he want of sufficient
covering. The straw-heated _kangs_ would soon cool off, and leave us half
the night with only our thin sleeping-bags to ward off rheumatism.

But over the beaten paths made by countless wheelbarrows we were now fast
nearing the end. It was on the evening of November 3, that the giant walls
of the great "Residence," as the people call their imperial capital, broke
suddenly into view through a vista in the surrounding foliage. The goal of
our three-thousand-one-hundred-and-sixteen-mile journey was now before us,
and the work of the seventy-first riding day almost ended. With the dusk
of evening we entered the western gate of the "Manchu City," and began to
thread its crowded thoroughfares. By the time we reached Legation street
or, as the natives egotistically call it, "The Street of the Foreign
Dependencies," night had veiled our haggard features and ragged garments.
In a dimly lighted courtyard we came face to face with the English
proprietor of the Hotel de Peking. At our request for lodging, he said,
"Pardon me, but may I first ask who you are and where you come from?" Our
unprepossessing appearance was no doubt a sufficient excuse for this
precaution. But just then his features changed, and he greeted us
effusively. Explanations were now superfluous. The "North China Herald"
correspondent at Pao-ting-foo had already published our story to the
coast.

That evening the son of the United States minister visited us, and offered
a selection from his own wardrobe until a Chinese tailor could renew our
clothing. With borrowed plumes we were able to accept invitations from
foreign and Chinese officials. Polite cross-examinations were not
infrequent, and we fear that entire faith in our alleged journey was not
general until, by riding through the dust and mud of Legation street, we
proved that Chinese roads were not altogether impracticable for bicycle
traveling.

[Illustration: ON THE PEI-HO.]

The autumn rains had so flooded the low-lying country between the capital
and its seaport, Tientsin, that we were obliged to abandon the idea of
continuing to the coast on the wheels, which by this time were in no
condition to stand unusual strain. On the other hand the house-boat
journey of thirty-six hours down the Pei-ho river was a rather pleasant
diversion.

Our first evening on the river was made memorable by an unusual event.
Suddenly the rattling of tin pans, the tooting of horns, and the shouting