leaving the prefecture.

It was a fine spring morning, balmy and bonny. It was decided that I
should ride a pony, and this I did, abandoning my purpose of crossing
China on foot with some regret. I was not yet fit, had my broken arm in
splints, but rejoiced that at Yuen-nan-fu I should be able to consult a
European medical man. Comparatively an unproductive task--and perhaps a
false and impossible one--would it be for me to detail the happenings of
the few days next ensuing. I should be able not to look at things
themselves, but merely at the shadow of things--and it would serve no
profitable end.

Suffice it to say that two days out, about midday, a special messenger
from the capital stopped Mr. Evans and handed him a letter. It was to
tell him that his going to Ch'u-tsing-fu would be of no use, as the
gentleman he was on his way to meet would not arrive, owing to altered
plans. After consulting his wife, he hesitated whether they should go
back to Tong-ch'uan-fu, or come on to the capital with me. The latter
course was decided upon, as I was so far from well--I learned this some
time afterwards. And now the story need not be lengthened.

At Lai-t'eo-po (see first section of the second book of this volume),
malaria came back, and an abnormal temperature made me delirious. The
following day I could not move, and it was not until I had been there
six days that I was again able to be moved. During this time, Mr. and
Mrs. Evans nursed me day and night, relieving each other for rest, in a
terrible Chinese inn--not a single moment did they leave me. The third
day they feared I was dying, and a message to that effect was sent to
the capital, informing the consul. Meanwhile malaria played fast and
loose, and promised a pitiable early dissolution. My kind, devoted
friends were fearful lest the innkeeper would have turned me out into
the roadway to die--the foreigner's spirit would haunt the place for
ever and a day were I allowed to die inside.

But I recovered.

It was a graver, older, less exuberant walker across China that
presently arose from his flea-ridden bed of sickness, and began to make
a languid personal introspection. I had developed a new sensitiveness,
the sensitiveness of an alien in an alien land, in the hands of
new-made, faithful friends. Without them I should have been a waif of
all the world, helpless in the midst of unconquerable surroundings,
leading to an inevitable destiny of death. I seemed declima