Their bodies shone in the sun like bronze.  Several, fearing we might run them down, as we clove straight through their midst, raised their arms with a shout full of pleading and fright.

“What’s the matter? are they trying to murder some of these poor chaps?” I asked.

“No ... we’re just having a little fun ... what’s the life of a Chink matter?”

* * * * *

“I say, if the Chinks up where the Boxers are fighting are big and strong as them duffers, here’s one that don’t want no shore-leave!” commented someone, as we stood ranged by the side.

“I always thought Chinamen was runts.”

“Oh, it’s only city Chinks—­mostly from Canton, that come to civilized countries to run laundries ... but these are the real Chinamen.”

* * * * *

After the cattle had been unladen, the crew were to be taken down to Shanghai and dumped ashore ... as it was an English Treaty port, that would be, technically, living up to the ship’s articles, which guaranteed that the cattlemen aboard would be given passage back to English ground....

But I was all excitement over the prospect of making my way ashore to where the Allied troops were fighting....

* * * * *

Dawn ... we were anchored in Taku Bay among the warships of the Allied nations ... grey warships gleaming in the sun like silver ... the sound of bugles ... flags of all nations ... of as many colours as the coat of Joseph.

“Well, here we are at last!”

* * * * *

Next day the work of unloading the cattle began ... hoisted again by the horns from our boat of heavy draught to the hold of a coasting steamer, that had English captain and mates, and a Chinese crew.

Some of the steers were so weak that they died on deck ... as they were dying, butchers cut their throats so their beef could be called fresh.

The only one who desired to go ashore there, I made my way, when it was dark and the last load of steers was being transferred to shore, down below to the hold of the coaster.  I stood in a corner, behind an iron ladder, so that the cattle couldn’t crush me during the night ... for the Chinese had turned them loose, there, in a mass.

* * * * *

I stumbled ashore at Tongku, a station up a way on the banks of the Pei Ho river.

My first night ashore in China was a far cry from the China of my dreams ... the Cathay of Marco Polo, with its towers of porcelain....  I crept, to escape a cold drizzle, under the huge tarpaulin which covered a great stack of tinned goods—­army supplies.  A soldier on guard over the stack, an American soldier, spotted me.

“Come, my lad,” lifting up the tarpaulin, “what are you doing there?”

“—­Trying to keep from the wet!”

“—­run off from one of the transports?”