Chapter IV: Foreword (3)

But his heart was not at rest. When the supper was finished, he walked to the door and looked out. Again the thunder of the rain had ceased, the sun was shining brightly, and mist was rising from the earth. He could see with his mind's eye the thick jungle extending hundreds of miles away and growing darker and darker. It was not the thought of the jungle which troubled him, but of the inhabitants whose hearts were darker than their skins, darker than the shadows of night which would soon settle down. He had now a new question to trouble his peace.

"What can one man do?" he said to himself.

* * * * *

Ten more years passed, and this morning the sun shone clear and unclouded. The rains were over, and fine weather was certain for weeks to come. David remembered as he rose that the eleventh anniversary of his coming to Africa had passed unnoticed. He had an important matter on his mind and he dressed quickly and came and stood at the doorway of the mission house, waiting a little impatiently for his breakfast.

The mission house had changed in appearance; the roof was sound and the floor safe to walk upon and there was comfortable furniture everywhere. Even more changed was the aspect of everything without. It seemed as though on all sides the jungle had been pushed back and the sunlight had been let in. Before the mission house was a garden; near by stood a chapel; here were dormitories; there were workshops. Surrounding the mission grounds were plantations of coffee trees.

Not only were there pleasant things to look at, but there were pleasant things to hear, the sound of children singing, the cheerful jingling of the breakfast dishes, and, above all, the soft pleasant splash of the waterfall in the river.

There were even funny sounds. A pet monkey sat on the porch railing and chattered at David—whom, by the way, we should now call Mr. Day. The poor monkey had yesterday learned a lesson which all naughty creatures must learn, to keep his hands away from that which did not belong to him. His aim in life was mischief; he liked to steal, to tear down pictures from the wall, to open ink bottles and smear ink over nice clean paper, or, better still, over paper which had been laboriously covered with reports.

But yesterday, in hunting for ink, he had opened a bottle of strong ammonia. For a moment he had been paralyzed by the fumes, then he coughed and sputtered and scolded and screamed and ran to the top of one of the tall palm trees in front of the house. He would never open any more bottles! He seemed to be saying so as he chattered.

_Courtesy Women's Missionary Society, United Lutheran Church_

OLD MISSION CHAPEL BUILT BY DR. DAY, AND HIS COFFEE INDUSTRY

Dr. Day believed that not only must men be taught about Jesus, but they
must be given work to keep them busy and create self-respect.]

After breakfast a bell rang, and Mr. Day hurried to the chapel. It was time for prayers, and then he would get at his important task. He had, besides a loving heart, a good head, and he believed that it was not enough to teach men about Jesus and to persuade them to have faith in Him. One must also give them work to do so that their minds and hands might be occupied and they might be self-respecting and busy. Then the tempter would not be able to win them back to sin.

Each boy and girl and each man and woman in the mission had a task. In the first place they went to school, and hundreds had learned to read the Bible, some so well that they could teach others. They did the work in the mission house and on the coffee plantations, they toted the baggage, and they farmed for themselves.

Mr. Day not only believed that they should work, but he believed that they should have good tools and labor-saving devices just as the white people had, and this morning a long-looked-for steam engine was to be set in place. There was no use to try to have any other work done, or even to keep school. Mr. Day was excited, but he was the least excited of all the people for miles around.

He conducted chapel soberly, and then he went down to the river, followed by a great crowd. There were little girls in neat gingham dresses and little boys in white cotton trousers and shirts and older folks who were also clean and neatly dressed. Behind them came another throng who lived near by, but who did not belong to the mission. At their head was a chief who had fixed himself up for the occasion by borrowing all the clothing his friends owned. He wore shoes which were too tight, and consequently he took mincing, awkward steps. The rest of his wardrobe consisted of three heavy coats, the lower one very long, the upper one cut off so as to show the tails of the other two, and a high paper collar.

Like all the rest, he was afraid of the large object which lay at the landing. Not much of it was to be seen through the crate which covered it, but he could tell that it was black and dangerous looking. He muttered as he went along.

"We no made for do dis ting. 'Merican man got dat sense. Country man too fool; no sava (know) dem ting called steam. Sava cook, sava eat, sava rice; but dis ting pass him."

As they approached the river's edge, the men of the mission pressed forward to the side of Mr. Day, whom they called Daddy. They were very proud of their importance, but they were half afraid. Daddy was already fastening the ropes to the boat in which the engine rested.

"Now, boys, pull her up!" he called.

There was giggling and laughing as a hundred hands laid hold on the ropes. There was also a great deal of boasting, such as boys do in our country.

"Me strong man!"

"Me pull powerful!"

"Dis ting nosing! Me pull whole house."

"Me pull whole tree down!"

"Ready, all together!" called Daddy.

In a few minutes the boat was high up on the sand beside a strong tripod of poles and the mission wagon which had been placed there. With still louder shouts the heavy box was swung into the wagon. There was laughter and more boasting.

"Me pull strongest of all!"

But now came the tug-of-war. The wagon sank deep into the soft soil and when it would not move, each black man let go the rope and began to shout reproaches at his mate.

"You no work!"

"You weak man!"

"You little baby!"

Daddy was for a moment in despair. Then his ever-ready smile returned, and he said to a bystander, "Get a drum."

The drummer began to beat, the crowd began to sing, the boys and girls began to dance, and the wagon moved. The rope was so long that the women and children could take hold. In a little while the engine had come to the end of its long journey from York, Pennsylvania, to Muhlenberg Mission, Africa.

But it was not yet set up, and Mr. Day was puzzled. He stood earnestly reading the directions, and then he began to give orders. He was so pressed upon by the crowd that he had to shout to them to stand back.

A smart mission boy read the number on the engine.

"Him say, 'No two four one seven.' That him name."

They were all so busy with their own thoughts that they did not see that the last section of the engine was in place and that Daddy had filled the boiler with water.

Suddenly a black boy began to yell.

"Daddy burn him engine up! Daddy burn him engine up!"

Daddy smiled again and piled under the boiler the splintered wood from the crate. The fire grew hotter and hotter, the people forgot their fear and pressed closer and closer.

Daddy was elated; for years he had prayed for this engine, and for months he had known that it was coming and had wondered whether he would be able to set it up and run it. Now here it was, put together, and with the steam pressure mounting higher and higher. He could not express his joy, but he had something at hand which could. He supposed that this fine engine had a fine whistle and he opened the valve and set it off.

Such a sound had never been heard in that part of the world. It was shriller than the monkey's chatter; it was more penetrating than the roll of the war-drums. Men, women, children—everybody—ran for the woods. Even the goats and the chickens fled. Daddy laughed and laughed, and presently they began to venture back.

"How he live for (does he) holler?" asked one.

"He shoot off wif he mouf!"

"Daddy say he have biler. Where de biler?"

"Yonder de biler!" And half a dozen fingers pointed to the smoke-stack.

Daddy let the fire go down and went back to the mission porch. It was almost noon, and the hot sun commanded all men with white skins to get under cover. He sat down to tell his friends in America that the engine was in place, and, as he wrote, he remembered his arrival at the mission, its desolation, the sinking of his heart. His pen dropped from his fingers.

One man had, after all, done a great deal.

Mr. Day had, after awhile, a new title, given to him by a college at home. First he had been Dave, then David, then he had been the Reverend Mr. Day, then "Daddy," and now he was "the Reverend Doctor Day." Probably he liked "Daddy" best of all.

He had ceased entirely as he grew older to think about other people caring for him; what he wished for was to care for other people. He had had many to love, the dear wife who worked with him, and two babies whom they could only keep for a little while. Then there was Leila, a little daughter who was brought up in America. When she was nine years old she went to Africa, but lived only a short time.

He had also hundreds, even thousands, of black boys and girls and men and women, those who came to the mission as children and married there and bought themselves little farms near by, and those who came and stayed only a little while and then went back to the jungle. Of these, some forgot all they had learned, except one thing, that here was a man who had come from so far away that they could not measure the distance, simply to do them good.

For twenty-three years Dr. Day worked on, almost without rest. Mrs. Day came home to America, worn-out, but with high courage to the end of her life. She would not let anyone say that she would not get well and that she could not go back and work with Dr. Day.

"In Africa everything depends on how brave you are. I expect to go back."

Dr. Day saw many of the missionaries who came to help him fall by his side; he saw his first native helpers grow old and die, but he was as brave as Mrs. Day.

"This is my work," he would say. "I need no rest. This is my place."

In 1896 he came home. It was December, and more than thirty years had passed since that December day when he had started out in the bleak morning leading his poor horses. He traveled on a fast steamer, but it was clearly to be seen that before he reached the dock he would have started on another journey. The friends who came to meet him found only his tired body.

But all over the country hearts ached and ached, from Maine to California and from Canada to Florida, and out in Africa there was mourning. It was hard to realize that this was the boy who, when he was young, had wished so desperately for "just one person to care for him." Now thousands cared for him. The explanation is very simple, so simple that any child can understand and can imitate him. It is this—he cared for others.

VII

UNDER TWO FLAGS

It was New Year's Eve in China, even though the calendar on Jennie Crawford's desk in the hospital in the city of Hanyang said, "January 31, 1911." Three years ago, she had left her home in Lynn, Massachusetts, to go to Hanyang because there were more nurses in the state of Massachusetts than in all the great Chinese Empire.

"If I should live in China fifty years," she said to herself as she looked at her calendar, "I'd never get used to February first or any other day than the first day of January being New Year's Day. It seems so strange to have a different day every year and none of them January first."

She walked to the window and looked out. The night was stormy. Loud peals of thunder startled the people who hurried along the streets, and occasional flashes of lightning illuminated the crowds gathered there.

"It's not a good sign for the New Year," said one old Chinese to another. "When it thunders on New Year's Eve there will be a bad year!"

"We must make sure tonight that the evil spirits are all frightened away," answered his friend. "We must take no chances on any being left to get into the New Year."

The two men joined the crowd who were beating gongs and setting off firecrackers. Here and there Buddhist priests went up and down, urging the people to make just as much noise as possible.

Inside the houses mothers were trying to rouse their sleepy children because, unless the whole family kept awake and very watchful, the evil spirits would get into the houses and stay all the year. When the sleepy children could no longer hold their tired eyes open, their mothers hurriedly fed them a vegetable with a bad odor so that the spirits might be frightened away.

New Year's Day was clear and beautiful, and all China had holiday. The shops were closed, and the houses were decorated with strips of red paper inscribed with Chinese characters which meant "happiness," "long life," and other blessings. On most of the doors were pasted new pictures of idols. These were the "door gods" who were expected to frighten the evil spirits away.

It was a busy morning for Jennie Crawford. As in most hospitals, there seemed to be more work than there were people to do it. She assisted with two operations, she made a visit to every bed, sometimes saying only a word of encouragement, but oftener lending a hand in a delicate dressing or superintending the bathing of a very ill patient. She was an expert nurse, and the poor women and children looked at her affectionately, knowing that when her tender hands were compelled to hurt them, it was because she loved them.

As Miss Crawford looked down the street, she could tell the houses of Christians because on them were no hideous pictures, but, instead, beautiful verses from the Bible giving God's promise to care for those who trust in Him.

Everyone goes calling on New Year's Day in China, and many callers came to bring good wishes to Miss Crawford. Little Mrs. Tsao, the wife of the Chinese Christian pastor, came early. Her hair was brushed until it shone like folds of black satin.

"Oh, that the light of God may this year shine upon China just as the sun shines today!" she said.

Next came Miss Crawford's Chinese teacher, who was so dressed up for the New Year that she scarcely knew him. He did not lift his hat as he came in, for that would have been most impolite. From the long, full sleeve of his coat, he took a package wrapped in a yellow silk handkerchief. He unwrapped the package and handed one of his large, red paper calling cards to Miss Crawford.

A procession of fifteen men from the Christian Church came together. Their hair was plaited in long queues which hung down their backs. The queues were tied with long black silk tassels which almost touched the floor. All wore their longest and handsomest gowns. The bright red buttons on top of their black satin caps meant that they brought congratulations, for red is the color of happiness in China. Each man bowed very low and shook his own hand instead of Miss Crawford's to wish her a happy New Year.

All day long the callers came and drank tea and ate Chinese sweets. In the evening Miss Crawford and her friend Jennie Cody, a teacher in the Bible School, sat down together.

"The people in Hanyang are learning to trust us and to really love us," said Jennie Crawford, happily. "Better still, they are learning to trust and love God. Did you notice how many of the doors had Bible verses over them today instead of those hideous gods? I'm glad every day that I came to China."

"Would you still be glad if we had such fighting and riots here as they had across the river in Hankow last week?" asked Jennie Cody.

Jennie Crawford laughed. "I've never had a chance to find out what I would do in a battle," she said. "I'll tell you about that later."

"Things look as if you might have a chance to find out very soon," said Jennie Cody.

Presently a native Bible teacher came in and sat down with them.

"We were talking about the rumors of war," said Miss Crawford. "Do you think there will really be a revolution?"

"There must be a revolution," she answered. "You Americans would never have had freedom to govern your own country if you had not had your revolution. It is even worse in China. Three hundred years ago the Manchus came from the north and took the government away from the Chinese, put a Manchu emperor on the throne, and made the yellow flag with its dragon the flag of China. They compelled the men of China to plait their hair in queues, and whenever a Chinese man dared to cut off his queue, the soldiers of the emperor cut off his head. The Chinese want to be free to rule their own land as you do in America."

"I wish that China was a republic like the United States, but I'm afraid I'd make a poor soldier in a revolution," said Jennie Cody.

* * * * *

In October came rumors of riots and warfare. One evening as Jennie Crawford sat writing in her room in the school building, she heard a loud knocking at the door and a voice calling. There stood Jennie Cody holding up a letter. She had sped across the drill ground of the school and along the dark city wall to the hospital.

"A letter has come from the father of a pupil," she gasped. "He is a Chinese official and he says that there are rumors that a rebellion will start tomorrow."

"We have heard many rumors of war," said Jennie Crawford. "This is only another."

The next day passed and the next and the next and still all was quiet. That night she slept without fear.

Early the following morning a Bible woman came to her. "I've been up all night," she said. "The people are fleeing to the country by hundreds, carrying on their backs bundles of bedding and clothing. All night there has been a procession leaving the city. They say that the revolution is beginning and that the hardest fighting will be in Hanyang because the guns and powder are stored here in the great arsenal, and both armies will try to capture that."

Before noon another letter came. Jennie Crawford read it quickly.

"The American consul says, 'All American women and children must leave Hanyang for a place of safety at once. Fighting has begun near by!'"

Dr. Huntley, the physician in charge of the hospital, called a meeting of all missionaries.

"We don't want to go," said Jennie Crawford. "The school is full of girls, and the hospital is full of patients. We don't want to leave them."

It was agreed that the women and children in the hospital and the girls in the school would be safer at their homes. Jennie Crawford and the teachers found escorts for pupils and patients, while Dr. Huntley went across the river to Hankow to consult the British consul.

"The missionaries in Wuchang thought they would not have to leave," said the consul. "Now the gates of the city have been closed. The American consul has been trying to get them out, but he cannot reach them. Fighting is going on all round the mission. You must get the American women and children out of Hanyang before the soldiers enter."

Dr. Huntley hurried home. The frightened boatman did not want to wait a minute. As he stepped out of the boat, Dr. Huntley took out his watch.

"It is twenty minutes after four," he said. "Promise me that you will wait here with your boat until five."

The boatman promised, and the doctor hurried to the hospital. At the tea-table in the dining-room sat Mrs. Huntley with Jennie Crawford and Jennie Cody.

"We have no choice, we must leave in thirty minutes," announced Dr. Huntley. "Get together a few things and take no more than you can carry."

The half-emptied teacups left on the table as the women hurried from the dining-room were to remain there many days. Gathering up a few things, they started for the boat as the sun was setting. On a hill back of the hospital were six hundred soldiers of the Manchu Emperor.

"They are likely to fire!" said one of the servants.

But no gun was fired as the party went out. The boatman was waiting, although he trembled with fear. The river was rough, and the waves threatened to swallow the little boat, but it reached Hankow in safety.

The city was crowded, and the only rooms to be found were in a poor little hotel. None of the party slept that night.

"If you hear a signal in the night," they were warned, "it will mean, 'Danger! Rise and dress!' If there is a second signal, it will mean, 'All gather near the gunboats!' A third signal will mean, 'Great danger! American women and children get into the boats!'"

All night they listened, but they heard only the steady tramp, tramp of the guards who marched up and down the streets.

In the morning a messenger called out, "The soldiers entered Hanyang in the night!"

If the boatman had not waited, they would have been shut up in the city.

"Rich Chinese men and women are paying much money to be let down over the walls in baskets, for the gates are closed, and no one can get out any other way," said the messenger.

In the evening Jennie Crawford saw thirty girls coming down the street.

"Here come the schoolgirls from Wuchang!" she cried joyfully.

Each girl carried the few clothes she had been able to save tied up in a square of cotton cloth.

"For two days and nights we were shut in the school building," said one. "The bullets flew all round, and we could see burning buildings every way we looked. Then the rescue party reached us. We had our bundles all ready to leave at a moment's notice."

They were very tired, yet they stood bravely round the walls of the room, for there were no chairs. Not one knew whether she had a home or any friends left, but not even the youngest cried or complained.

"Extra! Extra!" shouted a newspaper messenger as he carried his papers from house to house. "Twenty thousand troops on the way from Peking!"

Jennie Crawford bought a paper and everyone gathered round her.

"Twenty thousand of the Emperor's soldiers are on their way from Peking!" she announced. "The British and American consuls advise all foreign women and children to go on to Shanghai!"

On to Shanghai they went that evening. The city was crowded with many refugees. At last they were safe with friends who were waiting for them there, and who gave them a glad welcome.

But they did not stay in Shanghai. After a few days Dr. Huntley came into the sitting-room one morning with a paper in his hand.

"The call has come for Red Cross doctors and nurses to go to Hankow," he said. "The wounded soldiers of both armies are being taken there, and there is no one to care for them. I'm going to volunteer to return as a Red Cross surgeon."

"I'll go with you as a Red Cross nurse," said Jennie Crawford.

_Courtesy Woman's American Baptist Foreign Mission Society_

JENNIE CRAWFORD ADMINISTERING AN ANESTHETIC

Assisting with operations, lending a hand in delicate dressings, and
giving a word of encouragement and comfort wherever needed, Miss
Crawford became a beloved nurse.]

"Take me, too!" begged Jennie Cody.

"No Americans except doctors and nurses are allowed to enter the city," answered Dr. Huntley.

Jennie Cody looked up at him. "The one thing I have said I never, never could be is a nurse, but I won't be a coward when Jennie Crawford needs help, and wounded soldiers have no one to nurse them. Pin the red cross on my arm and maybe that will give me courage."

When they bought tickets, the agent said, "You go at your own risk. I can make no promise that you will ever reach Hankow. Many boats are being fired on."

But as the boat with the red cross on its white flag went up the river, the soldiers of both armies lowered their guns.

Such a different Hankow they found! The crowded streets were deserted; even the beggars were gone. The smoke still hung over the ruins of many buildings which had been burned. The fire had not touched an unfinished hospital, and in it they found many wounded soldiers. Most of the fighting was in Hanyang, and the Red Cross launches brought the wounded men of both armies across the river.

Two nurses were already there for day duty, so Jennie Crawford and Jennie Cody slept in the day and went on duty at night going up and down between the rows of soldiers like angels of mercy. There were few beds, and most of the men had to lie on straw on the floor with no sheets or pillows.

"Which way will it go?" said Jennie Cody one day.

"No one can tell," answered Jennie Crawford. "Just now the revolutionists are ahead. They have captured the arsenal in Hanyang. Three hundred of their soldiers went up to the gate with their clothes torn and looking as if they had been in a battle. They pretended to be the soldiers of the Emperor who had been defeated. The gate-keepers let them in, and they took charge of the arsenal without firing a single shot. Now the people are so sure the revolutionists will win that many men have already cut off their queues. The soldiers with swords in their hands demand that men prove they are loyal to the new republic by having their queues cut off."

"If we could only get back to Hanyang again to get some warm clothes!" sighed Jennie Cody. "I'm almost frozen without my winter coat."

"Let's try to go over with Dr. Huntley in the Red Cross launch," proposed Jennie Crawford. "None of the soldiers of either army will fire at that."

When they reached Hanyang, they saw empty rickshaws along the river bank and many other signs of a hasty retreat. Before they reached their home, a man ran toward them.

"You must be ready to leave at a moment's notice," he cried. "The soldiers of the Emperor have taken the city again."

In the dining-room the teacups still stood on the table, but they did not stop to put them away. Hastily gathering a few garments, they hurried back to the boat.

Before the boat could pull out, the bullets were falling close beside them. Within half an hour a terrible battle was fought between the troops of the Emperor on the Hankow side of the river and those of the revolutionists on the other side. Nearer and nearer to the hospital came the bullets. One day the two nurses were awakened by the sound of shells directly over their heads. A bullet struck the wall of the room. Jennie Cody picked it up and with a smile that showed she was not afraid, put it away for a souvenir. The little Red Cross launches brought in more and yet more wounded soldiers until the nurses could scarcely step between the beds of straw. Again and again bullets fell near by, but none struck the Americans.

"That is because the bullets were made by foreigners," explained the Chinese. "They have eyes so they can see, and never hit the people who made them."

After the troops of the Emperor had captured Hanyang, they took Hankow and Wuchang. It seemed that the revolution had failed and that the yellow flag with its Manchu dragon would still float above China.

"Look at that man!" said Jennie Crawford one day. "He cut off his queue when he thought the revolutionists had won. Then when the soldiers of the Emperor recaptured the city, he was afraid they would cut off his head if they saw him without a queue, and he pinned one to his cap."

"Many men have done that," answered Jennie Cody. "When they think the soldiers of the Emperor are going to win, they let their queues hang down their backs; then if they think victory is going to the revolutionists, they tuck them up under their caps."

"The days may seem dark for the new republic, but even though the arsenal has been captured by the soldiers of the Emperor, good news comes from Shanghai and Nanking," said Jennie Crawford. "Everywhere the people are demanding that China shall be free. Shanghai has been taken by the revolutionists without any fighting and Nanking has already been made the capital of the new government."

Jennie Crawford's prophecy came true. When in 1912 New Year's Day came to China,—this time on January first by law,—Mr. Sun Yat-Sen was inaugurated as the first president of the great Chinghwa (Chinese) Republic, and the dragon flag came down. Instead, there floated a rainbow flag with stripes of five colors to represent the five peoples of China. There was a red stripe for the Chinese, a blue stripe for the Mongols, a white stripe for the Mohammedans, and a black stripe for the Tibetans. Instead of killing all the Manchu soldiers and the boy emperor, the new republic put a fifth stripe of yellow in its flag for the Manchu people who were to be a part of the new republic.

When the news reached the two nurses, Miss Crawford said to Miss Cody, "Now I can get back to my own hospital in Hanyang, to all the women and children who are waiting for me." But for many weeks they stayed to nurse the men who could not be moved.

One day they received a command from General Li Yuan Hung, vice-president of the new republic, to come to Wuchang, which was thronged with people from many nations, England, France, America, Germany, Russia, Italy, Japan, and Sweden. There the Vice-President presented to them bronze medals "in recognition of their bravery and self-sacrifice, in caring for the wounded during the revolution."

"I have almost forgotten the noise of battle and those days in the hospital," said Jennie Crawford as they went back to Hanyang. "But I can never forget that Chinese soldier who looked up at us one night as we tried to ease his pain, and said, 'You are like God to us.'

"'Oh, no,' I answered at once.

"'Well,' said he, as I smoothed his pillow of straw, 'you are the ones who make us know about God.'

"Now I can answer you that I'm still glad I came to China."

VIII

SIXTY-SIX DAYS WITH BANDITS

On a cold November morning a group of girls stood beside two mules in front of a house in Batang on the border of Tibet. Two were Americans, and the others, Tibetans.

"How long must you stay in America, Doris?" asked one of the Tibetan girls very sadly.

"If I study hard every day," answered Doris, "I can come back in ten years."

"That's not so bad," said another of the girls, "because, you see, if you will study night and day, you can get through and come back in five years."

"We must go," said Dorothy. "Father and Mother have gone on a half-hour ago."

There were tears in all eyes as Doris and Dorothy sprang into their saddles.

"Good-by! Good-by!" they called as the mules started forward.

Since they were babies, Doris and Dorothy Shelton had lived in Tibet, the land that is called "the roof of the world," because it is higher than any other country in the world. They had taken many trips, clinging to the backs of their mules as they went almost straight up on the rough mountain roads, but the journey on which they were starting now, as the sun rose from behind the snow-capped mountains, was to be the most thrilling of all.

Mrs. Shelton and the girls are in the chairs carried by barefoot
coolies.]

They soon overtook their mother and father and the servants. In front of the party rode guards, for the country was full of robber bands. Then came six mule drivers driving the twenty-five mules that were loaded with tents, baggage, and food. Following the mule drivers Mrs. Shelton rode in a sedan chair fastened to two poles which rested on the shoulders of four carriers who wore fine, bright-red turbans and long robes of grey _pulu_ or wool, which were tied about the waist. In the party were Andru, Drashi, and Shen-si, the three servants who had helped to care for Doris and Dorothy since they were babies.

Last of all, on a mule strong enough to carry his two hundred and thirty pounds, rode Dr. Albert Shelton. Everyone in Batang knew "Big Doctor Shelton," and everyone loved him.

Seventeen years before this time, when he left the medical school in Kansas, he looked over a map of the world to find the place that needed a doctor most. There was not a town in Kansas that did not have a doctor in it or near to it, and in some of the towns there were many doctors.

"I should like to go to a place where there are no other doctors," he said.

"Well, then," said a friend, "go to Tibet. That is the place for you, because in all Tibet there is no doctor. But you may not get there alive. The Dalai Lama, who is the head of everything in Tibet, government and Buddhist Church, lives in Lhasa, the capital, and he will not let any Christian missionary or doctor come within the walls of his city. Some have tried to go, but most of them were killed."

The more Albert Shelton thought about the land without a doctor, the more he wished to go there. He talked to his young wife, and she wanted to go, too, so one day they took a steamer from San Francisco and crossed the Pacific Ocean to China where a boat carried them a thousand miles up the Yangtze River. Then they went still farther on a little Chinese house-boat pulled by thirty men who walked along the bank. After the house-boat had gone up the river for nearly two months, they stepped off on shore and rode on the backs of mules for seven hundred miles.

More than a year after they left Kansas, they reached the town of Tatsienlu on the border of Tibet. If they could have stuck a pin eight thousand miles long right through the earth, it would have come out not far from where they started. The nearest doctor was seven hundred miles away, so Dr. Shelton decided to live in Tatsienlu until he could find a way to get farther into the closed land of Tibet.

Doris and Dorothy were born at Tatsienlu, among mountains that rose more than twenty thousand feet above the level of the ocean, so high that they were covered with snow in July and August. They were used to the strange little "yaks,"—houses covered with goat's hair. They watched their father make brick and saw lumber and teach the men how to build houses like the one he had built for himself.

After five years Dr. Shelton was permitted to go farther inland to Batang to start a hospital. When the people heard of the "good doctor" who had come so far across the ocean, and who could do such wonderful things to make sick people well, they came from all over the country to see him. At first he had to use for his operating table a door laid across two tables. Then he and his friends sawed lumber and baked brick and built a hospital. For ten years he lived at Batang, and many thousands of people came there to be helped.

He ministered to all who needed him despite the lack of a hospital.
This treatment is being given on a house top.]

Then a wonderful thing happened—Dr. Shelton was to go into Lhasa, the capital of the land-without-a-doctor. The Dalai Lama had kept out all missionaries because he was afraid the people would discover that their idols were not true gods and would not give the priests any more money. But now the Dalai Lama himself gave Dr. Shelton permission to come.

Before going to Lhasa Dr. Shelton planned to take Mrs. Shelton and Doris and Dorothy to the port of Hongkong, from which they were to sail to America, where the girls were to go to school. It was on this journey that they were starting on this November morning.

Mrs. Shelton did not want to say good-by to the people of Batang, whom she loved, so she tried to slip away before daybreak. But as she and the doctor rode along, they found people lined up on either side of the road to bid them good-by. Many had left their homes the night before and had marched ahead so they could stand by the road and see their "big doctor" and his wife and children once more. An escort of twenty-five boys had been sent ahead. All the way from Batang to the Yangtze River, a journey of a day and a half, the people were gathered along the roadside.

For thirty-six days Doris and Dorothy rode on their mules. Then they were so tired, their father got chairs for them and they were carried by the servants.

One day as they were riding along, Dorothy said:

"Are you afraid of robbers, Doris? I heard Andru and Shen-si say that Yang Tien-fu, the leader of a dreadful band must be near by. He is very angry at the government. He used to be a colonel in the Chinese army, but they didn't pay his salary, so he got a band of men to join him, and they live out in the mountains. Andru said they stop all travelers and take pay from them."

"I'm not afraid," said Doris. "We have soldiers to guard us."

"I'm glad we are almost at Yunnanfu. Forty-seven days is a long time to ride. Father says we will be at Yunnanfu in just two and a half days."

Suddenly, as the mules came out from behind a bend in the road, they threw back their ears and stopped. The report of a pistol rang out.

"Robbers! Robbers!" shouted the soldiers.

Another pistol shot followed, and the robbers sprang down through the brush of the mountainside. There was a crashing of glass, as a bullet struck the thermos bottle by Mrs. Shelton's side.

"Robbers! Robbers!" shouted the four soldiers again. One shot off his gun; then all four ran back to the village.

Mrs. Shelton and the girls crept out of their chairs and slipped over the bank into the ditch below.

Bullets flew. The bandits surrounded Dr. Shelton; one drew a large pistol and another a great sword. Dr. Shelton saw there was no chance to escape, so he let them take from him his field-glasses, his camera, and everything else they wanted. Andru was seized and his knife and chop-sticks taken from his belt. Holding up Dr. Shelton by both arms, two of the bandits led him up the mountain to their chief. The others tried to get Mrs. Shelton to climb the bluff which rose straight before them, but she was not able. Then they tried to carry her, but they could not get up the steep, narrow path with a load.

Doris wore gloves, but little Dorothy's hands were bare. The robbers saw her rings and took them off her fingers. Dorothy loved those rings which had been given to her by her friends, and she began to cry. Doris had been very much frightened by the robbers, but when she saw one of them with Dorothy's rings, she forgot about herself and going up to the robber said:

"You give those rings back to Dorothy!"

The robber smiled at the girl who was so brave for her little sister and actually handed the rings back.

By this time the soldiers returned with other soldiers and rushed out to attack the robbers, who left Mrs. Shelton and Doris and Dorothy and began fighting to defend themselves. At once the two girls with their mother and the servants slipped back to the village.

Meanwhile Dr. Shelton was being hurried along up the mountainside to the robber chief. Taller and stronger than any of the men who stood about him was Yang Tien-fu. He looked with interest at the things his men had taken from the travelers and examined Dr. Shelton's camera and field-glasses.

"How can this picture-box make pictures?" he asked. "Now stop and make my picture."

Dr. Shelton snapped the kodak.

"Now take my picture out of the box and let me see it."

"There is no picture there yet," said Dr. Shelton.

Yang Tien-fu would not believe him and made him open the camera and spoil the first picture of a robber chief he had ever had a chance to take.

Dr. Shelton could look down to the valley and watch the battle between the bandits and the soldiers. He saw Mrs. Shelton's empty chair.

"Why do you want to take me as a prisoner?" he asked.

"Because I must have money," answered the bandit.

"I have no money," said Dr. Shelton.

"But your people will offer me a ransom. I have plenty of soldiers in my land, but they have little to fight with. I will tell your people that if they will send me fifty thousand dollars' worth of guns and powder and bullets I will release you. And that is not all. The government has taken my family and is keeping them as prisoners. I will tell them that if they will send my family back to me, I will send you back to them. Get on your mule, for we must travel far from here."

Over the rough, steep road of the mountain they rode for many hours. Not until the sun went down did they stop to rest and to wait for their companions. They built a fire and cooked rice. After they had eaten, they took out their long pipes and smoked opium. Dr. Shelton counted seventy-one men.

When those who had stayed to fight the soldiers overtook the band, Dr. Shelton saw that one man was shot through the ankle. He opened his saddle-bags and dressed the wound while Yang Tien-fu watched with interest. After resting a few hours they started to travel again.

For three days and nights Dr. Shelton did not take off his clothes or sleep. Sometimes he lay down on an old horse blanket, the only bed he had. Four robbers guarded him. They never took off the belts in which they carried their guns and cartridges. Dr. Shelton counted nineteen different kinds of guns and eight kinds of pistols, all of which had been taken from travelers.

Day after day the bandits traveled over the mountains. When they stopped, forty guards were sent in every direction, for Yang Tien-fu knew that the government had offered a reward of five thousand dollars to anyone who would capture him dead or alive.

Sometimes he divided his men, sending a party to march straight down over the steep mountainside to make a false trail, and often he stood on some high bluff and laughed as he watched the soldiers being led astray. Almost every day, and sometimes many times a day, the bandits would stop a company of travelers and take their money or go into a little village and rob the frightened people.

If the villagers gave them what they asked for, there was no fighting. Yang Tien-fu would go into the temple, which was the meeting place of the people, and send his men out to find one of the head men of the village. When he came in, the chief would say:

"We are not robbers. We are traveling to escort this great foreign official. He must have two hogs and ten bushels of rice."

Then the head men would look at Dr. Shelton with great respect and interest and start off to get all the things the great foreign official must have. Meanwhile Dr. Shelton tried to get them to understand that he was a prisoner. Often he had to smile at the cunning of the robber chief.

As they went along, Dr. Shelton saw many people who were sick and many whose eyes were sore or blind. He said to Yang Tien-fu, "I left America to help the sick people in Tibet. Since you are keeping me away from my hospital in Batang, you must let me have a hospital along the road."

So the chief waited while the doctor healed the sick. Many soldiers joined the band, and the doctor ministered to all who needed him.

One day the chief said, "You are an honest man. I want you to be one of my men and stay with us. These other fellows can't be trusted. Even our treasurer steals. Stay with us and be the pastor and the doctor for me and my men. I will pay you twelve thousand dollars a year and give you half of it right now."

Dr. Shelton chuckled. He wondered whether anyone else had ever been invited to be the pastor of a robber band.

Back in Yunnanfu Mrs. Shelton, Doris, and Dorothy waited. Every day the girls went to the gate of the city, hoping to see a runner coming with a message from their father.

"But, Doris," said Dorothy, "there is no chance for Father to escape. He is guarded all the time."

"The Bible says that Paul and Silas were sleeping right between guards, and God opened the doors of the prison," said Doris. "If we pray, God may open some door so Father can escape."

Thus while the robber band was climbing the steep mountain and leading their tired prisoner farther and farther away, two little girls knelt down to pray.

For nearly three weeks no message came.

"If we could only know if Father is still living and if he is well!" said Mrs. Shelton.

"Yes," said Doris. "Or if we could get a message to him so he could know we are praying for him!"

One day Shen-si, the Chinese cook who had lived with them many years, said:

"I will carry your message to my master and bring his message to you."

"How can you find him, Shen-si?" asked Dorothy. "How will you get past the chief of the bandits?"

"I will face Yang Tien-fu and carry your message to my master and bring his message to you," said Shen-si quietly.

Mrs. Shelton and the girls wrote letters and Shen-si started out to find his master. All along the way he followed the robbers, asking questions until he reached the place where he was told his master was. He went boldly up to the guards.

"I come on important business," he announced. "I must speak to your chief."

The guards led him to Yang Tien-fu. Behind the chief he saw his master, so changed that he scarcely knew him. A long beard had grown over his smooth face, and he was so weak he could scarcely walk. Tears came into Shen-si's eyes.

Dr. Shelton was allowed to send a message back, and he handed Shen-si a copy of _Beside the Bonnie Brier Bush_ to take to Mrs. Shelton. This he had had in his saddle-bags when the robbers captured him. On the margins he had written daily messages to his wife. One of the last was:

"I am tired to death; all I can say in my desolation is, 'Make Thy grace sufficient for me, O God.'"

With the precious book Shen-si started back.

Dr. Shelton and his daughters at luncheon with a group of Tibetan
friends.]

Shen-si was not the only one who had determined to reach Dr. Shelton. One day Yang Tien-fu said to his prisoner:

"The government has sent a messenger to me to say that my family is at the priest's house and that if I will send you there in exchange, my family will be given to me. I am almost afraid to trust them, for they do not keep their word as you do, but I am going to send you to the priest's house with a strong guard."

Twenty of the robbers took Dr. Shelton to the priest's house. There Yang Tien-fu found only his wife and mother.

"What do two women amount to?" he said angrily. "I can buy another wife as good as that one for a hundred dollars any time. Have them bring me my son."

A contract was prepared promising Yang Tien-fu that if he would release Dr. Shelton, the Chinese government would give him pardon for himself and his men, make him an officer in the army, return all his family to him and give him the arms and ammunition for which he had asked. On the next day the contract was to be signed by him and by the Chinese governor.

Late at night some of the men, who had been out watching, hurried to the chief.

"The government has you in a trap," they said, "many troops of soldiers are stealing in quietly to surround you and capture you."

Quickly Yang Tien-fu took both his family and Dr. Shelton, and at midnight they slipped out between the circles of soldiers, back to the mountains. Again began the long, hard journeys. Soon Yang Tien-fu saw that his prisoner was too weak to walk or even to sit on his mule, so he had a rough chair made for him. For thirty-seven hours they carried him, running as fast as they could, for the soldiers were following. One day the chief said:

"The doctor is so sick and weak he can go no farther. Take him to the loft of that barn and hide him in the straw. Place four guards with him. If he dies, hide his body where no one will find it; if he gets well, send a messenger to me, and I will come for him."

The men made a tunnel through the rice-straw to the back of the loft, digging out a space large enough for a bed for the doctor at the end. They took a brick out of the wall to make a small hole for a window. As they dragged their sick prisoner into his straw house, one of them said:

"The 'big doctor' is the same as a dead man."

The newspapers all over the world had printed the story of Dr. Shelton's capture by the robbers, and day by day people in many lands waited to hear that the governor and his soldiers had caught Yang Tien-fu and released Dr. Shelton. One day the American Minister at Peking started a rescue party of several English and Americans with troops. They sent a message to Yang Tien-fu demanding the release of Dr. Shelton; then they started into the mountains to find him. When they left, Doris and Dorothy went with them to the gate of the city.

Meanwhile the "big doctor," almost too weak to move, was lying on his bed of straw, with his head by the little window.

"Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday, Monday,"—he counted the days as they went by.