet our
commitments, fees to escorts and payment for lodging, but if any
extra outlay is incurred we will be reduced to giving our bedding
and clothes. Will you promise that you will do your best to prevent
any feasting and féting of us? Tell our hosts that we aren’t rich, and
simply want to go through with our journey.”

They agreed. At each night’s stop they would persuade the chiefs
we stayed with to treat us as common guests. All would be well.
I did not know the Nosu nature then! But as we hastened to over-
take the carriers the magistrate sportingly set my mind at rest,
saying,

“If anything goes wrong I will advance you all the barter you
may need, and let you pay me back at your convenience.”

We crossed the Chaokioh River at hip depth, and followed down
its banks to where the River of Three Bends flows in below the Old
Fort. Then striking off into the hills we climbed into a glorious
wilderness of cliffs and canyons, bald erosion and coarse pasture land.
 

“BARBARIC HALLS 87

Aku had his personal retainer with him, a young man named Hapu,
and another brave, armed with rifles, for the next stretch of the way
lay near the tetritory of the Hma clan, and he was taking no risks.

Away from Chaokioh and the law a new light-heartedness came
over the Nosu. As they travelled they sang and laughed, and
wrestled, holding each other round the waist and flinging back and
forth until one or other lost his balance and fell over.

The sun was low before we had gone more than about ten miles,
and as we dropped down into a valley and toiled up the other side,
one of the Nosu began to indicate that the night’s lodging was not
far ahead. He knew no Chinese so he could not talk with me.
Instead he gathered up his clothing in a phallic gesture, showing
that there would be opportunity for all the license we might want
that evening. In the hybrid Nosu I had picked up I exclaimed:

“Your heart is wrong. Mo'm Apu disapproves.”

But Aku as our guide and escort felt obliged to ask me plainly
whether we would want gitls to sleep with, and I explained our
Christian attitude as best I could. It caused some merriment, but
Aku commented: |

“You are quite right. Mo’'m Apu disapproves. But we are like
animals and disregard Him. You have a good heart. We want you
to come back to us.”

When we reached the village on the eastern slope, set at the
head of the vastest, deepest valley I had seen in Nosuland, that of
Oerhchio, the bright-eyed expectant girls who came out to meet us,
heard Aku’s first sentence of greeting petulantly. At once they
became hostile as if slighted. A crowd of men, women and children
surrounded us, however, and stared with incredulous cries of
“A-Beu!” and “A-Bee!” at the strange white man and everything
about him. The taller ones crept up and compared their heights.
The women approached with bashful daring and felt the material
that my clothes were made of. The young son of the household
began with simple freedom to go through my pockets and to
explore the mysteries of zip-fasteners. For the next sixteen hours,
with a brief interval between three and five at night, I was subjected
to the most relentless investigation. One curt protest would have
brought peace, but the establishment of goodwill and friendship was
more important, and we had some lively times, especially when
the inquisitive found themselves within striking distance of my
(bamboo) snake.

While the White Nosu retainers of the houschold took charge of
88 STRONG MAN'S PREY

our animals, we were led into the rough hall of the chief’s home.
Stooping to enter the low doorway, we could barely distinguish on
the right the stout bars of the cattle stalls, with hay lofts above
them. Ahead there was a grain bin about eight feet square, and
beside it a millstone at which a ragged slave woman was grinding
laboriously. On the left, as our eyes became accustomed to the
darkness now and then broken by white flame as scrub oak was
added to the open fire, a water butt and farming implements were
stored. For the rest, a bare expanse of mud floor forty feet by thirty
in extent was relieved by coarse pillars and an alcove at the far end,
beyond the fire. Overhead, brushwood stacked among the rafters
bulked hugely against the twilight showing through the cracks
between the roof planks.

As we settled ourselves on the ground beside the sunken fire-hole
in the place reserved for guests, Aku and his relatives reclined on
goat-skins in the alcove and prepared to smoke opium, offering it
first to us. The hostess, with the dignity of a duchess, smoked a long
slender tobacco pipe and stared without speaking. Her son untied
the lacing of my knee-boots and retied them several times. The
nearest counterpart he had ever seen of such extraordinary things
was a pair of felt leggings. His own feet were bare. As he did so I
could feel the fleas discovering their way into my clothing from the
old straw mat we sat on, and advancing slowly upward. Insecticide
was liberally applied to all I wore, but it took some minutes to
destroy them. On the rafters high above us I could see the silhouettes
of wooden horses, cows and men, and other, perhaps symbolic,
carvings.

Silence reigned, intentionally, it seemed. Rather than be affable
and entertaining, Nosu hosts and guests vie with each other in main-
taining an “‘inscrutable strong man” convention, until wine or bore-
dom make them relax. We had been exhorted to bring plenty of
wine with us, and the Chinese foretold trouble if we did not regale
the Nosu with the one evidence of friendship that they could never
refuse. But Aku had promised that he would explain our posmon
and wherever we went it was accepted without question.

Everything was strange, from mud-walled barn and dancing
shadows high up in the darkness, to shuffling retainers and grunting
animals who shared the house with us. One man was cleaning his
rifle while another sat plucking. his beard hair by hair with fine
forceps. Preoccupied as I was with watching, a sudden scuffle and
 

 

¢ 2
BARBARIC HALLS 89

shrill squealing alarmed me and yet was half expected, as they caught
a passing pig and holding it down on the ground by the light of a
flaring firebrand plunged a knife into its neck. I protested, but I
might have saved myself the trouble. In spite of all my stipulations
Chao and Aku did no more than remonstrate 2 moment with the
hostess. She was adamant. '

“Of course a company like this should be féted. What would
everyone say if they were denied the feast that the occasion
demands?” |

“Never mind,” they said to me, “it’s only a little one.”

But in the morning the inevitable present in return had to be
produced; on Chao’s advice, two small bolts of calico, three face-
cloths, and some thread, needles and combs.

As we talked the pig was dipped whole into a cauldron of boiling
water, scalded all over, and transferred to a bamboo mat. The
“slaves of the hearth” tried scraping it with a stick and knife but
seemed to prefer their own finger-nails. They managed to remove
most of the encrusted dirt before the fire was built up to white heat
and the carcase held over it and turned slowly till its bristles had
been singed and the skin toasted. Cold water was then poured over
it, and back on the floor it was cut open, disembowelled and hacked
into fist-sized chunks. The heart and liver were put in the ashes at
the edge of the fire and turned once or twice before they were
removed, flicked free of excess ash, and with deep ceremonial bows
presented by a White to me first, then Aku, and the others of our

arty. _

. While the flames were bright it was essential to behave politely,
and we followed Chao’s instructions to scrape off the ashes as best
we could, and enjoy the delicatessen with which we had been hon-
oured. But the flesh, half-raw, and anyway, alive so few minutes
before, I found revolting. With the greatest effort I controlled my
retching and took a bite. The surface half-inch was well cooked, but
deeper it was tough and juicy. Fortunately by the time I had de-
voured the ashy surface layer and was wondering how to deal with
the raw centre, the fire sank for a brief moment, and one desperate
flick sent what was left into the shadows, to a waiting dog.

Meanwhile the chunks of pork were tipped into the cauldron and
brought to the boil. We had heard about the Nosu custom of
adding cold water when the meat was ready, and managed to per-
suade them on this first occasion to spare us the prospect of typhoid
fever, dysentery and all the ills of water-borne infection. But never
00 STRONG MAN’S PREY

again. Every day for the next week we ate in Nosu style, as unhy-
gienically as could be, and came to no harm. The other chiefs with
whom we stayed, would not allow the flavour to be “spoiled” by
our new-fangled notions.

When the meat was done to their satisfaction, the retainers using
three-foot ladles lifted it into large wooden bowls, painted yellow,
red and black in the gayest variety of patterns, and offered it to us.
As they did so the hostess rose to find some lacquered spoons. To
my astonishment, from the shadows where they had been gathering,
silently and unobserved, two or three score of White men, women
and children stood up, and paused until she was seated again beside
the fire before they sat to await their turn to eat. It was a sight we
soon became accustomed to, but never did the sense of the romantic
lessen. In that “mediaeval” atmosphere, when the laird or his lady
moved, born aristocrats however unwashen, gliding with head erect
and pleated skirts sweeping rhythmically at heel, it always stirred my
blood to hear the swish of movement and to see the hall-full of
retainers rise in a wave while they passed.

The guests and household separated into groups of four or five,
around big bowls of rice and soup and meat, and each man with a
spoon in the right hand, for rice and soup, and a chunk of meat
held in the left hand, gnawed and ate regardless of the others. We
were ravenous. Two meals a day was bad enough without exercise,
but after walking and riding even ten miles, no meal however crude
could be resisted. The meat was no better cooked than the liver had
been, but after our initiation it was easier to be philosophical, and
before long we were tearing at the dripping flesh with full enjoy-
ment. As we finished the retainers gathered up all that was left, and
with their hands divided up the heap of remnants, by now cold and
doubly repulsive, for the serfs to share.

It was midnight before activity had dwindled enough to make

sleep possible. But when we unrolled our bedding the excitement
started up again. All the Nosu simply lay down where they chose,
beside the fire or in a group where they could smoke their opium
undisturbed. Our bedding therefore brought them buzzing round
to see and feel it. Chao and the Boss had quilted coverlets, and
oil-sheets to lie on, fully dressed. I had a low safari camp-bed and
bed-bag. But as each novelty appeared both Blacks and Whites,
forgetting dignity, whooped back and forth protruding their tongues
and crying “A-Beu!” and urged us to show how they were used.

Discarding just my riding boots I climbed into my bag and zipped

 
 

“BARBARIC HALLS o1

it shut. “A-Beu!” the Nosu cried, no longer interested but alarmed.

“We’d never dare to sleep like that. You couldn’t get out quickly
enough.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Why, if the enemy attacked they might be in the house before
you were out on your feet. We sleep prepared to fight immediately.”

“Never mind,” I said, “I have no enemies. And if Nosuland obeys
‘Chu Yehsu,” the Lord Jesus, you will soon know peaceful homes
and sleep without fear.”

By now I could scarcely keep awake, and settled down. But as I
did so I could feel the Nosu spanning up my legs and body from
heel to crown, and hear them discussing my measurements. When
the opium addicts stopped their smoking around 3.0 a.m. they too
came over for a turn at spanning. And two hours later the women
of the housechold woke me again with their excited giggles as they
stole a look before beginning on their early morning chores.

I rose and roped up all my baggage for the journey, to reduce the
risk of theft. But when I went out into the courtyard and tried to
find a corner in which to write my diary of the eventful day before,
a crowd followed, and I had to write between spells of treating
patients and amusing persistent people with the snake and other
tricks. ““This is Babel!”, “persistently mauled” and “exhausting in
the extreme” were phrases that I used. Even the meal of warmed up
relics was a welcome relief, hard as it was to swallow any of it.

With variations, but never quite so unashamedly, this curiosity
was repeated at each stage of the journey. Knowing now the lengths
to which the Nosu were prepared to go when given a free hand, I
arranged with Chao and Aku that they should come to the rescue
when the pace grew hot. Nothing from me short of anger, feigned
or real, would have been enough to keep them at bay, but a com-
mand from one of their masters controlled the serfs and gave the

hint to those of higher rank.

After breakfast Aku went back to his opium. I had had no idea
that he took so much. It was half way through the morning before
we resumed our journey with the hope of travelling many miles
before nightfall. Much of the way was gravelly and such hard going
that hands were needed to make progress, but at the summit we
were well rewarded. On all sides the rugged panorama of chaotic
mountains, cool and lush with early summer greenness suited per-
fectly my mood of zest for adventure and exquisite enjoyment. This
92 STRONG MAN’'S PREY

was the experience of a lifetime, and, I fully believed, only the first
time I would come that way. What delight, to make this world
our parish, and its people our close friends!

An extraordinary thing about mountain travel is that so much
time and energy is taken to attain objectives seen from the begin-
ning. Several hours and ten miles of laborious climbing had led us
only two or three miles as the crow flies, to a village that had been
in view most of the day. But we were distressed to find that this was
the place where Aku meant to pass the night. Once again a trait of
Nosu character was being shown us, inability to say No! If we had
passed by these relatives who wanted to see the foreigner and féte
him, they would have been offended, and perhaps have borne him
a longstanding grudge.

As we entered a courtyard we saw Aku’s sister, lying prone on the
beaten earth, her head on the lap of an elderly male retainer. He was
systematically killing head-lice in her hair. At the sight of our
arrival she was not the least dismayed, but rose, put on her turban,
and with perfect dignity walked into her house. According to
custom no word or look of greeting passed between her and her
brother.

As I settled for the night before a crowd of onlookers, weary and
content, after another unhygienic feast, I was conscious of having
done my best to speed our progress, to reduce expense and avoid
infection, but all to no avail. Treating it now as God’s concern, not
mine, I began, care free, to whistle softly to myself. At once the
interpreter came over.

“Don’t whistle!” he warned me urgently. “The Nosu may think
you are calling up evil spirits. They are afraid of any music after
dark; except the sorcerer’s.”

How precarious! To be there among a people with whose
customs, superstitions and taboos we were almost completely
unfamiliar, liable to offend against some unsuspected law at any
moment. It was a dangerous position, not too bad while Aku was
still with us, but in another day or so we would be right amongst
strangers and alone. What then? “Commit thy way unto the Lord
... trust. .. rest ... and fret not,” said the psalmist, and on that
pillow I enjoyed six hours of interrupted sleep.

Opium smoking started again soon after it was light, and so many
of the household took their turns with the two lamps that it was
noon before they had all finished. We were urged repeatedly to

 

 
 

“BARBARIC HALLS” 93

join them at it, just a puff or two to see what it was like, and even
pestered by one of the men. It was not difficult to see how those
without principles succumbed. A young man whose smoking I
observed as closely as I could, had thrown caution to the winds
and inhaled so much that he fell back in a deep coma and lay
motionless with the deathly pallor and dropped jaw of a corpse. As
the hours dragged by and the Boss and I impatiently demanded that
we start the day’s journey, Aku and even Chao answered good-
naturedly,

“They won’t be long now!” To them, to whom time meant
nothing, midday was soon enough.

But we had gone only a mile when a cloudburst sweeping down
the valley drove us into another chief’s house. While we sheltered
there they told us of a wounded man not far away, and I agreed to
see him. Aku led me through the village, over walls and fields with
the dogs of every household roused and barking at our intrusion,
until we arrived at the low hovel of a poor retainer.

Lying on goat skins in the shadows was the patient, groaning in
great pain, his forearm tightly splinted with twigs over a poultice of
leaves. It was suppurating freely from two bullet wounds, and bits
of bone were visible, projecting through the flesh.

When I asked how long he had been like this, I was told two
months. Somehow the picture formed in my mind of countlesshomes
throughout Nosuland, land of feuds, where men and women, even
children, lay like this man, helpless, waiting for their wounds and
other ills to heal up of their own accord, knowing nothing of how
to treat them but the arts of the sorcerer-priest. At the doorway of
this hovel hung some dead birds and a goat’s horn, and some clumps
of blood-sprinkled grass, symbols suspended there after the sorcerer
had done his best. And in constrast I remembered the abundance of
doctors, hospitals and nurses in the homelands, pandering to petty
whims and ailments. It was Sunday, I recalled too late to cancel the
day’s journey, for we always avoided travel on the Lord’s Day when
we could, so now I decided to proceed no further, and instead to do
all T could for this tormented man. |

With Aku’s help we set someone to enlarge a pig-trough, scooped
out of a tree trunk, till it would take the patient’s arm, for frequent
soaking. His wife we taught to do the dressings and apply proper
splints. And out of straw and a sack of buckwheat we prepared a bed
and arm-rest. It was worth more than a day’s delay to see the
family’s gratitude, and the relaxation in the face of the sufferer as he
04 STRONG MAN’'S PREY

found, with bone splinters removed and arm at rest, that his pain
was halved. Permanganate crystals in one eggshell and aspirin in
another, packets of sulphonamide powder and dressings to be used
each day, we left with them when we finally returned to our
companions.

This was our last day with Aku, and although we had talked about
God and the gospel he had shown no interest. It looked as if my
prayer for him was not to be answered as I hoped, and as the same
prayer for Chao had been. Back in the home where we were to pass
the night, we were sitting round the fire together and Aku was
toying with his rifle, when suddenly he passed it over to me.

“Is this a good one?” he asked, for there were many Chinese
imitations of good makes, betrayed by faulty spelling and reversal
of roman letters in their markings.

“Yes,” I told him, looking closely at it. “It is Belgian, made in
1938.”

And then I saw my chance to draw him into talking about
spiritual matters again.

“Do you know what those figures stand for?”” I enquired. And
when he confessed ignorance I continued: “They mean that this
weapon was made nineteen hundred and thirty-eight years after
Jesus Christ came to the earth. Remember who He was?”

Aku was all ears. What had had no meaning or importance to him
was now intimately connected with his best possession, his rifle.
As we talked his mind kept running back to it, but gradually the
conversation gripped him and he laid it aside. With his eyes
fixed on me and a serious look I had never seen him with, Aku
said:

“What you say is true. We Nosu know there is a great god
Mo’m Apu. He made the world and controls the universe. And He
has a son called Ginio, who gives rain and prosperity and happiness.
He knows all that is in our hearts, and whether we think good or
evil. They are good spirits who wish no one harm, and cannot do
wrong themselves. But we have never heard of Ginio coming to the
earth. It is a strange tale you have been telling me.”

Later on, for it was not yet evening, I was sitting out on the
threshing floor writing. The usual crowd of spectators surrounded
me, and I was interspersing paragraphs with entertainment for them
—mimicking catfights, cocks crowing and dogs barking, to their
great delight, for most were children and adolescents—when Aku
came and joined me.

 
“BARBARIC HALLS” . 95

“Do you mean to tell me,” he enquired, “that Ginio came to
ecarth and wicked men put him to death?”

“I know too little about the Spirit you call Ginio,” I replied.
“But Chu Yehsu, the Lord Jesus, the Son of God, took on the form
of a man and lived on earth until they crucified Him as you Nosu
crucify dogs to curse your enemies. But being God He rose again,
and is alive and interested in you. I have come for no other reason
than to show that He cares for the Nosu and commands you to
repent, believe and obey Him.”

Aku answered thoughtfully: “No! all you say about Chu Yehsu
fits our Ginio, and I believe that He came to earth and was nailed
to death by wicked men.” The thought distressed him.

“If you believe, why don’t you forsake your sin and let Him
make a new man of you?” I asked. “He will do it if you let Him.
Even your opium addiction He can break. He will give you a new
heart.” And I suggested that Chao and the Boss might be able to
make plainer to him than I could the way to translate faith into
action.

After dark the inevitable slaughter in our honour took place
though we argued against it. By now I had resigned myself to part-
ing with my bedding, camp-bed, anything that might appeal as
barter if our casual progress led us into trouble. It was no use worry-
ing, when everything we did to influence our hosts was unavailing.
And knowing better now what our diet would be if there were no
meat to supplement it, steadily increasing hunger made my protests
more and more half-hearted. We were getting used to tearing at the
meat, and learning how to pick out pieces that were better cooked,
the smaller ones and those that were chiefly bone in the centre; to
wait for the flames to die down before discarding anything too
sickly, or for them to burn brightly before making a choice of more.
Apart from feasting we would have had to survive on tough corn-
cakes, whereas rice was far more digestible.

Aku chose the top of a huge grain bin to sleep on that night,
and from his lofty perch he talked while preparing each new dose
of opium. Chao and the Boss and I lay down, and soon they were
asleep. But Aku was elated. His addiction was too deeply ingrained
for him to give up his opium immediately, and he had to go on
smoking though he said he would come to be broken from it as
soon as we returned to Chaokioh. As he lay there smoking he
exclaimed:

“Dr. Hai, you've made a new creature of me!” And when
96 > STRONG MAN’S PREY

someone chaffed him for his cheerfulness at such a late hour, he
explained to them: |

“I'm so happy, I've got a new heart! From now on I am going to
obey Chu Jehsu and Dr. Hai!”

He seemed so genuine and so keen to learn more, that I woke up
Chao and the Boss so that they could translate some verses of
Scripture and some prayers into Nosu for him to use until we should
see him again. For it had been arranged that early the next morning,
by seven o’clock, we should say goodbye and make a long day’s
march into the Shama country. Hapu his retainer would go with us,
but Aku himself had to return to settle his differences with the
magistrate.

With the sun low over the horizon we led out our animals along
the mountain side, and talked with Aku as we went. He was escort-
ing us the mile or two that etiquette demanded. He was still as
earnest about being a Christian as the night before, and understood
what it would mean of reformed character and behaviour, breaking
with the evil customs of his people, and being a marked man. But
he said he would endure alone, and wait for our return. Chao
believed him and was convinced that he himself no longer stood
alone among the Nosu as a Christian.

When we met Aku again the following year, and found him even
more enslaved by his addictions, wine, opium and hatred, than
before, Chao did not alter his opinion, but maintained that like the
- seed, in the parable of the sower, that “had not much earth,” so Aku,

having with joy received the Truth, had “no root in himself” and
the seedling of his faith had withered away.

 
 

 

A NOSU TRIBESMAN AND HIS YOUNG CHINESE SLAVE (U.S. Army photo)

 

 
 

 

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THE BATCI MOUNTAINS (12,700 FEET), OVERLOOKING CHAOKIOH

BIRD’S-EYE VIEW OF CHAOKIOH FORT. (I) BARN AND BARNYARD, (2) COTTAGE, (3) WELL YARD,

(4) cunic, (5) BARRACKS, (6) INN, (7) HUANG HOME, (8) NORTH GATE, (9) LITTLE WITCH’S

HOVEL, (10) HSIENFU BUILDINGS (YAMEN), (II) CHIANG HOME AND TELEGRAPH OFFICE,
(12) ROW OF HOMES AND “‘OFFICES”, (13) DRILL GROUND, (14) SOUTH GATE, (I5) GRAVES

  

 

 
 

 

 

 

  
 
 
   
   
     

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GROUP OF WILD NOSU AT CHUHEH, OUTSIDE THE OLD
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CHAPTER EIGHT
“SWIFT TO SHED BLOOD”

NCE we had parted from Aku, too much concentration on

the narrow trail was necessary to allow of thought about him.
It was far too narrow and dangerous for riding to be safe. Leading
our mounts we climbed and climbed, making détours where the
danger to the animals was too great, places where men could creep
over rocky shoulders using their hands, but where horses could not
pass. Lush red strawberries, ripe and sweet, grew everywhere, and
wild raspberry canes rich with fruit, flourished in clumps. Violets,
anemones, orchids and lupins richly carpeted the hillsides.

Far down below us lay the vast valley of Oerhchio, with the silver
thread of the Chaokioh River falling toward the River of Gold. Up
at this height the valley floor looked very distant. Fields and villages
were dwarfed by the distance of five thousand feet between them
and us. The valley and a sea of peaks in all directions made such a
- gorgeous picture that the ache of sheer enjoyment felt as much as I
could bear. It was on these occasions that the absence of an apprecia-
. tive companion was most missed.

Now that Aku was not with us we were escorted by an Asu chief
to whom he had transferred responsibility. This old man would
hand us on to yet another, and so on all the way until we crossed the
river into Chinese territory once again. As we went I noticed that
the interpreter was looking most unhappy.

“What’s the matter?” I enquired.

“Pray!” he said. “I don’t trust this old man an inch. He is quite
capable of selling us if he feels like it.”

But disquieting as the fears of Chao, a Nosu, were, I felt that all
was going well. On the way we had encountered a party of Shama
warriors, and they had assured us that the fighting on the road
ahead had moved towards the north and we would be able to pass
round it. Meeting them had been a momentarily exciting experi-
ence. Neither they nor we had seen the others approaching, and
their surprise when confronted at a bend in the trail by a stranger
dressed as I was showed itself at first in hostility. But when we
explained that Batcii Aku was our sponsor, and we were travelling

G
98 STRONG MAN’S PREY

to Prince Lani of Shama, suspicion changed to friendliness, and
half an hour of chatting by the roadside followed.

In the afternoon we reached a village of the Mahi clan. Since the
night before we had eaten nothing but some thin oatmeal gruel
made with water from a hillside spring, and were glad to rest and
prepare food while someone else was found to take us further.

Chinese slaves were common in the valley, men, women and
children of all ages. There was one old woman working in the
fields outside this place. She had only been a captive for seven years,
and besought us to do something to deliver her. But there was
nothing we could do without jeopardizing our whole enterprise.
The previous evening another woman had confided that she had
been a slave for twenty-seven years. They were dressed in rags and
toiled from morn to night, less loved than their master’s horse and
rifle, but otherwise were treated as well as born serfs. If they had
escaped and been brought back, however, punishment by torture,
maiming or death might be expected. It was not really safe for them
to be seen talking with us, lest they be suspected of enquiring the
way to Chaokioh, city of refuge. So many runaways made for that
haven in the heart of Nosuland, that Batcii Nosu lie in wait at night
to intercept and sell them again.

We were sitting waiting in the Mahi chief’s home when suddenly
there was great excitement outside, and all the Nosu ran out to
discover the cause. Soon someone returned.

“Come and help,” he called. “A man has been badly wounded
and you might be able to save his life.”

As we went he explained what had happened. “This man was
robbing a neighbour’s home while he thought they were all out in
the fields. But the owner returned and shot the thief through the
thigh with an expanding bullet. He’s in a fearful state.”

They took me into a nearby hamlet, and made the crowd of
onlookers divide to let us through. One look was enough. The
man was dying. Nothing could save him. His huge gaping wound
and pools of blood lay untouched, for first-aid, even to prevent
bleeding, is entirely unknown to them. My verdict was heard in
silence.

Back at the house we were sitting round the fire when a young
man came panting in, frenzied and pale with passion.

“Lend me a gun!” he cried. “Give me some ammunition! I'm
going to take revenge on my brother. Quick, a gun!”

Our hostess was sitting with us. She looked up calmly and
 

 

 

“SWIFT TO SHED BLOOD 99

addressed the man as if he had all day to talk with her, trying to
sober him. But he was frantic, and his voice rose to a shriek of anger.
She was unwilling to be a party to the crime he contemplated, but
to refuse outright would have been quite foreign to her as a Nosu.
Slowly she went into her room and came out with a rifle.

“Here’s this,” she said, “but I don’t know where my husband has
put his rounds.”

The man accepted her lie as it was intended, and hurried out.

The savagery of the incident perturbed me, first the fury that
inspired the murderous shot, then the callous indifference of the
bystanders watching the man’s last moments, the madness for
revenge in the victim’s brother, and not least the casualness that
permitted our hostess to provide the means for a second murder.
Words of Scripture flashed into my mind, together with a fearful
sense of insecurity:

“There is none righteous, no not one, . . .
They are all gone out of the way,
They are together become unprofitable; . . .
Their feet are swift to shed blood,
Destruction and misery are in their ways,
And the way of peace have they not known:
There is no fear of God before their eyes.”

The lines might have been written expressly of the Nosu, so apposite
is every word.

The next day Chao was still nervous. It had been too late to go on,
and we spent the night where we were.

“Kindly treatment does not exclude treachery,” he said. If the
news should reach them while we were travelling, that Aku had
been killed or died many a Nosu would feel free to hold us as his
property, for ransom or for sale.”

Nosu as he is, Chao’s home regions are more enlightened than
those parts, and the thought that he would have to come back with
only Hapu’s company alarmed him.

So when we had been travelling for some time among peaks and
precipices, and shots resounded suddenly close by us, we all jumped,
and one or two took cover. But as the echoes were flung back and
forth between the mountain walls and rolled down the valley, we
realized that it was only a warning of our approach, or even a
game played by some invisible tribesman.
100 STRONG MAN'S PREY

At the home of Shama Lani, Aku’s relative, our reception was
a cold one instead of being friendly as expected. Lani as a leader in
the princely clan was away at the battle of which we had heard.
Distantly the sound of firing was audible. His mother and young
wife came out to take stock of us, and retired again without a
word. A serf led us into a shack where the goats were penned
behind the big house, and told us that this would be our
lodging as it was not safe for us to travel further that day. What
we took as slighting treatment, proved however to be customary in
the absence of the menfolk of the family, for before long we were
summoned to a feast.

As the sheep, already killed, was being prepared before us, Lani’s
mother explained the situation with the interpreter’s help.

“Fighting has been going on for nearly two weeks now,” she
said, “and many of the chiefs of both sides have been killed. Anger
is at white-heat, and it is impossible for me to take responsibility for
letting you proceed. In loose warfare between three thousand men,
you travellers with your loads and animals, a party of ten or more
men including the escorts I would provide, might be the target of
both sides. If harm came to you I could never face Aku and your
friends again. I'm sorry, but my only course is to escort you one
day’s journey back, in a different direction, and find someone to
take you to the Yangtze at another point.”

The news could hardly have been more disturbing. Aku’s concern
for his relatives had taken us far off our route and given us the great
expense of paying for more nights of hospitality than we had been
able to afford. If we went straight on we might just reach the city
of Chaotung and a source of funds without selling our equipment,
but if our journey was protracted in the way described, we might
find ourselves in serious difficulties. For the moment there was
nothing to be done. The ash-baked offal was presented, and in full
daylight surreptitious disposal of it was impossible. Choice of
edible pieces needed concentration.

When the meal was over the old lady made a long speech which
Chao translated to me. “Your arrival was unannounced,” the prin-
cess wished to say, “or naturally Shama Lani would have left the
battle to be here to greet you. In his absence I and his wife desire
to do what we are sure would be his wish. These two children, we
want you to accept as your son and daughter. Please give them
English names and tokens of adoption.”

In Chaokioh and Chuheh and along our route the name of Shama
 

 

“SWIFT TO SHED BLOOD 101

Lani had been mentioned with great respect. As an influential man
he had few equals. So this honour might in days to come have far-
reaching results. His son and daughter would be inclined to help us
and simplify our dealings with their clan. They would listen to
advice, and be disposed to believe what we might teach them. And
our ‘“relationship” would make travel in their territory simple.
Racking my brains I tried to think of names they could pronounce,
and declared that they should henceforth be Yoha (John) and Malii
(Mary), names of English royalty and very popular in my country!
Nothing could have been received with greater pleasure. Chao
beamed as he passed on my remarks.

All was not well, however. During the afternoon we tried to work
out some plan to avoid the reverse with which we were confronted,
but without success. Chao was very tired and despondent, and sug-
gested that at this point he might leave us in the hands of our new
friends and return home. But when I pointed out that now of all
times we would need an interpreter to see us through the hazards
that lay ahead, he at once agreed, although it would be taking him
further off into unfriendly country.

Just then the Boss picked up a little mirror I was going to present
to Lani’s mother, and was horrified to see how haggard and wasted
he had become. All the pressure of anxiety and uncertainty exploded
as he turned on me:

“What did I tell you?”” he demanded. “Didn’t I warn you often
enough in Chaokioh that we couldn’t get through. Here we are
exhausted by this barbarous existence, reduced to giving trinkets
instead of proper payment for our lodging, wandering about and
likely to have to fall back on the magistrate’s charity. I can’t stand
it any longer.”

It was true that all of us were tired. Little sleep, little food, even
when we made use of the rations we had brought, mental strain
from concentrating closely lest we offend against custom, and hard
going on the mountain trails had demanded much of both the Boss
and me. Even Chao and Hapu had lost weight. But none of this
was more than we had expected.

I went out on the hillside to consider my responsibility alone, and
pray about it. And the verdict unmistakably, it seemed to me, was
that we had been right. Risk there might be, and some unforeseen
delays had made it harder, but our course remained the same, and
we must insist on going forward. Chao conveyed my wishes to our
hostess, but her steward, a superior White Nosu, strongly urged her
102 STRONG MAN'S PREY

not to be foolhardy. When we turned in for the night it was in
black dejection. Chao, the Boss and I too, now felt that we had
been defeated, and without proper barter for more than another
day or two we were faced with probing indefinitely for a way
through to the border, or slinking back to Chaokioh on the credit
of the Chinese magistrate. Such disgrace was intolerable. For me
the very effectiveness of my prayers was challenged.

Early in the morning, it was now July 2nd, I repaired again to the
seclusion of the mountain side, and watched the sun rise over the
grey plateau of Yunnan, in sight but inaccessible, our goal, but
unattainable without a miracle. Two miles away the valley turned
into a gorge and narrowed out of sight. But up the hills at the far
end a thin white line, the track to Tientipa, our objective, picked its
tortuous way. Somewhere in that direction a sporadic burst of
rifle fire was audible, but elsewhere was perfect peace. Nothing is
more stirring than a mountain panorama in the dewy silence of that
time of day. The defilement of a ruffled spirit melted from me and I
believed all would be well. Over the immediate barrier of moun-
tains before us lay the River of Gold, the Yangtze, and beyond
that civilized China: thirty miles to safety and a hundred to my
friends the missionaries at Chaotung. I had warned them of our
coming, and was already overdue. Surely we were not to turn our
backs land accept defeat. We must go straight ahead, despite the
hazards.

With this conviction I reviewed once more the basis of my
prayers in Chaokioh, and found each point applicable. So I prayed
that God would lead the old dowager and her steward to change
their minds, and accepted it as done. Then turning to my daily read-
ing in my pocket Testament I began where I had stopped the day
before, and came to these words:

“(Abraham was) fully persuaded that what God had promised

He was able also to perform. . . .

I was arrested. It was true, the statement was as true for us as for
the saints and patriarchs. God’s promise could not fail, and all
conditions were fulfilled, I was convinced.

On the way back to the house I met the Boss and drew him down
beside me on the grass, to tell him what had happened. Together
we went through the stock we had remaining: no more salt, an
ounce or two of silver, a few pieces of cloth, and a few odds and
ends. A plight indeed. But just enough if we were not diverted. He
 

’

“SWIFT TO SHED BLOOD’ 103

wholeheartedly agreed. Together we returned into the village, and
outside our shack were met by some of the retainers.

“Where have you been to?” they demanded. “We've been
looking for you. It's decided that we will escort you after all,
straight over to the next clan. We will try to keep a hill between
us and the fighting. Hurry and get ready; we've got to get back
tonight.”

As we rode down the valley, and rested by rock-pools in a
sheltered dip while the carriers bathed, my heart was gay and found
expression in singing the General Thanksgiving and the 23rd Psalm.
The words were so appropriate:

“He leadeth me beside the still waters: He restoreth my soul;
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,
I will fear no evil, for Thou art with me”’;

And a refrain:

“Prayer changes things;
They that pray shall mount up as on eagles’ wings.”

But it was a hard day’s travel. While the sound of fighting rose
and fell we skirted hills and woodlands, always out of range, and
covered many miles. A sudden, unexpected, tremendous clap of
thunder made our hearts leap into our mouths, but the next moment
we were running helter-skelter for the nearest dwellings, to take
cover from the cloudburst that followed. After that the track became
so slippery that twice the energy was needed to keep upright.
Riding was impossible, and the animals fell quite as frequently as
the men. The Boss had reached the limit of his strength before the
day was done, and had to have a Nosu to support him while he
walked. By the time our lodging in a whitewashed hamlet set in
fields of emerald green was reached, his sight was blurred and he
could scarcely stand. I too was exhausted, “blistered but blissful,”
for the worst was passed, we fondly thought, and we were safe.

One more day’s march should have brought us to the Yangtze
valley, and once there our venture could be considered ended. But
our troubles were not over. We found ourselves in the hands of a
wild chief who relieved us of a full day’s wages for his carriers and
himself, leaving us with the dregs of our provisions, and abandoned
us with our loads before we had gone five miles. And the next day
104 STRONG MAN’S PREY

the fighting encroached on our route so that a long détour through
the forests became necessary. It was more idyllic country than any-
thing I had seen outside England, but too long and hard a trek
to complete in one day, and night found us sharing a mean hovel
with a family of serfs and all their animals and ours.

Only a few miles now separated us from the outposts of civiliza-
tion, but we again congratulated ourselves too soon. Instead of
being over, the journey next day proved to be the worst, and yet
the most exhilarating of all. With daylight our carriers picked up
their ropes and disappeared. Our escort then tried to do the same.
Without him we might have been safe, but for strangers to be
travelling without a sponsor would have been a gamble, especially
in a time of war. To mistake the road and wander into unfriendly
territory would have cooked our goose. We held him to his duty
until with great ill-grace he acquiesced.

The loads we slung across the horses, and went out into thick
cloud. In no time we were drenched to the skin, but that was
nothing compared with our predicament when the guide confessed
that he had lost his way. The track grew narrower and led into a
maze of crags and gulleys clothed in dense, rain-soaked forest.
Chao, knowing better than the Boss or I the unscrupulousness of the
Nosu, became acutely anxious. He believed that we were being
taken far off our direction, back toward the enemy clans whose
territory we had skirted. But we agreed that we must follow until
we could enquire the truth, for alone we could not even find our
way back through the fog to where we started. We were creeping
along ledges high on a cliff face, places where it was folly to take
burdened animals. Frequently our feet broke off the edge of the
loose earth that made the path, and stones went tearing through
space beneath us. Once I lost my balance and was over the edge
before I could prevent it. With my feet in emptiness and my
shoulders at road level, I was kept from falling an unknown distance
by a firm grip on Belinda’s rein.

After midday we came to a place where the pack-loads could not
get by. Chao ran on to halt the guide who was disappearing into
the cloud ahead, and with the man’s short sword, the only imple-
ment available, we tried to make a way past. Danger of a landslide
defeated us, however, and from then on the loads had to be shared
between us. Sodden with rain, squelching to the ankles in water,
worn out with hard going for ten hours, and ravenous from having

had only a few potatoes since the night before, because there had

 
 

 

“SWIFT TO SHED BLOOD 105

been no food to buy, all had reached the dregs of our endurance and
were going very slowly. Sunset caught us on the rim of a ravine
with a thousand feet to climb down and up again the other side.
But in the failing light we saw the towers and strong walls of a
fortified farmstead on the skyline beyond, which meant that we
were not far off our route.

By now the guide’s opium craving had become so intense that he
could carry nothing and had to be helped along. In deepening dark-
ness we slipped and clambered, listening to the eerie howls of wild
animals in the woods behind. Then at last we reached the top, when
it was too dark to see where we were stepping. Chao was with the
guide, and called out to me. _

“This man says the fort is held by Chinese levies in the pay of
Chief Lang,” he reported. “If they hear us coming they may open
fire. We can shout to warn them, but they will suspect a ruse. Any
hint of Nosu intonation in our voices and we’re finished. I suggest
that you and the Boss first hail them, and when all is clear we Nosu
will come and join you.”

It was a wise precaution. The approach of all our party might
have given alarm. So with a prayer and hoping for the best the Boss
and I advanced. When we were in calling distance we halted and
hailed the guard. Immediately the light in the watch-tower was
extinguished and tremendous activity within the fort began. Orders
were shouted, defences were manned, rifles loaded, and then silence
reigned.

“Who are you?” called an officer.

“A foreigner and his party making for Tientipa and benighted,”
the Boss answered, and we heard the movement that meant all the
weapons were now turned in our direction.

“Nonsense!” shouted the officer. “Who are you?” And the
tension in his voice made us very anxious lest he lose his nerve.

“Listen to me,” I called out. “You can tell from my voice that
I am not a Nosu. I am speaking Szechwanese, my grammar and
pronunciation are different, I'm a foreigner. We got lost in the
storm. My companionisa Szechwanese gentleman. Our Nosu friends
are waiting till you say they may advance. Tomorrow we will be
the guests of Chief Ling himself. Kindly give us lodging for the
night.”

Still they were not convinced. A long and difficult parley fol-
lowed: how many of us were there, how many weapons had we,
where had we come from, why were we in such an outlandish spot
106 STRONG MAN'S PREY

after dark, why didn’t we illuminate ourselves, and so on. Finally
they shouted:

“One of you come to the gate to be examined.”

I obeyed. A frightened face appeared at a peephole, lit by a fire-
brand he was holding to identify me, and fearing that he might thus
be a target. At a dozen points I saw the muzzles of their rifles aimed
at me. With amazed relief he stared at the strange sight, a foreigner,
the first he had ever met, but certainly not a Nosu and presumably
not an enemy.

“Hand in the short-sword!” he commanded. “Enter alone!”

The heavy log gate opened enough for me to pass through, and
I was escorted, still with suspicion, through the square and into a
well-lighted hall. One by one the others joined me, till at last we
were all safe and could relax. They had been expecting an attack,
and assured us we were very fortunate not to be fired on as a
preliminary.

Food and sleep were all we cared about by this time. Generously
they cooked some rice, and to celebrate our journey I unpacked a
tin of meat to go with it. When the meal was ready and I turned
to get the meat, a sly cur was licking the tin clean. Just as soon as
we lay down sleep overcame us, and any doubts the levies had about
our story were dispelled.

The journey of exploration was over. On July gth we crossed the
River of Gold and were back again on Chinese soil, where paper
money was in use, and men, however renegade, were no longer a
law unto themselves. Forty-five days had been spent in Nosuland,
and twelve in wild conditions. Obstacles of many kinds had threat-
ened to defeat us, and more than once the Strong Man had seemed
very near to victory. But his prey escaped him, and we had proved
again the fact that “what God has promised He is able also to
perform.”

The three days’ journey from the river to Chaotung was covered
in two. Travelling on roads was simple after what we had negotiated.
And little did the missionaries at the Methodist Mission hospital
realize how spotless and attractive they and their homes looked to
the barbarous scarecrows whom they took in. But they knew what
a bath and clean sheets would feel like after life in the raw. My
diary for that day ended:

“Marvellous feeling, to drop my head down on, and almost into,

a feather pillow—Ilike a huge full sTop!”
PHASE OF OCCUPATION

“I have appeared unto thee. . . . I will appear unto thee;
delivering thee from the people unto whom I now send thee, to
open their eyes and turn them from darkness to light, and from
the power of Satan unto God.”
 
 

CHAPTER NINE

THE TEAM

HE door of the transport plane, “St. Paul,” opened. Like

tumbling out of bed and ending a turbulent dream on the cold
floor, we found ourselves deposited, bags, baggage and babies in a
steady tearing wind on the exposed airstrip. Six months had passed
since the crossing of Nosuland, and-a team of Chinese, Nosu and
foreign missionaries was assembling in Sichang.

The Boss had returned home and was not coming with us again.
Chao and Hapu, the retainer, had reached Chaokioh safely, fearing
often for their lives and liberty as they travelled alone. Hapu had
wept along the way with groundless anxiety lest the interpreter
should sell him as others in the same position might have done.
Belinda had been brought back from Chaotung by an old friend,
An Chengming, and Wenhua, another Christian Nosu from
Kiehkow. Ruth Dix, very bravely, for she only had an old Chinese
servant as companion, had travelled down from Loshan by foot and
mountain chair in the depth of winter, to find premises and prepare
for the rest of us. And the team had been vastly strengthened by the
coming of Floyd Larsen from the south, an old friend and contem-
porary with extensive experience of the Tibetan border, intending
to give a hand for a few months only, and by a Chinese business
man, immediately dubbed “the Busman.”

Soldiers appeared from nowhere and stood guard over the “St.
Paul” and our equipment while I searched for a telephone to break
the news of our arrival to the others in the city. It seemed incredible
that only three hours earlier we were waiting impatiently in Chung-
king for the plane to come. Janet, the children and I had been there
several weeks, but the civil war in the far north of China had
broken its dykes and the Lutheran Mission plane had been evacua-
ting missionaries, even under fire, and could not come for us as
planned. Then with the briefest notice it dropped with ghostly
cunning through the thick river mist over the Chungking airfield,
and with a roar lifted us above the clouds and headed for Nosuland.

In an hour or more, flying due west above an unbroken sea of
white, we reached its surf line, and tossing uncomfortably through
110 STRONG MAN'S PREY

the cloud-breakers and cloud-spray, saw the dark forest-clad moun-
tains of the Luipo area beneath us. Up in the cockpit with the pilots
I watched Nosuland unfolding, all too fast. Like a stockade in the
sky the upthrust peaks of the Dragon’s Head divided cloudy
Szechwan from the perfect cloudless heaven of Sikang. One moment
we were blinded with loose cloud and the next were passing over
the Dragon’s back, looking down into the depths of the Valley of
the Beautiful Maiden, then the slopes of the Mpo country, and a
moment later the lacerated terrain of the Ahu clan, as clear as a
relief map spread below. Under the illumination of a dazzling sun
the dry brown, mercilessly eroded and grimly forbidding moun-
tains and ravines of Nosuland filled me with as sickening a revulsion
against what we had undertaken as ever I had known.

“That’s where we're to live,” I observed laconically.

“You're what!” the pilot exclaimed, and was silent.

And then the Chienchang Valley with the silver ribbon of the
Anning River came into sight, the crescent lake, the temple hill, all
so minute, and the walled city with its sprawling suburbs surrounded
by drab fields and mud hovels. Banking steeply we descended on
the airstrip, bumped over the rough grass and were there, more
quickly, safely and economically than if we had come by road.

Since I was here before, developments had taken place. First the
Rev. and Mrs. William (“Bill”) Upchurch had come to join the
Border Service Mission, and had set up a home there. And later Dr.
and Mrs. Lovegren, the advance guard of the American Conserva-
tive Baptists, had arrived. With their emphasis on the border regions,
it looked wonderfully as if God, unknown to us, had prepared
friends along our line of communications, so that we might go right
ahead into the interior of Nosuland without anxiety. Their kindness
now made our beginnings easy in comparison with what they would
have been.

An open truck rolled drunkenly across the grass tussocks of the
field, and out leapt Bill Upchurch, Floyd Larsen, Chengming and
Chao. The bad dream dissipated. With the broad shoulders and
expansive smile of Floyd, the versatility of Chengming and the
knowledge and experience of Chao, what could not be achieved?
At last we had converged from all directions, and as a complete
team could come to grips with our task. Bill took us to his home
where Ruth was waiting, and a week later, in early March, 1948,
we moved into premises of our own, sharing a house with a once
wealthy but now opium-ruined Chinese Moslem family.

 
 

 

THE TEAM III

“Tell us how you got on,” we said to Ruth at the first oppor-
tunity. “What sort of journey did you have?”” We had watched her
start out two days after Christmas. Dressed for the part, with some
inconspicuous bundles of baggage, no more than two men could
carry, she had looked as uninviting to bandits as possible.

“Oh, pretty good!” she answered non-committally. “And I
arrived as brown as a berry. After the first twenty-five miles by
rickshaw we put up in a dilapidated roadside inn beside a roaring
waterfall, to wait for the ‘huakan’* men. When they arrived they
objected to carrying the old cook, and his possessions too, so, would
you believe it, he took out his heavy boots and put them on. But
the carriers were not deceived. )

“The evil faces of the people up near Mount Wa where the
convoy was robbed made us a bit uneasy, but we spent a night in
one of their disreputable shacks, up amidst snow and dripping
icicles, and were not molested. Most of the way up Raincape Range
was on snow and ice, in clinging cloud, but we came into sunshine
on the summit. The chief trouble was that we couldn’t find food to
eat, only coarse buckwheat and corn cakes warmed up in the ashes
of a miserable fire.”

I marvel now that I had let her go like that, for, game bird as
Ruth is, she was no chicken! But she was not coming to Nosuland
half-heartedly, and soon proved her mettle.

“How about The Chasm? and Vuniu the kidnapper?” I asked.
“Did you like them?”

“The Chasm was pretty terrifying,” she agreed, “but the worst
danger was from falling rocks. Some passed within a few feet of us.
At that bleak village where you stayed the night before your truck
turned over I was so pestered by curious people that I tried to
escape by going to bed. It was no good, the inn-keeper’s daughter
tried to join me in it.

“When we started meeting Nosu I was thrilled, but the ‘huakan’
coolies seemed mortally afraid of being carried off. We met a
cavalcade of Nosu with two women on horseback. They looked
like queens. Once across the River of Silver Sands—those shingle
beds with their green, brown, yellow, red and lavender stones are
beautiful, aren’t they!—no one dared travel with fewer than twenty
companions. Men were waiting days at a stretch rather than travel
in too small a company. We tramped day after day through the

1 A ‘huakan’ is a light mountain~chair like a deck-chair slung between two
bamboo poles.
112 STRONG MAN'S PREY

hills, sleeping in Nosu shacks at night, curled up like animals in the
dry bracken that was all we could find for beds, and eating turnips
and beancurd most of the time, or potatoes baked in ashes for a treat
sometimes. We spent a night in Vuniu’s village, with crucified dogs
at the entrance, and met with no trouble. But at the next place
the Nosu were impertinent, trying to pick a quarrel. Silent haughty
girls in beautiful indigo-blue cloaks, soft and glossy, quite scorned
my efforts to be friendly.

“It was when we were right over the range that I had my first
experience of Nosu raiding. We had just entered a Chinese market
when a cry was raised that a man had been seized by the Nosu only
a little way outside. All trading stopped, everyone scattered, and
the garrison gave chase. There was terrific excitement. They
all started swapping stories about Nosu atrocities, and the carriers
couldn’t be persuaded to go any further until there was a large
crowd going. Every sound from the woods and gulleys made them
nervous until we reached the lowlands.”

The others had stories to tell, too. Chengming and Wenhua had
come for several days through lawless regions, via Ningnan, and
arrived tense and excited. They were convinced that the road-
guards were in league with the slave-raiders. At one point they
narrowly missed being captured by accepting the advice of an
unknown man whom they had assisted. Through delaying on the
road they reached the danger spot after an attack on others had just
ended. By the alarm of neighbouring villagers and splashes of fresh
blood on the track they knew how closely they had missed the
lurking danger. Never again would they be willing to travel by
that route.

Floyd Larsen had come up from Kunming. On the way a bridge
collapsed beneath the rear wheels of the truck he was on, and by a
split second he escaped a fearful accident and arrived intact. It looked
as if the Enemy was being foiled in his desire to thwart us. Floyd
is an American, with all the friendliness and generosity of his race,
and also a Scandinavian in background, with the frank sincerity
and feeling that made him the best friend we could have wanted
in those early days. His experience of the roughest conditions
in the Giarung country and adventures in the Tibetan marches
~ fitted him ideally for the life before us, and his practical turn of
mind brought to the round of buying, bartering, negotiating, build-
ing and interminably transporting supplies by pack-train, much that
we as a team would have been limited w1thout

 
 

THE TEAM SN

Our plans were clear. As soon as headquarters in Sichang were in
order, with Ruth and Janet and the children, Jan, Pauline and
Margaret, conveniently installed, we men would go in to Chaokioh
and Chuheh to allow Floyd to see conditions for himself and con-
firm or question my opinions of the year before; to determine
whether women would be able to come in safely and work there,
and to find temporary accommodation from which to start medical
and evangelistic work at once. One object dominated everything, to
“bind the strong man” by faith in God and prayer, and in the name
of Christ to “spoil his house” by preaching the gospel of repentance
and the forgiveness of sins to all in Nosuland, to “open their eyes
and turn them from darkness to light, and from the power of Satan
unto God,” and to build up a church of believers linked to the Nosu
churches in the neighbouring provinces of Yunnan and Kweichow.
Success in this would cure the glaring ills of poverty, hatred, vice
and bloodshed. Our doctoring was to be partly a commendation of
the gospel, but also as ordained by the Lord, compassion for its own
sake. If premises suitable for good medical work were not to
be found, we would prepare to build them, and for the team as
well.

There was an atmosphere of unity and zest amongst us. It was an
adventure for each member of the team. The interpreter, Chao, was
glad to see us back. It had been a difficult half-year for him, for
though he had told his family about his conversion, they had not
responded or shown a willingness to listen further. No doubt some
compromises made him feel ill at ease, and it was hard to draw
him out on spiritual subjects, but he was already a different man,
more upright, cleaner, more determined, and the others took him
to themselves as a fellow Christian from the first. After family
prayers each morning the activities of the day were discussed before
separating to our duties. Chengming and Chao bought harness,
furniture and supplies, and made preparations for the journey. The
Busman, Floyd and I had our hands full with financial problems and
dealings with the authorities. The transmission of funds was becom-
ing complicated as the national inflation took the bit between its
teeth. Plane loads of paper money came at intervals, but losing
value, or evaporating into the country, had to be replaced. Silver
increased in value as notes became scarce, and slumped as soon as a
fresh load arrived. Banks in Shanghai refused to transmit for fear
of embarrassing their provincial branches, and demanded telegraphic
assurances before accepting drafts. For us this meant continual

H
114 STRONG MAN’S PREY

attention to market prices and much work with banks and mer-
chants, even for our small affairs.

The women had their hands full turning the encrusted filthy
rooms of the house into a home for all. Double doors led from the
street into a courtyard surrounded by the Moslem family’s and our
apartments. On our side a reception hall separated the stables from
a room, which, after thick deposits of goose-droppings had been
removed, became our dining-room. Smaller rooms and attics above
housed the team. Above the landlord’s end there was an opium den.
But crowning all there was a large verandah overlooking the
artistic rooftops of the city and giving a distant view of the crescent
lake and mountains, including Nosuland.

Life was all bustle and activity. Packing cases, pack-saddles, sacks
of rice and beans, sixty-pound cones of salt, all the paraphernalia of
up-country life began to accumulate about us. Living largely on
Chinese food, three Nosu, three Chinese, one American and three
English, and the children, ate together and lived side by side without
friction or discontent. Not till six months had passed by did the first
trouble arise, between the Busman and the cook. The verandah was
regarded as our retreat, and some foreign meals were taken there,
but the common aim of all the team bound us together and made
life a joy. After dark the droning voice of the old cook, reading
his Testament and praying on his own, showed that he too was
playing his part in our assault on the spiritual strongholds of
Nosuland.

The “city” of Sichang is a pleasant little place, compact and yet
open. Until less than twenty years ago there were no suburbs, for
the Nosu were still raiding. Strong walls and gates were no mere
vestiges of history. Built between two rivers flowing into a third,
with steep banks or cliffs providing extra protection, Sichang is also
moated on the north side where she backs on to the hills of Nosuland.
There she has strong double walls and gates. Since the suppression
of the last rising, ten or more years ago, however, peace is securer.
Although the gates are still closed after sundown, many houses and
a busy shopping centre have sprung up outside the walls, and
vandalism is destroying the defences.

Within, two broad cemented streets cross at a drum-tower, and
intersecting lanes, often with flowering or cactus hedges, divide
courtyards and gardens with an abundance of trees. Being on the
hillside makes the city like a grandstand with an exquisite outlook
toward the temple hill, the lake, and in the distance a glorious

 

 

 
 

 

THE TEAM 115

panorama of wild mountains, snow capped much of the year. They
are visible from most streets running north and south, and from the
upper storeys and verandahs of the better homes.

Preparation as a seat of government, had Chungking fallen to the
Japanese, gave to Sichang just the incentive that was needed to con-
vert her from an ancient city of no account into a relatively clean,
convenient, modern town with electric lighting, radio-telegraph, and
an (irregular) air service. Everything was better than we could have
hoped for in a base from which to occupy and develop work in
Nosuland.

On the streets a motley cosmopolitan assortment of men, women
and children jostled each other. Turbaned Chinese and cloaked Nosu
passed “down-river” experts from Shanghai and Peking in Western
clothes. Beggars whined and wailed to lip-sticked ladies riding past
in ancient rickshaws. And pack-trains of mules with jingling bells
and shouting muleteers increased their pace as the thronging
marketers gave way to them. Sometimes Tibetans in skins and felt
top-boots, coming on pilgrimage, and Sifan or Moso tribesmen
bringing medicinal herbs or musk-pods for sale, would saunter by
with the far-seeing eyes and athletic stride of the great spaces.
Students from the technical college and soldiers of the three or four
armies made their way through clumps of wood-cutters or charcoal
burners hawking their loads from door to door. And little trails of
the poorest Nosu women and girls bearing huge bales of mountain
grass for kindling wandered up and down with swinging skirts,
secking buyers. Here and there outside the wine shops which
existed to ensnare them, groups of Nosu squatted round their bowls
or pitchers of rice wine, or lay flat on their backs, faces covered with
their cloaks, sleeping off the effects. From time to time one of the
few cars or jeeps would dash along the street with strident horn
clearing the way. And the shopkeepers and their superfluous
assistants would gaze across their display of Chengtu silks or Kiangsi
chinaware or fat filleted Sichang ducks and discuss the latest
happenings, calling to us to sit and chat awhile when we walked
past.

One day a strange occurrence taught us to watch continually for
those differences of outlook and approach between the Oriental and
the Westerner. Chengming and Wenhua came to me with a strange
look on their faces and with Eastern obliquity made a long speech
to this effect:

“Three years ago we had the pleasure of knowing you when
116 STRONG MAN'S PREY

you lived in Kiehkow amongst us. Had you been able to stay on
indefinitely that would have pleased all the Nosu of our province.
But God called you to this new and more difficult work.”
(“What on earth’s coming?” I thought.) “Therefore it was our
duty and delight to help in a small way by bringing your mule from
Chaotung to Sichang and delivering her to you here. That task has
been completed, and we have had a long rest in your company. Now
we will be going home, and would like to know if we may buy
tickets on the public truck to Hweili leaving tomorrow.”

I was dismayed. Our invitation, I had thought, was clearly for
them to stay with us for at least a year. They were needed for the
practical work of the move into Nosuland, and we hoped that as
Nosu they would soon adapt their dialects to the Independent Nosu
variation and be preaching the gospel long before we new-
comers could. But they sounded so convincing in their talk of going
home, that with great regrets, expressed as fully, I agreed saying:
“If you really must, I cannot stop you.” Their faces fell, but then
they thanked me and went off and bought their tickets.

Later, through a chance remark from the Busman, it turned out
that my acquiescence was the last thing they had wanted. They had
felt dismissed! All their dangerous experiences and hardship were for
nothing; they were to return home without ever seeing the interior
of “the Wild Men’s Mountains.” They had hoped to stay as we had
asked them. And the point of their enquiry had been to make sure
that they were still wanted! My expressions of regret to them
were merely preamble to the declaration that they might go.
Immediately we sent someone running to restrain them. When
Chengming returned and the true complexion of the story had been
shown, he laughingly forgave me. And we vowed to bear in mind
these differencesin custom that Satan, we all believed, had nearly used
successfully to break up the team before it even crossed his borders.

Trouble had been brewing up in Nosuland, too serious for the
magistrate to handle alone. He came down to Sichang to confer
with the Bureau. Word reached us when our preparations were
complete that he did not want us to go in, and we called on him
to find out why. '

“It’s like this,” he explained. “Two unrelated incidents have made
it unsafe up there. Some Chinese slaves escaped from the Ahu clan
and managed to find their way to Chuheh. The Ahu insolently sent
a demand that the district officer should surrender them, and when

 
 

THE TEAM 117

he of course refused they opened fire on his premises, the house
adjoining where you will be likely to stay as you did last year. At
any time another attack may be made, and if you happened to be
injured the authorities might be held responsible.”

We could see that vital principles were involved, and I was about
to speak when he went on:

“There has been fighting between the Thren at the Valley of Three
Bends also. A Batcii girl was married against her will to a young
chief of the Lo'm clan, and succeeded in eloping with her lover, an
Asu brave. When the Lo'm sent demands for her return they were
insulted and retaliated by an armed attack on the Asu wvillages.
The thing is spreading. The Batcii have joined the Asu and the Vaja
and Hma clans are supporting the Lo’m. I was able to secure a truce
before I came down, but the two sides are astride the road to
Chaokioh, and if they get out of hand our communications will be
imperilled. It is no time for strangers to travel.”

What he said was reasonable, and this new feud had not lost in
venom three years later. But for us it was a test case that might
influence the whole future of our work. I took the bull by the
horns. _

“I will never forget your kindness to me in Chaokioh last
summer,” I said, softening what I was about to say as much as
possible, “how you set my mind at rest and took my part over
going through the Shama battle area. Now I'd like to think that we
will have the same understanding as long as our team is in your
county. Is there any thought that every time there is some insecurity
in Nosuland we may be kept from moving about as we wish, or
made to leave our posts? Because such conditions would be imprac-
ticable. We cannot even begin, and certainly no work could be
maintained with restrictions like that on it. We would like you to
understand that we take all responsibility on our own shoulders,
and we will not be foolhardy. If you will welcome us into your area
on those terms I will be very grateful. I cannot see how we could
come on any other understanding.”

The magistrate seemed relieved. “Most certainly,” he answered,
“you shall have a free hand once you have started. But on this first
occasion while your colleagues are raw to the conditions in there I
must ensure that you run into no immediate danger. In a few days’
time it will be safe, two companies of troops are going in to keep
order, and you need wait no longer.”

His “companies” had dwindled to one platoon when he preceded
118 STRONG MAN'S PREY

us shortly afterwards, but we waited a few more days lest it appear
that our coming into Nosuland was in any way under the protection
of Chinese arms.

On April 7th the great day came. Sending the pack-animals ahead
~we all stood, ready for the road, and prayed that God would make
this occupation of Nosuland effective, that by our preaching and
demonstration of His love the Nosu and Chinese to whom we went
might “turn from darkness to His marvellous light.”” Floyd and the
Busman, Chengming and Wenhua, Chao and I made up the party,
with four riding animals between us. From this day of entering
until the sad day of leaving in exile there was always at least one of
our number in possession in the Promised Land. Coming and going
there had to be, but it is true to claim that throughout that time the
Christian living of our missionary team was conspicuous as a
continuous light in gross darkness.

As in the previous year we took four days to reach Chaokioh. On
the first and last the journey was a mere ten miles, and on the two
intervening days twenty or twenty-five. With more experience we
learned to travel very lightly, and returning to Sichang without
accompanying loads, sometimes made the journey in two days of
glorious carefree riding. From Sichang to Lolo Vale the spirit of a
holiday excursion possessed us. Nosu road-guards welcomed us and
our suggestion that like the Border Mission we should pay half the
toll instead of the full sum demanded of traders. Everywhere their
pleasure that we should have come to live as friends amongst them
Wwas as warm as on our previous visit. The addition of four colleagues
proved to those who knew the interpreter and me that we meant
business, and the fact that two of them were Nosu from another
province gave us openings to tell about the spiritual reason for their
coming.

During the night at Lolo Vale, at 9,000 ft., there was a heavy
fall of snow. The next day brilliant sunshine lit the peaks for miles
around with dazzling beauty. The going was difficult. Ploughing
through it we were wise enough to guard our eyes by covering our
wind goggles with Chinese ink, but until our faces were blistered
and oozing did not realize the possibility of such sunburn by
reflection, against which our wide-brimmed coolie hats were use-
less. Some of the muleteers and merchants travelling with us
suffered agonies from snow blindness for days afterwards.

At the lower levels of the Soso Vale, the forest-filled ravine

 
 

THE TEAM 119

beyond the Boglands, we had our first taste of a troublesome road
block. “The Nosu despise weakness,” I had been telling the men,
“and the way to get on well with them is to be strong and deter-
mined.”

But I had not reckoned on the “he-men” that Floyd and
Chengming were. When our dues had been- weighed out to an
obstreperous young chief, and he demanded more, we refused to
pay him and ordered the pack-train to proceed. Immediately the
Nosu rushed to block our way, and with rifles ready stoned the
animals to turn them back. We on our part whipped the beasts
ahead, to force a way through the obstruction. Although the
tempers of the Nosu were rising, to my great amusement, admira-
tion and, a moment later, real concern, Floyd and Chengming
rushed into the fray, seized the bridles of the leading pack-mules and
in person led them into the mélée. Shouldering the Nosu out of the
way they tried to clear a path, but the fire of fury in the eyes of one
or two Nosu warned me that violence would follow in a trice, and
that we had gone far enough. I intervened, and a compromise was
reached in oriental fashion, and bloodshed avoided.

Clashes like this were so frequent on the route from Sichang to
Chaokioh, that a journey was seldom completed without the use of-
similar persuasion by the men of our team. But for this, the lan-
guage understood by everyone in Nosuland, we would have been
exploited by increasing numbers of the covetous. On one occasion
Floyd Larsen stood his ground when threatened by the rifles of a
squad of Nosu, and refused to pay more than the sum they should
receive: “‘Shoot if you like!” he told them, “but that is all I will
give you.” They were so delighted with his pluck that with beaming
friendliness they waved him on his way.

At Four Fields the assembled chiefs of the Lo’m, Vaja and Hma
faction gave us the same welcome as elsewhere, and saw us on
through no-man’s-land to the rival valley of Three Bends with in-
vitations to come and live amongst them when their feud had been
resolved. We crossed the Little Hen without meeting anyone, and
at Three Bends were hailed by chiefs of the Batcii and Asu clans no
less kindly.

But climbing the Great Hen on the last lap of the journey, we
narrowly missed being fired on. Twenty or more Nosu mounting
guard above their village looked so alert and suspicious as we came
toward them that I veered off over the hillside in their direction,
giving them a chance to identify us. Even when I came right up
120 STRONG MAN'S PREY

and tried to talk with them they were unbending, and, as we
learned later, thought we might be agents of the enemy. But the
reason came out when in describing the encounter I mentioned that
there was a young girl with them: she was the object of the fighting,
and the troop her bodyguard.

A mile outside the walls of Chaokioh a delegation of officials
was waiting to receive us, doing usan unexpected honour. And inside
the fort, during the week-end, a crowd of Nosu came and went,
professing their pleasure at our return. After a brief Sunday morning
service, we spent the day seeing patients, swamped by Chinese so
that the Nosu had to wait or go away untreated. I looked for Aku,
but he was not to be seen. Not till long afterwards did we see any-
thing of him. The price of being a Christian, renunciation of his
opium and pagan customs was too much, and he felt ashamed.

As on the first visit the Leopard’s Mouth, that broad ridge
between Chaokioh and Chuheh, was unsafe to cross because of
depredations by the Ahu slave-raiders, and no chief of the Batcii
clan would guarantee safe escort to the other side. To reach the
valley of Chuheh, therefore, we had to find someone who could
take us by another route, and a cheerful chief named Soza volun-
teered. Chengming and Chao who was back to his quiet sincerity,
walked with him over the hills, teaching him the gospel as they went.
Often afterwards Soza would talk about “Chu Yehsu,” the Lord
Jesus, but never understood much.

At Chuheh the welcome from our old friend Hma Vuta was
frank and spontancous, even to listening eagerly to all we taught
him, but a crowd of uninhibited wild Ahu held the field. The
atmosphere was tense. The trouble over the escaped slaves had been
settled, but now an Ahu serf had been mistaken for a Batcii man
and shot dead by the Hma. Wine was flowing freely and the bodies
of drink-sodden Nosu lay wherever they chose or happened to fall
down and sleep it off. Others in less helpless stages rolled about
searching for more, and called in for a look at the foreigners until
we tired of humouring them. |

The only place to stay was in the tavern posing as a New Life
Movement outpost, and the profligate behaviour of its occupants
and the officials next door gave us ample opportunity to see what
kind of neighbours we would have if ever we lived near them. The
Ahu with the reckless arrogance for which they are renowned
hurled threats at us and in our presence swapped coarse jests at our
expense, when we refused to treat them to drinks. Vuta and his

 
 

 

THE TEAM 121

friends became alarmed and begged us to be careful till the death of
the serf had been compensated and they had gone. Later he
explained.

“The Ahu are the strongest clan amongst us,” he said, “and the
wildest I know. They will not hesitate to kill a man if certain of
support from their own people. It pays to keep on the right side of
them, especially when they are drunk. But we seldom see them,
and you must not be put off. Once you are known it will be safe to
live here and to bring women and children with you.”

We were not so sure, and felt that Ruth at least should come in
to assess the atmosphere, which might be more (or perhaps less)
respectful in the presence of a woman.

Leaving Chao and Wenhua there, to be joined by Floyd a few
days later, we returned to Chaokioh. To our amazement hostility so
cold, so palpable that we could sense it from the moment of re-
entering the fort, now met us. No one would speak to us, and with
difficulty we found a corner for each of our party to pass the night.
Knowing that Chiang the telegraphist, our friend from 1947, would
tell us what had happened, we sought him out and learned the truth,
so petty, yet so venomous and typical of the atmosphere of Chaokioh
as we came to know it.

One of the officials, an inveterate opium addict, had been asked
to vacate his room for us on our way through from Sichang.
Angered by humiliation, as he termed it, he had stirred up feeling
among his colleagues. Had not they, the government representatives,
walked out a mile to welcome us, the aliens, to their county? Had
they not attended our Sunday service as a courtesy? Then why had
we suggested afterwards that they should pay for medical treatment,
even as a good example to the Nosu? Was it not to make the Chinese
look small before the Mantzu, savages! Officials paying while the
Nosu pleased themselves! “Ch’ing Han, chung Th!”—the slogan
pleased him. Patently the foreigners despised the Chinese, exalting
the tribesmen above them.

Some agreed with him, especially the underlings who had failed
the year before to keep me from crossing over to Chaotung. But
others for the sake of peace joining with them explained the situa-
tion to us when alone. Sullen faces met us everywhere, and on
the second Sunday only yokels came to the service. When we left
again, to meet the magistrate at Three Bends and lay plans before
him, one of the underlings outpaced us and had poisoned his mind
before we arrived,
122 STRONG MAN’S PREY

Floyd and T had sat up on the wall of the fort and thrashed out
the problem before us.

“This is how I see things,” I said. “The welcome of Chinese and
Nosu is undoubted, both here and in Chuheh. Some of them have
selfish motives, hoping to get drugs and advantages from us. Others
like Vuta seem glad of all we have to offer, including the gospel.
Chuheh is the place for making the best contacts with the Nosu, and
the only place where we would touch the wild ones. But our pre-
ference for Chuheh seems to have contributed to this ill-feeling
because it would mean a clinic for the Nosu that was rather far
from the officials.”

“You're right,” agreed Floyd. “And it doesn’t look as if Chuheh
would be exactly a health resort with those Ahu about. The women
and children might have some unpleasant experiences, if no worse.
It looks as if a base in Chaokioh with an outpost in Chuheh would
be best, until we know them all better. Meanwhile Ruth could come
up and see what she thinks.”

As we sat talking, with the Leopard’s Mouth and the Dragon’s
Head to one side of us and the Great Hen like a barrier across our
line of retreat on the other, I was conscious of the spiritual battle we
were joining with the enemy of souls. In our dealings with the Ahu
dare-devils at Chuheh and the renegades of Chaokioh, something
diabolical was present. For a moment I was more aware of the reek
of the pit than of the presence of God. Later on Floyd put the same
impression into different words when he wrote home:

“I have been sceptical of some of the stormy pictures painted of
these parts, but now I think that a few more flashes of lightning and
bent trees could be added to them. Independent Nosuland is wilder
and more lawless than the Giarung or Tibetan territory I have
been in.”

A critical decision was upon us, not only where but how we were
to start work. We wanted to preach and demonstrate the love of
God with the introduction of as little as possible that was foreign to
the people of Nosuland, whether foreign standards, foreign funds
or foreign influence. We hoped to win men and women for Christ,
teach them and establish them in dependence upon God and His
Word, not on ourselves, and from the outset to see them bound
together in a self-governing, self-supporting and self-propagating
Christian community. Every exotic element, from denominational
prejudice to western architecture we were out to avoid. And we
hoped to emphasize our temporary status amongst them by having

 
 

THE TEAM 123

no anchorage, no land, buildings or commitments of a permanent
nature. As the church developed we would hope to slip more and
more into the background, as advisers or colleagues, not leaders.
Yet from the beginning we would be as much part of the church
as any Chinese or Nosu Christian in it, neither standing aloof nor
denying them the opportunity to shoulder full responsibility.

“You know, Floyd,” I confessed, “I don’t see how we are going
to do it. Here we are, we have prayed and appealed for men, men,
men, to join us, because Nosuland is hardly the place for women
anyway, but no one has volunteered. When you have gone back to
Yunnan and the Kiechkow boys have returned home we won’t be as
strong as we are now. Sichang, it seems to me, is too far away from
our field. Ruth and Janet want to be among the Nosu too, not just
supply-wallahs at the base. We've got to find some way of making
Chaokioh habitable for them, and use it as a spring-board for
opening up Chuheh and beyond.

“If there were some Christians here already it would be a different
matter, we could look to them for help, but there aren’t. And if the
houses were waterproof and the food edible it would be better, but
with this ignorance of higher standards, and with short seasons,
cruel climate, poor agricultural methods and niggardly harvests, not
to mention their wasteful vices, we could never live long at their
level and keep our health and effectiveness. There aren’t even any
markets where we could buy food, and the Nosu only part with a
little at a time when they must have salt or cloth. In any case live-
stock is scarce and meat always hard to obtain. Look at the magis-
trate’s table—little variation from red peppers and crisped peas, or
beancurd and pickle, or cabbage and potatoes, to go with the rice.

“What's the answer? Unless we are to live in these raw, primitive
conditions we will have to build better houses and have land for
vegetable gardens, fruit trees and livestock. Our rice will have to
come four days by pack-train from Sichang anyway. I don’t see
how we can avoid being conspicuous, even if innovations are limited
to windows, chimneys and proper roofs. To perpetuate dirt, dark-
ness and leaks is to abet what we hope the Nosu will soon change.
Besides, satisfactory medical work will be impossible unless it is
clean enough, light enough and dry enough for me to be able to
dig out my drugs and instruments from their packing cases and do
some operating. What do you think?”

“Your responsibility is to your family as well as to the Nosu,”
Floyd said. “It wouldn’t be right for you to live in Nosuland while
124 STRONG MAN’S PREY

they were in Sichang, or for them to have to rough it too much.
So I'm with you. But there’s no need to make the place imposing.
As much like the local shacks as possible, and inside the fort here,
where they will be safer than outside. That’s my idea.”

The magistrate, when we outlined our purpose to him, fully
approved. He offered us the use of the old barracks, standing empty,
but under pressure from his staff had to withdraw his gesture. Floyd
hurried oft to rejoin Chao and Wenhua at Chuheh, while the
Busman, Chengming and I rode out to Sichang and the mad
hatter’s world of currency inflation. Within a few days the Chuheh
Tavern was sold to us for eight bars of silver (£16). Without an
effort on our part, we had a home to call our own in the heart of
Nosuland. That it was at first little better than a pigsty mattered not
a scrap. Purged of the vice and devilish associations of the past, it
became at once the beacon of Truth from which the light shone
steadily as long as we had men to occupy it.

The atmosphere of evil, risks, and crudeness, of loneliness and a
wall of spiritual darkness around us, as well as the strain of eating
coarse coolie food and having little privacy, was too much to
swallow (except unwisely) in bigger doses than a month or two at
a time, however. Taking turns to live there, and to recoup in
Sichang at our “Komfort Korner,” we evolved a shuttle service so
that weary members of the team from Chuheh could continue
preparations for building while the refreshed ones launched with
new vigour into grappling with the drunks, the wild men and the
up-country life. |

 
 

CHAPTER TEN
TAVERN AND TRAIL

HE roads were quagmires and the hill paths glissades when

Chengming and I returned to Chaokioh after heavy rains in the
first week of June. Keen as mustard to go with us, Ruth had had
to stay at home. When animals were floundering and men could
hardly keep their feet, taking frequent tosses, when the rivers were
in spate and to cross them clothes had to be thrown oft or the day
spent drenched, it was no time for women to make their first entry
into Nosuland. But Ruth was slow to be convinced. Fifty-odd years
behind her were irrelevant, they were not to be considered. Only
the promise of the first opportunity would satisfy her. That, alas,
was slow in coming.

Floyd had stood the primitive life in Chuheh well, but was glad
to be relieved. Knowing Chuheh better he was sure now that the
women and children could not live there till we were on far firmer
relations with the Nosu. He had seen enough of Nosu pride and
violence to be anxious of the outcome. But he remarked also on
their simple frankness which he felt would make them receptive to
the gospel. Together we surveyed the building sites at our disposal
in the fort at Chaokioh, and exchanging responsibilities, parted, he
to “Komfort Korner” with Chao, and we to the Tavern at Chuheh.
“Chao,” he told me, “is coming on in fine style, always humble,
helpful and ready to learn. But he’s poor as an interpreter and too
shy to tell others about the Lord.”

- At Chuheh Floyd’s breezy personality had won the friendship of
the people, and the medical attention he had been giving all who
asked his help, had dispelled suspicion and animosity. We dropped
into his niche. The cheerful greetings of the men and women as we
came and went had acquired a natural, deeper tone than when we
had been strangers. They brought gifts of eggs or grain when they
came to ask for medicine.

Frightened men with leprosy known only to themselves came
hoping to consult us when no other Nosu were near. More advanced
cases as a last resort appealed to us, “Can’t we look after your
horses for you and live here?” They sat silent and big-eyed like a
dog with a wounded spirit, several paces apart from their more
126 STRONG MAN'S PREY

fortunate fellow-men. Helpless and hopeless, often near tears but
too afraid and too hurt to weep, they waited to know whether we
too would turn them away. When the dogs were set on them we
called the dogs and showed that the lepers were our friends, so that
they would not bite them. And we allowed the poor men to sleep
in our porch before they went on their way, promising to do all
within our power to start a colony for them. The look of blended
disappointment and gratitude in their faces was pathetic. But to let
them set foot in our shack would have frightened healthy Nosu from
us. The concern of others in the village over lepers coming near them
warned us to be careful. One day two White Nosu neighbours,
looking closely at my shining, newly shaven face, agreed together
that I had already been infected with the cursed disease myself.

If medical treatment was ever to rival sorcery in their confidence,
spectacular results must soon be seen. So I started praying that
impressive cases might come our way, and those we could not help
be kept away. Within a few days Hma Vuta came saying,

“My only son is very ill. The sorcerers have failed to drive out his
demon. Would you mind seeing him?”

Bizeu, the boy, walked weakly in and sat, panting and very limp,
on the mud seat in our front “room.” It did not need much skill to
see that he was seriously ill or that he had pneumonia. Penicillin
was one of the dramatic means at my disposal, and with a grateful
heart I said to Vuta,

“Why didn’t you call me much sooner? Your sacrificial animals
have been wasted.”

A few injections, and his son was better. But before a week was
up a nephew of the same age and his sister had been taken ill also.
This time Vuta told me, falsely, that he had not called the sorcerer.
But we had heard the drums and shouting and discovered later that
the sorcerer claimed to have recognized the same demon as in Bizeu
and recommended penicillin as an adjunct to his tricks.

The story of these cures spread rapidly, and a party of Hma chiefs
with their retainers came from the mountains at some distance from
Chuheh, to inspect the foreign medicine-man and his apparatus. We
showed them the portable operating table, the instruments, syringes
and ampoules of drugs, the bottles of tablets and jars of ointment,
and explained their uses very simply, as ever to a chorus of incredu-
lous cries of “A-Beu!” and “A-Bee!” After an hour or two, the
usual leisurely time of gossip by the fire, one of the men, taking his
courage in both hands, bared his chest and showed me a lump

 
 

TAVERN AND TRAIL ' 127

between the skin and his ribs. It was a spent bullet. The wound of
entry was on the other side of his chest, long since healed. My
chance had come.

“T'll take that out without you feeling more than one pin prick!”
I declared.

The men stared open-mouthed. But so miraculous had been the
very apparatus they had seen, that anything seemed possible, and
they agreed. As quickly as we could, lest they should recant and
move away, Chengming, Wenhua and I rigged up the table, boiled
the instruments, and heaved the nervously grinning patient up for
his ordeal. His friends stood round in a half~circle watching. A squirt
of local anasthetic into the air as I prepared the syringe, and they
gasped. A prick into the man’s skin, and they drew their breath. A
brief pause for the anwsthetic to take effect round the bullet, and in a
spellbound silence I cut down on the object, extracted and displayed
it before their bulging eyes. When the patient said, “Tell me when
you're going to use the knife,” the spell was broken; all his friends
burst into a roar of laughter. And another, easy, triumph had been
scored.

Other simple operations soon followed. One, for a condition
which causes great distress and eventually blindness (trichiasis), was
so easily performed and so successful, out of all proportion toitsscope,
that it too helped to break down prejudice and create true faith in
our claim to have come as friends of the Nosu and for their good.

Sometimes people would rush in to fetch medicine for would-be
suicides. Girls who were unhappy in their marriages, arranged by
others for them, knew how to find poisonous herbs on the hillsides,
(nux vomica, known as “Golden Coins from Heaven,” in par-
ticular), or swallowed opium when they had accumulated enough.
The Nosu had their own ways of attempting to resuscitate them, but
with no knowledge of drugs and their uses managed to save few lives.

One day I was summoned in a hurry to a girl of twenty who had
been discovered comatose. Her husband had been beating her, and
suicide by opium was her revenge. The messenger led me a long
way up the valley side before we reached the scene, but when we
passed the house and came upon a circle of silent men and women
in a field, I thought we had come too late. Looking for the patient
I received a sudden most unpleasant shock. Lying on the ground
within the circle were two bare hands, two feet and straw a sun-hat,
nothing else. .

Seeing my surprise one of the watchers lifted up the hat and there
128 STRONG MAN’'S PREY

beneath it was the ashy pale head of the girl, loose and separate,
alone on the ground. But as I looked the lips parted slightly in a
long slow sigh, and one hand moved. Not till then was it apparent
that her body was immersed in mire, indistinguishable from the
carth around it, that the chilliness might stimulate her breathing.
She had not been mutilated as I feared. Sympathetic women pulled
her out, took her indoors and changed her into clean, dry clothes.
And with treatment she was soon well again.

Extra planks and careful placing of them on our roof could not
keep out the heavy rains that drenched the mountains and filled the
rivers with red, débris-laden water. Sleeping under oilcloths, with
everything of value covered over, we tried to forget the storms and
hoped our frail mud shack would stand up to the soaking. Waking
sometimes to the roar and scrunch of collapsing walls or falling
houses in the village, we would make an inspection of our own
leaks and do what we could to stop them. Ditches deeply dug on all
sides were still not enough to drain the ground dry; and the Nosu
houses are all built without foundations, pounded straight on to the
levelled earth. Ours was no exception, damp had soaked into the
foot of every wall and softened it. Rats had honeycombed it too.
It was a miracle that some Nosu walls stood for several decades.
Cracks in ours were slowly getting wider, and the Tavern’s days
were numbered.

In this drenching weather Vuta called one evening with a stranger.

“This is a retainer from the home of Mpo Laho, chief of our
neighbouring clan,” he explained, after the customary pleasantries
and delay. “Laho was shot through the leg last year and is com-~
pletely crippled and seldom out of pain. Will you go with this man
tomorrow, and see his master and other patients in the clan? He will
return with someone to carry your equipment if you agree to go.”

Agree to go! This was the first call into the wilds beyond Chuheh
that had come to us. Mpo Laho’s village was not far from the
Valley of the Beautiful Maiden. It was one step further in the direc-
tion of our planned advance. Of course we would go. Chengming,
with his flair for anything new and potentially exciting, was as keen
as I, and in the morning had Belinda and his own horse groomed
and saddled well before our ten o’clock breakfast.

Over the rim of the bowl of Chuheh, the limit beyond which
no one could go unescorted, a long ravine led down into a fertile
basin drained by a tributary of the Beautiful Maiden. Beyond this

 
 

TAVERN AND TRAIL 129

basin the broad glacis of foothills leading up toward the Dragon’s
Head massif was broken by huge rifts giving the appearance of a
vast wall of masonry which had fallen against the mountains it
enclosed. Spread over these blocks and in the clefts between them
were the villages and pastures of the Mpo.

A chief in agony from peptic ulceration tried to detain us on the
way, seeing no reason why we should arrive at Laho’s home on the
day we were expected. But knowing that we could do little to
relieve him we insisted on continuing the journey, and in torrential
downpours led our animals up tracks on clay, so slippery that none
of us could keep our feet, let alone ride. The calls of herdsmen
sounded through the hills as they rounded up their flocks of cattle,
sheep and pigs and drove them home. Nearing the village they and
we converged, and a lowing, bleating, grunting cavalcade escorted
us down rhododendron slopes into Laho’s home.

The daylight was still good enough for me to treat my patient,
so two household serfs carried him to the doorway where I could
see. Thin and worn, he looked the picture of long drawn out suffer-
ing. His leg, smashed by a hit below the knee, was drawn up in a
cruel deformity and riddled with cavities. Without delay I opened
my outfit (as promptly a surgical towel was stolen by an onlooker),
and under local anzsthesia dealt with the limb as thoroughly as I
could, removing dead bone and establishing clear drainage. The
Nosu are called Mantzu, savages, but no more refined and gracious
men could one hope to meet than this grateful chief and another
we moved on to the next day. Never having seen strange foreigners
before, they looked with interest at me when we first arrived, and
from then on treated me as courteously as they knew how. Wishing
to feast us after darkness fell, they asked us how we liked the food
cooked and whether we would do it ourselves, and did their best
to converse in the halting mixture of Chinese and Nosu which was
their and our best, using a Chinese slave boy of fourteen as inter-
preter from time to time.

Later in the evening three Chinese traders, to our great surprise,
came in and sat round the fire. Evil men with evil faces they stayed
long enough to satisfy their curiosity about us, afraid maybe that
we were on the track of their nefarious traffic, and as unceremoni-
ously left again. When they had gone the boy told us how he had
come into captivity.

“Men like these came to my home near the Yangtze River,” he
said with feeling, “and hired a team of carriers from among my

i
130 STRONG MAN’S PREY

friends and relatives. They brought me along with them, and with
the lie that when our loads had been sold to the Nosu we would all
return home rich with supplies of opium, led us into the depths of
Nosuland and sold us with the merchandise we carried.

“At the moment,” he continued, “‘there’s another team of hired
peasants in this neighbourhood. They little know what will happen
to them, or what fine stories will reach their homes to explain
their absence.”

The following day we saw those men. And from the numbers of
Chinese slaves of all ages with whom we talked, it was not difficult
for us to believe the story. The traders were protected by a guarantor
whom they remunerated. But sometimes they themselves were
betrayed and sold by the chief they trusted.

Somehow it felt more worthwhile to tell the gospel story with
its message of hope to these unhappy slaves, than telling it to free
men ever did. There was nothing we could do to help them find
their liberty; nothing that would not close the doors against us if
the escape of one man, woman or child was attributed to our inter-
vention. Better, we believed, to work for major reforms through
Christian Nosu, with the wholesale liberation that would mean,
than to save one or two people and condemn the rest.

Even in Chuheh, under the eye of the Chinese officials, there were
Chinese slaves who dare not escape, and whom the officials dare not
liberate for fear of the consequences. In Vuta’s own home, next to
the Tavern, was an old man, long since content to stay in bondage,
for he had his food and clothes and shelter, whereas if he were set
at liberty among his own people he would be good for nothing but
to beg. Another, who came down to draw water from the gutter
that supplied us in Chuheh, was alleged to be a woman. Nothing
more suggestive of a hairless hybrid between man and ape could be
imagined. And she was only one of many in the mountains, human
beings who through slavery from childhood, half-starved, ill-treated
and left to fend for themselves like animals, have grown up stunted
in form and wits, less human than any we had ever seen.

In the morning we were led into a nearby village to examine
several lepers. Nowhere had we seen so many as among the Mpo,
nor so advanced with disease. Unsegregated and untreated they
mixed with their healthy friends until popular resentment was
aroused and their fate was sealed. These men and boys had heard
about our plan to found a colony, and enquired anxiously when it
would be open. But we had no news to give them. Talks with Hma
 

TAVERN AND TRAIL - I3I

Vuta and the Batcii chiefs had raised our hopes, but there was no
knowing whether their agreement to a colony was hollow courtesy
or readiness to have the dreaded leprosy demons congregating near
their territory. Preparations would have to go further before we
could be certain. Oriental unwillingness to say No, made it difficult
to get the truth even from a Christian, let alone these pagans.

Laho was delighted with the ease our surgery had brought him
and promised to come in to Chuheh for continued treatment, when
he had thought out a way to travel. To be carried on a stretcher,
the method kept for dead and dying people, was quite out of the
question. But to ride or travel on a servant’s back would be too
painful. Leaving him to solve the problem Chengming and I set out
again, with friends of the next serious case. Patients of a minor sort
were plentiful wherever we went. They led us down a steep descent
into one of the strange rifts between the blocks of mountain, across
the barren floor for half a mile, and up the other side by a concealed
path in what looked like unbroken cliff. There was something
sinister about the place. Belinda shared the feeling with me, twitch-
ing her ears and nostrils and starting nervously at the slightest
unusual sound. But it may have been the scent of leopard, bear or
even tiger, said to be found frequently around the Dragon’s Head,

that disturbed her.

On arrival at the home of Mpo Jusa we were confronted with a
picture of life in Nosuland more vivid than any we had seen. A boy
of seventeen lay groaning in the alcove beyond the fireplace in his
home, while we sat listening to his story.

“I am the last of four brothers, chiefs of our clan,” Mpo Jusa
related grimly. “Three were killed in battle or died under the curse
of disease demons. Each of their wives in keeping with our Nosu
custom became members of my family, and the surviving children
out of the total of eighteen became mine too. Every one of these
children has died, in spite of all I did to placate the insatiable demons,
except this boy, and he has been slowly dying for nine months. Huge
abscesses deep in the muscles of first one thigh, then a shoulder and
now in the other thigh, have laid him low for months of agony
before coming to the surface and discharging. All our livestock and
then the livestock of our freemen retainers has been sacrificed, to no
purpose. Land has been sold to buy more beasts for the sorcerers to
use, and from being very wealthy we have sunk to poverty. Worse
still, to give relief we had to teach this last son to smoke opium, and
132 STRONG MAN’S PREY

the dose has had to be increased until he needs three times what the
average addict takes, before his pain is eased. This too has drained
away our wealth, and sapped the boy’s failing strength.”

I'm not ashamed of the hot tension that came into my throat and
eyes. Whether or not I could preach the gospel, it was worth being
a missionary for this alone. What were the disadvantages of leaving
home, of running risks, of living day and night in drenched clothes,
prey toinsects, desperate for assimilable food, almost frantic for peace
from staring, mauling, pilfering bystanders, in comparison with the
joy of being able, painlessly and in a moment, to end the suftering

- which without my knife would have gone on for many more weeks
and perhaps ended in death! Sometimes values alter in appearance
with the occasion of their weighing. In the moment of calm reason-
ing the physical is not enough to be the motive of a lifework, because
of its transience. Nothing matters as intensely as the spiritual, and at
that not the speculative but the assured. Therefore nothing counts
for me in this life but what is called the “next,” because they are
inseparable. Continuity, career, security for the future and old age
are attractive but no more than tinsel when seen beside the lasting
worth of those unfading values, the friendship of God and the
honour of slaving to let others know Him as He may be known in
Christ. But my experience was Christ’s experience too, the unchal-
lengeable worth of pure compassion expressed in deeds.

As with Mpo Laho, Jusa’s son was carried to the open doorway,
the only light place in his home, and lay on the ground supported
by his foster-father while we examined and prepared him. Fearing
pain he cried for opium and was given it to smoke until he lay in
dreamy comfort while three pints of pus poured from his distended
thigh into a pig-bucket. Cries of wonder and appreciation filled the
house as it was realized that he would soon be well. And the relief
to the stricken father was so great that as we did the dressing the
next morning, with the help of a capsule of chloroform, he broke
down and wept unashamedly.

Serving Jusa in his home there were two Chinese slaves, a man
and woman of twenty-five or thirty. An opportunity arose to ask
the man his story, and he laughed lightheartedly as he explained his
presence there.

“It’s all my own fault,” he said. “They told me it was not safe
to trade in opium unless you know the Nosu very well, but I
thought I knew better. With some friends I paid a chief to take us
into Nosuland, down near Ningnan in the south. He passed us on

 
 

TAVERN AND TRAIL 133

to someone whose name we weren’t even sure of, and he could not
be troubled to travel with us. He sent his Whites along instead. They
must have struck a bargain with some friends, for we were ambushed
and trussed up, but the Whites escaped with only a show of fighting.
I was mad! I fought like a wild cat, though I might have known I
couldn’t get away, and only got these gashes for my pains.” He
showed three dull blue scars.

“We were separated, so [ don’t know what became of my friends,
but I was kept with poles tied tightly behind my knees to prevent
me running, and day after day I had to march as best I could, sold
from one man to another all the way up here. If I hadn’t fought
they might have left me nearer home! Mpo Jusa bought me several
months ago and had me watched until quite recently. One of his
Whites stayed with me—never let me out of his sight. But one day
they were short of men and had to use me on a trip to carry hides
to Chuheh, so I learnt the way. When I've gathered enough opium
and found out where the master keeps his silver, I will take all I can
and make a dash for it. There is time enough. He thinks I've settled
down. He bought this woman for me, and imagines I'm content to
settle down and breed some little slaves for him as others do! Young
women cost more than men, you know; don’t run away as easily,
for one thing, and multiply for another.” And he chuckled at the
thought of how his long adventure as an opium trader would end
if he were clever enough.

It was Sunday, and had been a restless day, so in the evening as
we all sat round the fire together, Chengming, Jusa and his house-
hold, one or two Blacks from Laho’s family, and myself, we asked
if we might sing to them, and they agreed. Singing hymns and tell-
ing them the meaning as best we could with the help of those who
knew a little Chinese, we preached and entertained them for some
time, and then suggested:

“Now let’s hear you sing some of your songs,” hoping to learn
more about Nosu tunes with the idea of adapting them to the words
of hymns. There was an embarrassed silence before one answered:

“No, you go on singing! When we sing the demons come round,
but when you sing they all go away.”

Nosu superstition is so strong that the melancholy, wailing
dirges in a minor key which form most of their tunes, are enough
to make a singer and his hearers feel the presence of real or imagined
evil spirits. But their dabblings in spiritualistic practices have con-
fused them utterly, until fear of demons permeates every corner of
134 STRONG MAN’S PREY

their lives. The thought that Chu Yehsu could cast out demons and
protect His own from their attacks, always appealed to those we
taught, but left them feeling that it was too good to be true.

Grateful for our visit, Mpo Jusa gave us as a present when we left
on Monday morning a fine goat, and despatched a serf in the full
bloom of infective leprosy to lead it, or rather to be towed gustily
by it all the way to Chuheh for us. With this strange escort, there-
fore, we returned, as we believed, to peace and quiet in our nook,
the Tavern. But as we crossed the rim of Chuheh valley once again,
the staccato crackle of rifle fire on the other side, along the Leopard’s
Mouth, became audible.

Feuds in Nosuland are sometimes due to quarrels over debts,
or injuries sustained in drunken brawls, or marriage tangles like the
Lo’'m-Asu feud, but usually their origins are lost in bygone history.
At special feasts, New Year, the Torch Festival in summer, and
whenever the mood takes them, the old folk call the young around
them and rehearse the stories of insults, injustices, debts unpaid,
blood feuds, deeds of bravery and shame, and acts of kindness judged
to be immortal. The unvaried wording is in time committed to the
memory of others and so the tales pass down the generations, ending
with instructions to the young to maintain the feuds. Each genera-

“tion has to consider those of its own age on the opposing side as their
set enemies, their debtors or their honoured friends, according to
the records.

Once a feud is well established, however, as between our friends
the Hma and Batcii clans, braves of either side go out shooting as if
they were hunting animals. Anyone with a rifle and the time to
spare will join a party out to capture if they can, or kill if they feel
inclined. Wood-cutters, labourers in the fields, all alike are attacked.
Men if taken prisoner are roped up and put in stocks until redeemed
or sold into slavery far away. The status of Black Nosu, of the noble
caste, is respected, and they are never enslaved unless disowned by
their own clan. But White Nosu, serfs, are sold as livestock, and the
women raped.

In serious battles when anger had been aroused, all menfolk are
pressed into fighting with what weapons are available. The women
only join in when their husbands have been murdered or their
hatred breaks its bounds. But men, women and children are in
danger when foul weather makes it easy for a band of desperadoes
armed with knives to cross no-man’s-land and break unheard into a

 
 

TAVERN AND TRAIL 13§

home and do their worst. Usually itis Whites who do this, forawager
of as much as twenty or thirty ingots of silver, sometimes more.

When we reached the Tavern, this is what we learned had caused
the present battle. Two Hma chiefs had been assassinated and those
nearest in kin had led their men out in hope of revenge. One day of
fighting was enough to satisfy them, and the next was taken up with
feasting and cremation of the dead. Here and there over the hillsides
dense pillars of smoke rose into the still air as wailing crowds of
relatives and friends escorted the biers with volleys of rifle fire, and
sitting at a distance watched the flames leap up.

I was called to treat the wounded, and with Wenhua and
Chengming walked over to the scene of action. The leading chief, a
brutal, brainless and conceited man, was gloating cheerfully over his
success and boasting of his prowess as the bodies of his serfs were
carried past us to their pyres.

“Five Batcii chiefs dead, and fifteen or sixteen wounded Blacks
and Whites over in Chaokioh!” he chuckled. *And on our side?
Only these three serfs were killed, and five injured. Better fighting,
that’s what it was. There were just as many of our Blacks engaged,
but we shoot straighter!”

He took us to see one of his retainers who was claiming to be the
luckiest man alive. A bullet had passed through his neck and tracking
up under his skin had emerged above his ear. Others in different
villages with more serious wounds awaited us, and for several days
our hands were full, tramping from place to place because there was
nowhere to accommodate them in our premises. Never had they
seen such quick or clean results as from the war-surplus and Red
Cross drugs and dressings I used. But even so they called their priests
and sorcerer-priests to protect them from the demons that had
made them vulnerable while others escaped unscathed.

In the middle of this activity a telegram reached Chaokioh and
was brought by runner. To my joy it said that our good friend Mr.
Rowland Butler would be flying unless unavoidably prevented,
from Chungking to Sichang, and hoped to come up-country with
us. As a director at the headquarters of the Mission and most closely
responsible for our field, this was what we had been counting on.
Already I had thought out some informative experiences for him,
including an attempt to break more unexplored country while he
was with us. So when messengers from the Batcii clan came asking
me to treat their wounded too, I seized the opportunity to work
across to Chaokioh, alone this time, and wait for him there. Planes
136 STRONG MAN’S PREY

had been flying over us for some days, so hope was quickened.
Hastily we built another attic room in the Tavern before I started,
laying floorboards so “expertly” that we met with scorn and dis-
approval from the Nosu carpenter who often came in to see us.

“What’s the use of that?” he scoffed. “With no cracks between
your boards how do you expect the fleas to drop down or the smoke
from the room below to get out! Your guest above will get eaten
alive, and people downstairs will be suffocated!”

The messengers led me up into the hills above Chuheh near to
the Ahu borders, and from the top we descended steeply with new,
neutral, escorts to the Chaokioh river in its upper gorge. Rainfall
had been heavy and the river was impassable but falling rapidly.
We sat and watched it, helpless to get over though the house we
were making for was not many hundred yards away on the farther
side. Angry swirling currents like live monsters writhing beneath
the soupy water roared, raced and somersaulted threateningly. But
the level sank perceptibly until one of the Nosu with us leapt up,
flung off all his clothes and holding them above his head waded out
into the stream. Carried sideways by the current he fought hard
against it till near to the other side, then turning, chest deep, let it
sweep him down into a bay where back eddies and calm water had
deposited a shingle bank.

“Come on!” he shouted. But none of his friends moved.

“Go on!” they said to me. “We’ll lead your mule over.”

“All right,” I answered, “but my feet are far too tender: I'll ride.”

I took off everything except my underclothes, hung boots,
trousers and windjacket loosely round my neck, and mounted
Belinda. She objected strongly, prancing round in circles, but once
into the water forged strongly ahead. We tried to keep to the path
followed by the Nosu, knowing that the crossing and its pitfalls
were familiar to him, but near the middle of the river first the saddle
then Belinda’s neck and finally everything but her nostrils and my
head and chest were submerged in the churning spate. Fearing lest
we go yet deeper and my weight should drown her, for Belinda was
barely keeping her feet on the river bed, I was about to abandon
ship and start swimming when we met the shingle bank and emerged
safely. Nothing in all our travelling taught me so surely the treach-
erousness of the river bottoms as that crossing. It helped to explain
how Chinese escaping from the Nosu, often during storms, were

drowned within sight of the fort of Chaokioh.

 
 

TAVERN AND TRAIL 137

The Batcii on the climb up to our destination arraigned me for
attending to the Hma clan’s wounded and not coming over to their
own as soon as news of casualties reached me.

“This is the first time this has cropped up,” I replied, “so let’s
remove all misunderstanding. We Christians are the friends of every-
one, and within our strength will do our best to help, regardless of
whether it is Chinese or Nosu, Black or White, friend or enemy,
that is in need. But we will not force our services on anyone, we
will wait to be invited. The wounded over at Chuheh called me in
immediately, and I have come to you as soon as you did so.”

Seeing that they liked being “stood up to” and appreciated the
idea of our not interfering unless wanted, I went further.

“What seems strange to me,” I said, “is why you don’t settle these
feuds between you. See the result: on both sides dead and wounded,
widows and orphans, fewer workers and more hate and fear. Make
peace and you have nothing but good resulting.”

At this they laughed aloud and stroked my arm. “You have a
good heart!” they said. “And if you bring peace between our clans
you will be doing a great thing. But can you see the Hma paying
us enough compensation!”” And as ever the suggestion foundered at
that point.

In the chief’s home to which I was taken, a young blood lay
propped up in the arms of his wife and her maid. He was groaning
piteously, and with every reason. A bullet had passed through his
shoulder, lung and back. The smashed bones were tortured every
time he coughed blood, and nothing had been done for him but
sacrifices and incantations. There he was to lie until he recovered
naturally or died. Opium smoking was his one relief. It is not sur-
prising that so many Nosu are addicted to the drug so easily obtained
and so merciful. But with the greater benefits of penicillin and
appropriate treatment, Pimozeu—so-called because he had in
infancy been presented to a pimo (sorcerer)—quickly recovered.

As soon as I could leave him I went on to Chaokioh, half expecting
that Floyd and Mr. Butler would have arrived. But instead received
a telegram saying that the visit had been cancelled. Sweeping gains
along the war front in central China had necessitated changes in
administrative plans, and this first of three similar disappointments
was the result. The burden of decisions involving the lives of all of
us, the use of large sums of money, our attitude to the officials and
their machinations, and a host of problems, must rest with us after

all.
138 STRONG MAN’S PREY

Back to my patients, feeling very disheartened, I endured the next
few days with the added trial of having no one with me who knew
enough Chinese to help as interpreter. Living and doctoring in sign
language helped out by odd phrases in Chinese and Nosu was as
amusing as it was difficut, especially when I offered to amputate a
grossly tuberculous knee. The incredulous look on everyone’s face
was ludicrous. But when a gang of adolescent youths decided that
my inability to speak their language was proof of ineptitude, life
became well-nigh unbearable. My personal possessions became the
prey of whoever was smart enough to evade my watchfulness; at
night they joined me in the hay loft where I had chosen to sleep,
and woke me by feeling under my pillow for the things I had more
wisely taken into my bed-bag, which I could close round my neck.
And at mealtimes my barbarous habit of eating with my mouth
shut, so unnatural, inspired them to mimic me hilariously.

The adults were unmoved and did nothing to intervene, so it was
with the greatest relief that I made my last visits to the wounded
and bade them farewell. A gigantic chief carried me (170 1b.) on
his shoulders over the river, largely to show his strength, while
Belinda waded and swam alone, and with no show of gratitude they
watched me go. No carrier was provided for my bedding and
medical kit, so Belinda reluctantly became pack-mule once more,
and we crossed the Leopard’s Mouth comparing notes together in
the deepest dejection.

A month of this sort of life, I felt, was quite enough for one spell.
If in the future we travelled much and lived among the Nosu, in
Chaokioh or on the Old Stockade in Chuheh—a Manchu garrison
site that would have suited our purpose admirably—home must be
sufficiently different to allow us to enjoy the contrast. With these
mournful thoughts I reached the Tavern and my friends again, and
sat down to the simple meal they had prepared, turnips, beans and
scrambled eggs with rice. It was a feast. Within an hour I was a
new man, cheerful and refreshed, realizing that for days I had had
nothing but potatoes and buckwheat cakes to eat, with a little meat
on one occasion. The melancholy had been due to sheer starvation.
Food and a course of vitamin tablets made so much difference that
when after six weeks Floyd arrived to relieve me, I felt fully adapted
to the life and prepared to stay on indefinitely. That to do so would
have been folly was, however, clear when others from time to time
came out for their spell of rest in Sichang looking thin, tense and
more than ready for a change.

 
 

CHAPTER ELEVEN
MUD WALLS AND MEMORIES

N some ways life in Nosuland was a picnic compared with work
in the supply base at Sichang. Ensuring that the team up-country
were stocked with food and barter was a complicated task and kept
Ruth and the others busy. The postal couriers and muleteers were
unreliable. Sometimes letters asking for provisions took up to three
weeks instead of three days, and supplies of perishable food were
delayed as long on the way in. But the inflation and the financial
jugglings necessary to keep going at all, dwarfed all other difficulties.
Cash famines, when the paper money in circulation was inade-
quate for the needs of the people, had become more and more
frequent. The government banks attempted to tide over crises by
issuing promissory notes, but these were discredited. Country
peasants with their produce and townsfolk with their manufactured
goods, stood eyeing each other in the streets, helpless to transact
their business for lack of a trustworthy medium, and too inexperi-
enced with the intricacies of barter to exchange what they had for
what they did not want in order to obtain what they were needing.
Meat, vegetables and firewood were often unprocurable, and con-
siderable ingenuity was required to feed the household. The Busman
was invaluable for scouting incessantly in the markets to detect the
trend in values, selling and buying to make the most of our resources.
Times were hard, but with a corner of the fort at Chaokioh that
could be called our own, it was time to plan our buildings and pro-
vide for a farmyard, vegetable garden and a space for the Nosu to
sit about and talk, as they so love to do. We needed a clinic fit for
tackling surgical operations when the team could cope with them,
and rooms that could be used for in-patients when necessary. There
must be accommodation for the regular members of the team and
for others passing through, with stabling for their horses. And
because of the lack of markets in Nosuland, storage space would be
essential for grain, potatoes, salt cones, and the hundred and one
things needed in maintenance, catering and travel.
Correspondence flowed between us and headquarters at the
coast.
“We want our place to be as much like the Nosu’s as possible.
140 STRONG MAN’'S PREY

But certain innovations we agree are necessary: foundations for the
mud walls, windows for light and air (and to show that we fear no
intruder), lime on the walls for cleanliness and to preserve them,
lime beaten into the mud floors for the same purposes, and tiles on
the roof because Nosu wooden shingles are incapable of keeping
rain out. And another. To protect against the nuisance of burglaries
by professional Nosu thieves, whose custom is to burrow in at
ground level, we suggest stone for the lowest three feet of the outer
walls. Experience at Chuheh and on our journeys has shown the
incorrigible curiosity of the people, and their trait of pilfering any
large or small object they can lay hands on. So we plan to have our
living quarters and stores, dispensary supplies and woodsheds, as far
out of sight and reach as we can contrive.’ |

“Many thanks for your long letters,” came the reply. “We are
following your developments with the greatest interest.

“There is a further point we would recommend, that experience
has shown to be wise. Thanks to many prayers and the grace of
God in you all, no friction has yet appeared among the three racial
groups or different individuals in your team. But you may be
finding by now that months of living together at close quarters
has shown that none are as fully happy in these circumstances as
they would be in a more natural environment. Any less intimate
fellowship than you have is the last thing we want, but bearing the
experience of others and your future colleagues in mind, you may
think it good to plan separate living quarters for the various elements
in your party.”

Nothing could have been truer. While our harmony was some-
thing to be thankful for, we had found that none could be as much
at ease while trying to bear in mind the customs and preferences of
others, as when with his own people. It is no easier for the sons of
the soil to refrain from spitting and talking than for the habit-
hardened westerner to be unsociable when he is craving privacy and
quiet, or to refrain from rudely speaking his native tongue in their
company when they cannot understand. So we decided on a cottage
and separate flats to live in, suitable for married couples, for single
women and for the Nosu and Chinese men with us, while continu-
ing to have most meals together.

“We feel that premises on this site within the walls of Chaokioh
fort will be safer than anywhere in Nosuland for the women and
children,” I wrote, “and will provide a stage in adaptation between
life in Sichang and life among the Nosu in their villages. As such

 
 

MUD WALLS AND MEMORIES I41

they should be valuable to newly arrived missionaries, and in days
to come, God willing, when we are able to develop the Old Stockade
at Chuheh and approach the wilder clans beyond, this will be a
quiet base to withdraw to.” }

Better still, we were tempted to think, Chaokioh could in time
be handed over to others while we pressed on further into the
mountains. But far on the horizon there was a little threatening
~ cloud. Serious thought was given to the possibility of the Com-
munists overrunning the whole of China, but current opinion was
claiming that they would not be able, even if they chose, to cross
the lower Yangtze. If they did, they would not choose, even if they
were able, to occupy the outlying wildernesses of China. So we
decided to proceed with our plans. Furthermore, if the Communists
did come we had nothing to be ashamed of. And, we naively
thought, we would try to live and work under them just as before!

The late summer and early autumn passed in a long grind of work
and hindrances, negotiations and obstructions. Sometimes the
worthwhileness of it all seemed questionable. “Why not carry on
the shuttle service as you have been doing?” we thought. But that
was so short-sighted. What about Ruth and Janet stuck in Sichang!
What about Floyd, soon due to leave us? If he were to go and no
other man come, it would be hard to carry on even interrupted
spells in Nosuland. But if quarters fit for the whole team were ready
in Chaokioh we could all live and strike out from there.

Soon encouragements began to outweigh the problems. Funds,
unasked except from the hand of God, came rolling in to cover all
current expenses. Offers to join us came from one and another
volunteer. And every obstacle surmounted added patience, experi-
ence and hope in the next.

Back in Loshan Joan Wales had been proving herself a good
missionary. But her heart was in Nosuland. As soon as we had come
to know her well enough Janet and I began praying that she might
be sent to reinforce us, and without ever discussing the subject with
her parted, leaving her, as we thought, committed to another type
of work. But as our little boat nosed out from the wharf at Loshan
and, caught in the swift current of the river, was whirled dramati-
cally away, there was no mistaking where her longings lay. So it
was no surprise when word came that she was waiting for the cue
to follow. Sharing in the spiritual adventure of launching our enter-
prise had proved her “downfall” and our gain. At the same time a
142 STRONG MAN’S PREY

Chinese male nurse agreed to come, and was already on his way.
Now an advanced base in Chaokioh was doubly desirable.

Large as our team might seem to be it was stretched to capacity.
Chengming and Chao had taken Wenhua back to Kiehkow, and
Floyd was alone in Chuheh with a servant as companion. With
many discomforts he stayed there longer than any had stayed before.
Plagued by drunken Nosu, when the loud menacing Ahu, killers of
Francis Brooke, came to Chuheh and indulged in a bacchanalian
orgy, Floyd went to look for Hma Vuta, to get his help. He found
Vuta, the most civilized and charming Nosu known to us, half
naked, rolling drunk on the ground, and his wife lying as deeply
intoxicated near him, tearing his clothes to pieces with her teeth.
Letters and a hamper of provisions which we sent to him failed to
arrive, and were not recovered from the besotted postal courier
until weeks later. Then, as the last straw to the long-suffering camel,
at various times he broke five teeth on stones in the rice provided for
his frugal Chinese meals. With Chengming’s return from Kiehkow
it was at last possible for Floyd to come out to Komfort Korner,
but only to proceed to Chengtu for treatment.

The road into Nosuland climbs upward during most of the first
day, sometimes more steeply, sometimes less. The traveller toils
painfully, but when he takes his eyes off the stony track and looks
about him his reward is rich. The occupation of Nosuland was like
that, uphill all the way, but with the eye of faith looking out over
the future, vistas of conquest surpassing the most glorious mountain
views became real and worth striving toward. From the Nosu church
at Salowu in Yunnan came a reminder in the news that the New
Testament in the Nosu dialect of that area had been printed and
distributed at last. In thirty years there had grown up a Christian
community of ten thousand souls. Would we in the next thirty
years, or less, see a similar mass movement amongst the Independent
Nosu? There was no reason not to believe so.

In mid-October Ruth’s chance came. Chengming had been alone
too long in Chuheh. The Chinese officials were not only demanding
free treatment but free supplies of our medicines “for friends” or
“to keep by” them in case of need! We knew it was impossible for
him to refuse them continually without being victimized. Yet if
anyone was to relieve him it must be Ruth, who had only Chao to
travel with. That made no difference to her. “Why should it?” she
asked!

 
 

MUD WALLS AND MEMORIES 143

But I had a better idea of what she might have to contend with.
Directly after the rainy season the roads were at their worst. If the
road-guards played up or she ran into a fight, it could be more than
she would enjoy. The Leopard’s Mouth and Chuheh could provide
unwelcome experiences too. One day a gregarious young Chinese
had dropped in on us and told the story of how he and a friend with
one soldier as escort had been captured while crossing the Leopard’s
Mouth.

“We had been for a bathe at the hot springs and were on our way
home,” he said, grinning at the recollection. “The climb up from
the Chuheh valley is a stiff one, and we were ready for a breather
when we reached the top. There is a little cutting that opens into
a sheltered hollow, with a nullah running up toward the Upper
Chuheh levels. When we came through we found two Nosu sitting
on the grass. They looked up and called to us to rest awhile and
have a smoke with them. It was just what we wanted. They said
they were Hma clansmen, and we were still on Hma soil. The
escort sat down with us and laid his rifle on the grass beside him
while he smoked, just as the Nosu had done. There was nothing
unusual about that.

“After a moment one of the Nosu reached out and took the
soldier’s rifle. And while we blinked incredulously both of them
were on their feet and had us covered with their weapons. Just as
easily as that. We were helpless. They told us to get up, and tied us
together with a cord. Then they said, “Ya!’ the term for starting off
together. It was useless to protest, they were prodding us with their
rifles. When we passed near Hma clan houses the people looked the
other way, by agreement of course. It was obvious now that our
captors were Ahu men from ten miles off.”

The speaker looked across to see if we were understanding, and
with tighter lips proceeded:

“It was after dark before we stopped for the night, across the clan
boundary in Ahu territory. The Ahu and the Hma are closely inter-
married and were on good terms at the time. Have you heard the
proverb, ‘As crows in the sky without number, so nobles of the Ahu
are innumerable?” They tied us to the millstone and set a guard to
keep us from escaping. We had nothing to eat till the next afternoon.
During the day they sold us to Ahu Mata, a powerful chief who had
decided apparently to hold us to ransom rather than use us as slaves,
for we were kept together. We were herded a few more miles to
his village, and given our freedom but kept under observation. I
144 STRONG MAN’S PREY

say ‘freedom,” but it was simply that we were not tied up. The
soldier was put on to grinding corn, but the two of us were in
officials’ clothing so they asked us what use we were. We said we
could tailor! It was my brainwave—easiest job of work I could
think of. So we became tailors for the next three or four months.

“Not long afterwards a party of my friends came through the
village. Members of the Youth Corps, they were. And when we saw
them we implored them to help.” He mopped his brow at the
memory of what was coming. “They had found guarantors to take
them through on a business trip, and were perfectly safe themselves.
But it was a shock for us all to meet so unexpectedly. They had
heard that we were held prisoner by the Ahu, and knew that every
effort was being made to get our ransom together, but ninety ingots
of silver for me alone was rather a tall order. It was not safe for us
to talk with them. We wept to see them go on. But one thing was a
relief, however. We knew now that the White whom we had asked
to tell our good friend Hma Vuta at Chuheh about us had been true
to his word. That was the end of our peace, though. Ahu Mata
thought the visit had been planned to tell us how we might escape.
The watch upon our every movement was redoubled.

“One day I tripped up in the yard and the man guarding me
thought I was trying to give him the slip; he came at me with
anger in his heart and why he didn’t pull the trigger when he aimed
his gun at me I do not know. A week or two later they thought
they would hasten the payment of the ransom by treating us more
harshly and telling the government so. We were losing weight
rapidly and hardly had strength to work. The cold buckwheat cakes
they gave us were the only things we were fed on. We used to envy
the dogs the bones they had thrown to them—until a poor slave
woman smuggled us some meat after dark one night. I became very
ill and was put outside in the yard to recover or die. They are
terrified of disease-demons getting established in a house, you know.

“But after I had got over that danger, and must have been a
fearful sight with a beard that I couldn’t keep pace with by plucking,
I only escaped a sticky end by the greatest good luck. One of the
chief’s men agreed to lend me a razor, but happened to be away
when I came to use it. I was stropping it on a bit of harness not far
from Ahu Mata when an unpleasant retainer came past and saw me.
He called out that I was going to kill Mata, and the chief, alarmed
and enraged of course, commanded ‘Shoot him at once!’

“The White was reaching down his rifle when the little daughter-
 

MUD WALLS AND MEMORIES 145

in-law, a girl from Chuheh, shricked out at the top of her voice
that if they shot me she would commit suicide. And they knew she
meant it. It is the usual way for any woman to protest in Nosuland,
against unhappy marriages, or insults, or on behalf of a friend.
Ahu Mata argued with her, but she knew it was touch and go for
me, and felt responsible I suppose, as I had been kidnapped from
her own clan territory. So eventually they calmed down and I was
allowed to explain. That was my worst moment.

“It made them feel ashamed, I think, because from then on until
the silver was paid over, all three of us were treated better. Once a
Nosu girl has faced the thought of suicide and meant to do it she
is a factor to be reckoned with, she is strong and gets her own way.
If she died like that the chances are that her family would take
revenge, and that would mean a feud between the clans, or those
sections of them. So they went carefully.

“You should have seen the silver arriving. It was as much as a
man could carry on his back. Every drop of sweat on the poor
fellow’s body was worth gold to me, though,” he ended.

“So don’t go over the Leopard’s Mouth alone; you never know
who’s waiting!”

Courageously Ruth set out with the pack-train to the inn at
Lokai, then up Heartbreak Hill, over the lonely downs and oatlands,
and the scrub oak and azalea covered mountain sides, spent a night
at Lolo Vale and slithered down to the Boglands, climbed the Soso
Range and dropped down again through the forested Soso valley to
Four Fields. There the road-guards lived up to their reputation. A
quarrel broke out between the Nosu and one of Ruth’s muleteers,
and grew uglier every moment. Try as she would she could not
pacify them. Suddenly the Nosu chief stooped down and picking
up a rock flung it full into the face of the muleteer standing by
Ruth’s side. Pandemonium broke loose. But nearby there lived an old
Chinese colonist, a matriarch called Mother Wang, whose wisdom
was respected by all alike (no doubt the reason why she had been
spared in the rebellions), and her intervention at this moment saved
the situation.

At the Three Bends the river was too deep to cross, and for three
days and nights Ruth shared the home of Chinese settlers. She lived
and slept bencath the leaking roof in company with a pair of
opium-smoking men, a granny and grandchild, and their livestock.
Her camp-bed was two feet from the heels of a horse, stabled with

K
146 STRONG MAN’S PREY

two others. Five pigs roamed freely and visited her from time to
time during the night. Two puppies slept on the pigs’ backs and
whined in their sleep. Two mother hens with their broods of chicks
clucked and cheeped incessantly, and a gigantic rooster made the
hours of darkness hideous with his sepulchral crowing.

But in our converted Tavern at Chuheh she was little better off.
It was a very different building since it had become ours, but still
very crude. The front door was shoulder height and had to be
entered crouching. The once sodden mud floors had been drained
and the animal excreta cleared away, but they were still rough and
dusty. Ventilation holes had been made in the solid outer walls, and
the inner regions, used before as an opium den, were now light
and useful but still filled with smoke when a wood fire was lit. A
cesspit had been dug. Previously there had been no sanitary provi-
sion at all and the Nosu had come making lewd jokes when we
went into a field in keeping with their own custom. But the price
of having a little loft of her own with some privacy was that it had
to be over the stable and next to a pigsty and open-air privy. The
other half of the shack was occupied by the young men, Chao and
Chengming. To test whether burglars would break in we had
inserted small window frames faced with paper in lieu of glass, and
the outside of the building had been whitewashed with white earth
from the hot springs to complete its transformation. The front room
was decorated with gospel posters to provide subjects of conversa-
tion, and wine, opium and trading were debarred from the precincts.
It was the best we had been able to make of it, but the roof still
leaked and it was nothing if not primitive.

The first white woman ever known in Nosuland was a sight to be
seen, of course. Being in a Nosu village meant that visitors were
never far from her doorstep, but they came too from far and wide,
from several clans. Soon after daylight they would start dropping
in, to sit by the fire and talk interminably about everything under
the sun, staring, fondling, probing into what she wore and ate and
did. Every effort to explain the gospel pictures had to be paid for
by hours of patient endurance. Even the expression ‘“‘Hakvu tala!”,
meaning “Private, no entrance!” was not always enough to keep
the most curious from penetrating to her loft and examining her
bed and possessions. Seeing is coveting, to the Nosu, so at that point
trouble merely began.

Real privacy, the chance to escape from perpetual talk and be
alone, was out of the question. Even up in her loft only thin boards
 

MUD WALLS AND MEMORIES 147

with cracks separated her from life below, and acrid wood smoke
from the fire so often filled the little space beneath the roof planks
that eyes and nose would stream till reading or work of any kind
was doomed. But there in Chuheh she stayed, the gazing stock of all
who flocked to behold this wonder from another world, daily sub-
mitting to the questioning or the ribaldry of sincere, curious and
frivolous alike, while she learned their language, treated their
diseases and dispensed the gospel to them.

In Sichang we were getting ready to take a gang of Chinese
carpenters and builders up to Chaokioh. Nosu notions of building
without foundations, plumblines, right-angles, or interlocking walls
seemed too wasteful of the costly gifts we were receiving from many
supporters (the completed building might not stand a year). And
their carpentry was crude. The extra expense of taking workmen
four days from their homes into “barbarous” Nosuland seemed
justified in the long run. There was one Chinese carpenter at
Chaokioh, but his methods were Nosu, learned and practised in
captivity. So contracts were signed and supplies of food and barter
sought, to maintain the workmen and to buy building materials.

Just at this point, as the responsibility of supporting twenty men
approached us, with Ruth up-country and Floyd in Chengtu, the
military government decreed a drastic measure to control inflation.
Silver, salt, rice and cloth, the very lifeblood of our activities, were
“frozen.” No silver was to be taken from the city; no rice, cloth or
salt were to be taken into the mountains. The builders were under
contract to go up to Chaokioh in a few days, from which time we
would be responsible for their expenses. Seven pack-loads of salt as
barter (1,250 Ib.), were needed at once, and as much rice; and we
had more than thirty ingots of silver ready, for the first stages of our
programme.

If we were hard hit so were the common people. Traders refused
to sell at restricted prices, and salt became so scarce that milling
mobs fought in the street to buy a few ounces at a time. Arms and
legs were broken. Apart from transgressing the law it was impossible
for us to buy the quantities we needed, or to transport it. Then orders
were given that silver was to be surrendered to the banks at three-
quarters of its value. Not only was our whole building project
threatened but we stood to lose heavily without even starting work.

We decided to call on the army commander in charge of these
economic measures. He received us very courteously and in view
148 STRONG MAN’S PREY

of our philanthropic object gave permission to buy and transport
the rice and barter, using the “black market,” but was adamant
about the silver. That was needed, he explained, to stabilize the new
currency of the nation, and the banks were working at full pressure
buying and flying it out to Nanking.

There was nothing for it but to fall to and become traders our-
selves. A money-saving measure we might never have agreed to
was forced upon us. The Busman was in his element. Loads and
loads of barter, chiefly salt and cloth, had to be bought and carried
into Nosuland, there to be sold or exchanged for timber, flagstones,
labour and food. Though this system greatly increased the labour
involved, it was of course what Chinese traders had for centuries
been doing and were now forbidden to continue. The embargo
made our stocks more valuable in Nosuland, and thereby helped our
cause.

Through it all funds continued to come in. The building, we
calculated, was going to cost over a thousand pounds as a result of
the inflation, and so far we had barely enough in hand to cover the
first month’s expenses. Our directors and we were so convinced,
however, of God’s will and His ability to provide as we went along,
that the present lack did not deter us. It was not an extreme test of
faith, for we felt justified in falling back upon general mission funds
if necessary. But it seemed reasonable to conclude that if God could
regularly meet all our needs through the general funds, He could
do so just as well through specific donations. If He did, the con-
firmation of our building policy would be very reassuring.

Floyd was due back any day aboard the ubiquitous “St. Paul,”
and Joan Wales was expected to be with him. But while evacuating
missionaries from Mukden the plane had been damaged by shrapnel.
Meanwhile the workmen were getting restive. To forestall whole-
sale desertion I set off with the tattered gang, accompanied by the
Busman till they were over the border. One managed to elude us,
but the fear of being captured bound the rest together once the
dreaded territory had been entered. An encounter with the fractious
road-guard high above Lolo Vale was enough to make them credit
all the stories of violence they had heard. Unafraid of the whole
cavalcade of us, three or four Nosu held up the workmen and
helped themselves to turbans, towels and anything they coveted.
But we all reached Chaokioh without worse misadventure.

So began as strange a chapter in the enterprise as any we were to
experience. For the next few months every moment of day and night
 

MUD WALLS AND MEMORIES 149

was lived under the cloud of responsibility for that score of rapscal-
lions. Working only when watched, using our materials to make
tools and furniture for sale, burning their day’s products as fuel at
night, gambling their wages, tools and future service, learning to
smoke opium and doing it in work hours, every conceivable prank
and not a few vices had to be guarded against or punished. It was a
losing battle from the start, for never were we adequately staffed to
foil the schemings of so many. They interpreted considerate treat-
ment as weakness, and demanded pay for their day of leisure when
we declared Sundays inviolate.

Chao was there to help us with the Nosu labourers hired to dig
and carry, but another spell of weakness had come over him. He
could seldom be found when needed. He was spending time with
traders and ne’er-do-wells. Soon the life of Chaokioh so poisoned
him that occasionally he gambled and drank wine with the rest. He
protested still that his stand as a Christian was unaltered, and con-
tinued Bible study with us, but the mire of Chaokioh clung about
his soul and clogged his progress.

In the first few days the site, a stony field in the south-west corner
of the fort, was marked and excavated in biting cold weather. Nosu
spectators, Vulii and his fellow-chiefs, stood looking on in silence
as rocks from the river bed were carried up by Whites and placed
by Chinese masons.

Shaking their heads they muttered, “Quite unnecessary! Filling
the ground with rocks! Ruination!” For in their superstition they
foresaw demon possession making it necessary to forsake the build-
- ings, as they forsake their own.

“Never!” we protested. “This is Chu Yehsu, the Lord Jesus’s
house, and demons dare not enter it. So we are building fearlessly.”
Soon the workmen began the pisé walls, pounding mud between
strong wooden frames, and in six weeks the first building, a barn
meant eventually to house our animals and straw, was ready for
occupation. In the Barn we stored our barter, food and building
materials, sleeping with it. For the best part of a year it was our
home.

Soon after beginning, Tang the male nurse arrived from Chung-
king, and the “St. Paul” reached Sichang with Floyd and Joan. Poor
girl, she was in for a harder time, perhaps, than any, with fewer
interesting experiences. But hers were to be the clearest spiritual
successes. Once again there were enough of us to do the work
without needing to be in several localities at once. Chengming and
150 STRONG MAN’S PREY

Tang manned the Tavern and bought timber while they preached
and doctored in Chuheh. And Floyd joined me at Chaokioh.

After he had set out from Sichang disturbing news came through
by wire. We were fortunate in our Sichang neighbours. In the
Upchurch family and the Rev. and Mrs. E. Madge, now come to join
them, we had friends within a few hundred yards of our Moslem
home. Further off were the Americans, Dr. and Mrs. Lovegren and
their growing group of colleagues. It was these who telegraphed to
Chaokioh the advice, which they had received, expressed in strongest
language from their consular officials.

“Communist thrusts to the south and west make it essential to
consider leaving China while the way is open,” the gist of it ran.
“Certainly women and children should do so. There is no knowing
how the situation may deteriorate. No responsibility can be shoul-
dered by the government for those who fail to follow this advice
while it is possible to travel.”

On Floyd’s arrival we discussed the news. “It sounds alarming,”
we agreed, “but compared with the milder picture we have recently
received from elsewhere it looks like excessive caution. Our own
mission has decided to remain at work whatever happens. And
having started building on that understanding, we’ll just wait and
see.”” To our relief the Sichang missionaries decided to do the same.
For our base in Chinese territory to have been evacuated would
have added to our difficulties. As it was, with other missionaries at
hand, we could feel justified in leaving one of the women in charge
out there when necessary. However, I as leader of the party was
responsible for being in touch with the emergency, and so left Floyd
to supervise the building work alone and returned to the city. To
the very end this lonely shuttle service had to be maintained, and
very seldom did we have a chance to share the burden in each
other’s company.

Hypothetical emergencies were quickly forgotten in the pressure
of immediate trials. Sichang had gone mad. The newest currency was
gathering momentum like its predecessor and planes could not fly
in enough new notes to meet demands. In the streets helpless men
would wave silver ingots in each other’s faces beseeching someone,
anyone, to buy at absurdly low rates. But long as we might to get
silver at such favourable prices, with no notes ourselves we were as
powerless.

Money or no money, pack-trains of supplies had to be sent up
 

MUD WALLS AND MEMORIES 351

to Chaokioh, and the wages of the workmen had to be paid. All we
possessed was committed to this purpose, but sometimes lists from
Floyd of needed rope, glue, nails, tools, rice and barter, had to be
set aside. Credit was ample usually, but cheques were distrusted,
and with millions of inflationary dollars losing value in the bank,
urgent needs could not be supplied.

As the payment of December’s wages became due a new test of
faith confronted us—even credits were exhausted. Having started
building with but one month’s funds available, that was all used up
and no more had come in. Short of falling back upon the general
funds, building up our work on what would otherwise be shared
throughout the mission, there were only two ways out. Either we
must go back on our agreements and send the workmen home, in
which case we would never get them up to Nosuland again, and the
disgrace would bring dishonour to the name of Christ, or we must
pray and trust Him to perform a miracle! We chose the latter
course, and had the full support of our headquarters. The directors
wrote encouragingly from Shanghai:

“We are prepared to stand behind you to the limit of our ability,
for with you we feel that the guidance was to build and go ahead,
and so we can expect the Lord to send in the funds necessary.”

Praying is exhilarating when the answer is expected. As a team
we made this the supreme objective of those days. If we were
mistaken and the Lord did not intend to meet our needs, we reck-
oned it would be far better to stop building and review our policy
than to resort to using funds intended primarily for other purposes.
“God’s work done in God’s way will never lack God’s supplies.”
When the answer came, a single gift of a hundred pounds “ear-
marked” for our use, He saw to it that it arrived on the morning
of my birthday. That added gesture fortified us in repeated trials of
a similar nature, and reminded constantly of Bunyan’s standby
quoted in Grace Abounding: “Look at the generations of old and see;
did ever any trust in God and were confounded?”

The Battle of Supplies went on, intensified when the Busman was
away in Nosuland, for then the struggle against master bargainers
and swindlers, amongst whom the bank cashiers were by no means
least, reverted to the hands of innocents, the vulnerable foreigners.
But there was much to vary the consuming round of work. Janet
and Joan were having riding lessons. From the rawest of enthusiastic
beginnings when one of them in mounting vaulted unintentionally
right over the pony into a bystander’s arms, they progressed until
152 STRONG MAN’S PREY

rough country such as they would meet on the way to Chaokioh
gave them few qualms. Tales about the Nosu did not scare them—
or if they were afraid they were not deterred.

With the prospect of soon moving the family up to Chaokioh,
Janet needed to know better how to prepare. Five years had passed
since she had burned her boats, dedicating home and children to
this venture for the Lord, yet so far she had only looked out on the
sombre mountains of Nosuland from the remoteness of the “St.
Paul” and Sichang. She was itching to go further, to test the reac-
tions of the people to herself, to see what little Jan, Pauline and
Margaret would be submitted to. An urgent telegram from Floyd
gave her the opportunity. He needed salt, as wages for Nosu
labourers and payment for eggs, turnips, timber, anything he could
buy locally.

Soon after the New Year, 1049, we set out together escorting
several pack-loads, and climbed Heartbreak Hill together with

honeymoon abandon.
 

CHAPTER TWELVE

WILD AND LONELY

O Janet, Nosuland was “wild, lonely, magnificent country.”

“You climb up and up and up until you feel you are on top
of the world, and ride hour after hour without meeting a soul.
Then as if rising out of the very ground a little group of armed
black-cloaked Nosu suddenly appears from nowhere. . . .”

In the depth of winter the tracks are dry, or spread with sheets of
ice. Clear air and sunlit country make a fairyland to ride through.
Or grey skies shut in a white and silent world where rime stands
two inches deep on every blade and leaf, and waterfalls are frozen
before they reach the bottom of a gulley.

We had an uneventful journey—but for several spills. Nosu
women came with friendly welcoming smiles and drew Janet down
beside their crackling log fires. Baked potatoes hot from the ashes
were pressed into her hands, for lack of better things to offer. And
questions showered upon her:

“Three children? Left behind? How old are they? The baby only
one and weaned already? Ah, but how pleased they will be to see
you back!”

And so on. We purposely avoided the homes of Chinese that she
might sleep at least four nights under truly Nosu conditions. She
was not disappointed.

“Our horses were tied up by a long manger across the end of the
room, and to the contented sound of their munching we prepared
our own supper of oatmeal porridge. Our little supply of sugar had
to be shared with onlookers, for to them it is a rare treat. Just above
the animals was a loft spread with straw, and there we slept, disturbed
only by the horses who had come to the end of their legitimate
rations and were tugging tufts of straw down between the rafters
under us.”

Above the low doorway of the house we stayed in the next night
was a weasel's claw, a charm against evil spirits. It made us covet
impatiently the day when all along this route and others we would
travel here in Nosuland, there would be Christian homes, as in the
semi~civilized tribal country we had lived in elsewhere.
154 STRONG MAN’S PREY

Streams of friendly visitors besieged us on arrival at Chaokioh
and later in the old Tavern at Chuheh. Some were sick and wanting
treatment; some were merely hawking firewood or produce from
door to door and looked in at the novelty in passing; but many came
to see and found a friend. Among them were “poor sad battered
Aku,” and at another time “his heartbroken wife.” He had married
a young Asu maiden to console him after losing his eighteen year old
son, and virtually forsaken his first wife whose footsteps seemed
always dogged by spiteful spirits. As for doubts as to the welcome
our three children would receive, all were finally dispelled. We
became convinced that they would rather be an “open sesame” into
the hearts of many who might otherwise remain aloof. And so,
eventually, they proved to be.

It was high time Floyd went out to Komfort Korner for a change.
He had had a long hard spell, and we were shocked to see how thin
and tired he looked, strong though he was. Janet and I hurried home
to Sichang so that I might come back to relieve him. The route I
took her was along the gorge of the River of Three Bends. A narrow
path had been hacked out of the cliffs, switchbacking up and down,
and often dangerous. Life in Nosuland and much travel on my sure-
footed Belinda had made me casual about some risks. But a lurking
wish to prove my lady’s mettle influenced me too. When I think
back over that day’s travel my blood runs cold.

“Is it all right to ride here or should we dismount?” was all she
asked when two hundred feet of precipitous descent lay between
us and the rocky torrent.

“Give the horse his head and he’ll go carefully,” I answered.

And with no whisper of a2 murmur she complied. I was elated.
“Beneath a demure exterior lies a blue-steel spirit,” I inwardly
rejoiced.

I would never let her ride that stretch again. But no question now
remained in my mind that after Floyd returned to his own work in
Yunnan, even if no man replaced him, as a team we would be able
to “take it.”

By January 27th I was up in Chaokioh once again and taking
over. Under Floyd’s direction the Barn had been completed and was
now our home. The future clinic was well started, and the bungalow
planned as a missionary residence was rising above ground. Shortly
after daybreak every morning crowds of White Nosu came clam-
ouring to be employed. Strict insistence on hard work, and honest
 

WILD AND LONELY IS5

payment without fail, taught them what to expect, and the friend-
liest relationship developed. Many of them we knew by name, hard
as they were to remember. The Nosu seemed to have a superstitious
fear of giving their true names to any but old friends, and in our
early days shielded each other behind agreed pseudonyms. But
when we knew their real names we tended to use makeshifts rather
than attempt tongue-twisters like Gaga Jizeh, Pita M’nio, Rlku
Yhrmu and A-RI M’ga, four of our regulars.

Drumming on an empty bucket roused the workmen and sig-
nalled breaks for meals and rests. While they were working there
was little leisure for us either. Supervision was imperative or the
tendency to say “Ch’a pu-to! Good enough!” (a great weakness of
the Chinese), would allow walls to lean or windows gape, transoms
to sag and drains to slope in the wrong direction. But by mid-
morning, often earlier according to the weather, vendors of food,
planks, mud-baskets, anything they could exchange for salt or cloth,
would be arriving, and between our building jobs their produce
had to be weighed, haggled over and bought. Every bargain
involved weighing out a few ounces of salt, and as quantities were
always pathetically small, the work involved was out of all propor-
tion to its worth.

Patients came and went, receiving such attention as we could give
them from the medicine cupboard, or being told:

“Wait till the clinic is completed, then we will operate on
you!” |

But they were incredulous and often annoyed. “Why does he
treat that man and not me?” they would murmur. “That fellow got
a packet of pills, but all I get is ‘Come back later!” ”

It was useless to explain. Medicines were so new to them. They
could not even understand why one day’s dosing would not cure
them.

“If the stuff is any good it should be obvious when I eat it. If not,
why trouble to eat more. It either drives the demon out or it
doesn’t.”

Or one man’s medicine would be shared with all his friends, a pill
or two for each. But for the present little could be done to strengthen
confidence. Calls to wounded and sick people in the villages had all
to be refused, many who came had to be turned away. Everything
depended on finishing the building, and one man alone could not
do the work of several.

The mud walls of the Barn were not yet dry, and the room we
156 STRONG MAN'S PREY

occupied and Ruth’s, when she joined us, were clammy and cold,
though outside there were windswept cloudless skies and sunshine
fit to bask in. The roof planks were sometimes lifted by the winds,
and dust penetrated everywhere, but the room itself was snug. A
board-bed covered with straw under an oilsheet occupied one end.
A grain-bin served as the table. And the rest of the space was filled
with stores: sacks of rice, seventy-pound cones of salt, baskets of
turnips, cans of oil, beans and groundnuts, carrying poles, spare
mattocks and pickaxes, steelyards and masons’ implements, saddles
and halters, stacked on the floor or festooning the walls and ceiling.
The loft above was filled with straw which hung down through the
rafters, and usually a little washing, rung out in the morning’s
shaving water, dangled from a string above the bed.

It was cold. Five layers of woollen clothing were not too much.
Yet Nosu would come clad in nothing more than single cotton
garments beneath their felt cloaks. Heavy frosts reduced the work
of days to powder. Pounded mud if frozen before it was dry would
swell, and after thawing be so friable that a flick would crumble it
away. The workmen had to be kept moving or they would drift
back to the fires we could not deny them.

It was an invigorating life, lived at close quarters with the people
we coveted for God, and opportunities to teach them, Chinese and
Nosu, were abundant.

“A chance to cheat a man or woman and you won’t do it? Why
on earth!” The explanation was a shaft of gospel truth.

“Prepared to take a man and hustle him bodily out of your
premises because he will not do as he is told and stop selling his
opium to the workmen?”

“Yes, ready to make enemies if that is the best way to show that
our hatred of sin and its causes is strong and deep-rooted!”

“Too busy to rest but not to fetch some sugar for a child. Queer
folk these Christians!”

But it all told, more deeply perhaps than some suspected. The
Nosu became more and more friendly, and the Chinese more
understanding.

The social atmosphere of Chaokioh took some time to assess. In
the early stages a veneer of civility made contacts with the traders
and officials possible. In the evenings we would sometimes gather
round a fire, or watch the sunset and discuss the news. Frank scepti-
cism of our doctrines followed later, with stout defence of their own
beliefs—that some men were empowered to pass through solid walls,
 

WILD AND LONELY 157

to travel supernaturally fast on their own feet, or to come back and
afflict others after death, for example. Hours and hours were passed
in talk, discussing everything under the sun.

Gradually, however, dutiful politeness palled. The presence at
their tables of objectors to their drunkenness and loose talk spoiled
their sport. To our relief the invitations came less often. Their
gambling and illicit trade could go on with less risk of interruption.

Then evidence of actual antagonism increased. Once or twice the
Nosu labourers were shut out of the fort long after they were due
to start work, and the guards at the gate reflected the changed atti-
tude of their seniors in their behaviour toward us, when we went
to see what had happened. Slanderous gossip reached our ears and
even the Sichang newspapers.

“Those foreigners are setting out to dwarf the yamen!”

In bygone Chinese custom no building was allowed to be taller
than the magistrate’s residence. But nor was ours going to be. In a
village of hovels it was hard to build anything that did not look
imposing. Moreover it was well known that the Chaokioh magis-
trate was about to build a full-sized yamen beside which our clinic
would be very moderate.

And the perpetual problem of payment for medicines was made a
question of prestige. “After all, why should officials have to pay!
The missionaries could not be here but for our permission and
protection!” they said.

Only the magistrate himself remained above this mood. And
certain of the more friendly colonists. One in particular was always
keen to help us, a village elder. :

An urgent message from Little Chaokioh, the Chinese hamlet
outside the fort, begged me one day to come at once. An old
woman had just hanged herself. Her son had cursed her for treading
on a hen, and she had committed suicide through pique. I found her
dead already, and there was nothing to be done. But the old headman
led me along to his home and started talking.

“You people have good motives which many do not under-
stand,” he began paternally. “I am an old man and you are new to
Nosuland. Let me tell you something. Do not go lightly amongst
the Nosu. Many years ago, before you were born, three Frenchmen
came through here and went on through the Shama country. I never
heard how they got on, but they were armed and they had
guarantors, so they should have been all right.”
158 STRONG MAN’S PREY

“They did get through safely,” I tried to tell him, but he was
not listening.

“Then the next year a young fellow came in with some Chinese
companions. His name was Pu Lo-k’e. (Obviously Francis Brooke.)
But he went on to Chuheh and beyond, without paying attention
to our warnings. He failed to hire an escort. When he reached the
Pass of the Great Winds his carriers forsook him because it was
snow-bound and he insisted on going through. He fell back into
Ahu territory, and there his good fortune failed him. A covetous
chief demanded his revolver, and half in play threatened him with
a sword. Pu Lo-k’e lost his head and fired. The chief fell dead. So
he and his remaining companions beat a blind retreat. They travelled
a long way but were followed. In many regions they would have
passed into the territory of a rival clan and been welcomed as a hero
and ally. But it happened that he was amongst the largest clan in
Nosuland, and darkness found him at bay in a mud shack. He fought
the Ahu off till his ammunition ran out, and then they killed him
with a stone thrown from the roof. His Chinese were enslaved, but
two escaped and brought the news.

“T myself went with a party of others to recover his body. For
two hundred ounces of silver we secured his head, his spectacles,
photographs and medicine case. Three months later a thousand
ounces of silver were paid for his body which was delivered to the
border at Mapien. And still later two battalions of troops passed
through here to Niuniupa and recovered one missing arm. But his
clothes and leather boots were kept as trophies by the Ahu clan.
They are still displayed at clan gatherings every year.”

He would talk the clock round if you let him, so I tore myself
away, fount of information about the old Manchu days in Chaokioh
though he was.

The Batcii too were becoming increasingly friendly. Deputations
of chiefs with their retainers came to talk and inspect our stock and
progress, to see if it was true that I had operated on the head car-
penter’s eyes and saved his sight. Bands of yeomen Whites came
secking our protection, patronage which other Nosu, they hoped,
would be afraid to offend. More and more visitors from far and
wide flowed into the fort to stare, at first, only to find that we were
both human and friendly. Music on the concertina, or a little
doctoring would entertain them and give them something to report
when they returned home. And some who knew the Nosu hiero-
glyphics would be flattered to sit down and teach us. When someone
 

WILD AND LONELY 159

who knew enough Chinese to understand or interpret was at hand
we did our best to break through externals and reach their hearts
with the gospel. But it was impossible to get far without knowing
their own tongue. We looked forward keenly to the day when we
could travel, doctor and preach without any language barrier.

Batcii Vulii and two other chiefs came in one day when I was
sitting in my den. They sat surrounded by retainers while we talked.
Our property was never safe when these invasions took place. It
was too easy to secrete things under their cloaks.

“How do they make wine in your country?” they asked, embark-
ing on their favourite subject.

“I don’t really know,” I answered, watching the scorn or incre-
dulity on their faces. “There are so many kinds. And anyway I've
never taken an interest in the subject.”

“Is it powerful? Easy to get? Expensive?” Questions followed one
another in quick succession.

Then they wanted to discuss the science of day and night, the
seasons, and eclipses. They were quite prepared to accept all I said,
to practise rolling one turnip round another and repeat the lecture
when they arrived home. But when I steered the conversation on
to the Creation and the origins of man and his depravity, they
stopped listening and became my teachers. Legends of creation and
the Deluge and Dispersion occur in their own folklore, but their
accounts were challenged and told differently by members of the
same group. Some time before I had been told that our common
ancestor had three sons. The eldest was father of the western people,
the second of the Chinese and the third of the Nosu. But that was
when [ was a stranger. Now it became clear that stories told to
passing investigators, about customs, history and beliefs, are coloured
to conform to what the tribesmen think they want to hear.

“Do you know that you westerners and we Nosu are related?”
one young chief enquired. “You are descended from our father’s
concubine. The Chinese are a mixed breed, outsiders.”

The gospel story seemed to fascinate them, but they missed the
point and treated it as another fairy tale. I called in a bi-lingual
Chinese to help interpret, hoping that he too would learn a little.
But I could understand enough of what he relayed to know that he
was saying, “The foreigner says you ought to worship the sky, the
earth and his idol Yehsu, Jesus.” It was his easiest way out of the
difficulty of translating the unintelligible.

Then suddenly, in truly Nosu style, without a word of warning,
160 STRONG MAN’'S PREY

they all rose and left. A casual “Aza-aza nie-lo! Be seated!” from
them; and an “Aza-aza kii! Go without haste!” from me, and they
were gone.

Another time three Whites appeared bearing a large rooster, and
with profound bows, thrust the fowl into my hands. '

“Dr. Hai,” they said, “we are three yeomen, Whites without
masters. Our own chief’s family has died right out. We are at the
mercy of everyone, and have none to protect us. We are of the line
of Hipii and the family A-R1. We want to submit to you as master.
Henceforth we are your slaves to do your bidding and to enjoy
your protection. Give us a token of acceptance, that all may know
we have your patronage, and we will be secure. Call on us at any
time and we will work for you or fight at your command.”

Chao the interpreter was away on holiday, and again I had to
trust to a bi-lingual Chinese to make clear my meaning to these men.

“Would that I could help you,” I explained, “but you are sadly
mistaken. We are not like the Roman Catholics who came here
thirty years ago and accepted the submission of the people. We
have no secular power and we want none. (Murmurs of ‘Ah! how
modest!’) It is true that our countrymen have planes and armies,
but you must not think that we can call upon them when we like.
(Looks of ‘Liar!") We have come as messengers of the True God to
tell you to submit to Him, not us. He can protect you. Better still,
He can change Nosuland so that you have nothing to fear. He can
change the hearts of men. Submit to Him, and devils will fear to
harm you as you fear them, because He will be your Master.”

A good interpreter will translate phrase by phrase, but by the
local custom it was usual for the gist of what had been said to be
passed on at the end of several sentences. When what I had said in
Chinese was relayed in Nosu I was silenced. We reached an impasse.

These visits for the purpose of submission were frequent until
word was passed round that in fact we were not wanting liegemen
and would only give away the tribute that was thrust upon us. For
a time it caused ill feeling, but there was no doubt that we had been
accepted by the people as a whole. Scores, sometimes hundreds, of
Nosu came and went during the day. Some were unruly, if they
had been to the wine merchants first. But most came to see us and
to watch the progress of the building.

Many were women. Bevies of them floated in and out, clad in
their best appliqué flowered costumes, mountainous turbans draped
with strings of beads, ears laden with rings, necks circled with silver

 
 

WILD AND LONELY 161

filigree, beautiful, proud, lissom, graceful creatures. Hovering
around them were their maids in waiting, often just as well adorned,
but sometimes ragged and pathetic. Sick ones came for treatment,
but would balk at telling us their symptoms. Only a woman could
examine them. For a male doctor to do so would have offended
their sense of propriety, except in the most superficial cases.

It was not long before some of the more frequent callers were
familiar friends. Amongst them was the blind chief Batcii V'ha.
Stone-blind from childhood he had learned to get about as freely
as anyone, resting his hands on a retainer as he walked. There was
no more pleasant Nosu in the Chaokioh valley. And his good com-
mand of Chinese made him easier to converse with than the rest.
Always cheerful and agreeable, he was one whom we most longed
to see converted and took great pains to teach. The Chinese used to
tease him, but he always took it in good part.

“How are you going to get home?” they would ask. “Your
Whites have gone. They thought you had gone with someone else!”
And sometimes: “‘Look out, here comes the dog!”

But V’ha was unmoved. Believing them, he nevertheless took it
quietly. He would not have found it difficult to be a Christian.

Living alone in this environment was a strange experience. Seeing
and hearing first hand the daily evidences-of the devil’s hold upon
the people, had a melancholy effect. Rifle shots at all hours of day
and night reminded irresistibly of cruelty and callousness, of the
venomous hatred in the faces of the Nosu when referring to their
feudal enemies. Stories of plots and assassinations were common
property. The frequency of woundings and violence was eloquent
of their bloodlust and abandonment to wine. The extremes of boast-
ing, of megalomania, having no relation to fact, exposed a habit of
conceited thought long since shorn of shame. Lies and thieving bore
no stigma. Nor was it one race more than another that was guilty
in any of these respects. Slave-trading was pursued by Chinese,
selling their own countrymen, as well as by the Nosu. “Bandit faces,
offscourings,” had become our hourly companions. The human
flotsam pictured luridly by d’Ollone, criminals in hiding, drug
fiends as well as raw sons of the mountains, were our neighbours.

It was impossible to dissociate ourselves from them, even if we
had wanted to. We did not. We were there to shed light on the
moral blackness. But it was hard not to feel stained by the filth.
Three at least of Chaokioh’s twenty houses were dens of vice,

L
162 STRONG MAN’'S PREY

catering for the garrison soldiers, blackguards and escaped slaves
deep-dyed in perversions, some with the faces of demons. Worst of
all were the guard posts within each gate of the fort, looking like pig-
sties, actually sinks of sodomy. So dissolute were some of the men
that the price of their depravity was bargained in loud shouts across
the drill ground. And hobbling, riddled with every known kind
of venereal disease they would come to me demanding treatment.

Within their own caste and customs, Nosu promiscuity was so
generally accepted that for others to know of it going on in the same
or the next room did not matter so long as it could not actually be
seen. Nosu girls were proud of being sought after, and of having a
reputation for many liasons. There was no shame admitted. Strangers
by sending a present through a middleman could make a rendezvous,
but friends and acquaintances made use of suggestive songs. At the
occasional horse racing festivals when Nosu of all clans would
gather in their finest dress and drink extravagantly, the immorality
was unbridled.

In the crowds of Nosu girls and women who came to see us in the
Barn, were those who lingered, hinting with their eyes. A shameless
reference and lewd gesture by an onlooker evoked from one a
haughty protest at his indiscretion, but not his obscenity. The danger
of misunderstandings through the composition of our team was so
patent that we did not hesitate to talk whenever the subject was
broached, telling the Christian viewpoint and awakening their con-
sciences. That both Nosu and Chinese looked upon licence in the
mildest forms as sin was obvious and undisguised. And though
abortive drugs were always in demand, requests for them were made
clandestinely, and our refusal to oblige was received as honourable.

The effect upon newcomers to the Chaokioh atmosphere was
lamentable to observe. Our workmen and their apprentices soon
slipped into the trough. Traders and officials coming fit and strong
within a few months were thin, sallow and degraded, devil’s prey.
Gambling, opium, wine and vice reduced them steadily to unscru-
pulous paupery. Chao would have gone the same way but for the
grace of God. As for ourselves, the strain of living in that climate
weighed oppressively upon us, and more than ever the vile aura of
the nether world seemed wrapped around us, as if trying to smother

the spiritual life we had.

After the Chinese New Year in February Ruth came into Nosu-
land again, and went across to Chuheh to encourage Chengming

 
WILD AND LONELY 163

and Tang, the nurse. She found the valley seething with excitement
over the events of two or three nights previously.

“There’s been an attempt to assassinate our friend Hma Vuta,”
Chengming teported. “A desperado hired for two hundred ounces
of silver has been staying in the village unrecognized, watching for
his opportunity. Vuta had a notion that this might be going to
happen, and was taking precautions. The assassin heard that strangers
going near his house were being roped up until they had been
identified, so he made friends with a chief just across the field from
us there, and lived with him while he looked for an opportunity to
strike. After three such visits he gave up hope and began to fear for
his own safety. So he decided to do the next best thing and perhaps
deceive his Batcii masters. At dead of night, when the household
was asleep, he attacked his host, the friendly chief. He struck at his
head with a hatchet and would have killed him if it had not been
that while sleeping he had covered his face with his cloak. Back in
Chaokioh, claiming his reward, he said that it was Vuta whom he
had slain. Tang and I sewed up the wounds, and the relatives say
we saved the chief’s life.”

Before they had retired to bed that night, further alarms began.
From a nearby house the sound of drums, a weird reverberating
rhythm, rose and fell. Suddenly the drumming became fast and
furious, shots were fired and blood-curdling shrieks and yells from
many voices petrified them. Gradually the din subsided to low
mutterings, only to blaze out again and again far into the night.
Sorcerer-priests were on a demon chase. So much sickness and
adversity had come their way, the Nosu explained next day, that
they had joined together in 2 mammoth exorcism at the time when
demons are at large. Devilish at the best of times, it was a most
uncanny and disturbing experience for Ruth, virtually alone amidst
a people capable of anything diabolical.

But their excitements were not over. After breakfast the next
morning a wild Nosu from deeper in the mountains called to see
them. He had come the previous day for medicine and admitted he
was better, but the fact that he was not already cured was to his
mind an insult.

“You despised me,” he shouted angrily at Tang, “or you would
have given me better treatment!”

When a Nosu gets a certain look in his eye it is high time to
capitulate or seeck protection. Tang and Chengming realized that
this man was dangerous and edged him outside to the threshing
164 STRONG MAN’S PREY

floor where the villagers were apt to congregate, the women
weaving and sewing and the men enjoying a pipe. Vuta was unfor-
tunately not there, but his wife was in the group of people passing
the time of day with Ruth. They all joined in the discussion, trying
to persuade the man that there was no reason for offence. But sud-
denly he seized his rifle, rushed to a vantage point, loading it franti-
cally, and turning trained it on Tang. Tang had heard that Nosu will
not fire if there is danger of hitting a woman, so he fled behind
Hma Vuta’s lady and crouched there until two bystanders had
wrested the weapon from his assailant.

Vuta when he came home was furious, for although the Tavern
building was our own, it stood on his land and we therefore were
under his protection. But the explanation was simple.

“Of a large family of sorcerers,” Vuta said apologetically, “this
man and his sister are all that remain, and he is half demented, living
in terror of the demons that claimed his relatives, lest they take
him too.”

To the superstitious Nosu much that has a natural explanation is
the work of demons. Sickness, even injuries, are from their hand,
indicating the need for blood sacrifices to placate them. Should a
bird-dropping chance to fall on any Nosu he would fear that it was
an ill omen unless he had himself seen the bird. If not he would
make an offering of oatmeal, share it with his friends and pour out
the rest, on the off chance that an evil spirit had played him a
trick.

A few days after the grand exorcism Ruth herself observed what
- she believed to be a demonstration of demon power. A few Nosu
girls were sitting round an effigy and one of them was chanting a
short jingle in which the words “you dance” were used repeatedly.
Others were jerking the effigy up and down as if to waken it.
After a time they gave up in disgust and pulled the object to pieces.
It was made of a big basket draped in a woman’s skirt, a tunic with
a stick thrust through the sleeves, and a wooden dipper covered with
a cloth to serve as a head.

The same evening the coolie called her out to witness the per-
formance by moonlight. In a clearing outside a Nosu dwelling was
a circle of squatting girls, and in the centre the same effigy was
jumping up and down. When someone called out “Dance to me!”
it turned and jigged towards them.

“Trickery! What's the secret?” jeered the cook and one or two
Chinese onlookers.

 

 
WILD AND LONELY 165

“Come and take our places!” answered the Nosu girls retiring
from the circle.

Still the dancing went on. All including Ruth and Chengming
were convinced that there was no deception, it was not being
touched or worked by anyone.

No one who has not lived at such close quarters with a pagan
people, secing and listening with eyes, ears and mind open to their
reactions and expressions, can speculate on whether they not only
need but crave a way of deliverance. The stark reality of demons
keeps them in perpetual suspense. The bare suggestion of a power
great enough to liberate them and protect from malign spirits
brightens their eyes, stimulates a yearning. But the sheer impossi-
bility, to them, of it being true dawns on their unbelief and restores
that dead, dry, hardened, helpless look that marks those who have
been blinded and enslaved by the Prince of Evil.

Living in that environment, apart from any emotional excitement,
tells on the strongest Christian spirit. Our Chinese and Nosu
Christian colleagues shrank from it, and tended not to get to grips
with the spiritual problem. It was too much to ask the women to
endure for long. Moreover the attitude of Nosu and Chinese to
them made the protection of a male colleague desirable. But there
was no one else to carry the battle to the gates, and from this time
the most we did for Chuheh was brief infrequent visits. Out in
Sichang and in Chaokioh too, the three women continued to do the
work that would have been hard enough for men, had there been
men to do it.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
APRIL FOOLS

NOW storms on the heights between the Last Look Back and
Lolo Vale sometimes caught travellers unawares, obliterated all
traces of the track and year by year claimed victims travelling
between Sichang and Chaokioh. Icy winds and frozen surfaces were
more common still and multiplied the hazards of the journey. Only
for a few weeks in the spring and autumn could agreeable travelling
conditions be relied on, in April between the snows and rains, and
in October when the rivers had subsided. At any other time hard-
ships petty or severe might be encountered.

When foreign men first entered Nosuland the crowds who
flocked to see them were considerable. When women followed
Nosu came from far and wide to satisfy their curiosity, even lifting
up their skirts to see if they wore underclothes, for the Nosu women
do not. But another attraction was in store. Sooner or later Jan,
Pauline and Margaret, aged six, four and one, were to be brought
in, and once Floyd Larsen had gone it would be difficult to find an
escort for the family migration. Gradually we came to the conclusion
that the move must be made soon, before the rains came.

Hours of thought, prayer and discussion had been spent before
it was decided that the children should be taken into Nosuland. The
“White Ladies,” Roman Catholic “Sisters of Mercy” in Sichang,
had besought us not to do so. Tales so terrible had come to their
ears, of what befell the Chinese children sold or carried into Nosu-
land, that they could not reconcile our action with necessity, even
for the sake of Christ and the gospel. It was not so many years since
their own mission in Chaokioh, manned by Chinese, had been razed
to the ground and their missionaries banished. The horrors of the
uprising had been told them in full. But only two other paths lay
open to us. Either we must separate, splitting the family for long
periods at a time, with all the disadvantages of that course; or we
must leave the work in Nosuland to others. Both were untenable.
Ours was not a short-term project but a life-work. The voice of
reason was given all the attention it deserved; but from the beginning
there was little question in our hearts that home in Nosuland was

God’s will for us, and He would take better care of the children

 
APRIL FOOLS 167

than their human parents could. Not for nothing had we harked
back repeatedly to the verse of Scripture given at the outset of our
venture:

“I have appeared unto thee. . . . I will appear unto thee; deliver-
ing thee from the people unto whom I now send thee, to open
their eyes and turn them from darkness to light, and from the
power of Satan unto God. . ..”

It was unlikely that the Lord would ask of us the supreme sacrifice
of our children in such circumstances of horror, worse by far than
personal suffering; rather would they suffer less by being in our
company than if denied it in their infancy.

April Fool’s Day dawned on us when preparations were almost
complete, and as so often, baskets, boxes and metal drums of drugs,
barter, food and clothing lay stacked about our quarters in the
Moslem house in Sichang, waiting for the pack-animals. Our old
cook had been finally scared off by tea-shop gossip, and declined to
leave the city. But a Chinese woman who had been employed for
several months to help care for the children, overcame her reluct-
ance and out of love for them prepared to travel with us. Mrs. Yang
had been an opium addict and with Ruth’s strictsupervision had been
cured of her craving. A more intelligent or pleasant house-woman
never came our way. To have her with us made the prospect of a
primitive life in the Barn at Chaokioh lose some of its drawbacks.

To take the children from the restless Moslem household and the
strain of ceaseless haggling, of shouting muleteers, and staring mobs
whenever they set foot in the city streets, into a rustic life with their
own garden and farmyard interests, made the discomforts of the
journey worth facing. Two large wicker armchairs slung facing
each other between bamboo poles and covered with an oilcloth
awning, made as grand a palanquin when padded out with bedding,
as our ingenuity could devise. Carried by hired coolies, inevitably
opium sots, they made the four days’ journey cheerfully and in
comfort, while we rode behind, or when the trail was wide enough,
beside them.

On the morning that we started sixteen animals came to carry
the pack-loads of household, medical and building supplies—gay
with jingling bells but stinking foully from their saddle sores and
lashing irritably at each other with their heels. They and the mule-
teers had already started, and the rest of us were in the road saying
goodbye to Joan, who was to represent us alone in Sichang until
168 STRONG MAN'S PREY

Ruth could get back to join her, when Mrs. Yang came running up.

“I went to say goodbye to my mother,” she panted, “and found
her very ill. You will have to go without me.” Suspecting an excuse
to keep her from entering Nosuland I went with her to her mother’s
home, not far away. But one look at her mother, and I had to tell
her family that the old lady would live no more than a few minutes.
There was nothing we could do. Callous as it seemed, the pack-train
could not be recalled, and we had to set off leaving Mrs. Yang
behind, to follow after the funeral.

There were good friends for Joan to turn to, but it was no picnic
to be left in charge of the supply base and the complicated finances
of the time. Instead of pioneering in Nosuland she was having to
do desk work outside. But she did it gladly without a protest. The
Busman was there to help, but he himself was a problem taking
careful handling. Far from infallible he needed to be watched and
curbed continually. Since the autumn the inflation had made bank
notes almost valueless. In terms of the original national currency a
pair of shoes would now have cost sixteen thousand five hundred
million dollars. In the new currency this was a mere five thousand
five hundred dollars, bad enough! But the people had grown tired
of waiting for paper money of such transient value and had taken
to using cotton yarn in bales and bundles, balanced against the old
silver ingots, and silver dollars of the 1920 era! Joan’s accounts and
records for the team therefore read in terms like this: “Workman’s
wages= 560 catties of rice @ 6 hanks cotton yarn per bushel of 140
catties=24 hanks= 16} silver dollars @ Gold Yuan $600=so much.”
Then this had to be expressed in American currency because the
figures in Chinese currency were changing in value and otherwise
meant nothing.

Transfers of money from the outer world were arranged through
merchants. In Kunming or Chengtu our mission representatives
would pay to a firm the value of perhaps a hundred bales of yarn.
On receipt of telegrams confirming that transaction, the firm’s
agents in Sichang would pay to us seventy-five or eighty bales of
the same yarn, according to transmission rates, and we would have
to find coolies to carry the “money” on their backs or carrying
poles. Every bale had to be examined before being stacked in a safe
place. Each bale consisted of twenty-one hanks, and each hank of
five skeins made of seven small skeins. The time taken in using and
accounting was considerable, let alone the physical labour involved.
 

APRIL FOOLS 169

But more serious still were the great losses sustained before the
money could be converted into this barter.

Month by month our needs had been supplied, and the building
had progressed without curtailment. But before we could all move
up-country the unusually large amount of §9oo-gold had become
necessary to cover the cost of tiles and lime in addition to running
expenses. It had of course been our daily plea that God would pro-
vide this sum in time to let the children travel before the rains
increased the discomforts and dangers, and we had planned accord-
ingly. Imagine then our joy when word came through that a
memorial fund commemorating an old friend, Anne Harcourt, had
been dedicated to our venture, and the first instalment of /300
sterling was available to supply our immediate need. It launched us
forth upon the unknown with more confidence and assurance of
approval and support than any official expedition derived from a
salute of guns.

If further reassurance was needed in this supreme act of folly, it
came in the form of a parable from the children themselves. So
complete was their confidence in us their parents, that the journey
became a triumphal procession of song and laughter. The coolies
were astounded. No children of their acquaintance were so animated.
The glory of the mountains, the beauty of azalea banks, the joy of
being right in Nosuland, the fairyland they had heard so much
about, the friendliness of the Nosu, everything pleased them.

“I like them; they don’t touch me!” said Jan, thinking of the
crowds in Sichang.

“A-Meh! A-i so-yo chio! Wonderful sight! three foreign child-
ren,” cried the Nosu peering into their chairs.

At Lolo Vale they took immediately to the Nosu shack, squatting
on the mud floor beside the log fire with the muleteers and Nosu
family as to the manner born. Sleeping in the hay loft was bliss.
Playing with the Nosu children in the dew of daybreak while the
oatmeal breakfast was being cooked and the horses saddled, smacked
of something more romantic than even they, much travelled, had
experienced. And it was not only the wsthetic that delighted them.
Now they were missionaries too, really entering into the spirit of
doing it for Jesus’ sake, loving the Nosu as they had loved the
Chinese, because He loved them.

Fearing lest violence between the road-guards and our muleteers
might scare them, we kept the children well ahead of the pack-train
.

170 STRONG MAN’S PREY

and through the whole journey they were spared seeing anything
unpleasant. The sun shone most of the time, and though thunder
cracked and roared round us on the third day as we crossed the
Little Hen, giving us a grandstand view of lightning and storm
sweeping the mountains we had passed through, no more than
blown spray reached us. Cold, wind and rain waited till we were
snugly settled in at Chaokioh before beginning.

Floyd and Ruth had done wonders to the Barn. There were flag-
stones on the floor of the stable that was to be our living-room,
steps instead of a ladder into the lofts where we were to sleep, and
a table, desk and washstand to supplement the Chinese board-bed
and dining stools. The tiles had not yet arrived, and at night we lay
beneath the plank roof and by stretching out an arm could shift the
planks to check drips. But beneath an oil-silk coverlet there was the
luxury of sheets and blankets. The day of bed-bags had ended now
that Chaokioh was home.

Going to bed was rather like undressing in the open air, for the
wind whistled freely about us and rain splashed on to exposed flesh.
The children had oil sheets stretched above their camp-cots. But
the house was our own and it was in the very heart of Nosuland.
We had arrived! Soon Ruth and Joan would settle here too, and
another milestone in our plan of campaign would be passed. The
dream was coming true, and all the interim struggle for recognition
on the borders of Nosuland which we had envisaged had been
by-passed. Now for a church of believers, and an augmented team.
Now for consolidation, and expansion into the regions beyond.

The barnyard was in the south-west corner of the fort and was
therefore enclosed on two sides by the stone walls of the fort itself.
Standing fifteen or twenty feet high, built of boulders as heavy as a
strong man could lift, the wall was wide enough on top for four
men to march abreast, but was sloping, irregular and grass grown.
Guards patrolled it at night, and by day the colonists sauntered round
enjoying the breezes, inspecting developments in our gardens or
grazing their ponies. From its tumble-down parapets the whole of -
the Chaokioh basin could be seen, and all the surrounding hills from
the Oerhchio gap and the Great Hen, past the twelve thousand foot
Batcii mountains to the Leopard’s Mouth and beyond Chuheh to
the Dragon’s Head.

While their stable was our home, the animals were relegated to a
lean-to shed set in the corner of the great wall. Pigs, horses, goats

(for milk), and fowls shared part of it, and the rest was filled with
 

APRIL FOOLS 171

straw, a perfect play-place for the children when it rained. How
could we have foreseen how close to tragedy they were in that
sheltered nest? A barnyard life meant straw and clods of mud,
chicken droppings, even frogs and a snake, in the “dining-room.”
Try as we would to exclude them, hens insisted on their rights and
made their way into the loft, our bedroom, to roost and lay their
eggs. What did that matter! It was all in keeping with the life. Air,
sunshine, red cheeks and huge appetites were the order of the day.
Excursions outside the fort, to Sandy Bay, Stony Bend, two rivers
and a mill race named after the children, ideal for picnics, gave a
freedom and delight unknown in Sichang.

Work was a pleasure too, now that Floyd and I were together to
share the problems and absorb the thrusts of ill-meaning people.
From the banging of the bucket to arouse the workmen in the early
morning till the sun sank over the gorge between the Great Hen
and the Batcii Mountains we lived by the clock, a dungaree life,
regulating the rests and work-shifts on the buildings, always alert to
the activities of the Chinese and Nosu builders and the crowds of
spectators whom we welcomed on the premises despite the daily
losses by pilfering. The children mingling with the men brought a
new spirit to their labour. They enjoyed the little flashes of colour
and laughter and quaintness, and the children’s appreciation of the
daily improvements as their new home took shape. The Nosu
workmen especially became their friends and brought them presents
of snared birds or a handful of walnuts, or for their pleasure wrestled
together and with the children in the intervals.

Easter came, and coincided with Ruth’s birthday some days after
our arrival. Now that there were several Christians (ourselves)
resident in Chaokioh we were in fact the church, and decided to hold
services whether others came or not. On Good Friday work was
stopped while the workmen gathered to be told the Crucifixion
story. And on Easter Day, to our elation, fifty others joined us for
the Easter worship. Chao attempted an interpretation for the Nosu,
but his natural reticence made him little use as a public speaker. The
colonists stirred themselves enough to begin coming frequently to
hear more, however, when on subsequent Sundays a brass gong
was sounded in lieu of church bells.

In the kitchen a mud stove burning wood had been arranged to
heat an oven made from petrol cans. With its help Janet put on a
celebration dinner and showed what could be done in these condi-
tions. Vegetables had been unobtainable, but dried carrots brought
172 STRONG MAN’S PREY

up from Sichang and soaked overnight kept Nosu chicken and
potatoes company. And the birthday cake, half devoured by rats,
was iced with sugar in an effort to disguise the damage.

Catering was always a great problem, for supplies from Nosu
sources were very scarce, and little fresh food could be brought the
four days’ journey from Sichang. Later in the spring and summer
rose-hips, wild plums, mountain strawberries and a bitter wild
berry that made excellent jam were brought, when Nosu children
found that salt was given in exchange for them. The earth in our
own gardens was so barren that during the first season little was
produced. Sometimes we lived from hand to mouth, rich in barter
but unable to procure the food we would have liked to have. “Give
us this day our daily bread” became a practical petition. Adults could
rely on Chinese food and hard-tack, but the children needed more.

One day the last potato, Margaret’s staple diet, was used up,
and there were several weeks before the new crop came in. Nosu
at this time of year lived near starvation point, on shrivelled turnips
to a large extent, and were reluctant to part with potatoes if they
had a little stock. Janet prayed the daily prayer as the next meal
drew near—and someone wanting medicine for a sick child brought
a bag of potatoes as payment for it.

To get the building finished was the main job. But crowds were
flooding in to see the children and, as ever, to watch the progress
of the clinic and to be doctored. Droves of women and girls from
far and near called on the family and had to be entertained. The
Barn was far too small to hold them, even if the loss of kitchen-
ware was justified by a policy of saying No! to no one. Squatting
in the yard they squealed their “A-Meh”s and “A-Bee”’s at the sight
of fair haired children, saying wisely,

“Our hair goes white as we grow old. These people’s hair starts
white and goes on getting darker!”

To protect the children from too much interest and affection,
stares and embarrassment, the concertina would have to be brought
out and played. Sometimes Jan and Pauline would sing to them and
we would try to explain the words they sang, showing pictures
illustrating Bible stories. The missionary enthusiasm of the children
was delightful. When, to spare them, we would cut short their
ordeal, or when work called and we could not stay chatting, Jan
would often say:

“Do these people know about the Lord Jesus? Why don’t you
tell them?”
 

APRIL FOOLS 173

Lack of vocabulary seemed a poor excuse to them.

From now until the time we left Chaokioh there was seldom a
day on which we had no callers, and then only when the day, by
the sorcerer’s calendar, was an unlucky one. Often scores of visitors
were in the premises at a time, and even one or two hundred, trying
to sell us anything from food and timber to the pelts of leopards,
multi-coloured Amhurst pheasants, or live badgers, otters, birds and,
once, a piglet naturally striped black and yellow like a tiger. Patients
came escorted by a group of friends and relatives, or by their
retainers if they were Black Nosu, and usually Floyd was left to
supervise the building while Ruth, when she was with us, and Chao,
bargained and bartered, and I attended patients, making the most
of rooms ready for use.

News from the outer world was deteriorating. Encouraged by
the Communist successes as Nanking fell and Shanghai was invested,
robber armies in the border lands grew bold. Not far beyond
Sichang the county town of Yenyuan fell to such a horde. They
masqueraded under the red flag and star, using the prestige of the
Communists to cow the helpless officials and people.

In May, when Ruth had gone out to join Joan and Floyd was still
in Chaokioh, rumours began to circulate of two thousand steel-
helmeted rebel troops having come to within fifty miles of us,
down near the Yangtze. They were a mixed bag of lawless Chinese
and Nosu from Yunnan. The magistrate sent out his runners to
discover the truth, and by his anxiety we gauged the seriousness of
the despatches he was receiving, and watched the strengthening of
the fort’s defences with misgiving. It could not possibly hold out
against attack.

“If these bandits come and make Chaokioh their base for assaults
on Sichang, as their aim is said to be,” we were told, “no one,
Chinese, Nosu or foreign can look for less than pillage, enslavement
or death at their hands.”

By agreement with Janet rumours were to be kept from her,
lest the children sense our apprehension, but known dangers were to
be fully shared. So when the threat was at its greatest, Floyd and I
first discussed it together grimly.

“Once they start it will take them only a day and a half to reach
us,” we agreed, ‘‘and the chance of fleeing with the children would
be lost. To go even now would mean putting the children on our
horses and walking beside them. Rain, rivers, all the objections we
174 STRONG MAN’S PREY

planned to spare them coming in would have to be endured. Three
days of misery at a forced pace would be involved.”

“Looking at it reasonably,” Floyd said, “anything would be
better than the risk of carnage at the hands of such men. I'm for
staying to await events while you see your family to safety. It’s your
duty.”

I had been weighed down in spirit, torn between apparent duty
in two directions, but as he spoke a flood of certainty swept out all
doubt. We had seen no spiritual results yet from the year of work
and preaching that had passed, and some reports suggested that there
was no danger to Chaokioh at all. But it was not these that brought
conviction. Secular expressions fall far short of Biblical phrases in
describing spiritual experience. As Floyd sat on the old table in the
clinic store-room and I leant against the salt cupboard talking with
him, “Peace that passeth understanding” filled my heart. The unmis-
takable “witness of the Spirit,” the “still small voice” of God came
as far clearer guidance than the coolest logic. Floyd accepted it with-
out question. And when I laid the facts before Janet she approved
of our decision immediately as her own interpretation of the will
of God.

A few days later further advice to evacuate on the grounds of the
general situation reached us from Floyd’s consul. It was easier for us
to disregard it than for him, but when we chose to remain the
matter was settled for him too, though by doing so he forfeited his
country’s help. The policy of the whole mission was to stay and
press on with our work unless to do so was to court danger unneces-
sarily, or might harm our fellow Christians, or would serve no
useful purpose, if work came to a standstill. There in Nosuland the
opportunities were increasing daily. Who could tell that we might
not be left in complete peace to continue for years yet? Actually
another eighteen months of effective service lay before us.

It was easy to think superstitiously in an environment that was all
superstition, and to attribute things to chance when “luck” played
so large a part in the lives of the people. But we were left with
nothing but naked gratitude to God after an acute danger like
the sword of Damocles hung over us and at length left us unscathed.
It could have been far otherwise.

Danger of a different kind remained. With the onset of the rainy
season heavy downpours soaked the earth, felled Nosu homes, and
wrecked a fifty-foot garden wall of ours that had not had time to
 

 

APRIL FOOLS 175

harden. A section of our new building fell when a cracked tile
allowed the leaks of a whole night to drain into the mud wall
unobserved. The scrunch and rattle of collapsing plank roofs was,
in the village, 2 common sound. But though the children could not
play at large in the barnyard and gardens, they were blissful in the
straw-stack under the shed set in the corner of the great stone wall.
For hours a day they stayed there, playing with the kid and puppy,
watching the horses, and hunting for eggs. Margaret slept there
every afternoon.

One night as we lay asleep in the barn, not many yards away,
protected by new tiles over two thirds of the roof, the rain lashed
down in unrelenting torrents.

A sharp report and then another woke us—rocks falling on the
stable shed. And then a long sustained terror of roaring, crashing,
splintering and frightened cries followed as tons of rock and earth
flattened the shed with the animals in it.

I leaped out of bed, pulled on a leatlier jacket and shoes and tore
into the rain, expecting to find Belinda and the black horse crushed
beneath the wall. By torch light I could see that they had stampeded,
breaking the heavy bar that blocked their exit, and were snorting
and quivering in the farthest corner of the yard. From the débris
came the anguished bleating of a dying goat. The rocks were more
than we could lift to free her. Rain had soaked in and swelled the
wall until it burst, and, intensely sickening thought, if it had hap-
pened at any time of day instead of night, all three of our children
might have been buried there beneath the ruin.

Are children watched over by angels? It certainly looked as if God
had tried to show us that He cared about them and would not let
them come to harm. Strangely enough it was a Nosu, Hapu, who
put it into words. He was looking round the buildings, marvelling
at the size and number of our windows, crouching at them and
pretending to defend the house against imaginary attack! Such an
open building was of course an invitation to invasion.

“There’s no need for anyone to come through the windows,” I
was saying. “If they want to rob or kill us they are welcome, I
will open the door and save them trouble. Pass that word round!”

“Don’t you fear,” he laughed, “Mo’m Apu, the God of Heaven
will look after you.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
REEK OF THE PIT

UTH, Joan and I were up on the verandah at Komfort Korner

in Sichang. It was early morning, that best time of day when

the already dazzling sun crests the eastern hills and transforms the

dewy rooftops of the city into a sea of glittering mirrors. But it was
not the view we were looking at.

“A dozen cakes of soap and two horse-blankets,” Ruth was say-
ing. “They were there when we went to bed, and they are not
there now. And there are muddy footprints on the balustrade.”

“Now you come to speak of it, I heard footsteps last night, but
I didn’t like to make a fuss,” Joan chimed in typically.

“One of the neighbours having a nose round,” I suggested.
“Anyway they’ve gone now!”

But a night or two later the door leading from the verandah to
the upstairs passage quietly opened. It was just outside Joan’s room.
She suddenly became aware that there was a man breathing within
a foot or two of her, the other side of a papered lattice-work parti-
tion. She sat bolt upright in bed and switched on the light. Like a
flash the man darted out, raced across the verandah and jumped on
to the roof of the next house and away. There was the crashing of
his stampede, and all was over. But his sandals were still on the roof
the next morning. -

In some parts of the world you do not call the police. It is better
not to. So we simply took precautions, locking the doors without
fail, and leaving nothing outside. We slept, too, with one ear open,
for Chinese burglars come back to houses where they have been
successful. Sure enough a few nights later the sound of a roof tile
cracking woke,us all and we lay listening. Stealthily the thief was
working his way up to the verandah again. When there was no
doubt that he was trying to break into our house we rose in the
oriental manner, making plenty of noise, and I went up to make
sure that he had gone.

Half an hour afterwards the sounds began again.

“Enough of oriental methods!” I thought, and dashed at full tilt
up the stairs and out on to the verandah. There was the man, a few
yards off, making for the rail above a garden wall. Shouting “T've

 
 

REEK OF THE PIT 177

got you!” at the full pitch of my lungs to unnerve him, I gave chase,
but was not fast enough. In a moment he was cat-walking along the
high wall. There were some heavy Manchu tiles at hand, and I began
to pelt him with them. One knocked him half off the wall but he
regained his balance and leapt into the street.

Hectic nights were only a variation from hectic days. I had come
down from Chaokioh because another milestone had been reached.
The time had come for Joan to join us in Nosuland. The Lovegrens
and other missionaries in Sichang had generously offered to handle
our business affairs with the Busman’s help, and both Ruth and Joan
were freed to come up-country. Moreover the end of the building
was in sight, and we had no further excuse for holding Floyd. We
needed a full team “on the ball.” Now at last poor patient Joan
could have a more active part to play. Now at last a dead set could
be made to preach the gospel and heal the sick. Word of reinforce-
ments had come again, several volunteers, men and women, west-
erners and Chinese, but there was no knowing when they might
arrive. One was a capable Chinese ex-officer, just the type we
wanted. It looked as if a new day was dawning.

A serious obstacle stood in the way, however. Going over our
financial needs we calculated that before we could abandon our
Sichang affairs to others and bury ourselves in Nosuland, we must
be sure of a credit of two hundred pounds sterling to draw on,
and enough cash for current use in Sichang. At the same time we
felt certain that we ought to start travelling early in September.
Believing that this was the will of God we made plans accordingly,
hired pack-animals for the 6th, started packing, and reported our
intentions to headquarters.

Then started a spiritual battle in which we prayed urgently for
the needed funds and acted as if they were already ours. They were
busy days of preparation, a relentless struggle to buy stores with
inflated currency, and restless nights as well. Joan practised riding in
the rough, among the grave mounds and fields above the city, and
September dawned with all in readiness except the money without
which we could not start.

Prayer means a lot when put so starkly to the test and found
effective. It assumes its real nature, a relationship with a faithful and
affectionate God to which He responds inevitably, rather than a one-
sided pleading to which the outcome is dubious. On the 3rd a
telegram arrived to say that all we needed was available, we could

go ahead. We did.

M
178 STRONG MAN’S PREY

The doubt or criticism has sometimes been heard that a hand to
mouth existence (even God’s hand to our mouths), is an undue
strain on missionaries who would be better able to perform their
tasks if spared the onus of praying for supplies. It is not so. God is
no niggardly parent from whom each necessary penny must be
wrung. If He had sent abundance, as we know too well, we would
soon have trusted mechanically and forgotten Him, laying in stores
and investments against the evil day. But while He could and often
did provide lavishly, He seemed to prefer to keep us on the need-
and-supply, need-and-supply basis. It brought us more frequently
to Him and gave us the comfort of communion and dependence
instead of letting us grow presumptuous and materially minded.

It was Joan’s first taste of Nosuland. In the inn at the foot of
Heartbreak Hill and each night at Lolo Vale and the Three Bends,
all the dirt and bitterness of travel in the crude struck Ruth and me
afresh as she struggled, way-worn and nauseated, with stewed tea,
hard half-cooked rice, bitter cabbage and fiery red pepper, rough
coolie fare but the best available. It had taken me years of adaptation,
through gradually increasing hardship, to reach the point where I
could put up with or enjoy life on the road, and even then I some-
times loathed it. But she was plunging straight in.

The journey lost none of its excitement or unpleasantness either.
Legitimate and pirate road-guards lived up to their reputation for
her sake. One pirate hold-up by about fifty men went off smoothly
after the Nosu had become menacing enough to frighten the
Busman'’s son, who was with us, into crying out, “Come on,
escape!” in his alarm. But it was a relatively peaceful encounter.

And then the deep thrill of gazing for the first time from the
heights of the Great Hen over the wide basin of Chaokioh with its
numerous hamlets. It stirred Joan as it had stirred each of us with
longing for the spiritual emancipation of the Nosu. All the coolie
food, the stable beds, the river crossing, blisters and aches were
nothing now.

Fresh crowds of curious friendly people flocked to the compound,
with the arrival of another new foreigner, a young woman more-
over. Beseiged from morning to night Ruth and Joan were kept
talking, answering endless questions, asking their own in self
defence, and learning Nosu phrases from the eager women and girls
who thronged them.

“How old are you? Are your parents living? Are you married?
 

REEK  OF THE 'PIT 179

Why not? Have you enough to eat?” Every group of visitors
showered the same. But every contact was welcomed; and every
invitation to the Nosu villages.

Vistas of opportunity were opening, promising more scope for
preaching and befriending the people than they would be able to
buy up. Soon they were engaged in frequent visits to the Chinese
and Nosu villages outside the fort, teaching the women and girls to
read, telling them gospel stories, singing to them, and just keeping
them company, picking up expressions in the Nosu language. At
times little Jan would go with them. Sometimes a chief or a sorcerer
who could read the racial script would sit down and teach them the
strange Nosu hieroglyphics. But sometimes Joan came back troubled
because men had been pestering her unpleasantly. Their attitude
made it unwise to risk going far afield unescorted. Much was good,
but like us Joan was “pressed down with the atmosphere of evil.”
It was tangible, conveyed by more than evil faces, evil actions or the
reek of opium and liquor, met with so often.

It was a strange place for women to be in. Drunk Nosu tended
to drift to-our premises after drinking at the Chinese taverns. It was
sheltered and welcoming there, enclosed against the cold north
winds. Flushed and garrulous they pushed and argued their way
into our private quarters, into the dispensary, anywhere they chose,
laying rough hands on Ruth, Janet and Joan when they protested.
It became a common sight to see Ruth ushering a drunken Nosu
from the dispensary, or Janet at bay by our cottage door. Nothing
but physical force would restrain a drunken Nosu from interfering
in an operation or climbing up the stairs into the bedrooms. But
dogs chained at strategic points limited the wanderings of drunk
and sober.

One chief wanting a small mole removed on his face came reeling
drunk, to fortify himself against the pain, and pushed his way
toward the operating table before we had finished with another
patient! Another, our old friend Soza, put his thumb over the
muzzle of his rifle and pulled the trigger. Fully sobered he came
sheepishly to have the stump repaired. We took the children over
the fields to call on Batcii Aku’s wife and were returning when we
met Soza with a friend. Both were stripped to the waist and totter-
ing homeward, fighting blindly as they went. Suddenly Soza turned
on his friend, took a huge mouthful of his hair and tore it out by the
roots. But when I separated them, to spare the children further
distress, he was almost obsequiously grateful for my interference.
180 STRONG MAN'S PREY

Problemswere never far away. The problem of payment for treat-
ment was a particular headache. Faith in us was increasing, but still
superficial. Popularity waxed and waned with success or failure to
cure the cases sent to test us. Old ununited fractures needing operative
measures beyond our present scope came with a plea for medicine to
take by mouth. When a Nosu workman chopped the end of his
finger off and within five minutes had it sewn on again, successfully,
patients came wanting operations for bronchitis. Some brought gifts
of eggs, grain, nuts or sometimes a fowl on their first visit, and more
when they were cured. Most needed encouragement to do so. Others
made promises and failed to keep them, succumbing to the Nosu
tendency to be mean. Chiefs looked upon their relationship as
friendly, expecting treatment, however expensive, to be given free.
In return they in time would repay handsomely, in hospitality when
we passed their way, or in protection, or at New Year in a gift of
meat. Everyone saw sense in their customary attitude to the sorcerer-
priest:

“When I'm cured T'll pay in full: till ’'m cured I owe you
nothing.”

But to insist on payment before the drugs had taken effect, or
worse still when they failed, that was unreasonable nonsense, hard,
unyielding, foreign to their way of thinking.

From our point of view, such casual methods encouraged bogus
patients, those wanting something for nothing, something to sell;
and lack of appreciation by those who needed what they received.
Even to pay a few potatoes for a series of injections, if they could ill
afford them, was worth while. To start loosely, leaving it to their
goodwill, would make it hard to introduce a businesslike method
later. Better one blow than to cut off the dog’s tail by stages! So
with the fullest explanations we could offer, we insisted that a token
payment should be made, with mixed results. The serfs were
co-operative, with some unpleasant exceptions. But the Blacks were
mostly arrogant, thick-skinned or honestly convinced that such
arrangements were for others, not for friends. One influential chief
to whom I put this policy when he wanted medicine, flew into a
fury and stamped out into the yard.

“Don’t you know who I am?” he demanded. “Don’t you realize
how powerful I am?” (The purport of that was to say “Dare you
risk offending me? I could kill you without compunction.”) “Do
you despise me that I should have to pay for a few tablets? All right,
we will not be friends!” ‘
 

REEK OF THE PIT 181

There was no pacifying him. Chao failed as I had done. He was
enraged. Eventually I yielded, throwing the principle overboard,
to try out the Nosu way. I made him a present of the drugs he
needed, and with dignified grace he said:

“When I'm not inflamed with spirits I will come and thank you
with a gift.”

But when he was sober he forgot the episode and the drugs. A
sentence in a letter of those early days, written by a solicitous
colleague, carried the atmosphere:

“Don’t get your neck wrung for the sake of a few spuds, I could
never eat them.”

Once the establishment in Chaokioh became widely known,
leprosy patients began to come and soon there were few weeks in
which two or three new cases did not appeal to us for help or
asylum. One day before the family came to Chaokioh I was called
to see an exile from Chuheh, a young man driven from his wife,
his three children and his home because his chief had feared infec-
tion. Never have I see a sadder face than his when I was taken out
to where he sat among the bricks, removed a distance from his
fellow men. He could not speak Chinese, and as Batcii Vulii hap-
pened to be near at hand, I asked him to interpret for us. It
turned out that the patient had early, curable leprosy. Given good
treatment, it was just the sort of case I had been waiting for, to show
the Nosu how worthwhile a leprosarium would be.

It was worth worlds to see the gratitude and hope return to the
young man’s face as Vulii conveyed the news that we would employ
him to pasture our animals and carry water while he was receiving
treatment. That was how Zihtu came to join us, and how Vulii
came to observe closely his improvement and gradually to relax his
prejudice against having a colony for lepers on the Leopard’s Mouth.
When Joan moved in to Chaokioh Zihtu was already a different
creature, happy and content, almost within sight of his home. His
vowel-less name—more accurately spelt “Zz-tpp,” made of a buzz
and a lip-flap!—defeated nearly all but his Nosu acquaintances. But
his charming nature made him a popular member of the community.

The ravages of wine and opium addiction had been plain enough
since the first contacts with them in Chuheh and Chaokioh. Feuds,
injuries, murders, gambling, debts, disease, depravity, theft and
robbery all stemmed from them. In every stage from playful cup or
whiff to grand debauchery the abuse of both was apparent. The least
182 STRONG MAN’S PREY

that we could do was to denounce their sale, to point out the effects
of playing with the stuff, to label them “Devil’s dope” and persuade
men, Nosu and Chinese, to beware of touching them, to break free
with God’s help.

But on our own premises we declared open war on the accursed
things. So dulled to immorality and vice had men become that
startling clarity of word and action were essential to awaken the
torpid and enlighten the blind. Knowledge of Sin was in them, but
it was disregarded. The careless agreed fully with the truth of our
protests and laughingly added: “Hao shua! It’s good fun!” The
prodigals who were “given up to uncleanness” reacted strongly,
hating us for every shaft of truth that threw into foul contrast their
corruptness. There was no room for compromise or tolerance.
Hatred of vice and its sources was our only way: with love for its
victims.

As at the Tavern in Chuheh when it became ours, we forbade
the presence of wine and opium on “God’s Ground” at Chaokioh.
They were not to be brought in, nor bought, sold or consumed
within the premises. Forcible expulsion at any cost must be expected
by any who broke this law. It took some time to get the word
round, till all knew where we stood. But when we caught some Nosu
red-handed selling to the workmen we took them by the shoulders
and hustled them away to show that we meant what we said.
Secretive groups we asked to go elsewhere for their whispered con-
fabulations. Yet still our senses became attuned to the sickly smeech of
opium and the rhythmic hiss of its inhalation. The opium sots among
the workmen we forced to go elsewhere if they must smoke, and
threatened their dismissal if they were found disobeying.

What brought us to that pass was an incident that shows the
crass stupidity of so many. As I went about the uncompleted build-
ings one mid-morning I detected a faint scent of opium and, hardly
believing that I was not mistaken, started searching for its origin.
My nose led me at last to the room that was to become our pantry,
and I flung open the door. Lying on a trestle-platform was the
master carpenter, learning in cold blood to smoke opium from
Batcii Vuga, Nosu chief of the new village outside the fort. Anger
and amazement, cold and determined, gripped me. I was jealous for
God’s honour and indignant with the malice of the evil Vuga.
Snuffing out the opium lamp I seized the pipe and paraphernalia of
their folly, and fully conscious that by doing so I might make
dangerous enemies of both, I drove them out and rated them

 
 

REEK OF THE PIT 183

soundly in the hearing of their apprentices and serfs. It might have
cost the enmity of Vuga, making it unsafe to live in Chaokioh. And
the end of building. For a long time Vuga kept away and the
carpenter’s attitude was an enigma. But in later months the fact
transpired that they had been impressed that Christians dared to
risk so much to resist sin. And in our ultimate dilemma it was the
master carpenter who stood surety for me at the risk of death.

First impressions of Chaokioh had been of the “reek of the Pit.”
Greater familiarity acquired through costly experience taught us the
devilish potency of its influence on the weak willed. One after
another newcomer was ruined by the temptations of the place.
When Mrs. Yang’s mother had been buried and her affairs put
straight, the house-woman joined us in Nosuland. She occupied the
loft at the far end of our Barn, separated from Janet and me by a
mud wall incomplete at the top. To all appearances she was going
straight. But late one night the nauseous fumes of opium reached us
faintly, and creeping nearer we thought we could hear the sizzle of
the burning drug as she held it in the flame and drew it through her
pipe. With daylight it was hard to be certain that this charming
woman was lying glibly when she denied a return of her craving.
Night after night however the soft sound and scent recurred when
she thought we were asleep.

At last we climbed into her loft when she was there one afternoon
and challenged her. She seemed so genuine in her desire to be a
Christian and overcome this evil, but was in two minds, one
struggling against the other, as in all addicts until they are past
redemption point.

“I swear you are mistaken!” she was saying, when my eye lit on
an eggshell in between the roof planks. Looking more closely I
could see a bamboo tube and a small tin beside it. I took them down.

Mrs. Yang looked downcast and uncomfortable. When an
addict is at pains to keep his vice secret, or reduced to beggary and
has to sell his smoking apparatus, these are what he uses. An eggshell
decaptitated at both ends forms his lamp shade. The bamboo
pierced at one side is his pipe. The tin or matchbox holds the drug.
With little warning all can be destroyed. But we had come so
suddenly. She dissolved in tears of remorse.

We tried again to cure her, for she was undoubtedly sincere at
heart, and she agreed to be confined within the Barn for three
weeks’ treatment. All went well until some time after she had
regained her freedom. There were plenty of men and women in the
184 STRONG MAN’'S PREY

fort who made their living by persuading others to smoke opium
on a credit system, and probably one of them ensnared her. When
we knew that she had fallen yet again I was for sending her back
to Sichang. But Janet said,

“Better have an addict in our home, stealing our goods to sell for
opium, if there is still hope of saving her.”

So once more they talked it out and Mrs. Yang determined to be
rescued. But the grip of the “opium devil” is a merciless one. In the
dead of night she felt the old craving and crept down her ladder to
light up and smoke. To her dismay she found Janet sleeping there
in the rat-infested kitchen at the ladder’s foot. She ran away. And
for a year we heard little of her. But the battle was not lost.

Opium smoking was a widespread habit among the Nosu, but
by no means as extensive as wine drinking. A sure way of pleasing
them was to treat them to a drink. The Chinese officials seldom
called a parley without pouring out a basin-full, from which the
Nosu dipped with rice bowls and drank until they could say con-
tentedly, with flushed face and slurred speech,

“Goodbye, I'm off, I'm nicely drunk now!”

Many were the warnings we were given that if we failed to do
the same we would make enemics, and enemies we certainly
acquired. But it was unthinkable that we should even touch the
vehicle of so much wrong.

“Anyone can give you wine, and harm you in other ways after-
wards. We will prove ourselves friends by different means and not
help you to harm yourselves,” we told them.

I was visiting the home of a good chief, Batcii Chupi, one day,
and was joined beside the fire by Batcii Chaha, an irrascible old
rascal who used his rank to pester us for wine and favours for him-
self and his retainers. To honour him the host poured out a bowl of
wine, and knowing my objections did not offer me any.

“Have a drink!” said Chaha.

“No thank you,” I answered. (There are Nosu abstainers too. The
right to be one is respected.)

“Call yourself our friend, and you won’t show it by drinking
with us?” sneered the old man. “Take one sip to show you don’t
despise us.”

“T'll show you by walking miles to treat you when you're sick;
by dressing your sores and playing with your children; but not by
giving anyone the idea that I approve of this enemy of the Nosu.”

 
 

REEK OF THE PIT 185

“Then dip the tip of your little finger in the wine and lick it, as a
gesture,” he persisted.

Seeing I was adamant he, as I thought, gave up the effort. Turning
away he gathered up some of the straw we were sitting on and
screwed it into a club. When he plunged it in the bowl and let it
soak up the spirit, I was still unsuspecting—until of a sudden he let
fly and dashed it full in my face. Eyes, nose and mouth received it
as he laughed unpleasantly,

“There, now you’ve drunk wine with us!”

A demonstration was essential if a reputation for weakness was to
be avoided. If the Nosu felt they could do as they pleased our
position among them would become untenable. Yet to retaliate as
a Nosu would have done was out of the question. Spluttering at
first I wiped the wine from my eyes and face and spat demonstra-
tively as I rose to my feet, took leave of Chupi and walked with
determination out of the house. The adult son of the family came
after me, anxious to calm what he assumed was anger meditating
vengeance, and to apologize for such an incident in his father’s home.

“Don’t fear,” I told him. “Chaha knows no better. Tell him I
am still his friend and welcome him to call on us if he will behave
himself.”

There was a long interval before we saw Chaha again. But when
he came one day for medicine and found me no less friendly than
before, he was amazed and melted. From then onward his attitude
became one of respectful courtesy, so far as with his blustering
nature he was able.

Results were in fact beginning to be seen, straws at which we
clutched hopefully. Sunday services began to grow in attendance
and in the interest shown, with the clinic waiting hall often filled
to capacity. The mixed congregation of peasants, soldiers, officials,
Nosu and children made proceedings unconventional and amusing.
There was much coming and going, comments from the Nosu, loud
conversations across the room between one and another, during
which the preacher had to wait patiently. And among the adolescent
girls or youths tussles would develop. There were several who came
regularly, loud, giggling, coarse, unruly hussies who would troop
out in a body and return as unexpectedly.

Much of what was taught or read fell on deaf ears, and even the
Crucifixion story left them unmoved, so familiar to their own
environment was its cruelty and pathos. But here and there were
signs of some impression being made. Posters and tracts pasted on
186 STRONG MAN'S PREY

the walls were useful for engaging individuals in conversation
during the day and pressing the issue further. Gradually the truth
sank in, interest deepened, but all without exception seemed hard
and unresponsive to the personal implications of what they heard.

They were blind, lost, and deluded—devil’s prey.
 

CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“ALL IS SATANIC”

HERE is in Nosuland a breed of hound with massive muzzle
‘A and drooping jowls. We had one given us, a pup that grew
into a huge lion-maned beast, called Huapa. Memories of 1949 are
inseparably associated with the deep booming of his fog-horn bark.
As a watchdog he was valuable for his size and ferocity, but the
insults to his pride as our protector were so many that his furious
barking could be heard hour after hour by day and night. Guards
on the walls would bait him, throwing stones till he was beside
himself with rage. Nosu and Chinese visitors so persisted in climbing
our walls, entering our sheds and buildings, roaming the gardens,
that Huapa had legitimate reason for his anger much of the time.
Yet to set him free to seize them would have been disastrous.
Probably the innocent would have been devoured.

When there were two or three of us to keep a check on this
shameless marauding it was bad enough. When some were away it
was scarcely tolerable. Property of one kind or another disappeared
daily. Lime was carried off by the basket-full. Timber newly sawn
and seasoned was thrown by our own carpenters to accomplices
outside the compound. Kitchen utensils were hidden in the spacious
cloaks of Nosu patients and loafers and carried out. Workmen’s
mattocks and tools disappeared and had to be replaced. Vegetables
were pulled up, and carefully husbanded seeds were collected not
only by the riff-raff but by minor officials who felt their dignity
entitled them to please themselves. None of the common people
dared say them nay, and they were highly incensed when we
reproved them. All but a handful of our stock of peas and beans was
taken in this way. Flowers and even bulbs, procured with difficulty
to bring a little of God’s beauty into a godless spot, were dragged
up and removed. It scemed that everyone we dealt with was a thief.
The windows were of latticed wood pasted with paper; sometimes
as we sat inside a hand would come through the paper and grope
for any object that might have inadvertently been left within reach.
In our absence things were lost this way. Major trials were not
unknown, but a thousand and one pin pricks were the order of the
day.
188 STRONG MAN'S PREY

Constant watchfulness was the only remedy, and sleep was always
superficial while our ears were trained to catch the slightest sound
of footfalls, opening doors or whispers. Often, standing in the
shadows, we would see dark figures move along the wall, waiting
for the opportunity to drop down or receive from someone in the
yard the night’s haul of loot. But they were too cunning to be
caught. Once I spent a whole night hidden in a wood shed, watching
the comings and goings of furtive men, but somehow they knew all
was not well and went away. The magistrate’s comment when I
mentioned it in passing during one of our frequent social contacts
was:

“They have no right to be up on the wall at night. I'll do
something about it. But you must know that I am treated in
the same way. Nothing will stop these bad eggs in the border
regions.”

In Chaokioh only one attempt at burglary was made upon us by
Nosu from outside the fort. One moonless night they scaled the
battlemented walls between the circuits of the guards, and tried to
burrow through into the clinic. When building we had planned to
forestall such attempts, and everywhere they burrowed with their
special tools they struck stone. In the morning we found the mud-
plastered surface pitted with their fruitless probings, and heard
later that they had gone on and robbed a Chinese family.

But at Chuheh where the Tavern was not so protected, several
burglaries took place. Digging silently through the garden wall, too
high to scale, they once made off with fowls, and once when Ruth
was there attempted to escape with a small pig. Usually the Nosu
can prevent the slightest sound, but this thief’s foot slipped and the
pig gave out a piercing squeal which woke the household. In his
hurry to escape the Nosu dropped his cloak and by it was identified
and forced to make amends. Another time they burrowed right
into the house and in the presence of the sleeping occupants removed
the heavy kitchen cauldron and the whole gamut of cooking
implements.

The walls of the old Tavern were patched in half a dozen places
where before and since our time forced entries had been made. Yet
these invasions were more tolerable than the incessant and relentless
pilfering and spite. Nosu burglars work to rules and are all known
by name and trade, treating their adventure as a profitable kind of
sport. Deception, lying, faithlessness, the common currency of
alleged friends, was far harder to endure.
 

TALL 18 sATANIC 189

A few times we resisted these attempts to prey upon us, challeng-
ing even the officials who were helping themselves.

“Those are my experimental seeds,” I protested one day. “I'm
trying to introduce good stock into Nosuland. How do you think
I shall succeed if even the magistrate’s staff keeps taking them?”

The reaction was so intense and ill-feeling so long-lived, that
soon we learned to suffer silently. There was nothing to be done
that would not bring us into open conflict with the people whom
we wanted to befriend and influence. Conflict would close the door,
perhaps irreparably, to better relationships. Literal practice of the
sermon on the mount might lead to change of heart in those who
persecuted us.

But questions of principle were a different matter. When the
festival of the carpenters’ god came round our workmen prepared
to sacrifice a cock and perform their idolatry on our premises. We
had anticipated this before building started, and in the contract they
had agreed to celebrate elsewhere. Now they became irate over our
attitude toward their deity and went on strike. We forced them to
tear down an idolatrous poster they had pasted up, and stood guard
over the sacrificial cock until they capitulated and took it away.
“God’s ground” must be inviolate, we insisted, if anyone was to
learn the seriousness of all we stood for and the impossibility of
compromise by Christians with heathenism. The price of being
adamant was boycotting of our Sunday services so that a mere
handful of people came thereafter.

Our thoughts turned often in those days to the words of Coillard
of the Zambesi:

“The evangelization of the heathen world in the place where it is
carried on is certainly not a tissue of strange customs and adventures
as thrilling as a romance; it is a desperate struggle with the Prince
of Darkness, and with everything his rage can stir up in the shape
of obstacles, vexations, oppositions, and hatred, whether by cir-
cumstances or by the hand of man. It is a serious task. It should mean
a life of consecration and faith.”

So terribly did this sense of darkness weigh on me at one time
that the mental impression of a pin-point of light infinitely distant
in a pitch-black tunnel seemed to illustrate exactly our feeble
impact on the evilness of this stronghold of Satan. We were re-
minded of “just Lot” who was a good man, “in acute mental dis-
tress at the filthy lives of the godless, . . . suffering spiritual agonies

/
190 STRONG MAN’S PREY

day after day at what he saw and heard of their lawlessness.”
(Phillips” Translation.) We had the strange experience of hating it
all intensely while loving the evildoers as intensely; strained to
snapping point with revulsion against the atmosphere of Gomorrah
while seeing through to the ultimate daylight of their emancipation.

The common morality of Chaokioh was so far removed from
all we had known or believed. We stood alone week after week
and month after month. Could it be that we were wrong,
deluded, religiously obsessed, and everyone else normal? This doubt
became insistent in the summer of 1949, as if the Prince of Evil
were assaulting me personally. It was a nightmare thought. Had I
led wife, children and friends into this outlandish spot to propagate
a creed that was quite crazy? Were we as superstitious as the Nosu?
Weren’t their lives more reasonable than ours in their peculiar
circumstances?

“Just think 2 moment,” the whisperer would say. “That Chinese
couple that sold their children—(I shudder at the memory of these
delusions)—if you were in their shoes, penniless, workless, ill, with
no hope of succour from family or friends or government, wouldn’t
it be better that you should separate, that the children should have
food and shelter, and you live on the proceeds of their sale, rather
than that all should starve together?

“Or those opium addicts of both races with no hope of medical
relief from pain of peptic ulcers or old wounds, no mitigation of
their griefs, no interests, no pleasures to help pass the dragging hours
and years—why not make use of such a miracle ready to hand, of
painless ease, of timeless dreams and happiness, however baseless?
To deny them these is cruel, a moral imposition! What concern is
it of yours if they choose opium and poverty and an early release
from a hard world? They would be better out of it than in. Why
not? And why not end their own lives when there is no more
reason for living?

“If an enemy attacks your village, puts your wife or children to
the sword and is within your reach to punish, why should you not
teach him by retaliation that his violence does not pay? If the only
way to keep him within bounds is to kill some of his own folk,
why not be your own policeman—for the Government take no
hand in Nosu feuds unless their own security is threatened.

“As for sensual indulgences, are they not natural, physiological,
stronger than other instincts, and among primitive people univer-
sally regarded as legitimate sources of pleasure within agreed
 

YALD 1S sATANIC 191

bounds? Then if so it is but a small step to allow ‘perversions’ to the
under-privileged, the down-and-out Chinese!”

Such were the opinions given me by men we mixed with daily.
Blind to truth! With a shudder of disgust and loathing I would
realize how far these thoughts were leading me, rationalization little
different in some respects from the so-called scientific reasoning of
many modern anthropologists. I am not confessing to sins of loose
thinking. These were externals forced upon me, diabolical delusions.
Sometimes I experienced a sudden unaccountable clearing of the air,
and a grateful consciousness of being prayed for. Sick and faint,
defiled but defiant, I would once again cry havoc to the devil in the
name of Jesus and immediately enjoy freedom of spirit and a sense
of light and liberty. Claiming the victory over those “powers of
the air”, “the unseen power that controls this dark world, and
spiritual agents from the very headquarters of evil”, I would parry
the suave explanations with the retort:

“I know all this is your normal existence and doesn’t strike you
as wrong. But God says it is all damnable, and that you must repent
and forsake it!”

How closely the words of Scripture fit their case!

“They knew all the time that there is a God, yet they refused to
acknowledge Him as such, or to thank Him for what He is or does.
Thus they became fatuous in their argumentations, and plunged
their silly minds still further into the dark. Behind a facade of
‘wisdom’ they became just fools. . . . They gave up God: and there-
fore God gave them up—to be the playthings of their own foul
desires in dishonouring their own bodies. . . . He allowed them to
become the slaves of their own degenerate minds, and to perform
unmentionable deeds. They became filled with wickedness, rotten-
ness, greed and malice: their minds became steeped in envy, quarrel-
someness, deceitfulness and spite. They became whisperers-behind-
doors, stabbers-in-the-back, God-haters: they overflowed with
insolent pride and boastfulness, and their minds teemed with
diabolical inventions.”

Let people say the heathen should be left to work out their own
salvation! Let them protest against “foisting our religion on to
others!” If they speak thus they are themselvesignorant and blind. Let
them live at close quarters with pagan vice and heathen religion, and
if they are God-fearing at all their views will change. If not, their
case is desperate. The liberating, purifying gospel is unchallengeably
192 STRONG MAN’S PREY '

the need of men without Christ. St. Paul declared himself under
the obligation of a debtor to proclaim it far and wide, at any cost.

And so the devil’s lies were answered and conviction came in
place of doubt, doubts planted by the same technique as in the
garden of Eden by the arch-saboteur. Strangely enough, one of the
big factors in preserving my sanity during those and succeeding
painful months was the development of our flower garden, six beds
of roses, gladioli, wall-flowers, scabius, zinnia, cosmos, sweet peas,
hollyhocks, lupins, larkspur, pinks, cornflowers and many more,
commonplace, but each one a breath of heaven.

When our team began to scatter—Chengming called home when
bandits threatened his aged father and young family, Tang the male
nurse seeking occasion ever since his narrow escape at Chuheh, the
Busman claiming a long holiday, and only Chao, a broken reed still,
remaining—visions of being stranded, undermanned, when added
to the other trials might have proved intolerable. To leave the
Tavern empty would have meant losing roof-planks, boards, beams
and doors to the Nosu, and to the opium smoking officials as much
as to common thieves. But a worse prospect was the possibility of
not having men enough even to hold Chaokioh and maintain sup-
plies—just as the clinic was ready and real work and expansion
practicable. Dangers, persecutions and difficulties multiplied. Often
we compared our condition with that of a footballer emerging from
a rough scrimmage, muddy, battered but exhilarated, and were
reminded of the words of St. Paul:

“We are handicapped on all sides but never frustrated; puzzled
but never in despair. We are persecuted but never have to stand it
alone: we may be knocked down, but we are never knocked out!”

It was during one of those onslaughts when, I admit, I was
suffering intensely in spirit, that three visitors from the Nosu church
at Salowu arrived. The Principal of the Bible School, a Manchurian,
and two of his students had walked and ridden for three weeks
during their vacation, in order to give us a few days’ help and to
see for themselves the conditions in this Nosu stronghold. One of
the students was a Miao tribesman, and the other a Nosu named
Yuhsin who had visited us before. All three were live Christians
with fire that kindled those with whom they came into contact.

Their coming was “like music waking me from an anasthetic,
like a fresh cool breeze blowing into a stuffy room.” So I wrote at
 

Yarr 1eisaranie” 193

the time. In a trice all the strange oppression vanished and I knew
that we were right: I had been tormented by the devil’s lies. Now I
was lifted right out of that afflicted state of mind, as if by the devil
admitting himself defeated and leaving us alone. We enjoyed long
talks about Nosuland and the possibility of support from the church
at Salowu. The sage advice of the Principal was all the more valuable
as coming from a Chinese Christian of deep maturity and experience.
Such days of fellowship in prayer and preaching and visiting the
Nosu villages in their company were foretastes of heaven. The
parched mouth knows the value of a drop of water.

We rode over to Chuheh, crossing the Chaokioh river at saddle
depth, and braving the Leopard’s Mouth without escort of any kind
that Tang might have the benefit of similar encouragement. The
Principal talked with him and seemed to be successful, for he
promised to stay on and trust in God for help to endure. But the
resolve was short lived.

The visit was over all too soon, and I travelled with them out to
Sichang on the first lap of their long journey home. We crossed the
Great Hen in a strong gale, wrapped round and flung about in icy
cloud although it was July. But the relief of reaching the wide valley
of the River of Three Bends was immediately cut short when sud-
denly on three sides of us rifle fire broke out. Soon the war-whoops
of Nosu on both sides of the valley joined the “ta-tung, ta-tung”
of the shots, and strings of men and women could be seen running
from the fields and villages up to the eminences to observe the
fighting and protect, if necessary, their own homes.

We had no cover and could not make out the direction of the
firing, so, exposed conspicuously out on the wide alluvial river
flats, we spurred our horses forward, and riding fast for a quarter
of a mile plunged through the river and up the far hillside to a
ludicrous accompaniment from the Principal of the refrain “Wei-
hsien! wei-hsien! Danger! danger!” Something, perhaps this
experience, so impressed the good man that when he reached his
home and spoke about our venture it was with deep feeling and
secured the sympathy and support of the church in Salowu as no
appeals from us would have done.

Close association with the Nosu of Salowu was in our plan. A
community of ten thousand Christians and adherents could make a
big difference if they should take their wild kinsmen of Independent
Nosuland to heart. A letter from the missionary adviser to the
church brought us great cheer. In it he told of how the elders had

N
194 STRONG MAN’S PREY

asked for volunteers to carry timber seventeen miles, explaining
that the four days” work involved would be at their own charges,
they must even bring their own food with them. They had thought
some sixty or seventy Christians might respond. Seven hundred met
at the rendezvous and the work was done in half a day.

If that spirit should be carried into the evangelization of their
neighbours, a mass movement like a prairie fire could be expected.
Would it be the same in Independent Nosuland before we had
finished our lifework? Meanwhile the hope filled our thoughts that
soon a “break” in the spiritual drought might come.

“Land, buildings, personnel are but mushrooms, here today,
gone tomorrow,” I wrote at the time to our supporters. “Until a
work of God has begun in the hearts of Nosu and Chinese colonists
in Nosuland we will have achieved nothing, and up to the present
time we know of none. Two years of dumbness and stumbling
efforts to preach the amazing news of the love of God in Christ—
and scarcely a spark of response to be seen. . . . Until a church of
redeemed souls exists we cannot claim to have arrived or occupied
even the territory of the Independent Nosu.”

And then, thinking of the ever approaching Communists:

“Once the nucleus of a church is formed it might not matter if
we were to be squeezed out.”

Amazingly, new supporters sprang up everywhere, praying for
this thing, a spiritual victory in the spiritual contest in Nosuland.
 

CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“NO GOD, NO HOPE!”

THE departure of the workmen and expansion into the com-
pleted house and clinic opened the flood-gates. Operations to
remove goitres from two Chinese workmen led to streams of
patients coming from far and near. With them came relatives and
friends, mingling with the usual vendors of food, fuel and curiosities.
All day long they came and went, peering through the windows,
amazed at our temerity, stroking the smooth walls, rolling their
eyes and protruding flat tongues with gasps of “A-Beu!” and com-
ments such as, “Shanghai cannot have finer buildings than these!”
All this because our attempt to build simply was modified by the
innovations to provide light, cleanliness and a watertight roof.

Thinking that we had learned how to be “all things to all men,”
adapting our manner of life to their low standards of luxury and
comfort, we found ourselves treated as millionaires. We had not
stooped low enough. We were slow to see how to approach nearer
to them. The same amazement was displayed on seeing a dozen
bottles on a shelf, or a tray of instruments. Gleaming glass and
metal was more than they had ever known.

One night I was called to see a young Chinese trader in severe
abdominal pain. By the feeble light of a small pith and vegetable
oil lamp I examined him and came to the conclusion that an opera-
tion was essential. Ruth and I started to prepare the operating
theatre, but when we could not see enough even to find the right
instruments there was nothing we could do but leave him till the
next day. The Nosu superstition that a sick man carried on a stretcher
will be sure to die has convinced the border Chinese too. In the
morning, try as I might I could not persuade this man not to walk
from his inn across to the clinic. But when he recovered following
two operations and discouraging relapses, he gave the credit to the
treatment he received.

This event convinced the Nosu that our promises were true.
They came expressly to see the healing wound and blinked incredu-
lously as they stared to make sure that he was still alive.

“Perhaps he’ll never be fit to work again,” they mused, until I
196 STRONG MAN’'S PREY

revealed to one or two of the elect the long scar on my own fair
front! Then they laughed. ‘

“You've told us all these months that when the building was
finished you would be able to cure people with your knife, and we
have thought it was bluff because you had no medicine to help us.
Now we know you spoke the truth!”

Soon our courtyards and waiting-room were filled with hopeful
patients. Attempts to get order or sequence were hopeless. No
patient was content with being told that nothing could be done.
He would return with a new friend to help interpret, lest our verdict
was through faulty understanding. Doctoring was conducted in a
bedlam of appeals to be attended first.

“Tche! Hi, doctor, come here!”

Once the dispensary-cum-theatre door was opened there would
be a surge of dark-cloaked figures who would have to be forced
back while one was singled out for treatment. Chao the interpreter
was little use, having no more notion of good order than his country-
men. But he took their “histories” and passed on our instructions
with the medicine. After an experimental period strict insistence on
payment was relaxed. Until the value of treatment was established
we could go no further than to press for proof of sincerity, but gifts
of walnuts, vegetables, roots, eggs, chicken’s heads, livers, chunks of
meat, half pig’s-heads, variegated pheasants (with 3ft. tails) and
oddities such as otter and fox cubs, were brought expectantly.

Calls to patients in the villages kept coming, but while I was the
only man available and needed continually in Chaokioh it did not
seem right to go far afield. Chuheh had to be neglected. Those in
near-by hamlets could be visited more easily, however, and I did
my best to go. One of the earliest was Batcii V'ha the blind chief
with whom we were so friendly. Around his person there developed
what we felt was just as much a battle for his soul as for his life.
. After twelve days’ illness during which scores of his pigs, sheep
and cattle had been sacrificed to placate the demons, his family
decided that he would not recover, and sent for me. Not to do so
might have left them open to the criticism that they wanted him to
die, which was in fact the case.

On entering V’ha’s house I found to my surprise a crowd of sixty
or more relatives and friends who had come to celebrate his death
and share in eating sacrificial animals and drinking wine. They
cleared a way to V’ha’s alcove and I knelt among his goat skins
with my ear close to his mouth while he wheezed and gasped a
“No ¢op, No HOPE!"” 197

sentence or two of explanation. He had wanted me sooner but
could not prevail upon his brother or wife to send for help. Now
he feared it was too late.

In a tense silence the company watched as I drew out my stetho-
scope and examined V’ha’s chest. Both lungs were largely solid with
pneumonia. He was extremely toxic. There was little hope. Though
he had heard the gospel often, he had never admitted any change
of heart, and I coveted him for God and the church in Independent
Nosuland. I exhorted him and all the onlookers to trust in “Chu
Yehsu,” the Lord Jesus, and pray that his life might be spared. “To
be so ill V’ha must have been attacked by many very powerful
spirits,” they told me.

“Chu Yehsu is more powerful than all evil spirits,” I assured
them. “If He wants to He can cure V’ha even now. He has con-
quered death and the king of demons. He has shown us how to use
these drugs and instruments. There is still a chance that they may be
effective.”

I prayed aloud in Chinese, with V’ha clearly comforted and
hopeful, and went on to administer an injection of penicillin to last
him through the night. Then I had to leave him in the noise and
fumes of his crowded hall.

The next morning at sunrise I went out to him again, but was
most frigidly received by his unfriendly brother. He let me in but
led me to the fireside instead of to V’ha, who was sitting dressed in
all his best regalia ready to die. He was breathing with the greatest
difficulty and could not speak, but I prepared the penicillin and
stimulants and was about to move across and give them when the
brother and V’ha’s wife consulted hurriedly and said:

“He is going to die. Let him die in peace.”

“He need not die. He might recover if he has this medicine,” I
protested. “Give him the chance.”

“He has had twelve days of pain and does not want to live,” they
answered.

Then V’ha himself spoke in a whisper, and I sensed that he was
taking my side. I asked him directly and he said the one word
“K’a!” meaning “I want.”

“He wants to die,” the relatives persisted; and there was nothing
left for me but to return home with a heavy heart, crying to God
for victory and a demonstration of His power. To me it seemed that
foiled in his attacks on us the devil had now turned his efforts to
snatch from us one for whom we had been praying.
198 STRONG MAN’S PREY

Around noon one of V’ha’s Whites came with a message. V'ha
had rallied and was calling for me. While Ruth, Joan and Janet
prayed at home I hurried off again. V’ha was apologetic for the
attitude his family had shown, and claimed to believe that “Chu
Yehsu” could protect and heal him. After giving his injections I
came home with a cow’s tongue dangling from a string, a token of
appreciation from the brother!

With six-hourly visits V’ha improved until he was out of danger,
and I was rewarded once with a large dripping liver and once with
half a pig’s head to take home. I could not help wishing my con-
temporaries established in lucrative practices could see me then,
for my heart was rich indeed. I had been able to preach to an
audience of eighty relatives assembled now to celebrate V'ha's
recovery, drinking themselves drunk on the wine prepared for his
funeral. And the patient had helped to interpret to them. “Chu
Yehsu’s” reputation was considerable.

But on the morning that I was told I need not come again they
took me to examine an old leper in the same village, and when I
shrugged my shoulders said:

“Why can V’ha be healed and not the leper? Is there a different
Chu Yehsu for each disease?”

And V’ha himself said, “Thanks partly to your medicine and
partly to the sorcerer’s skill my demons have been driven off.” We
still had a very long way to go.

Alas, the story did not end there. V’ha joined in the celebrations,
getting drunk each night, until he relapsed. The explanation given
was that a young niece of his had come to show her pleasure on his
recovery, and inadvertently brought with her a virulent demon who
had been causing trouble in her own village. How else could her
arrival and the return of V’ha’s fever the same evening be explained?
Again they turned to sorcery until hope had been abandoned, and
then sent for me. I insisted that the patient should come into the fort,
away from his misguided and redundant friends. He waited to con-
sult the sorcerer’s oracles, but they were favourable and the next
day he came to us. Once more he recovered from pneumonia, but
to test the thoroughness of his cure went out for a long walk and
returned with heart failure from which he failed to recover.

At his cremation, attended by a thousand members of the clan,
they wailed: “If only we had sacrificed more cattle his life might
have been saved!”

But it was commonly reported that his brother and his wife,
 

“No cop, NOo HOPE!” 199

now by Nosu custom reckoned as a married couple, were highly
satisfied.

For us the bitterest pill was that afterwards whenever V'ha’s
name was mentioned, Nosu changed the subject. We have never
been quite sure, however, that before he died he had not put his
faith in “Chu Yehsu” for more than bodily healing.

Through the winter work increased until we had more calls upon
our time and energy than a deficient staff could cope with. Petty
ailments claimed the most attention, but appeals were often made
for help in serious trouble, taxing our resources to the limit. Hydro-
phobia, puerperal fevers, typhoid, typhus, wounds and attempted
suicides were all too common in the community. “God’s ground”
was spoken of as being free from demons.

“Why, it’s obvious!” was the reaction of those to whom we ven-
tured the quesion, “What makes you think that?”

So requests were often made to be allowed to come and live with
us to “‘to kuei,” hide from the demons, until the patient had recov-
ered. Soon we would have been in difficulties had the rule not been
observed that only operation cases and opium smokers breaking
their addiction could be accommodated.

The gratitude of men, women and children on the verge of blind-
ness when they found their sight largely restored, was all the reward
we could have wished. Some came from far away, led by friends
or retainers. When they came again weeks later walking freely and
unaided they would laugh because we failed to recognize them.
One, a little slave of a grim Nosu chief, stayed with us until he was
much improved. Regained sight and a brief taste of freedom
smothered his ugly little face with perpetual wreaths of smiles,
until the sad day when he was led off to drudgery again.

Operations were observed by privileged spectators seated in the
theatre, and by unofficial ones grouped outside the windows, block-
ing out the light. Now and then they fortified their courage before
coming to see the gory sights, and Soza, the friend who shot his
own thumb off, once drank so much that he passed into a drunken
coma while the operation proceeded.

Gradually, as the months went by, the superstition about bringing
patients on stretchers seemed to be disregarded, whether due to
Chu Yehsu’s reputation or the absence of demons in the clinic. Even
after the death of an operation case a young woman was brought
thus. “The cow lady,” as she came to be called, had had a round
200 STRONG MAN’S PREY

of bad luck. Because she had been badly bitten by a dog she was
assigned to herd the cattle on the hillside instead of working in the
fields. But there she was attacked and gored by an infuriated ox.
She stayed with us for a full month while the foot-long wound in
her abdominal wall healed up, and claimed to understand and to
believe the gospel which was taught her patiently each day. We
never had convincing evidence, however, that she was “born
again.

gAnother was a man who fired a home-made cartridge from his
rifle. It exploded sideways blowing out the breach. His hand was

ulped, and owing to the utter ignorance of the Nosu about the
simplest first-aid, no effort was made to check the bleeding until he
had lost a great deal of blood. Fearing the worst in any case they
brought him on a manure-rack, carried by two men, attended by
his weeping family. We gave him an infusion of blood-plasma and
when he was stronger did an amputation under local anasthesia.
Previously he had been groaning, but as the anasthetic took effect
the pain ceased and he lay silent. When I started sawing through the
bones and still no sound came from him, his mother, watching
from the corner, said:

“He’s dead! I'm going home.”

“Nonsense!” said the patient. “It doesn’t even hurt!” And he too
walked home, though he had been carried in.

Slowly the barriers were falling. Even the women began to be
more trustful, instead of suffering rather than seek the help of a male
doctor. But in the struggle to improve the lot of Nosu lepers little
progress was apparent. Others hearing of the improvement of
Zihtu, our demonstration case, were still coming at the rate of two
or three new cases each week. All sought admission, offering to
work or pay their expenses, and one displayed four sons, born in
successive years, to illustrate the good luck that would be sure to
attend us if we gave asylum to his whole family. But the only one
we could not steel our hearts against was Jiha.

One early morning when we opened the front door of the clinic
a boy of twelve or thirteen rose from the ground where he had
been sitting and with a beaming smile and supreme confidence
announced:

“I have come to look after your horses!”

He had been turned out of house and home away in the Mpo
country, and was friendless and destitute. To refuse him help was
more than we could bring ourselves to do, so he went to join
 

“No cop, NOo HOPE!” 201

Zihtu in charge of the farmyard. Homesick, he absconded after a
few days and wandered among the Nosu villages hoping to be
taken in. Forty-eight hours later a very woebegone and shame-
faced Jiha reappeared, with a deep gash on his head where he had
been stoned, and hardly expecting to be shown compassion any
more. He was, of course, restored to his position. But, in the course
of months, when we found that he was pilfering and resisting treat-
ment, we had to find a home for him in Chinese territory and say
goodbye.

Ever since the early days in Chuheh we had been trying to per-
suade the Nosu chiefs to let us organize a colony where sufferers
from leprosy could congregate within reach of attention. Sometimes
our hopes were raised, but always it transpired that selfish motives,
insincerity and deception underlay apparent willingness to grant us
land on which to settle the poor lepers. No-man’s-land out on the
Leopard’s Mouth would have been ideal. When Hma Sepo, the
chief who claimed most of it, brought his infant son for treatment
and later invited us to his home to choose a site, we saw the goal
within reach. But all he wanted was to have us near at hand, without
the lepers. So once more we ended where we had begun.

The attitude to lepers was most heart-rending and pitiable.
Batcii Vulii came one day and drew me down beside him in a
corner.

“There’s a wealthy chief belonging to the Ahu clan,” he said,
“who has an unpleasant secret. He knows he is a leper and wants
me to guarantee his safety while he comes to you for treatment.
This is my plan. You must promise to cure him if he pays you a
big sum of silver in advance; and I will see that I don’t lose by
sponsoring his visit!”

“Quite impossible!” I told him. “You know well enough that
leprosy takes fully two years to be treated and that then the result
cannot be assured. Help me start a colony and I will see that you
are not forgotten. But I do not want more than a nominal deposit
to ensure that the patients persist with their treatment.”

As I spoke his wicked old face clouded angrily. Here was a superb
opportunity to fleece this enemy, and I would not co-operate. He
went away and I thought no more of the incident.

Some weeks later he called me, as he often did, to go outside the
clinic to a group of strangers gathered by the roadside, shy of enter-
ing the premises lest their affairs be overheard. This time I was
introduced to the chief, Ahu M’ga. Vulii had disregarded my
202 STRONG MAN’S PREY

opinion and proceeded with his plot. Ahu M’ga showed me his
silver, hidden in a lamb-skin full of oatmeal, and appealed for
treatment. I refused the money, promising to treat him if he man-
aged to find accommodation for two years, and again black anger
showed on Vulii’s face. Later on they came reporting that for a
considerable sum of silver a Chinese had promised somewhere for
M’ga and his retainer, also a leper, to live, and I began their
treatment.

Not many days afterwards M’ga came in great distress. “My
retainer and T have been turned out of our lodging and for two days
and nights we have been bivouacing in the fields,” he lamented.
“Now we cannot even buy food. There seems to be a plot against
us.
It was clear that they could not stay in Chaokioh any longer, but
neither Vulii nor the Chinese would return the silver they had
received in payment for two years protection.

Hoping still that the colony would soon materialize, I urged M’ga
to go to Sichang for safety and return when he heard that all was
well. He refused to take back his deposit until I forced it on him.
The next day with his own and one of Vulii’s Whites as escort, he
set out to live in exile. On the way the two retainers murdered him,
taking all the silver he had remaining. Others, knowing nothing of
the earlier events, said that Vulii had arranged the whole foul plot.
It was not difficult to believe.

In one way and another although medical work tended to keep
us tied to the clinic we were seeing a good deal of the Nosu and
their affairs. Evidence of their customs and superstitions continually
came to our notice, by the roadside, in their homes and frequently
in conversation. Effigies in straw, rags and feathers marked the spots
where spirits had been laid by agile sorcerers. Figures of animals and
human beings modelled in mud and placed beside the pathway lead-
ing to villages were intended, with associated sorcery, to increase
fertility. One small infant suffering from inanition and beginning to
improve with proper treatment in the clinic, was saved not by what
we did for it but because one of its three souls had been found in a
forsaken hovel and successfully captured in a basket and brought
home by the obliging pimo (sorcerer-priest)!

The pimo himself, a wild-looking fellow with hair like a caput
Medusae, had lost most of his own children through disease. He
brought the survivors with a cockerel as a gift to us, in the hope
 

“NO GoDp, NO HOPE!” 203

that as the protégés of Chu Yehsu's representatives they would be
immune from attack. The common practice was for parents to
present their offspring to the sorcerer-priests for the same spiritual
protection. As for the souls of children leaving them, it was not
hard to understand how this belief developed. Called to see a child
with convulsions I found the mother crying its name loudly over it
as though it were outside the building.

“Anio! Anio! Come back, Anio!” she shouted—till the child
returned to consciousness.

The departed souls of adults were believed to come back and
afflict the living. An escaped slave who had spent most of his life
amongst the Nosu and was now a member of the magistrate’s
militia was struck down with fearful head and stomach pains. In
his agony he writhed and sweated. When his friends sent for me
late one night he would not hear of medicine being any use but
cried out that it was the soul of a man he had done to death not
long before, getting his revenge.

I arrived at a chief’s house just as the annual ceremony of cleansing
the home from harmful spirits was beginning. He allowed me to
sit and watch the whole procedure, though on other occasions when
we asked to be admitted to their rites permission was refused.

For an hour or two a sorcerer-priest and his ten year old son
chanted incantations while the family came and went, stopping to
listen only if they felt inclined. Then the retainers brought in two
fowls, a little pig and a goat. The sorcerer slew the fowls and
collected their blood. Then he made a wound in the chest wall of
each, and the boy repeated on his bird everything he saw his father
do. By blowing through the chest wound of his fowl so that
though dead it crowed, the pimo enlivened and gave his incantations
an eerie quality. When his son failed to produce a sound there
was general laughter and a lesson in how to do it before the ritual
proceeded.

Suddenly everyone present gave a loud shout and the fowls were
flung far across the room towards the door. Rising, the chief with
his wife and son crouched in the centre of the hall, and a strong
retainer swung the fowls, the pig and goat one by one clockwise
and then anti-clockwise a dozen or more times over their heads.
Finally the animals were killed and placed in a line between the
hearth and the doorway, as if to show demons the way out, till the
pimo’s chants were finished and the ceremony over.

Not long after Ruth and Joan arrived from Sichang they received
204 STRONG MAN’S PREY

an invitation to attend the betrothal ceremony at Chuheh of Hma
Vuta’s son Bizeu.

“A thousand ounces of silver have been given to the bride, and a
hundred to the middleman through whom the match has been
arranged,” they were told. “It’s going to be a big show.”

When the time came they crossed over to the old Tavern. It was
on one side of the threshing floor outside Vuta’s home, so by living
in it they were in close touch with proceedings. While they were
away Chao told me a little about the customs involved.

“Nosu betrothals are made in infancy or at any time up to a
marriageable age,” he said. “The parents of a boy take the initiative
cither directly or through an influential relative, following rigid
customs. To preserve the ties of clan and family, and to prevent
their wealth from draining away to alien clans, the Nosu marry
blood relations whenever possible, but never in the same section of
a clan. Children of two brothers or two sisters are debarred from
marrying each other, though the children of a brother and sister
may do so. The same restriction applies through the very wide
circle of relations known by the general term of ‘brother’ and
‘sister.”

“Unmarriageable people have to behave very circumspectly in
each other’s company, but the marriageable are as free as they care
to be, larking, flirting, telling obscene jokes, and going to any
lengths. Black Nosu cannot marry Whites, but Black men may
please themselves with White Nosu women, especially their own
retainers. Women of rank associate with serfs on pain of death,
however.”

Wine drinking is inseparable from all Nosu festivities, so the chief
preparation for the wedding was the brewing of three huge tubs
full of liquor. |

“At first we tried mixing with the people,” Ruth related on their
return, “but guests as they arrived were regaled with spirits until
even the young girls were intoxicated, and the only sober company
we could find was in the hamlets at a distance. Drunk or sober
though, the welcome the Nosu showed us was spontaneous and
friendly. Such interest centred round us in fact, that we found our-
selves drawing the crowds away from the main function. And before
long it was more than we could stand. To avoid being pestered by
objectionable men we had to go into hiding.

“On the day before the ceremony we saw a chief ride off to the
bride’s home, ten or fifteen miles away over the hills, with retainers
 

“No coDp, NOo HOPE!” 205

leading a gift of two goats and a cow. They returned the next day
with the bride attended by a slave girl and members of her own
family. As the procession arrived within sight of young Bizeu’s
home the bride and slave were lifted down from their horses,
wrapped closely in black cloaks and veils, and carried on men’s
backs to a diminutive mat shed erected in the field where feasting
was to take place. They stayed there with two or three male relatives
for company while round them milled hundreds of more or less
drunken guests.

“It was impossible for us to venture out in such a throng, but we
watched from the security of our loft. A feast of buckwheat cakes
and chunks of pork and mutton was served on the first day. Young
men hurried back and forth with baskets of supplies for the groups
of squatting visitors. People used handfuls of straw as plates and
helped themselves to wine from the tubs whenever they wished.
And again the following morning beef was distributed in the same
crude way, eaten as always with the bare hands. Three cows, four-
teen pigs and the same number of sheep and goats were needed to
provide for the four hundred guests.

“At the end the bride-to-be and her attendant were wrapped up
and returned home as they came. No one was allowed to see them
during the proceedings. Joan and I were invited to a meal at Vuta’s
house on the day after all was over, but when the time came a
message arrived. “Would you please stay away as Vuta and all his
family are still drunk!””

They returned to Chaokioh sickened by the sights they wit-
nessed. Yet it has been stated that the Nosu do not drink wine to
excess.

Of all the work that clamoured to be taken up, in villages around
us, let alone in districts far afield for days of travel in every direction,
one of the most clamant was among the bi-lingual men, women and
girls, both Chinese and Nosu, on our very doorstep. Joan devoted
hours each day to calling on the girls in their homes and teaching
them whenever she could hold their interest. All were busy with
their household work or in the fields, but time could usually be
found for reading lessons based on Bible stories. In Little Chaokioh,
the Chinese village, and the fort it was easier than in the Nosu vil-
lages. There the men made it unbearable at times. There was no
privacy inside the homes, and outside in the open they would be
discovered and compelled to retreat. But some of the Nosu girls
206 STRONG MAN'S PREY

enjoyed her company and helped her to learn their own language.
Jaja, Aji and Jinfeng were the most appreciative.

Jinfeng was an intelligent White Nosu gitl of eighteen who lived
with her brother Erlfu and his family.

“When my father died,” she told Joan, “Erlfu arranged my
marriage to a boorish fellow further up the valley. I've only been a
few times to my husband’s home, but I wish I didn’t have to go at
all. He’s only a senseless yokel.”

The Nosu custom is that brides spend most of their first two or
three years in their own home enjoying little restraint, until they
become pregnant or are claimed to take their share of work in the
new home. Jinfeng was often at home like that, and came with
patients to the clinic, or called to see our children and pass the
time of day with anyone free to sit and gossip with her and her
friends.

Joan followed up these contacts, teaching and learning from her,
until one day she found Jinfeng sullenly making clothes for her
departure to her husband’s village.

“Erlfu has beaten me for not going when I was sent for,” she
complained. -

Not many days later Joan was surprised to find Jinfeng back
again, weeping with bitter hatred of her husband and his family.
But her explanations were hard to understand. Previously she had
been mildly interested in the gospel, but now in her distress she
seemed eager to hear all she could that might bring hope into a life-
time doomed to misery. Day after day Joan read and talked with her.
But again she was forced to return to her husband, until she became
desperate. Probably she threatened suicide, Joan could not discover,
but soon she was allowed to settle into her old home again.

Christmas time came, and as Joan listened to her many troubles
and tried to encourage her, she told her the Christmas story, until
Jinfeng pleaded,

“Come as often as you can and tell me more about Jesus.” So
they met continually.

But after a few more weeks all her interest flagged. Her face
assumed a dull rebellious look. Joan, on coming back from Little
Chaokioh, would comment to us from time to time that a good
for nothing government underling was often to be found loitering
around Jinfeng, and she could not shake him off.

Then one evening Jinfeng received a terrible thrashing from her
brother. A few days later everyone’s tongues were wagging.
 

2
!

“NO GOD, NO HOPE 207

“Jinfeng has eloped with that Chinese blackguard and is being
chased by Erlfu and the magistrate’s militia.”

Her offence in Nosu eyes was punishable by death. We feared that
she would be burned alive if she were to be taken by her husband’s
people or handed to them by the magistrate. But when they both
were brought back, Jinfeng shorn of her long hair and dressed as a
Chinese peasant, they were tried by Chinese law and sentenced to
six months’ imprisonment, the man in an unlit, unventilated
dungeon hardly fit for pigs, and Jinfeng in the guardroom outside
his door.

There in prison during the ensuing months Joan visited her as
often as she could, sitting with her in the dark and filth among the
prodigal guards, teaching and persuading her. But the Chinese were
congratulating Jinfeng for breaking with her tribal prejudices and
“becoming civilized.” All sense of shame for her adultery was sup-
pressed, and though at times when Joan talked and prayed with her
she seemed tender-hearted and responsive, usually she was hard
and indifferent. Her family and friends, Jaja, Aji and the rest, dis-
owned her and were surprised that Joan should still go to see her.

The explanation Joan gave them surprised them even more and
made a deep impression:

“G?’d hates the sin but still loves the sinner, therefore we do the
same.

We did all we could for Jinfeng, even to asking the help of the
Nosu Prince Ling when he came to Chaokioh, but he, though kind
and sympathetic, said it was impossible for him to run counter to
Nosu custom and warned us solemnly not to interfere. The last we
heard of her was that she had been handed over to her husband’s
family who had bound her, dragged her away and sold her as a slave
for one hundred and fifty ounces of silver. She had been resold for
more, and living in the lowest category of slaves far away from
Chaokioh had given birth to a bastard son. She is one of many who
heard and responded to the gospel but were unrepentant at the time
we parted from them. Perhaps in exile she has recalled what Joan
went to such lengths to teach her.

The Chinese girls showed, if anything, less promise in the early
days, but answered to real friendship with a willingness to be taught
regularly. Yulien was one of them and had been friendly since we
first made her acquaintance. She loved to join Janet and the children
on their walks down to the river, and was quick to grasp the truth.
But she was indolent by nature. Ailien, her elder sister, was
208 STRONG MAN’S PREY

preoccupied with her own children and the home. Hualan was most
unpromising material, dull, stupid, slovenly, bad-tempered, foul-
mouthed and shunned by her contemporaries. For months she
struggled with a handful of hieroglyphics and yet failed to read
them accurately. Gospel pictures simply expounded over and over
again meant nothing to her. Light seemed unable to pierce through
into her understanding. Wenjen and Wenying were a better type,
and as cousins were good friends. Wenjen was good-looking, but
Wenying, daughter of the village headman, had a dignity that kept
her from the horse-play and flirtations of the others. Junjih was
already married to a son in the only Chinese family at Chuheh, but
had left him and was scheming for divorce. As for Yinfeng, born
and brought up in a brothel-opium-den, less still could be hoped
of her.

These and the members of their families, parents and brothers,
were among our daily contacts, and the objects, therefore, of our
prayers and missionary efforts. Often they seemed hardly worth the
struggle. Yet they came consistently to Sunday services and reading
lessons, and tried to behave better on “God’s ground” than they did
elsewhere.

But the months went by relentlessly and two years after we began
the so-called occupation of Nosuland there was still no solitary con-
vert, not one man, woman or child whom we could claim as the
first-fruits of uncommon toil and even tears.
 

PHASE OF EXPULSION

“God hath chosen the foolish things of the world to confound the
wise; and God hath chosen the weak things of the world to
confound the mighty.”
 
 

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CLOUDBANKS

UNSHINE breaking through black cloud. Shafts of strong light,
and dark shadows. There is something ominous in the contrasts
and the massive blackness overhead, and a celestial beauty in the
brightness. In retrospect the closing weeks of 1949 bear that quality.
Missionaries were evacuating from all parts of China as the Com-
munist armies advanced unchecked. Most had left our neighbouring
provinces already, and only those who meant to see the crisis
through remained. Letters were arriving with the news of treatment
meted out to those who had been caught up in the maelstrom,
uniform accounts of superficial probity masking ruthlessness.

Up in Nosuland the waning prestige of the Nationalists encour-
aged the resilient Nosu to hope once more for an occasion to evict
their unloved rulers. Life for us was bright with opportunity and
interest, each in his and her own sphere. Livestock and garden,
clinic and callers, schooling and picnics for the children, filled the
days. Servants had to be taught to milk, or lacking servants we had
to do it ourselves. Harness mending, carpentering, compound main-
tenance, bartering, and policing of the premises, cooking, laundering
and desk-work fitted in with teaching, doctoring and hours spent
in Oriental small-talk. Autumn colour and winter austerity gave to
the mountains round us a delight that was soul-food when so much
else was hard to stomach. The gift of a radio, (ten minutes a day, to
conserve the battery), brought the outer world and music near.
Often we agreed, and wrote home, “This is a lovely place.” But
more often it was “ . . . man is so vile.” Lack of response brought
us more urgently to our knees and prompted efforts to mobilize
more prayer among supporters in the homelands. More opportuni-
ties than we could compass made us cry continually for reinforce-
ments, for men, men, men, to work with us while there was time.

The increasing restlessness of the Nosu was shown in many ways.
On the Sichang route pack-trains had to run the gauntlet of increas-
ing numbers of pirate road-blocks, unscrupulous in their demands
and violence. Traders chose to pay their price, or not to enter
Nosuland at all. The magistrate dare not interfere with them, which
only encouraged their intransigence. Burglars climbed the walls of
212 STRONG MAN’'S PREY

Chaokioh fort and robbed beneath the very noses of the guards.
Others held as hostages or convicts made dramatic escapes from the
prison by digging their way out and jumping from the battlements
by night. Rifle shots were heard more often, indicating nervousness
among the Chinese and scorn by the Nosu. Sudden shots and shout-
ing in the dead of night had once alarmed us, but became the normal
thing. We would prick up our ears for a few minutes, or sit up and
listen, and then lie down and go to sleep again.

“We are very peaceful and happy,” one letter artlessly written at
the time declares. And it goes on, “Peace in Nosuland is potential
alarm at the best of times; for example, just before light this morning
the guards on the walls fired several rounds of ammunition at ‘who
knows what.’ . . . But this is almost the atmosphere of the place,
so we take little notice. Janet, Ruth and Joan take it for granted and
scarcely comment on it at breakfast.”

When the firing was on the stretch of wall just outside our
bedroom windows I did get out of bed and go to see what it was
about, and call out to anyone who might welcome reassurance. But
sometimes it was far from pleasant. One night babel broke out in
Little Chaokioh, several hundred yards from us. Shouting, scream-
ing and dogs’ barking, interspersed with rifle fire and the roar of
burning went on for some minutes. I slept through it, but in the
morning Janet said,

“I didn’t wake you because I thought if the trouble was going to
affect us there would be time enough when it came nearer.”

A Nosu had murdered a Chinese, robbed him of his opium and
silver, and to cover his escape had fired two houses further down the
row. Attacks by Nosu on Nosu increased too. The Hma clan made
a number of sneak raids on the Batcii, burrowing into homes and
killing all they found. On the road to Chuheh were the ruins of a
hamlet that was forsaken after fifteen lost their lives like this.

They were also months of menacing reports and rumours. From
the east the story came again that well-armed bandits claiming to be
Communists had been repulsed by Nationalist troops from Chao-
tung, and retreating over the Yangtze at Tientipa were intending to
take Chaokioh. They were said to be in league, through Nosu in
their number, with the wild clans living between them and us. If
they came the carnage would be heavy. But the decision of last
time still held.

“How easy in such circumstances to pack up and take the family
to safety. Today peace, tomorrow (for the bandits have only fifty
 

CLOUDBANKS 213

miles to travel), black terror for us all. But surely God hasn’t brought
us to Nosuland and given us a place to live and work in, only to
have us driven out or sold into slavery as soon as it is ready. So we
stay on.” Sichang, only three days’ trek away was very alluring,
though.

From the west came news of an attempted coup d’état in Sichang
with street fighting. One of the private armies in the hope of win-
ning favour with the Communists after the fall of Chungking and
Chengtu, anticipated their arrival but was forced to flee. In the city
an uneasy peace was restored. Communist armies from the north
and south were drawing nearer, however. Almost all of China had,
in the new inverted terminology, been “liberated,” and as far as we
could make out we were the last of our mission to go under. Naively
we thought in terms of being in communication soon with all our
colleagues, and of working on indefinitely in different circumstances.

Meanwhile tension rose alarmingly in Chaokioh. Chao the inter-
preter came in one day with the report that the Nosu were con-
vinced the time had come to rise and drive out the Chinese. Secret
parleys were in progress between the chiefs. Scarcely any Nosu
came near the fort. Guards were trebled on the walls by day and
night, alert for movement in the gulleys and approaches.

“If there should be a rising,” I enquired, “what would be the
attitude of the tribesmen to us?”

He could not say. “The bulk of Nosu are now well disposed,” he
offered, “and some are grateful and could be depended on. But it
cannot be denied that there is quite a faction of opponents, men who
have looked for a repetition of Roman Catholic bounty, or been
alienated by your attitude to vice. They talk of getting rid of you.”
What they might do he could not suggest.

But Vulii and Chupi the senior chiefs had seen the outcome of too
many risings. Every time the Chinese had returned and wreaked
their vengeance. It was the irony of fate that the clans who suffered
most from the imposition of a magistracy and garrison among
them, the Batcii and Asu, should be punished for each bid for inde-
pendence, while the clans who were their feudal enemies enjoyed
full liberty as a result of the victims’ struggles. So these two swayed
their rebellious clansmen and life to some extent resumed its normal
tempo.

AIs) the fear of trouble from the Nosu receded, trouble from
another source arrived. The Provincial Governor seceded to the
Communists, and all the magistrates considered loyal to him had to
214 STRONG MAN’S PREY

be replaced. A new man, brusque and ungracious, was appointed
to Chaokioh by the Nationalist general and came supported by a
retinue of demoralized, undisciplined troops and officials. Most were
far from their homes and careless of their behaviour.

With their coming a new era opened for us. From then until the
day we left, our premises were inundated most of each weary day
with inquisitive strangers brought in successive influxes by the
changing tides of revolution.

Tang and Chengming left soon after Floyd. The loss of Tang,
Chengming and Floyd from the team would have been distressing
had not the Busman turned a new leaf and, discarding his plans to
go home on holiday, done his best to help us. Without him we
could hardly have continued, for Chao was still slack and inefficient.
Worse, we had suspicions that he was still at his old habits of
mild gambling and wine-drinking, and was breaking our rule that
none drawing a salary from us was to spend time trading. As a
Nosu he could be excused much that would be unpardonable in a
more enlightened person. But it was almost a relief when he went
home for the New Year, leaving us to deal with all the problems
of language and etiquette unaided.

After weeks of struggling, good news came one day. Two young
men from the church at Salowu had reached Sichang on the way
to Chaokioh: Yuhsin had come again, bringing his wife and
adopted son, with another Christian Nosu named Yinyung as com-
panion. The relief with which we welcomed them was immense,
for the day on which they arrived, the 1st of February, 1950, was
as trying a day as any we had had, but typical in many ways of the
life we were living.

We had several operations to perform, with Ruth as theatre sister
and Joan as my amateur assistant at the operating table. But the day
was wintry with snow in the air, and the fort was full of visiting
Nosu and Chinese. As good a place to shelter as any they could find
was in the clinic waiting hall and well-yard. They milled about or
stood packed shoulder to shoulder, talking, shouting, hammering
on the doors, demanding attention, calling for medicines, climbing
up to the theatre windows and tearing holes through the gauze-and-
paper panes to see what was going on and address us in person.
From time to time we went out to subdue them and attend to
tliose who were true patients, but as some went others took their
place.
 

 

CLOUDBANKS 215§

Later, as we were preparing to give plasma to a dying man,
‘elbowing our way to and fro through the unresponsive crowds, the
pack-train arrived with Yuhsin, Yinyung and the others dust-caked
and weary. Immediately they fell to, and down on their knees beside
the patient’s mattress assisted in the work as keenly as if they had
not been foot-slogging for many miles. -

To reach us they had had to pass from Communist to Nationalist
territory, and had been under suspicion by both sides. At Lolo Vale
they happened to overhear a plot being made between some wicked
Chinese and Nosu to hold up the caravan and sell their boy and
another travelling in the party, into slavery. They could hardly
believe their senses—until they made the necessary mental adjust-
ments, realising they had entered Independent Nosuland. The father
of the second boy was so appalled when they informed him, that
he had no strength to walk and had to be provided with a horse to
ride. But with the cat out of the bag the plotters denied it vigorously
and nothing happened.

At the end of an exhausting day of unusual strain I was relaxing
peacefully before bedtime when pandemonium broke loose in the
yard outside. Huapa the hound was beside himself with rage, and
with another watchdog was attacking someone. As I ran to inter-
vene Yuhsin came battering on our door and gasped an urgent
story.

“On the way from Three Bends we were joined by a Nosu chief.
He came into the fort with us. We rashly agreed to look after his
revolver for him. We didn’t know that Nosu are not allowed in the
fort at night, and invited him to join us here. I meant to consult
you first.”

We hurried to the clinic, and found the Nosu surrounded by
soldiers. Their story was that last year two of the militia had tried
to extort from this man an arbitrary “tax,” and in his rage he had
killed one and shot the other through the shoulder. The survivor
had seen him enter and not leave the fort, and had raised a party of
his comrades to hunt down and kill the chief out of hand. Finding
him in our staff quarters they were driving him into the open to
wreak revenge.

I called off the dogs and taking the Nosu under my protection
tried to calm the frantic soldiers who would hear of nothing but to
seize the man and kill him. Fortunately some more level-headed
guards had run to the magistrate, and as we argued tensely he came
panting in and took control, ordering the angry men back to their
216 STRONG MAN’S PREY

barracks. It was difficult to discover and explain just how the
irregularity had happened, but the magistrate accepted Yuhsin’s
plea of ignorance, and taking the chief and his revolver into safe
custody, left satisfied.

In the morning he called again, apologising magnanimously for
the invasion. |

“The situation was really desperate,” he confided. “Had my
unruly troops succeeded in their purpose no Nosu would risk
coming near them again, even if summoned, as this chief had been.
They are the toughest lot I ever had to handle. At a time of unrest
like this the outcome might have been disastrous.”

“How much do the foreigners pay you?” the local inhabitants
asked Yuhsin and Yinyung as soon as their origin and purpose in
coming to Chaokioh had been revealed. The question showed that
in the pioneering of a new church in Nosuland one obvious essential
was to steer clear of misunderstanding of the motives of our helpers.
If the Nosu and Chinese who preached with us were so comfortably
provided for that they were looked on as mercenaries, who would
listen seriously to what they said? But if they worked hard and lived
simply, and were able to claim truthfully that their funds came not
from the foreigner but from Salowu Christians or other native
sources, they would have a very different standing in men’s
estimation.

Yuhsin and Yinyung had made a bad start by extravagance at our
expense in Sichang before entering Nosuland, but after discussion
of these principles they adopted them enthusiastically. Yuhsin chose
to have no more than pocket money and the upkeep of his family,
saying he would trust God for whatever else he needed and not
look to us for help, even if their shoes were in holes and their
clothing ragged. Yinyung was less radical but asked for less than our
crude servants were receiving. To our constant grief the church
they came from, with its thousands of believers, would not under-
take to support these their own missionaries. But with gifts from
other parts of China and provision God was well able to make
‘through local sources, they had no cause for anxiety, and plunged
into work among the patients, colonists and militiamen.

The Nosu of Yunnan have absorbed some Chinese culture and are
enlightened in comparison with their Sikang cousins. Their world
is kinder, warmer, better populated, relatively law-abiding. Coming
so far afield into the mountains, into snow and icy winds, among
 

 

CLOUDBANKS 237

wild men whose speech though basically the same was unintelligible
to them, and to preach against the blank wall of indifference, made
the Salowu men homesick. Little more than two weeks after their
arrival Yinyung spoke of going back to where he would be more
effective. Yuhsin’s wife became disgruntled, wishing she had never
left home. But with friendly counsel and the unanswerable logic,
“someone must endure in Nosuland if the people are to hear the
gospel,” they determined to persist. We had hoped that when they
were accustomed to their new environment they might be able to
move over to Chuheh and occupy the Old Stockade. Nosu evan-
gelists as the spearhead of attempts to reach the distant clans had
plain advantages. And the project had a strong appeal for them.

So far so good. When the ex-officer, named Lo, announced his
arrival in Sichang the strength of our team gave promise of activity
on an unprecedented scale. With three men we could work Chao-
kioh and Chuheh, and I would be able to go out in answer to the
invitations of the Nosu to their villages. But hope was short-lived.
It transpired that Lo had brought both his mother and a newly-wed
bride with him, and was not the fine man we had been counting
on. Coming up to Chaokioh with pack-loads of supplies prepared
by the Busman for us, Lo first struck us as most promising. Strong,
capable, and in appearance easily mistaken for a Nosu, he showed
himself at once a man of affairs. But telling of his journey in, his
dealings with belligerent road-guards he spoke with a mixture of
fear and revulsion:

“I nearly vomited, they were so aggressive,” he complained.

The experience weighed upon him. To find that the Chinese at
Chaokioh spoke a dialect he could barely follow, and objected that
his speech was quite beyond them, while the Nosu language and
people seemed an insuperable difficulty, left him deeply dejected.

He went with me to visit a wounded man in Asu territory, and
was horrified by the appearance of some lepers seeking my help. At
a meeting on the threshing floor at Little Chaokioh where he stood
among the audience, a Nosu asked him,

“Are you Nosu or Chinese?”’

“Chinese,” he answered, and the Nosu spat scornfully on the
ground and moved away.

That was as much as Lo could stand. To be despised for being
Chinese was a new, unhappy feeling. And the food he found us
eating he could never offer to his wife and mother, he said. At that
time of year there was very little fresh food to be had and we
218 STRONG MAN’'S PREY

depended largely on dried shredded vegetables from stock, soaked
overnight to make them edible. But with him too, friendly discuss-
ion seemed to bring encouragement, and he did not leave at once.

The return of Chao the interpreter from his holiday we anticipated
with mixed feelings. Since his conversion I had looked upon him as
a younger brother, and in the years of our association we had been
good friends. He had suffered from not having any Christian com-
panions other than foreigners since Chengming left, and knew little
about Christian living. For this reason we had been most lenient
with him. Nevertheless laziness and habits harmful to our cause
could not be tolerated. When he returned I took him aside, and
spoke as stralghtly as I ever had to him.

“Look here,” I said, as soon as he had had time to change out of
his travelling clothes and sit down to a meal. “What about making
a clean break with your previous way of life. Come right out of that
gang and be a proper Christian if you are one.” While I was still
speaking a look of relief came over his face and he revealed that his
mind was already made up.

“I've come back meaning to succeed,” he said. “I'm sorry I've
been so spineless.”

From that time until we were parted from him he progressed
consistently, deepening his own spiritual life and taking his share in
meetings, diffidently.

With the approach of spring we had been busy getting ready to
improve the produce gardens, digging watercourses, planting fruit
trees and willows for shelter, ploughing and manuring. In the plot
beside the bungalow we were trying to improve on last year’s show
of flowers. Yuhsin and Yinyung had been hard at work on their
allotments too. But Yuhsin’s wife was nagging every day to be
escorted home.

One day in early March theiédiseordfated up and a tragically
un-Christian scene took place, beginning with a heated argument,
and ending with an angry appeal to me to free them all to return
home forthwith. There were dangers in retaining such unproved
colleagues, but for them to haul down their colours and retreat in
such disorder was unthinkable.

“Let’s not be so hasty,” I advised. “Think the matter through
calmly and reach a sober conclusion that your coming was origin-
ally a mlstake if that is so. But to act while you are heated would
be wrong.’
 

CLOUDBANKS 219

We talked for a long time and prayed together before I put what
seemed the crux of the matter to them:

“Get alone, each of you, and pray about it. Determine to do God’s
will whatever it is, no matter what the others decide to do. If He
told you to come here you must be very sure before returning. If
He did not, you must find out what He does want. If He leads you
to go home, disregard our desire to keep you. If to stay, then at
all costs do so.”

By then Lo was more discouraged and declaring his intention to
withdraw. Suddenly, however, a battalion of Nationalist troops
began to stream into the valley and billet itself in the fort and
villages. As they came they set up aerials and established communica-
tion with Sichang. A medical officer and orderlies called at the
clinic and arranged to co-operate with us in treating soldiers. Two
colonels took up residence in the only room we had for in-patients,
and others tried to occupy other parts of the clinic. When the
general in command arrived, for ranking officers by then were left
with tragically depleted forces, he confessed to being sympathetic
with Christianity and ordered his men to vacate our premises. They
did so with ill grace, and retaliated by enticing our valuable hound
Huapa to leave with them. He was later seen in Sichang, but we
never managed to regain him or to find a dog his equal.

In the space of a few hours Chaokioh had become guerilla head-
quarters.

“Operations against the Communists will be conducted from here
until the expected third world war breaks out,” we were told
repeatedly.

Peace and quiet, such as there had been, were now things of the
past. Bugles blew, troops drilled, sick parades were held for me to
add my opinion to that of the unqualified military doctor, and Nosu
from the four corners of Nosuland began to flock in as the guests of
General Liu and his adviser, Prince Ling. More than ever we were
inundated from morn to night by sight-seers and men with leisure
time to while away. Officers and civil officials came to practise what
English they knew, and pass the time of day. They had not expected
to find such dereliction at a county centre, not a single shop or tea-
room, tailor or blacksmith, not a house apart from the magistrate’s
and ours, only barns and hovels. So for anything they needed they
came to borrow from us, planks and doors to serve as beds, rope
and nails, baskets, cauldrons, pickaxes and mattocks, everything
they had not brought with them.
220 STRONG MAN’'S PREY.

Such an influx brought unlimited work for the team. Yuhsin as
the machine-gunner who had fought in Burma, and Lo the officer,
were in their element, gossiping the gospel as they went from
group to group. Sunday came and it was necessary to have first a
service for the soldiers, attended by the general and his staff, and
another for the regular congregation. Chao interpreted for the
visiting Nosu, and most of us were hard pressed explaining gospel
posters and entertaining prominent callers in the guest hall. Lo
preached to the soldiers and seemed cheerful enough, but at midday
heard of a group travelling out to Sichang and decided to go with
them. Ten days in Nosuland had been enough. We never saw him
again.

A few days later trouble flared afresh between Yuhsin and his
wife. Both he and Yinyung had been sure, after deep consideration,
that they ought to stay in Nosuland. Now it was our turn to wonder
how they would fit in. Lo had gone; it looked as if the hopes for
Chuheh would have to be written off as well. Colleagues of such
instability could not be entrusted with important work.

But these were isolated troubles in a welter of afflictions. Each of
us in turn was ill in one way or another, some more scriously, some
less. At the same time our servant was getting drunk by mid-
morning every day, making threats, demanding higher wages, and
slandering us in the taverns. For hours at a time Janet had to endure
his alcoholic company alone in the cottage. We were glad to see
him go, although it meant that in her work as home-maker she had
tostruggle alone with acrid wood firesand primitive makeshifts. And
it involved milking the cows ourselves at dawn and dusk every day.
But what did that sort of thing matter! We still had not seen a
single soul repent, believe and be “born again.”

It was at about this time that I wrote a meditation on the Lord’s
Prayer. By being in a minor key it omits the brighter side of things,
for there was much to cheer us, but reveals the anxious tenor of
those days:

Our Fataer—for we belong to Thee; however cut off from the
rest of Thy family we may be in Nosuland, we are part of it. Thou
canst not forget us.

Wuo Arr IN HeaveN—so pure, so unlike Chaokioh! Here the
mountains, rivers and skies are glorious, but man defiles them. The
atmosphere of evil—murder, slavery and vice—hangs like a dark
cloudbank over everything.
 

CLOUDBANKS 221

Harrowep BE THY NAME—for nothing is hallowed here, even Thy
Name is almost meaningless. They speak of the weather as “heavenly
father,” confusing Thee with Thy created things, in the same breath
blending obscene curses with Thy title.

Try Kinepom Come—this is the longing of our hearts. Already we
have spent two years here for Thee, and see but few signs of a break.
Some who were interested have drifted away, and those who listen
to the gospel seem not to apply it to themselves. They are dull of
heart and blind to truth; yet how terribly Nosuland needs Thy
light, Thyself.

THY WiLL BE DONE ON EARTH—Thy will that all of them should
come to repentance, that Thy Name should be honoured among
them; that we should go on short-handed with no chance of a rest
or a change, praying for colleagues who do not come—Thy perfect
and acceptable will be done.

As 11 15 IN HEAVEN—What perfection there! Thy Will obeyed,
Thy praises sung by all without exception. How long, O Lord,
until the Nosu meet in hundreds, thousands, as they do in Lisuland,
to worship Thee?

GIVE US THIS DAY OUR DAILY BREAD—we are out of eggs and vege-
tables, and there are no shops; if no one brings these things to the
door for sale we go without. Perhaps this is Thy Will for us today,
yet there is so little variety in the dried foods from Sichang that we
need this fresh food for our health’s sake. Give us today the food
we need.

AND FORGIVE US OUR TRESPASSES—conditions seem sometimes to
bring the worst out of us, when we should be living lives untar-
nished before men. How else are they to see what Christ can do
for sinners?

AS WE FORGIVE THEM THAT TRESPASS AGAINST Us—and oh, how many
opportunities there are for thisl—the thieving, the cheating, the
insults—throwing stones to break our roof tiles, conspiring with our
servants to steal food and firewood, “borrowing” our property
with no intention to repay, blatantly “forgetting” the fees for
medicines.

AND LEAD US NOT INTO TEMPTATION—temptation to retaliate, to
pack up and go elsewhere, to be cynical and loveless. The people
here, both Chinese and Nosu, are so primitive, uncivilised, incapable
of clear reasoning, of seeing that our motives are good—Lord, spare
us from temptation to look down on them, to boast of our occi-
dental standards, to be impatient with their own dullness, resentful
222 STRONG MAN’S PREY

of their suspicions. And in a timeless environment keep us from
misuse of time.

BUT DELIVER US FROM EVIL—Rumours of the Nosu rising in revolt,
killing and kidnapping, have circulated freely during much of our
time here. Pear plays a big part in the lives of everyone—rifle shots
heard frequently at night, house-breaking by burglars, four murders
and two suicides within a month in a community as small as this,
slavery and suffering all around us, the risk of contracting leprosy
so real, and always somebody out to swindle or pass “dud” silver
if they get a chance.

For THNE 15 THE KingpoM—Come quickly, Lord, and reign.
Break with Thine iron rod the tyranny of sin. The devil has usurped
Thy place. Establish soon Thy sway among his sin-bound slaves.
AND THE Power—Why wait then? Thou hast supplied our needs
amazingly, hundreds of pounds for building, transport and the
upkeep of Thy work. Let us see now Thy power changing lives
and raising up a church among these listless people.

AND THE GLORY—They are without excuse: knowing of God they
glorify Him not as God. But Thou art rich in mercy, not willing
that any should perish. Come, Lord, and glorify Thy Name, that
thousands may rejoice in Thy salvation and join with us to sing
Thy praise;

FOR EVER AND EVER—

AmeN!

Had we known it, there were drastic changes not far ahead, trials
greater than any we had experienced. And the breaching of the
Strong Man’s defences.
 

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
THE BREAK

THE truculence of Nosu on the route between Sichang and
Chaokioh had not been affected greatly by the coming of
guerilla troops. At the ascent of the Little Hen, where I myself had
witnessed a sharp clash between Chinese and Nosu, and in the Soso
Vale, army pack-trains of supplies had been held up by the Hma of
Four Fields until they paid toll in the usual way. A young chief
went so far as to impound a whole pack-load of salt when the
normal payment was refused him. Among the soldiers stern reprisals
were demanded.

One day at dawn we heard the sound of mortar and small-arms
fire and exploding grenades far in the distance. Ernest Madge, from
Sichang, had been on a visit into Nosuland and spent the weekend
with us. On his way back to the city he was staying the night in
the Border Mission premises in Four Fields. The sound of the
assault being made on both sides of him awakened him and his
companions in alarm. The Chinese had attacked two villages and
were indiscriminately shooting down men and women, children and
old people, as they fled from their burning homes. Those who dare
not flee were burned alive or killed by grenades tossed over the
walls. At some risk Madge made his way back to us until confident
that passage through the valley would be safe again. But the massacre
was out of all proportion to the crime, and the Nosu even of the
Batcii clan, the enemies of the Hma, were silent with anger against
their common foe the Chinese. Knowing their temper it was clear
to us that nothing could have been less timely or more calculated
to alienate them further.

Only a few nights later, after we were in bed, our friend Mr.
Chiang the telegraphist tapped quietly on the door and whispered
the news:

“Three Communist columns have arrived within half a day’s
march of Sichang. The Nationalist generals are ready to escape by

lane.”
: The next day there was fighting at Sichang and mass capitulations
to the conquering army. But hundreds of men escaped into the

mountains, making for Chaokioh, harried behind by indefatigable
224 ' STRONG MAN’S PREY

Communists, and to their horror set on by the Nosu. Thinking to
buy their liberty with gifts of gold and arms, some high officials
and military men took refuge with once friendly chiefs, only to be
relieved of all they had and either handed over to their enemy or
killed in cold blood. Most found themselves between two fires and
very few escaped.

Four fugitives reached us, naked but for ragged felt cloaks thrown
over them and bits of felt tied on their feet. Utterly exhausted one
of them dropped to the ground in the comparative safety of
Chaokioh, and leant against the wall while I attended to his injuries.

“We escaped from the Communists after hand to hand fighting,
by jumping down a cliff, and running for our lives,” they said.
“The Nosu tied us up and stripped off our clothing. But we escaped
again and stole some cloaks in which to run and walk. Somehow
we managed to outpace our pursuers.”’

In Chaokioh itself everyone was tense. Knots of soldiers stood
whispering, discussing what to do. Among the rank and file there
was no will to resist longer. The officers were called to meet the
general who with tears admitted that their cause was lost. A group
of destitute civilians arrived, blistered by the sun, their carriers
having absconded with all they possessed. A train of pack-animals,
twenty or more of them with seven or eight muleteers including
the son of a Chaokioh woman, was reported kidnapped by the Nosu
as soon as the rout began.

“Will the Communists push through and make a surprise attack
at dawn tomorrow?”’

“Will the garrison attempt a suicidal stand in preference to
execution?”’

“Worst of all, will the Nosu hesitate no longer, take advantage
of the Chinese weakness and proceed to kill and plunder?”

Questions and fears were in every man’s heart and mouth. The
answer was any man’s guess. Night after night Janet and I slept
fully clothed, prepared to bundle the children into a protected
corner if an attack should be made.

Though nothing happened tension was unrelieved during the
succeeding days and nights. No one knew just when or from which
quarter trouble might come upon us. Soldiers and civilians alike
were pale and drawn, more so than ever when it was learned that
General Liu had left secretly at 3 a.m. one morning in an attempt
to get through to Luipo. Ling, the Nosu prince, was left in nominal
command, but he too was openly distracted.

-
 

THE BREAK 225

“What do you think?” I asked him secretly. “Will the Nosu
rise?”’

“Idaren’t say,” he confessed, “though while I am still in Chaokioh
they will probably respect me.”

Rumour reached us however, that he too was planning to escape,
and though it was unfounded the bare prospect added to the anxiety
of the moment.

Meanwhile several officers and men who had been coming to
Bible study classes with us, had more reason for alarm than any.
From the Communists they looked for little mercy and feared
summary execution even if they surrendered. In their extremity
they found hope and encouragement in our attitude of trusting in
God as our Refuge and Strength, drinking in every word of teach-
ing they were given. Meetings were arranged for every other day
and later every day of the week. As Easter was approaching we
spoke on the death and resurrection of Christ, and the confidence,
security, peace and eternal life assured to those who welcome Him
as Saviour. One evening the adjutant stood up and prayed aloud, so
genuinely that we could have little doubt of his having already
found peace and salvation. We were beginning to see why God had
kept us there in Chaokioh when we might have gone to safety long
before.

In the clinic was an opium addict, an officer of the old militia
and for the present kindly disposed toward us. He came after dark
one night to warn me:

“Don’t undress at night,” he said, “the morale of these defeated
troops is very low and at any time they may mutiny and start
looting.”

We were already taking no risks of being caught at a disadvantage.
Sleep was difficult in such conditions. Anyway if they started looting
what good would remonstrance do! But somehow we did not
expect them to molest us. Care of several of their sick and wounded,
we could not help feeling, had ensured their friendship. Once, when
one of them was climbing over the wall into our compound the
excited whisper of another was overheard: “Don’t go over there,
that’s the mission!”

News that the Lo'm clan was in league with the Communists and
that wild Nosu from far away were pillaging the border regions
unhindered revived the tension when it was tending to die down.
Ling, to keep the soldiers occupied, as much as for any other reason,
set them to improving the fortifications. Machine guns and mortars

»
226 STRONG MAN’S PREY

were mounted on the wall above our garden. In every home people
were busy preparing oatmeal and hard tack for use in emergency,
and we did the same, putting aside food, clothes and drugs in
readiness for flight. Many were preparing to don Nosu clothing to
avoid recognition.

On the first of April Prince Ling seemed very shaken. With an
ashen face he said to me,

“I advise you to make an arrangement with some Nosu chief,
and see if you can hide the children in his village.”

“Whom do you recommend?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” he admitted candidly. “Vulii and Aku, for all
their friendliness, I do not trust. Batcii Chupi might be the best, but
his village is not far from the fort: it might be involved in any
disturbance.”

What news he had that we did not know of, I could not dis-
cover.

I went home and talked it out with the others. They were un-
moved, whatever they were feeling. Three possibilities seemed open
to us: to move over to Chuheh, which might be more dangerous
still; to go to a local Nosu village and endure its primitive conditions,
with the danger of treachery; or to stay at home, trust in God and
hope for the best. We chose the last but also, through Chao, secretly
consulted Chupi’s opinion.

“The Batcii will not rise alone,” he said, “but if other clans
attack I could not be certain what the young chiefs would do.”

Had we been sure of the feelings of the bulk of Nosu toward us
we might have been spared some of this concern. As it was, no one
excluded the possibility of our sharing the fate which might befall
the Chinese. The thought of the children, (four since Jennifer was
born), and the rest for whom I was responsible, being carried off or
killed, was difficult to face.

Life could not stand still on account of fears. Ling and his Nosu
companions actually gave several days to working with Joan on
translations of selected passages of Scripture. The troops turned to
football in their spare time. While inwardly our hearts were cold,
in work and conversation everyone tried to appear as unconcerned
and jocular as ever, with tell-tale sighs. Yet still the Communists
failed to appear. -

In the Bible study classes the men paid such close attention day
by day that I was encouraged to take the subject of “assurance of
salvation.” At the close of the session I asked those who were confi-

 
 

THE BREAK 2217

dent that their sins were forgiven through faith in Jesus Christ to
tell us so. Several officers and men immediately spoke up. Others
said they wanted to be sure.

Every hardship, every heartache, every moment of anxiety
became at once a thousand times worth while. This was what we
were in Chaokioh for. Physical and mental factors counted for
nothing when the spiritual battle was being won. These were not
local Chinese, still less were they our ultimate objective, Nosu, but
if there is “joy in heaven over one sinner that repenteth,” we might
well enjoy the same emotion too. Souls responding to the love ot
God, in the heart of this devil’s country, and at such a time! Was
not this the turning of the scales so long weighted against us? But
the future was still black. I exhorted them to give to Christ their
undivided loyalty for any service He might ask of them, even to
death for His sake if that were His choice. Their eyes were bright
and their hearts were glad as they separated afterwards.

The effect upon the apathetic colonists and other civilians when
they saw how soldiers were appreciating what we taught, was to
bring them to the services as well. Yuhsin and Yinyung had their
hands full preaching comfort and trust in God our Refuge, giving
astrong lead and example that was admirable. When, therefore, like
a bolt from the blue they suddenly announced again that they were
arranging to leave and go home, I was staggered. This on top of
everything else was at that moment as much as I could bear.

I called Chao to come as mediator and led them indoors. As on
the earlier occasions I rehearsed the main principles. It was not a
question of dangers, homesickness, uncongenial work or living
conditions; rather, “Did God call and bring you here? If so how
dare you think of going! If not, how dare you as trained evangelists
ever come?”

“You do not understand,” Yuhsin objected. “We did not realize
it would be like this. It’s different for you. . ..”

At that shock my defences broke. I managed to gasp, “Do you
think it easy for any of us?”’ and took some minutes of gulping
silence before I could speak again.

Could it be that these men who were living as they had always
lived, if not more comfortably, dealing with people of their own
nation and race, thought of us as floating serenely above the turmoil,
immune to the stress and strain through which we were all passing?
Would they forsake us now of all times? Surely I must disillusion
them!
228 STRONG MAN’S PREY

Seeing my pent up distress both Chao and Yuhsin waited with
moist eyes and undisguised emotion till I could speak.

“I hate to admit it,” I confessed, “but during these two years I
have found this life so tough, the attitude of Chinese and Nosu
sometimes so unbearable, and the spiritual oppression so tremendous
that I have often wept. We would long, long ago have packed up
and gone if we had not come to suffer, slave, and if need be die
here, to stay whatever the conditions until God clearly leads us
elsewhere. If the Independent Nosu are to hear the gospel someone
must pay the price.” And I exhorted them to regard this as the only
right attitude for Christians.

Again there was silence. Such a revelation left them stunned.

Eventually Yuhsin replied: “It never was my own idea. The
strain of nagging has worn me down. I have no doubt about this
being the right place for me. Of course we will stay on.”

And from that point we talked through all the problems facing
us and parted strong friends.

Ling established contact with the Communists, and tension
largely evaporated. Soon an emissary clad in a silk cloak lined with
leopard skin came to receive the surrender of the remaining troops
and led them away. With them went the embryo Christians. Only
a platoon of the decrepit militia remained, strengthened by a few
reliable men.

Now and then a Nosu chief consulted us clandestinely about the
Communists. The arrival of an unarmed commission to receive the
surrender had surprised them. They had thought to see a show of
strength, and some were tempted to believe that now of all times
was the chance to revolt. For their own sake as for everyone’s I
emphasized the power that had swept the Nationalists before it, until
I believed them to be convinced and was satisfied that danger from
that source was over.

But the youth left in charge as acting-magistrate and the local
Chinese with him feared the worst. Guards were trebled again.
Only one gate of the fort was kept in use. Colonists began to move
in from Little Chaokioh to the safety of its strong walls. Where
they came from Nosu were baiting the intrepid ones at night,
firing shots and throwing rocks on to their roofs to frighten them.
Answering fire from the guards on our walls made the nights
unrestful. The body of a soldier was discovered weighted down with
stones in the river. Another was found buried near the communal

 
 

THE BREAK 229

mill-race, showing evidence of a violent death. Going for a stroll
together one louring stormy evening after sundown, Janet and I
stopped to observe a sentry on the wall.

“They’re likely to attack tonight!” he said apprehensively, peer-
ing nervously into the deep shadows of the hills and gullies.

“Don’t you believe it!” we felt sure enough to say.

But as we stayed chatting for a few minutes he kept his eyes fixed
on the darkening landscape, half expecting to see tribesmen coming.

Slowly life returned to an unhappy normal. Tempers were on
edge and one Chinese farmer in a quarrel with a Nosu drew the
pin from the grenade he carried at his hip and blew himself and his
antagonist to bits within a few yards of poor Zihtu. Patients began
coming more freely to the clinic. Several came to break their
opium craving. Sunday services began to be attended by some who
had seldom been before. One or two officials joined us in the Bible
studies which we carried on although the troops had left.

The team went out in a new enthusiasm to preach in the Nosu
villages, taking with them a man who had been converted in the
Sichang jail and was able to speak Nosu fairly fluently. Ruth’s and
Joan’s pupils were improving steadily, finding unimagined pleasure
in being able to read for themselves. Two refugee women, wives of
Nationalists, were living in the Barn, dependent on food from the
magistrate and fuel from us. Reading the Bible was bringing them
comfort in anxiety as to their husbands’ fate. But still none of the
local people seemed to be affected by the gospel, listening imper-
sonally instead of applying it to the needs of their own souls. Others
for fear of the Communists kept well away and even took to
jibing at the friendly.

Early in June the mockery of months and years spent without
seeing any signs of spiritual results among the natives of Nosuland,
Nosu or Chinese, afflicted us. While we were still hoping to stay
permanently among them, there was the likelihood that under the
Communists religious teaching would be severely controlled. In
desperation we determined to pray all we could throughout a full
week, asking God to break through the resistance and bring men
and women to repentance and faith in Himself while there was time.
Every spare interval of each day was used for this purpose. Chao
was curious, keen to see if prayer could affect folk where preaching
had not, and joined in expectantly but like a bather trying the cold

water with his foot.
230 STRONG MAN’S PREY

At the week’s end nothing had happened, but we believed it
would. On the Sunday morning the most unlikely person, the
father of Junjih, one of Joan’s pupils, came saying he and his wife
would like to “enter our religion,” the expression used of becoming
a Confucianist or Buddhist. His motives were false, but he agreed
to Yinyung and myself calling at his home to explain what his
action would involve. Yuhsin was away in Sichang having gone
back on his resolutions and appealed for money to buy clothes and
comforts for his family.

Junjih was there, and the cousins Wenying and Wenjen, listening
carefully as first Yinyung and then I went through the essentials of
the gospel and its practical effect on a believer’s life—how asking
God to forgive sins of the past meant a clean cut from known sin
in the present and future, how this would mean revolution in their
way of living and relationship with others, how opium smoking,
spirit worship, immorality, foul language, lying, deception, all must
be replaced with God’s help by truth, purity and holiness as His
children, once the initial step of confession, belief and acceptance of
Christ as their Saviour had been taken.

The parents sat silent when we finished. Both were opium smokers
and ignorant of what they had suggested, thinking of material
advantages in being Christians. But Junjih and Wenjen, sitting in a
dark corner of the room on a heap of coffin boards prepared in
readiness for the old grandmother, said with sincerity in their tone
and faces,

“That is what we want.”

Now, at last, the longed-for was appearing. That it was two
nineteen or twenty year old girls and not someone more important
did not matter. “God has chosen what the world calls foolish to
shame the wise; He has chosen what the world calls weak to
shame the strong.” We advised them to go and talk freely with
Joan who already knew them so well.

Before they did so Hualan, the unpromising evil-living slut,
arrived at the clinic saying, “I want to be a Christian.” As Joan
went to find out whether she was serious and how much she
understood, I called out with uncharitable caution,

“Don’t forget she wants a job and a free operation!”—for her
father and mother put opium before food and lived from hand to
mouth. The girl herself had a sequestrum, dead bone in the thigh.

But suspicion was unfounded. It was evident from all she said that
she was utterly sincere. The Bible and the Saviour were alive to her.

 
 

THE BREAK 231

She hated her own sin and longed to be rid of it. When she had
talked it all through she confessed and thanked the Lord for dying
for her, and for saving her, and went home to report to her besotted
parents what she had done. The same evening she was back to talk
and pray again. With the parable of the lost sheep in mind she
prayed spontaneously:

“Lord Jesus, I have found You and You have found me; thank
You for finding me today.”

Every day she came to read and pray because at home it was
impossible, until one day she failed to appear. And again the follow-
ing day there was no sign of her. On enquiry it turned out that for
days her family had had nothing to eat, and lest we should think
that she was a “rice-Christian,” begging, she had kept away. We
found her work to do and gave her a good supper as advance
payment.

Wenjen and Wenying came soberly to the same point and were
“born again” without a doubt. But Junjih was obsessed with her
unhappy marriage and shied at the implications of being a Christian.

“Only if I don’t have to be that man’s wife,” she protested.

But the struggle was with herself, for she too believed and longed
to have her sin forgiven and her heart renewed. We told her uncom-
promisingly that there must be no conditions to her yielding to
Christ, trust for the salvation of her soul must supersede all else.
She coveted the experience that her friends were enjoying, that made
them so different already, happier and more purposeful than she had
ever known them. So she too went their way, and though torn
cruelly and sometimes compromising where her duty as a Christian
was plain to her, she became another “brand snatched from the
burning.” To us one of the most remarkable signs of new life in
these girls, together with a conspicuous change in their behaviour,
was the ease with which they began to learn to read, once seemingly
beyond them. Joan’s rewards were multiplying, doubly deserved as
she for months had been partly immobilised by what I feared was
serious disease in one arm.

Within the north gate lived the family named Huang. The old
man had died but Mrs. Huang and her two daughters made a living
by small trade and wine-distilling. Living with them was the son,
when not away on prodigal departures, a ne’er-do-well immersed
in opium smoking, gambling and vice, and his half-Nosu wife Pabi,
not yet twenty. The elder sister, Ailien, had been forsaken by her
soldier husband, but was proud and capable, a woman of thirty.
232 STRONG MAN’S PREY

Both she and her young sister Yulien had been coming to services
for many months, and latterly to Bible studies also.

When they decided to commit themselves and join the believers
it meant that their livelihood was threatened. No one questioned
that liquor and Christian living were incompatible, least of all
Ailien. Even the old mother was with them heart and soul. But in
stopping this most lucrative employment they antagonized their
brother. He insisted that his opium bills must be met by them, and
on refusal took steps to drive them from the house. Only when he
saw that they were game even for this did he relent. As long as he
could call on them for food he might find other ways of meeting
debts. |

Prayer offered by so many in the home-countries as well by our-
selves was paying dividends at last, and not only in the conversion
of women and girls, highly as we valued them. First a government
employee, in Chaokioh only for a month, had claimed to under-
stand and find salvation. We were not so sure of him. Then a refugee,
a civil engineer who had fled before the Communists from Shanghai
and Chungking, stage by stage till he was cornered in Nosuland,
saw light through a host of intellectual problems and found the
same answer to his apprehension as the troops before him. Un-
abashed he joined the humble colonists in our meetings for Chris-
tians, and became a good friend of Yinyung and the interpreter.

In onesand twos they came until within a month the new additions
to the “church invisible” were twelve or more. To bring them to
the birth and then neglect them would have been unpardonable.
Time was short. We could not tell when they might be robbed of
the help of every mature Christian and have to go on by themselves.
They needed to be drilled in the essentials so that they could stand
alone. Our aim was to encourage leadership among them and to
withdraw control as soon as possible. So the teaching we gave was
balanced between doctrine and practical Christianity, to give them
a sound basis of understanding and a live expression of their faith.

As soon as the first conversions took place we began a system, not
original, which was followed and found satisfactory until the end.
Interested people, enquiring further, were encouraged to advance a
step and allow their names to be put down as “‘enquirers.” For them
there were attractive meetings and tuition.

As they reached the point of being ““born again” they were taught
the doctrine of “assurance,” to satisfy them that as they did their
part God most certainly did His to make them His sons and

I

 
 

THE BREAK 233

daughters. But to satisfy ourselves we waited a few days or weeks
to see some evidence of spiritual life before letting them join the
“learners.” At a Sunday worship service, limited to professed be-
lievers, we gave them an opportunity to claim in the hearing of all
present that they were now repentant and believing in the Lord Jesus
as their own Saviour, renouncing demon worship, wine drinking,
and known sin of all kinds. Thereafter they were considered as
belonging to the “church visible” in the capacity of learners pre-
paring for baptism and church membership.

Those worship services, held early, before others were about,
were devoted to pure worship, Scripture and the Creed, followed
by a talk on doctrine. The phrases of the Creed were taken methodi-
cally, one each week, and simple expositions of their meaning given
to make that summary of beliefs intelligible as a foundation on
which to build. One practical hint was added each Sunday, against
gossip, against using pagan expressions, and abusive terms for the
Nosu, on making the Lord’s Day holy, dressing in a manner worthy
of Him, or whatever was suggested by topical events.

When they dispersed it was to return home for breakfast and to
bring their relatives and friends to the second service, a popular
one at which the gospel was preached with the aid of pictures. A
gong rung loudly at the south gate could be heard everywhere, and
brought the congregation from their homes or fields. All ages and
all kinds of people came, the magistrate sometimes, officials, mer-
chants, soldiers, farmers, women, children, Nosu chiefs, freemen
and serfs, vendors of firewood and poultry complete with their
produce, patients, down-and-outs and dogs. They balanced on the
benches or squatted on the ground, going as they felt inclined, or
showing by their regularity and attention that they were ready to
be taken further.

In the evening any who cared came to sing hymns and learn
verses of Scripture by heart. Our purpose was to leave Christians
who would not be starved should their books be taken from them,
and to encourage them to take the initiative as soon as they were
able. From the beginning they prayed audibly, even if the most
they could put together was a badly phrased sentence or two. Soon
they began to feel at home and forgot the strangeness of their own
voices interceding for their parents and families. A sense of sharing
each other’s problems and requests developed. We were all welded
into one body, and were the stronger for it.

Through the week tuition was continued individually and in
234 STRONG MAN’S PREY

classes, instilling the habit of daily reading and prayer. One evening
there was study for the better educated, one afternoon a class for
women only, on Wednesdays a believers’ class devoted to the prac-
tice of their faith, their daily life, behaviour, speech, efforts to save
others, attitude to persecution, marriage, custom, law. And when-
ever possible we drew them in to help explain the gospel to new-
comers who stared blankly at the posters on the walls.

Opposite the Huang’s beside the north gate was a hovel as
unsavoury in appearance as in reputation. Its three or four rooms
were unlit, unventilated dens of vice. A little black witch-like
woman was in charge, sharing the place with 2 moron brother of
her deceased husband, and Yinfeng her daughter of nineteen.
Yinfeng had been an associate of the others before their conversion,
and was learning with Ruth’s help to read a little. But she showed
no spark of kindling by the truths Ruth taught her. Her whole
background was evil. Nothing under the sun was wrong to her
except detection in forbidden things. The word Sin meant nothing
to her conscience.

One day when she was grazing their pony outside the fort, and
could see no one near, she led it to feed on a field of oats belonging
to a Nosu chief. He appeared from nowhere in a devilish rage,
devilish in origin as in fury. Time and again he struck her, threw
her and half strangled her, leaving her at last as terrified as she was
battered. There the mother found her.

Somehow the little witch saw her home, and in alarm sent for the
Nosu sorcerer to divine the extent of damage done. The pimo
chanted incantations over a fowl, calling upon the spirits to assist,
and proceeded to belabour the luckless chicken in the same way as
he thought the girl had suffered. When he opened it up and exposed
extensive bruising and ruptured organs, declaring that Yinfeng was
in the same state, lamentations arose from the little woman and her
sympathizers. Immediately she took steps to placate the spirits and
beseech them not to take the girl, but Yinfeng lay hour after hour
not moving, taking no food or drink, consciously fading away.

Finally, despairing, they sent for me. I climbed the rickety step
ladder to the loft where she was lying, and examined her carefully.
Everything pointed to the danger of her dying, for her pulse was
barely perceptible, her skin cold and moist, and though she was still
conscious she lay motionless, unanswering. Yet I could find no
positive evidence of actual injury. Never before had I met an
 

THE BREAK 235

example of death from fear alone, but this I was convinced might
soon be one.

Anxiously, for a mistake would have unpleasant repercussions, I
decided to laugh off the sorcerer’s verdict and surprise the patient
into recovery.

“Yinfeng has had some nasty bruising,” I announced, “but the
pimo is wrong, there is nothing seriously the matter with her. That
fowl and Yinfeng have nothing to do with each other. At best it is
a superstitious practice. With my stethoscope and hands I have
found that her heart, lungs and other organs are undamaged. She
has been frightened and will now recover rapidly. If you fear the
demons in this house of yours, send her to us where there are no
demons and she will soon be safely back again.”

They said they would consider my advice, a little sceptically, and
I went home. After lunch Janet made a tempting custard and we
_took it round to Yinfeng. On the way we came across the little
witch, scuttling as fast as she was able to the sorcerer again. In
deep agitation she cried out to us, showing in her hand a hard
boiled egg stripped of its shell:

“Look, I held this against Yinfeng’s body, where the pain is
greatest, and see, the yolk is pressed over to one side, here is a large
air bubble, and discolouration. Oh, what can it mean? I am hurrying
to the pimo to find out.” And away she went.

In her mother’s absence Yinfeng was responsive, grateful for
attention and cheered by our optimism, but still much in the same
state as previously. Whether by her wish or doubts sown in the
sorcerer’s mind, a crowd arrived outside the clinic door soon after-
wards, escorting Yinfeng, slumped across her foster father’s back,
her mother and the sorcerer in attendance. We allowed themi to
deposit her in bed, enlisted the converted girls to keep her company,
declared that she would soon be well again, and banished the
relatives and rabble.

That episode was the beginning of her spiritual awakening. And
of her mother’s. By the next day Yinfeng was well on the way to
normal, but we kept her for three weeks, trying to bring just a
glimmer of light to her blind soul. She went home to the opium
den still unable to see Sin as anything more personal than an oftence
against other people’s rules—and in this state became irretrievably
involved with a scoundrel soldier whom she was later forced to
marry. In her continued talks with Ruth the light slowly dawned
until she saw the contrast between her own squalidness and the purity
236 STRONG MAN’S PREY

of Christ. The revelation broke her and by slow degrees led on
until she learned to cling tenaciously in faith to His forgiveness, while
all but the discerning Christians either condemned her or condoned
her sin. .

The Huang family was in deep trouble too. Pabi, the brother’s
wife, eloped with another of the militiamen, but was brought back.
To keep her under observation the husband took her to live in a
Nosu village, but she fled from there to the magistrate and told him
of a plot to sell her as a slave. Her husband was quite capable of
taking this revenge, but probably the soldier engineered the story.
It was common knowledge that he had been scheming to abduct
the girl by fair means or foul. Now with his help she managed
to secure a divorce. It was a fellow-soldier who remarked: “In
Chaokioh men are few but demons many!”

Pabi had been an enquirer, coming with her relatives to meetings.
When her scandal was at its worst we spent another few days
praying for her and her husband, and for Yinfeng and some men
who were not far from God’s kingdom. Pabi was to all appearances
lost, but her ruffian husband, prayed for by the new converts, not
only his sisters, with a feeling warmth as “our big brother,” began
to take an interest in the gospel. He came into the clinic to be cured
of his opium craving, and on going back to his home himself tore
down the pagan symbols of ancestral and spirit worship which he
had refused to let his mother and sisters touch.

The first unhindered victories, though long delayed, had been too
easy. The future was to be contested every step of the way, that in
a hard school the unfledged Christians might face the difficulties and
emerge unshaken. All too soon the moment was to come when they
would be launched forth to fly alone, to soar “as on eagles’ wings,”
trusting in God alone when human help was taken; or to flounder
weakly, unprepared and unsupported Already the counter-attack
was starting.

 
 

CHAPTER NINETEEN
HEARTBREAK HILL

AD we known that only four months remained to us in

Nosuland there would probably have been little difference in
our activities. Despite the hope that we might be allowed to carry
on indefinitely, the possibility of disruption gave an urgency to
everything. The words, “the night cometh when no man can
work,” burned in our minds. Preaching and teaching, warning and
- advising, were all concentrated on the supposition that if we
foreigners had to withdraw, the Christians would continue as best
they could with regular services and mutual support.

In ones and twos the number of learners had been growing, and
a course of preparation for baptism was planned for the winter.
Meanwhile as the Communists had still not come to take control of
Chaokioh, five days of conference were arranged for mid-
September. Pursuing the theme of unrivalled allegiance to Christ,
each day was filled with instruction, memorizing of Scripture and
hymns, and prayer. With the girls living in our premises it was
possible to continue late into the evenings. Never had any of them
imagined in their unconverted days, that enjoyment of anythin
could be so great. To us it was a miracle that those delightful friends
should be the rude hussies of a few months ago, but to them the
joy of clean hearts and fellowship with God and each other was
like a blaze of light after their spiritual darkness.

One night after Yinyung had been speaking very frankly about
Sin and how God hates it, some of the young Christians started
weeping as they prayed. The uncleanness of their lives and conduct
even since believing, came up before them, and spontaneously they
confessed and asked the Lord’s forgiveness, until they could only
thank Him for itand begin praying for their friends and families who
were still unsaved. Long after we had retired they could be heard
singing again and again with Joan, “I surrender all to Jesus, all T am
and have and do.” It was not mere emotion. From that time they
showed new understanding of what was required of them, and
developed so well that we are confident of their ability to stand
alone.

The men had the advantage of being educated to a varying
238 STRONG MAN’S PREY

extent, and met separately with Yinyung and for classes together.
They were few and unpromising, to our grief, apart from Chao and
the Shanghai engineer. But Yinyung was on top of life. The failure
of his colleague Yuhsin seemed to stir him up to unreserved zeal.
All thought of leaving Chaokioh before the New Year was put
away, and gradually the desire to make Independent Nosuland his
permanent home took hold of him. A naturally pastoral heart
responded to the needs of the immature church, and the more he
gave himself to them the greater became the attraction. He was just
as much an evangelist, seizing his opportunities to lead men to
Christ. Chao could have wanted no better companion or influence.
It was a benediction to see Chao blossoming at last, and with a real
friend to help him.

One of the Nationalists cast up by the receding tide in Chaokioh
was a pathetic young man with advanced phthisis. Persuaded to
smoke opium as a cure for his disease, he became a helpless addict,
until he was converted. Then Yinyung welcomed him to share his
own bedroom that they might pray together when the throes of
breaking the addiction were too great for him to bear alone. He
came an unhappy man, resentful of his misfortunes, but he left a
renewed soul and set off for his home in Szechwan intent on joining
the church there.

He was not the only one befriended. Human flotsam of the
sorriest kind was apt to drift to Chaokioh. Another was a graduate
in economics from a Christian university, who through opium
smoking sank to being first a tax collector and at last a beggar.
When he and his wife and one remaining child (they had sold five),
were starving in rags, we gave him secretarial work to raise his
morale, and fed and clothed him in exchange for it while he under-
went the course of anti-opium treatment. Professions of conversion
in such circumstances are harder to judge than any, but as far as we
could tell he too was “born again” through the revelation he
received of Christ as his Saviour. Of all the men who as enquirers
and learners attended instruction classes, this Mr. Li paid the closest
attention and absorbed the most.

We were gaining ground consistently, but success was not
unchallenged. The old lady of the Huang family went back to
distilling wine for a while. Junjih was tormented by her longing
to be free from her husband, and a strong attraction to his brother.
Hualan’s parents were about to mortgage her for money with which
to buy opium, and we had to save the situation by employing her to

 
 

\
HEARTBREAK HILL 239

help us with domestic work. An old man whom we called the
Battle Axe, who had been an opium-trader and a slave before we
met him, was found stealing while he claimed to be a Christian.
And the girls were being stoned and taunted by the soldiers because
instead of flirting with them they were now self-respecting.

Nothing threatened the stability of the Christian community so
much, however, as a thunderbolt from no less than Yuhsin. Remem-
bering his background, that of renegade and hired assassin before
his conversion six years previously, it was not as hard to understand
and forgive his conduct as it might have been. Utterly discouraged,
and worked upon by his disgruntled wife, he wrote from Sichang
demanding a full salary in retrospect, as if he had come as our
employee. That was bad enough, but with the note came a verbal
ultimatum that refusal to comply at once would force him to appeal
to the Communist military government.

This was a dilemma constituting a choice between the certain
victimization of our whole work and the abandonment of Yuhsin to
the Strong Man who stalked after his soul. It was Yinyung and Chao
who urged that for the sake of the church Yuhsin should be paid.
They feared a storm of interference which might spread beyond all
bounds and lead to our eviction and the undoing of the good
achieved in Nosuland. Political trouble was averted, but the shock
to the immature believers was considerable—that an evangelist of
Yuhsin’s calibre could fall so badly. But offsetting that defeat was
the return of the house-woman Mrs. Yang. At last she had come to
the end of herself and appealed for help. This time she persevered

with treatment and did not relapse again.

Soon afterwards the Communist troops arrived. Our premises,
intended for a staff of six, with accommodation for transients and a
few in-patients, suddenly became the billets of no less than sixty
soldiers. In the passages, in the doorways, in every corner they could
find to spread their ground-sheets and bedding, they took possession,
till it was difficult to move about. Gradually they made better
arrangements, and after a few days numbers dropped to twenty-five.
From then on they were co-masters of all that had been ours.

Services could no longer be held in the large guest hall and had
to move into the yard. Smaller meetings in our house had an
inquisitive audience standing at the door staring and passing com-
ments. It was plucky of the Christians to continue coming, but they
were not deterred. In spite of slogans painted large in prominent
‘

240 STRONG MAN’S PREY

places on the hsienfu walls saying, “‘Religious Liberty Guaranteed!”,
the worshippers were called to political meetings convened at the
same time. Two of them on being questioned were afraid and
denied that they were Christians. When the rest wanted to ostracize
them, they had a lesson on Christ’s attitude to Peter’s denial and his
subsequent response. It impressed them by its difference from the
treatment they would themselves have given. Two month’s later,
one of them was taken ill and finding our medicine unpalatable,
resorted to the sorcerer. The others instead of denouncing her
prayed and pleaded with her themselves until she repented and
made amends.

In preparation for the arrival of the Communists we had pasted
Scripture placards and picture posters liberally over our own walls.
Anticipating the unwillingness of the rabid ones to listen to the
gospel, and the fear of the others lest they suffer for doing so, this
was a measure to let all alike learn something of the truth. The
Nosu came to see the show, and while the Christians explained the
meaning of the posters, Communists would listen, ostensibly to
keep a check on what was taught. Once or twice one whispered,
“I too am a Christian but I dare not associate with you.”

At first there was little active opposition to our faces, but meetings
were held at which we were repeatedly denounced as imperialist
spies disguising our subversive activities behind a cloak of charity.
The Chinese and Nosu were exhorted to speak up and reveal all
they knew of our covert deeds, to protect themselves by denouncing
us. Time and again they spoke in our favour, and afterwards came
secretly and told us what had happened. When the authorities said,
“You have nothing to fear, the foreigners will be expelled and
cannot harm you,” the proletariat presented petitions, one in writing
addressed to Peking, and others to the local Communists, asking
that we might be given freedom to continue amongst them. The
Nosu in their colourful language expressed it, “‘If they go we might
as well die. It would be as if we had lost our own parents.”

As we saw the way things were going, with our enemies begin-
ning to believe that we were harmless, and our friends increasingly
taking our side, we asked if we might now send for reinforcements.
A lady doctor, two missionary nurses and the husband of one of
them were prepared to come as soon as permission to travel was
granted. The local Communist leaders told us there would be no
objection, and not yet familiar with their studied deceit, I tele-
graphed the information in all innocence. Nothing came of it. We
 

HEARTBREAK HILL 241

had not learned yet the absurdity of hoping to continue missionary
work under the new régime.

After interrogation by the police we were forbidden to move
outside the fort, and from then until the end did not regain our
liberty. Patients in an epidemic of virulent measles followed by
broncho-pneumonia, had to be brought to us as we could no
longer go out to their villages. Indoctrination classes were started
for all on our compound, ourselves, the staff and patients. Silently
we listened to hours of vituperation and distortion of the truth,
unable to answer it.

But concurrently the unexpected happened. A Communist
indoctrinator called to challenge me and my beliefs in personal con-
versation, accusing me of teaching rubbish to delude the simple. We
talked at length, and slowly covered more ground than he had
intended to take up. The sessions were repeated, with the initiative
on my side. He accepted 2 New Testament, small enough to conceal
on his person, and later wanted a Bible, but knowing that his
deviation would be penalized if discovered, he asked that it might
be kept at a Christian’s home, for him to read when he went to
instruct the family!

As Christmas approached, and with it the hope that the Prin-
cipal at Salowu might come again with some of his students, to
conduct a baptism service and inaugurate the Chaokioh church, the
keenness of the Christians became greater. They were maturing
rapidly and learning fast. Nosu friends Jaja, Aji and the rest turned
to them for instruction, and they brought others to the meetings.
Yinfeng’s mother, the little black witch, came regularly and when
Janet asked her one day, ‘““What is a sinner?”, she answered soulfully,
“Ngo! I am.” Opposition kept away the casual enquirers, but those
who were concerned about their souls persisted in attending under
the eyes of the antagonists. It tempered the believers as nothing else
could have done.

On Christmas Eve some scores of children came to hear the
Christmas story and enjoy a ‘‘party”’—bowls of rice and meat, with
salt, as great a luxury to them as any they could wish. Christmas day
we celebrated by worship and rejoicings for the Christians followed
by a public story-telling. And at midday all the learners joined us
for a Christmas feast. In the evening they all came again for carol
singing which went on until the gates of the fort were due to close

at dusk.
Several of the girls, with Wenfa, Wenying’s brother who was

Q
242 STRONG MAN’S PREY

now a zealous learner too, lived in Little Chaokioh and had to go.
I left the meeting to escort them to the compound gate, and to my
amazement found them all in tears. The day had been the happiest
we had known for many weeks, and we had seen no sign of grief
although a warning that we foreigners might be evicted had reached
us.

“What on earth’s the matter?” I enquired in astonishment.

All of them were sobbing uncontrollably, even Wenfa. At

length Wenying made a great effort and explained:

“My father (the village headman) has been told by the Com-
munists that you are all to be driven out and that you will never
reach Sichang.” And they sobbed more than ever.

“What do you mean?” I asked, as much to collect my thoughts
as anything, for the meaning was clear as it was.

“You will leave Chaokioh and be ambushed on the way. You
and the children will be killed or sold as slaves!” They shook with
misery as fresh outbursts of bitter weeping proved that they believed
the story to be true and likely.

The shock was terrible. Already we had heard enough to make it
easy to credit such a plot. There were plenty of strange Nosu who
would be willing to oblige. But I could not increase distress by
sharing their alarm. I searched around in my own mind for some-
thing not too lame to say, and heard myself speaking:

“Don’t weep,” I told them. “It may all be a mistake. It might
only be a story invented to put the fear of death into us, or to
discourage you from having dealings with us foreigners. Anyway,
there is a saying that *‘the blood of martyrs is the seed of the church.”
The devil has not yet learned that by killing Christians he only
makes more of them. Our purpose in coming to Nosuland was to
bring men to Christ, and if we can do it by going ourselves to
unending joy in Heaven, so much the better. If we are sold as slaves
we will arrive all the faster at our object of learning their language
and customs, and telling them the gospel in their own homes. We
have enough Nosu friends to discover where we are, and to buy
us back if they wish to.

“But what of yourselves? If we are so hated it is not good for you
to have so much to do with us. You must get this clear: there is a
big difference between being persecuted for Christ’s sake and
suffering because of friendship with people called imperialist spies,
even if wearenot. If there is danger on that account, then you should
all stay away from us and have your worship and study alone.”
 

HEARTBREAK HILL 243

Wenjen’s eyes were flashing. She could scarcely wait for me to
stop. She tossed her head and retorted vigorously:

“Do you think we are going to leave you? You taught us about
the Lord Jesus. We'd rather die than go off on our own. We're
afraid of no one.”

The others were agreeing with her words, weeping no longer.
But the danger of being locked in the fort, unable to inform their
families that they were safe, cut short the conversation. They left
me, showing in their carriage that they had faced up to all that
being Christians might involve, and were the stronger for it.
Whether we remained or were compelled to leave, there was stuff
of such calibre amongst these believers that it might be better for
them to have to stand alone.

It was easier to speak bravely than to face the implications when
they had gone. My mind had moved faster than my emotions. My
heart was frozen. I went indoors and knelt beside my bed, trying to
pray—trying, not praying, except in spirit.

What happened to us adults did not matter a scrap. For too long
already we had looked on the things of this life as transitory, seeing
them from the vantage point of citizens of Heaven, ambassadors of
Christ. Death would be a recall to the place where we belonged.
But that the children should be involved in the macabre . . . that
was intolerable. Jan was seven, old enough to understand and
suffer intensely. She had entered intelligently into our work and
shared in it herself. Chiang Lili, the telegraphist’s daughter of Jan’s
age, was as true a Christian as any, and steadily influencing her
parents in the same direction; and Lili had been won by Jan’s friend-
ship and encouragement as well as by Joan and Yinyung’s patient
teaching. Pauline was five, alert and interested in everything.
Margaret and Jennifer were three and one, capable of terror if sub-
jected to it. They had lived in the seclusion of the walled garden,
protected from the knowledge of all that was occurring. Could it
be that they were to be carried off as slaves, to grow up in the
moral degradation of the Nosu world? I could see them semi-
naked, grimy and beslobbered like other child slaves, learning the
vile practices of paganism. It would matter less if they were killed,
but they might be torn from us, witnessing the unforgettable, to
live as animals, with souls more sensitive than any they would
meet.

If this were fiction or mere melodrama it would have its poign-
ancy. That it was vivid, actual possibility filled me with leaden
244 STRONG MAN’S PREY

heaviness. Putting prayer into words was more than dumb anguish
could do. I lay on my back letting the tumult of thoughts surge
over me, “‘holding the faithfulness of God.” My soul was stripped
bare, bare of the last shreds that might separate me from Christ, till
I was willing for anything He asked.

By the time Janet found me it was possible to speak with some
detachment again, and to ease the blow for her. But as always she
absorbed the shock with calm resilience, trusting God to make no
mistake, content to see what He would do. Ruth and Joan too.

“It’s all right if the Lord allows it,” they said.

Chao was hopeful that the story might be false, but thought it
credible. Batcii Aku, when we consulted him, was perturbed, and
promised to enquire into the report and to come with us when we
travelled.

But life was too full to allow time for morbid thoughts. Once the
matter had been settled (“‘in acceptance lieth peace”), it was shelved
and might have been forgotten had not whispers of it frequently
recurred. There were Communist patients to be cared for, making
friends among the grossly prejudiced. And a campaign for suppres-
sion of the opium habit filled the clinic with patients, every corner
available for the purpose, the wash-house and the dining-room
floors. As the likelihood of leaving grew, our coaching of the
Christians had to be intensified, and others saved while there was
time. A Communist interpreter, a Nosu, knelt with me beside the
operating table in the theatre after a long talk in the darkness, and
besought the Lord to save him. But mental reservations kept him
in despair until we left.

Yinyung having chosen to make this his lifework, thought it best
to go home and return prepared to settle permanently. He had been
in correspondence about his betrothal for some time, and was
determined not to marry any but a spiritual Rebekah who for love
of Christ would leave home and endure voluntary exile with her
husband. His letter to the elders of his family and church, whose
responsibility it was, revealed the strides by which he had advanced
in faith since his first entrance into Nosuland a year before. It was
a masterpiece of sense and spiritual insight. So we said goodbye to
him, committing the care of the Chaokioh believers to him and the
Salowu church, and once again were left with only Chao.

The day we sent a telegram to our directors hopefully worded:
“STAYING UNTIL YOU INSTRUCT OTHERWISE,” we received a long one
from them. It directed us to apply at once for travel visas, in keeping
 

HEARTBREAK HILL 245

with a nation-wide withdrawal, and to make for Hongkong. To
stay in China longer would endanger Chinese friends and invite
trouble for ourselves. At last the way was clear. All the dreams of
sharing in the evangelization of Nosuland, of emancipating the
slaves, of championing the lepers, of seeing the Spirit of God like a
prairie fire sweep through the mountains turning thousands to
Himself as He did among the Miao, the Lisu and the Nosu of
Yunnan and Kweichow, must be left in abeyance. We were to be
spectators from afar, or to live in ignorance of what transpired
while a weak handful of apostles, immature and mostly unlettered,
faced the pagan and materialist forces of Satan’s seat.

The die was cast. As soon as applications had been lodged for
permits to depart the country, a game of cat and mouse began.
Privacy vanished, house and garden were invaded by those to whom
they would soon belong, drugs, instruments and stores were listed,
checked and counter-checked as if we had stolen them, personal
property given to friends was taken from them. And detonators were
exploded near the house, blowing in the windows and bringing
down the ceilings. When I pointed out that this was short sighted
policy seeing that the perpetrators would be using the place when
we had gone, that particular annoyance stopped. In contrast, when
we were told to find twelve men to guarantee that we had no
secret radio transmitter, twenty local Chinese came offering their
services within an hour, and Nosu chiefs, discovering that they had
been forestalled, were patently offended. And when Ruth’s fine
black horse was stolen the chiefs had it brought back.

As the day of our departure approached, the Nosu came to say
goodbye, stroking our arms and speaking in genuine distress,

“You have been better than mother and father to us,” they
groaned in their quaint idiom.

“We’ll never fail to pass on to posterity the story of your stay
amongst us,” Aku said. “And you must tell your descendents about
us,” he added, pleading with us to come back if we could.

Some urged, ‘“Why don’t you escape into the mountains? We
would look after you and you could carry on your work,” not
realizing that we would be hunted down, and in any case could not
doctor without supplies.

Of these the most pressing was an invitation from the foot of the
Dragon’s Head, near the Valley of the Beautiful Maiden. They could
not understand why we should be called enemies of the people.

“It proves that your accusers are evil,” they said.
246 STRONG MAN’S PREY

Chabha, the irascible old chief who splashed wine in my face, came
asking me for medicine. I led him into the dispensary.

“I don’t want medicine,” he said when we were alone. ‘T've only
just heard that you are going. Is it true?”

I told him the circumstances and his eyes filled with tears. He
clung to my arm and said, ““You’ve been better than brothers and
sisters, mother and father to us. Who among our own people would
have done all that you did? It is as if someone we loved was
dying.”

yI tgied to impress upon him the importance of believing all he had
heard from us of the gospel. But it was not safe to linger talking,
the dark blanket of fear and suspicion had descended on Chaokioh.
The wild and lawless parts of Nosuland were now freer, happier
places than the governed territory.

Aku saw his chance of getting our help to break free from his
opium craving fade away. His conscience troubled him. If only
he had acted when he first believed the truth in 1947. Now he
was stale and hardened, longing but apparently incapable of for-
saking sin. His investigations into the alleged plot against us left him
a little anxious. The story was confirmed, but the plot unproved,
and unexploded. ’

“Mo’m Apu, God, will preserve you,” he encouraged. “But
Vulii and I will escort you through the danger area when you go.
Anyone harming you would then be harming us. They would not
dare to do it. They would fear our revenge.”

As an extra precaution I bearded the Communist authorities in
their headquarters.

“I have heard that there is a plot to ambush us on the way out
to Sichang,” I said, watching their faces. The two commissars looked
at each other and smiled.

“Nothing in it,” they answered suavely, for they had not yet
begun to be overbearing toward us. But now they knew it was no
secret, and it seemed unlikely that we would meet trouble.

The Principal was due from Salowu in the second half of January,
and our last days were devoted to preparing for the baptism service.
But it was not to take place. He and his friends set out and were
turned back, though we did not know it till long afterwards. In the
last nine months about thirty men, women, girls and boys, had
professed repentance and conversion. Only half of those were still
in Chaokioh. All the soldiers and the civil engineer had gone, to
 

HEARTBREAK HILL 247

“have their minds changed” by indoctrination. The remaining
Christians were to all appearances a weak lot. The Communists did
not restrain their mirth, and left their counter-measures until we had
gone. Of the men, Chao and one other were going with us, and the
remaining ones were unfit to be leaders. Strongest of all were the
few girls, twenty years old and less, to whom Christ now meant
everything. They were prepared to stand without us, come what
might. And we were confident that they would.

Talking, singing and praying were difficult as the end approached.
All of us felt the march of events too keenly. For us it was a moving
experience to be torn from the vocation we had given ourselves to.
But to sce the grief of those who were the children of our suffering
stabbed to our hearts. The last meeting together was devoted to
re-affirmation of our trust in God, with lusty singing of triumphant
hymns by brave but sometimes weeping singers. It was a strange
meeting for another reason: standing near the exits with his eyes
fixed on the windows ready to escape if anyone unfriendly should
appear, was the once aggressive indoctrinator. He was now well on
the way to being a Christian himself, and promising to help the
orphaned church as much as lay in his power. At our gates were
communists with bayonets fixed, to prevent the removal of our
own property by any but themselves.

On the final morning asilent throng of two hundred sympathizing
Nosu gathered to witness our going, unable under observation to
express what was on their faces. Crouched in their black cloaks like
a colony of silent crows, they watched the pack-animals loaded up,
saw the children settled in their panniers, Jan and Pauline either side
of a big mule, and the younger two each in a basket on a man’s
back. We were going, ignominiously and yet in a triumphal pro-
cession. The Nosu thronged the road as we set out. Outside the gates
the Christians were waiting to escort us for the first two miles.
With them stood Mrs. Chiang, the telegraphist’s wife. Only the
night before she had at last taken the great step and declared her
faith in Christ. On the eve of our going and the start of new perse-
cution she had joined the persecuted.

Near them was the little black witch wailing,

“What shall we do now? How shall we get on without you?”

And the Nosu girl Aji who had said one day, “I believe all you
have told me about Chu Yehsu, but how can I learn more about
Him if you go away?”

Hualan had told her, “We will teach you!”
248 STRONG MAN’S PREY

And others unafraid to show their affection even though they had
not gone so far toward conversion.

The Christians had been sobbing their hearts out until we reached
them, and were still shaking with emotion. We suggested singing a
last hymn together, and they controlled themselves until it and a
brief prayer were over. At the end a burst of weeping came from
some of them, but Wenjen, the natural leader, brushed her tears
away and said emphatically,

“We must not weep. Let’s sing!”

So as they followed along the track with us they kept up the
singing, going through the hymns they had been memorising,
making a victory of what looked like defeat.

As we went I found the Nosu Communist interpreter beside me
and in great distress. His was the same question as so many,

“How am I to find the way when you have gone? Who will tell
me how to get rid of my sins?”’

I told him to talk with the girls, or Chao when he returned, if he
managed to do so as a trader. Aku was there as promised, and Vulii
had sent his son. Each of them had retainers who would stay with
us until we reached Sichang and were out of danger. And the very
last to part from us was Guchio, the young man who had been
presented as a “‘son”’ to me four years earlier.

At the River of Three Bends, where the Great Hen blocks the
exit from the heart of Nosuland and the traveller has to ford the
stream and climb for several miles, the final parting came, the final
wrench that made us all unable to do more than turn in the saddle
and wave as the distance between us and the “hope of Nosuland”
grew greater. That spacious panorama of the Chaokioh basin and
its wild hills, is fixed indelibly in my mind, the broad river bed and
the thin trail of pack-mules and travellers winding slowly away into
the distance ahead, and behind me as I followed, the little shrinking
knot of friends appearing to crumple and break up. Some were
broken hearted and could no longer sing. Others were comforting
them. Hot eyed I turned away and spurred Belinda to a canter. But
a faint burst of singing made me swing round again, and there they
were, standing together, singing and waving. And while I looked
they turned and started home.
 

CHAPTER TWENTY
LAST LOOK BACK

HAT irony! A flood of thoughts and uncouth emotions were

to be expected. Ten years of preparation and four years of
costly labour, and instead of falling barriers and an enlarging
perimeter, this! Instead of a mass movement among the Nosu for
whom, primarily, we came, a handful of Chinese peasant girls and
a few derelict men. Wenjen, Wenying, Hualan, and the two Huang
sisters were the most hopeful. Wenfa, Junjih, Yinfeng; old Mrs.
Huang, Mrs. Chiang, Mrs. Chang the innkeeper’s wife, sad little
Hoji, a girl of only fourteen but already married to a soldier, and
others, not forgetting Lili; the old tax collector Li, the Battle Axe,
Old Tu the coolie, the young cook Chen; and a fringe of half-born
gropers. Was this all that we were leaving? Even if Yinyung suc-
ceeded in returning with his bride to live amongst them, would
he be allowed to preach, to earn his living while he helped them?
And if Chao came too to stand by Yinyung, what could they do?
How could they stand against official opposition?

For the last time Belinda splashed through the river and began
the stiff ascent of the Great Hen. From its slopes the deep Oerhchio
Valley was visible, and Chuheh, and the Dragon’s Head, and the
scattered villages of the Batcii and Asu clans. How different this
viewing from the first and many since! Then I had looked upon
them all as the potential homes of Christians, even if still dark with
paganism. Now they were. . . .

Yes, what? Why this dejection? Probably in every village if not
every home were some who had heard something of the gospel,
whatever their response. Chiefs had spent hours talking with us.
Whites had worked for us through most of a year. Yinyung and
Chao had been into many of the hamlets. I myself had visited them
to see patients. And if we had never done so, the inhabitants had
come to us, thronging by the score and hundred, coming also in
their smaller groups. They had not all studied our behaviour,
listened to the explanation of the posters, heard the gossip about
Chu Yehsu, without knowing that a new phenomenon had come
amongst them, a new light into their darkness. Aku, Vulii, Soza,
250 STRONG MAN’S PREY

Chupi, Guchio, Hma Vuta and all the others who had understood
the implications of the gospel though they had never dared or been
repentant enough to act on them—they were not to be forgotten
or discounted. If the impact of the darkness and devilry on us had
been so great, the impact of God and Light on them had also been
considerable.

Nor were the poor Christians so pathetic. In the eyes of blind
materialists perhaps, but not to us. Had not history often shown
that one or two real Christians were enough of a live nucleus to
turn a large community to God? During the last world war had
not a handful of believers like this in Ethiopia been the means of the
conversion of some fifteen thousand? And in Formosa as many
again? The factor to be reckoned with was supernatural, spiritual,
no other than the Hand of God, the Holy Spirit. Without Him
what would the early church have done after Christ left them?
Without Him how would these undervalued saints who had been
unprincipled pagans have changed so dramatically?

He Who had chained the Lion in Chengtu, and brought me safely
through my journeys, Who had done wonders in such close con-
nection with ‘“‘unreasonable” prayer that the result could not be
fairly attributed to chance, whether in finance or tight corners or
convicting people of sin, could He not do without us? What pre-
sumption, to suppose that we were needed, let alone indispensable,
for the emancipation of the Nosu! ““God has chosen what the world
calls foolish to shame the wise; He has chosen what the world calls
weak to shame the strong.” He had done it all along and would do
it again. He had chosen to use girls and young women predomin-
antly, but that was nothing new. They were bi-lingual, as much at
home in the Nosu language as Chinese, and unafraid to tell what
they had learned to any who would listen sincerely.

As we climbed my heart grew lighter. Any fear of ambush had
been put away though the possibility had not been entirely excluded.
We were going, not because the godless had compelled it, nor
because God’s planning had miscarried, but because His time was
ripe. Fledgling souls had been hatched, nourished and taught how
to fly. Now they were to do it. He had other work for us, perhaps
to take the Light to some similar stronghold of the Evil One, where
an intimate knowledge of the pagan heart would be of use, “where
Christ has not been named,” or to allow an interval and then to
bring us back in time to share the spoils in Nosuland.

Often we had stressed the power of prayer by friends remote
 

LAST LOOK BACK 251

from the scene of action. Now we were to join them. Often we had
pleaded for companions in our efforts. Now we were to see what
ailed them, why the church at home was so passive while the church
in Chaokioh, only nine months old and so despicable, was virile—
why the cry for men, men, men, was left unanswered while Joan,
Janet and Ruth did their work and other women offered to come
also, knowing they would suffer.

At the summit one long agonizing look back, to the specks in the
distance that were the fort and the Chinese village, Little Chaokioh,
agonizing because that was where our hearts were, and then down-
ward for two hours to the Valley of Three Bends. A night spent in
a hay loft, all of us together, with Chao and Mrs. Yang the house-
woman as well, and the next morning goodbye to Aku as we crossed
the valley, with an urgent,

“Aku! nothing matters so much as what you have heard so often.
Don’t forget Chu Yehsu, let Him give you a new heart, let Him
save you and the Nosu people. Do this and our purpose in coming
to you will have been fulfilled.”

And we parted.

Four months later we passed through the barbed wire at the
Hongkong border. Travelling and stopping, travelling and stopping,
always at the mercy of the upstarts: insults, intimidations, suspicions
and searchings—then freedom.

And what memories! Chao, Mrs. Yang and Old Tu refusing
to leave us as long as they were needed; the sight of Chao with
Margaret sharing his saddle one bleak misty evening, soothing her
travel-weary wailing with a flow of mellow conversation; the little
cavalcade trailing by the Last Look Back and down Heartbreak
Hill; sad, sad Zihtu riding with us out of Nosuland to the home we
had found for him, and coming a few days later to report that he
had overheard men planning his murder for the silver we had
given him; fear in men’s eyes all along the way, not knowing what
the morrow might bring forth; and love in the eyes of the most
unlikely as well as of true friends, sympathy and love unfeigned.

But inerasably, a flood of memories of tribesmen and Chinese
left behind in Nosuland: the hope and dread mingled in the banished
lepers’ eyes; the ape-like slaves, less man than beast; the devil in the
faces of the wild men of the Ahu and kindred clans; the anxious
“Will you ever come back?” of so many; the broken grief of
renegades who had become dearer to us than life; the strong,
252 STRONG MAN’S PREY

handsome, arrogant, unbending, mean, fickle, but generous and
affectionate Nosu who were our friends of choice.

What miracles of answered prayer, of deliverance in danger, of
victory when the Strong Man would have scattered us, when he
attacked our souls and sanity!

What ghastly, tearful pathos in the sight of little Jan learning to
write, quote and understand the words, “Who shall separate us
from the love of Christ? Shall tribulation or distress or persecution
or famine or nakedness or peril or sword?” when it seemed that she
might need them more than anything in life!

But what strong confidence in the God Who gave us to Nosuland,
and showed us that “‘what He has promised He is able also to
perform”; and brought us out again!

Months more have passed, and at the time of going to press we
know only that the Boss and the Busman have been imprisoned, the
latter said to be “‘confessing” that he had helped me in espionage.
Dr. Lovegren was in jail before we left, and is still there. Chao has
been seen wearing the grey uniform of a communist, doubtless
pressed into service as an interpreter. But no word has reached us
from the heart of Nosuland.

“Ye have not chosen Me,
But I have chosen you, and ordained you,
That ye should go and bring forth fruit,
And that your fruit should remain.”

“Those whom Thou gavest Me I have kept,
And none of them is lost. . . .
Neither pray I for these alone,
But for them also which shall believe on Me
Through their word.”
 

GLOSSARY
Ahu:  Surname of the largest and wildest Nosu clan.

Aku:  Very friendly Batcii chief.
Asu: Clan surname of the Gt. Hen and Oerhchio Nosu.

Barn:  The stable used as our first home in Nosuland.

Batcii (Ba-chie):  Clan surname of the Chaokioh Nosu.
Beautiful Maiden: Meiku Ho, a river near the Dragon’s Head.
Belinda:  The mule, 2 member of the team.

Black Nosu: True Nosu, the chiefs, nobles, princes and their

families.
Boss: Chinese companion on 1947 exploratory journey.
Brooke: Lieut. Francis Brooke, explorer killed in Nosuland,
1908.

Chaha: Batcii chief.
Chao: Christian Nosu interpreter.

Chaokioh (Jowjior): ~ Old Manchu fort in the centre of Nosu-
and.

Chasm:  Ai O Kou, a ravine near Fulin.

Chienchang wvalley: ~ Historic route between Szechwan and
Yunnan provinces.

Chengming:  Christian Nosu colleague from Kiehkow.

Chuheh valley: Home of the Hma clan, ten miles beyond
Chuheh.

Chupi:  Friendly and trustworthy Batcii chief.
Chu Yehsu:  Chinese term for the “Lord Jesus.”

Dragon’s Head:  Lung T’ou Shan, highest mountain in the
Taliangshan, N.E. of Chaokioh.

Floyd Larsen:  American colleague in the team.
F.A.U.:  Friends Ambulance Unit.
254 STRONG MAN’S PREY

Ginio: Traditional Nosu name of the Son of the God of Heaven.

God’s Ground:  Term used to alienate evil practices from our
premises in Chaokioh and Chuheh.

Great Cold Mountains:  Range of mountains, the Taliangshan,
lying in the great loop of the Yangtze River.

Guchio:  Young Nosu man presented to A.J.B. as a son.

Hakvu: Inner sanctum of a Nosu home.

Hapu:  Batcii Aku’s personal retainer.

Hma: Clan surname of the scattered Lolo Vale, Four Fields and
Chuheh Nosu.

Hsien: A county.

Hsienfu: Seat of county government.

Huakan: Form of mountain chair, like a deck chair slung be-

tween two poles.

Thren:  Chinese term for aboriginals.

Kichkow: Home of Christian Nosu community in Kweichow
province.
Komfort Korner: Name given to our base in Sichang.

Lani: A chief of the Shama clan between Chaokioh and the

Yangtze.
Leopard’s Mouth: Low range of hills between Chaokioh and
Chuheh.
Ling:  An influential Nosu prince with a good Chinese and
military education.
Lion: A Chinese commissioner who opposed the Nosuland
venture. ,
Little Chaokioh: Adjacent Chinese and Nosu villages outside
Chaokioh fort.
Lolo (Lololand):  Derogatory term for the Nosu.
Lo'm: Clan surname of Nosu west of Chaokioh.
Lovegren: L. A. Lovegren, Ph.D., American missionary.

Ling:  Nephew of a Christian chief in the Chaotung area (Strong
Tower).
 

GLOSSARY 255

Mantzu:  “Savages,” a term of opprobrium for the Nosu.
Mo'm Apu:  Nosu term for “the God of Heaven.”
Mpo:  Clan surname of Nosu beyond Chuheh.

Nosu:  Race of approximately 3 million tribes-people thought to
be of Aryan and Tibetan stock, scattered through S.W. China.

Nosuland, Independent: ~ Arbitrary term used for the enclave of
unsubjugated Nosu in the Gt. Cold Mts.

Old Fort:  Village on site of old Manchu fort in Chaokioh valley.
Old Stockade: =~ Old Manchu garrison site in Chuheh valley.

Pimo: ~ Nosu term for a sorcerer-priest.

River of Golden Sands (of Gold): ~ The upper Yangtze River.
River of Silver Sands: The Tatu River, N. of Nosuland.

Road-guards, blocks: Squads of Nosu who “protected”
travellers and exacted toll.

Salowu:  Home of Christian Nosu community in Yunnan
province. '

Soza: Friendly Batcii chief.

St. Paul: =~ Name of Lutheran Mission plane flying on charter.

Strong Man:  The Devil.

Tang: Chinese male nurse in the team.

Tavern:  Mud-walled shack once a wine tavern but bought and
adapted for our use.

Vuga:  Batcii chief of the Nosu half of Little Chaokioh.
V’ha:  Blind Batcii chief.

Vaja:  Clan surname of Nosu to west of Chaokioh.

Vulii:  Friendly Batcii chief.

Vuniu (of Pheasant Hollow):  Infamous Nosu kidnapper.
Vuta:  Friendly chief of Hma clan at Chuheh.

Wenhua:  Christian Nosu colleague from Kiehkow.
White Nosu: Yeomen, retainers, and serfs of the Nosu.
Witch, little black: Keeper of a den of vice.
256 STRONG MAN’S PREY

Yamen: ~ Old Manchu residency.

Yang, Mrs.:  Chinese house-woman.

Yarih: ~ Nosu term for a foreigner, adapted from the Chinese.
Yinyung:  Christian Nosu colleague from Salowu.

Yuhsin:  Christian Nosu colleague from Salowu.

Zihtu (Zz£'pp’): . Nosu leper servant.
 
 

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