s, you know.

Fortunately the need of crossing here did not seem very imperative, for
there was little sign of life on the north bank of the Tarchendo.
Indeed, on our side there were no villages for the whole distance, only
a few hamlets and now and then a solitary rest-house. The river is so
closely shut in by the mighty rock walls on either hand that there is
scarcely room for more than the narrow trail. There were a good many
walnut trees and willows, and I occasionally saw a meagre patch of
barley or Indian corn, but even the Chinese would be hard put to wring a
living here were it not for the coolie trade. In fact, every other house
seemed to be a restaurant or tea-house. At one the soldier who had
escorted me from Ni T'ou covered himself with disgrace by getting into a
quarrel. Rain was falling, so I stayed in my chair while the coolies
were drinking their everlasting cups of tea. Suddenly there was a great
outcry, every one pitching in, and I saw the soldier seize the innkeeper
by the queue, belabouring him vigorously with the flat of his short
broad sword. I called to the interpreter to interfere, but either he did
not hear me or would not obey; so I scrambled out of my chair as best I
could (a woman, as an inferior being, must always step over the side
pole; to touch the pole that rests on the coolie's shoulder would cause
him to have sores), and, throwing myself into the fray, hauled the
soldier off. I knew, for I had tested it, that the edge of his sword was
sharp. When the excitement had died down, I learned that the whole
trouble rose from the innkeeper's demanding payment for four cakes,
while the soldier insisted that he had eaten only three. Who had the
right of it I do not know, but I read the man a lesson at so misbehaving
himself when escorting a lady, a truly Western point of view which was
probably Greek to him, but anyway he seemed greatly downcast at my
rebuke, and for the rest of the day hung about in an apologetic way,
occasionally mutely laying a bunch of flowers on the arm of my chair as
a peace offering.

CHAPTER VI

TACHIENLU

Tachienlu is surely _sui generis_; there can be no other town quite like
it. Situated eight thousand four hundred feet above the sea, it seems to
lie at the bottom of a well, the surrounding snow-capped mountains
towering perhaps fifteen thousand feet in the air above the little town
which, small as it is, has hardly room to stand, while outside the wall
t