China.) A.D. 635.

Thomas the Nestorian had been in many lands and in the midst of many
dangers, but he had never before found himself in quite so
unpleasant a position as now. Six ugly Tartar horsemen with very
uncomfortable-looking spears and appalling shouts, and mounted on their
swift Kirghiz ponies, were charging down upon him, while neither the
rushing Yellow River on the right hand, nor the steep dirt-cliffs on the
left, could offer him shelter or means of escape. These dirt-cliffs,
or "loess," to give them their scientific name, are remarkable banks of
brownish-yellow loam, found largely in Northern and Western China, and
rising sometimes to a height of a thousand feet. Their peculiar yellow
tinge makes every thing look "hwang" or yellow,--and hence yellow is
a favorite color among the Chinese. So, for instance, the emperor is
"Hwang-ti"--the "Lord of the Yellow Land"; the imperial throne is the
"Hwang-wei" or "yellow throne" of China; the great river, formerly
spelled in your school geographies Hoang-ho, is "Hwang-ho," the "yellow
river," etc.

These "hwang" cliffs, or dirt-cliffs, are full of caves and crevices,
but the good priest could see no convenient cave, and he had therefore
no alternative but to boldly face his fate, and like a brave man calmly
meet what he could not avoid.

But, just as he had singled out, as his probable captor, one peculiarly
unattractive-looking horseman, whose crimson sheepskin coat and long
horsetail plume were streaming in the wind, and just as he had braced
himself to meet the onset against the great "loess," or dirt-cliff, he
felt a twitch at his black upper robe, and a low voice--a girl's, he was
confident--said quickly:

"Look not before nor behind thee, good O-lopun, but trust to my word and
give a backward leap."

Thomas the Nestorian had learned two valuable lessons in his much
wandering about the earth,--never to appear surprised, and always to be
ready to act quickly. So, knowing nothing of the possible results of
his action, but feeling that it could scarcely be worse than death from
Tartar spears, he leaped back, as bidden.

The next instant, he found himself flat upon his back in one of the
low-ceiled cliff caves that abound in Western China, while the screen
of vines that had concealed its entrance still quivered from his fall.
Picking himself up and breathing a prayer of thanks for his deliverance,
he peered through the leafy doorway and beheld in surprise