* *

Upon arrival at Kweifu one bids farewell to the Gorges. This town,
formerly a considerable coaling center, overlooks most beautiful
hillocks, with cottage gardens cultivated in every accessible corner,
and a wide sweep of the river.

We landed with difficulty. "Chor, chor!" yelled the trackers, who marked
time to their cry, swinging their arms to and fro at each short step;
but they almost gave up the ghost. However, we did land, and so did our
boy, who bought excellent provisions and meat, which, alas! too soon
disappeared. The mutton and beef gradually grew less and daily
blackened, wrapped up in opposite corners of the cabin, under the
protection from the wet of a couple of sheets of the "Pink 'Un."

From Kweifu to Wan Hsien there was the same kind of scenery--the clear
river winding among sand-flats and gravel-banks, with occasional stiff
rapids. But after having been in a _wu-pan_ for several days, suffering
that which has been detailed, and much besides, the journey got a bit
dreary. These, however, are ordinary circumstances; but when one has
been laid up on a bench of a bed for three days with a high temperature,
a legacy of several years in the humid tropics, the physical discomfort
baffles description. Malaria, as all sufferers know, has a tendency to
cause trouble as soon as one gets into cold weather, and in my case, as
will be seen in subsequent parts of this book, it held faithfully to its
best traditions. Fever on the Yangtze in a _wu-pan_ would require a
chapter to itself, not to mention the kindly eccentricities of a
companion whose knowledge of malaria was most elementary and whose
knowledge of nursing absolutely _nil_. But I refrain. As also do I of
further talk about the Yangtze gorges and the rapids.

From Kweifu to Wan Hsien is a tedious journey. The country opens out,
and is more or less monotonously flat. The majority of the dangers and
difficulties, however, are over, and one is able to settle down in
comparative peace. Fortunately for the author, nothing untoward
happened, but travelers are warned not to be too sanguine. Wrecks have
happened within a few miles of the destination, generally to be
accounted for by the unhappy knack the Chinese boatman has of taking all
precautions where the dangerous rapids exist, and leaving all to chance
elsewhere. Some two years later, as I was coming down the river from
Chung-king in December, I counted no less than nine wrecks, one boat
h