Camps and Trails in China - A Narrative of Exploration, Adventure, and Sport in Little-Known China
by Roy Chapman Andrews and Yvette Borup Andrews
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"Let us probe the silent places, let us seek what luck betide us; Let us journey to a lonely land I know. There's a whisper on the night-wind, there's a star agleam to guide us, And the Wild is calling, calling ... let us go."



The object of this book is to present a popular narrative of the Asiatic Zooelogical Expedition of the American Museum of Natural History to China in 1916-17. Details of a purely scientific nature have been condensed, or eliminated, and emphasis has been placed upon our experiences with the strange natives and animals of a remote and little known region in the hope that the book will be interesting to the general reader.

The scientific reputation of the Expedition will rest upon the technical reports of its work which will be published in due course by the American Museum of Natural History. To these reports we would refer those readers who desire more complete information concerning the results of our researches. At the time the manuscript of this volume was sent to press the collections were still undergoing preparation and the study of the different groups had just begun.

Although the book has been largely written by the senior author, his collaborator has contributed six chapters marked with her initials; all the illustrations are from her photographs and continual use has been made of her daily journals; she has, moreover, materially assisted in reference work and in numerous other ways.

The information concerning the relationships and distribution of the native tribes of Yuen-nan is largely drawn from the excellent reference work by Major H.R. Davies and we have followed his spelling of Chinese names.

Parts of the book have been published as separate articles in the American Museum Journal, Harper's Magazine, and Asia and to the editors of the above publications our acknowledgments are due.

That the Expedition obtained a very large and representative collection of small mammals is owing in a great measure to the efforts of Mr. Edmund Heller, our companion in the field. He worked tirelessly in the care and preservation of the specimens, and the fact that they reached New York in excellent condition is, in itself, the best testimony to the skill and thoroughness with which they were prepared.

Our Chinese interpreter, Wu Hung-tao, contributed largely to the success of the Expedition. His faithful and enthusiastic devotion to our interests and his tact and resourcefulness under trying circumstances won our lasting gratitude and affectionate regard.

The nineteen months during which we were in Asia are among the most memorable of our lives and we wish to express our deepest gratitude to the Trustees of the American Museum of Natural History, and especially to President Henry Fairfield Osborn, whose enthusiastic endorsement and loyal support made the Expedition possible. Director F.A. Lucas, Dr. J.A. Allen and Mr. George H. Sherwood were unfailing in furthering our interests, and to them we extend our hearty thanks.

To the following patrons, who by their generous contributions materially assisted in the financing of the Expedition, we wish to acknowledge our great personal indebtedness as well as that of the Museum; Mr. and Mrs. Charles L. Bernheimer, Mr. and Mrs. Sidney M. Colgate, Messrs. George Bowdoin, Lincoln Ellsworth, James B. Ford, Henry C. Frick, Childs Frick, and Mrs. Adrian Hoffman Joline.

The Expedition received many courtesies while in the field from the following gentlemen, without whose cooeperation it would have been impossible to have carried on the work successfully. Their services have been referred to individually in subsequent parts of the book: The Director of the Bureau of Foreign Affairs of the Province of Yuen-nan; M. Georges Chemin Dupontes, Director de l'Exploration de la Compagnie Francaise des Chemins de Fer de l'Indochine et du Yuen-nan, Hanoi, Tonking; M. Henry Wilden, Consul de France, Shanghai; M. Kraemer, Consul de France, Hongkong; Mr. Howard Page, Standard Oil Co., Yuen-nan Fu; the Hon. Paul Reinsch, Minister Plenipotentiary and Envoy Extraordinary to the Chinese Republic, Mr. J.V.A. McMurray, First Secretary of the American Legation, Peking; Mr. H.G. Evans, British-American Tobacco Co., Hongkong; the Rev. William Hanna, Ta-li Fu; the Rev. A. Kok, Li-chang Fu; Ralph Grierson, Esq., Teng-yueh; Herbert Goffe, Esq., H.B.M. Consul General, Yuen-nan Fu; Messrs. C.R. Kellogg, and H.W. Livingstone, Foochow, China; the General Passenger Agent, Canadian Pacific Railroad Company, Hongkong; and the Rev. H.R. Caldwell, Yenping, who has read parts of this book in manuscript and who through his criticisms has afforded us the benefit of his long experience in China.

To Miss Agnes F. Molloy and Miss Anna Katherine Berger we wish to express our appreciation of editorial and other assistance during the preparation of the volume.


JUSTAMERE HOME, Lawrence Park, Bronxville, N.Y.

May 10, 1917.




The importance of the scientific exploration of Central Asia—The region which the Asiatic Zooelogical Expedition investigated—Personnel of the Expedition—Equipment—Applicants for positions upon the Expedition



Yuan Shi-kai—Plot to become emperor of China—The Rebellion—Our arrival in Peking—Passports for Fukien Province—Admiral von Hintze, the German Minister—En route to Shanghai—Death of Yuan Shi-kai




Arrival at Foochow—Foochow—We leave for Yen-ping—The Min River—Our first night in a sampan—Miss Mabel Hartford—Brigands at Yuchi—Yen-ping—Trapping at Yen-ping



The Temple in the Big Ravine—Hunting serow—A bat apartment house



A message from Mr. Caldwell—Refugees from Yen-ping—Situation in the city—Fighting on Monday morning—Wounded men at the hospital—We do Red Cross work—More fighting—A Chinese puzzle—The missionaries save the city—The narrow escape of a young Chinese—The mission cook—Return to Foochow



Tiger lairs—Mr. Caldwell's method of hunting—His first tiger—Habits of tigers—Experiences with the Great Invisible—Killing a man eater—Chinese superstitions—Hunting in the lair



Arriving at Lung-tao—The blue tiger—Mr. Caldwell's first view of the beast—The lair in the Long Ravine—Bad luck with the tiger—A meeting in the dark—Ling-suik monastery—Life at the temple—Fukien Province as a collecting ground




Schools for girls—Position of women—The Confucian rules—Woman's life in the home—Foot binding—Early marriage—A Chinese wedding



Outfitting in Hongkong—Food—Guns—Cameras—En route to Tonking—The Island of Hainan—We engage a cook at Paik-hoi—Arrival in Haiphong—Loss of our Ammunition—Hanoi—The railroad to Yuen-nan Fu—Yuen-nan—The Chinese Foreign Office endorses our plans



Our caravan—The Yuen-nan pack saddle—Temple camps—Chinese mafus—Roads—Country—Ignorance of a Chinese scholar—New mammals—Village life—Opium growing—An opium scandal—Goitre—The Chinese "Mountain schooner"—Horses—Miss Morgan—Brigands—Our guard of soldiers



Hsia-kuan—Summer temperature—Lake—Graves—Pagodas—Mr. H.G. Evans—Foreigners of Ta-li Fu—Chinese mandarins—Mammals at Ta-li—Caravan horses and mules—The cook becomes ill



Traveling to Li-chiang—Our entrance into the city—The surprise of the foreigners—The temple—Excellent collecting—Small mammals—The Moso natives—Customs—The Snow Mountain—Baron Haendel-Mazzetti



Moso hunters—Primitive guns—Cross-bows and poisoned arrows—Dogs—A porcupine—New mammals—We find a new camp on the mountain



Killed near camp—A sacrifice to the God of the Hunt—Small mammals—The second goral



Gorals almost invisible—Heller shoots a kid—Collecting material for a Museum group—A splendid hunt—Two gorals—A crested muntjac



The first illness in camp—Serow—Death of the leading dog—Rain—Two more serows—Lolos—Non-Chinese tribes of Yuen-nan



Relationship—Appearance of the serow—Habits—Gorals




Our new camp—A serow—We go to Li-chiang—A burial ceremony—Ancestor worship



Traveling to the river—Inaccuracy of the Chinese—First view of the gorge—The Taku ferry—Caves



Along the rim of the gorge—A beautiful camp at Habala—New mammals—Photographic work—Phete village—Stupid inhabitants—Strange natives—The "Windy Camp"—Hotenfa



A hard climb—Our highest camp—A Lolo village—Thanksgiving with the Lolos




Caravans—Tibetans—Dress—Appearance—Photographing frightened natives—Reason for suspicion



Snow—Photographing natives—The Snow Mountain again—The Shih-ku ferry—Cranes—"Brahminy ducks"—A well-deserved beating—Chinese soldiers



Arrival at Wei-hsi—The Mekong River—Lutzu natives—Difficulties in the valley—An unexpected goral—Christmas—The salt wells—A snow covered pass—Duck shooting—Return to Ta-li Fu



Our observations on work of missionaries in Fukien and Yuen-nan Provinces—Mode of living—Servants—Voluntary exile—Medical missionaries—A missionary's experience with the brigands at Yuchi




Traveling to Yung-chang—New Year's customs—Inhabitants of the city—Foot-binding—Caves—Water buffaloes—Chinese cow-caravans—Yung-chang mentioned by Marco Polo



Shih-tien plain—Curious inhabitants of the city—A tropical valley at Ma-po-lo—"A little more far"—A splendid camp—Many new mammals—Preparing specimens—Sambur—Trapping



The first Shan village—Priscilla and John Alden—Meng-ting—The Shan mandarin—Young priests—The market—Photographing under difficulties—Suppression of opium growing



A beautiful camp—The "Dying Rabbit"—Sambur hunting—Jungle fowl—Civets—Pole cats and other animals



Strange calls in the jungle—Our first gibbons—Relationship and habits—Langurs and baboons—A night in the jungle



An unfriendly chief—Honest natives—Houses at Nam-ka—Tattooing—Shan tribe—Dress




The mythical Ma-li-ling—Across the frontier into Burma—The mafus rebel—Ma-li-pa—Captain Clive—Guarding the border—Life at Ma-li-pa



The valley at Changlung—The ferry—Peacocks—The stalker stalked—Habits of peafowls



Climbing out of the Salween Valley—A Shan village—Ho-mu-shu—Camping on a mountain pass—Gibbons—An exciting hunt and a narrow escape—Habits of the "hoolock"



Tai-ping-pu—Flying squirrels—Lisos—A bat cave—Mail—Teng-yueh—Mr. Ralph Grierson—Tibetan bear cubs



Gorals at Hui-yao—Deer—Splendid hunts



Monkeys at Hui-yao—Muntjacs—A new serow—We move camp to Wa-tien—A fine sambur



Return to Teng-yueh—Packing the specimens—Results of the Expedition—On the road to Bhamo—The chair coolies—Burma vs. China—In civilization again—Farewell to the Orient


Our camp on the Snow Mountain at an altitude of 12,000 feet.

Yvette Borup Andrews with a pet Yuen-nan squirrel Edmund Heller Roy Chapman Andrews and a goral

A Chinese hunter and a muntjac Brigands killed in the Yen-ping Rebellion

The Ling-suik monastery A priest of Ling-suik

A Chinese mother with her children Chinese women of the coolie class with bound feet

Cormorant fishers on the lake at Yuen-nan Fu Our camp at Chou Chou on the way to Ta-li Fu

The Pagodas at Ta-li Fu The dead of China

The residence of Rev. William J. Hanna at Ta-li-Fu The gate and main street of Ta-li Fu

One of the pagodas at Ta-li Fu

A Moso herder A Moso woman

The Snow Mountain

A cheek gun used by one of our hunters The first goral killed on the Snow Mountain

Hotenfa, one of our Moso hunters, bringing in a goral Another Moso hunter with a porcupine

A typical goral cliff on the Snow Mountain

A serow killed on the Snow Mountain The head of a serow

The "white water"

A Liso hunter carrying a flying squirrel The chief of our Lolo hunters

A Lolo village Lolos seeing their photographs for the first time

Travelers in the Mekong valley Two Tibetans

The gorge of the Yangtze River

A quiet curve of the Mekong River

The temple in which we camped at Ta-li Fu A crested muntjac

The south gate at Yung-chang A Chinese bride returning to her mother's home at New Year's

A Chinese patriarch Young China

A Shan village A Shan woman spinning

A Kachin woman in the market at Meng-ting One of our Shan hunters with two yellow gibbons

Our camp on the Nam-ting River The Shan village at Nam-ka

The head of a gibbon killed on the Nam-ting River A civet

A Shan girl A Shan boy

A suspension bridge Mrs. Andrews feeding one of our bear cubs

A sambur killed at Wa-tien The head of a muntjac

A mountain chair The waterfall at Teng-Yueh

MAP I. The red line indicates the travels of the Expedition

MAP II. Route of the Expedition in Yuen-nan




The earliest remains of primitive man probably will be found somewhere in the vast plateau of Central Asia, north of the Himalaya Mountains. From this region came the successive invasions that poured into Europe from the east, to India from the north, and to China from the west; the migration route to North America led over the Bering Strait and spread fanwise south and southeast to the farthest extremity of South America. The Central Asian plateau at the beginning of the Pleistocene was probably less arid than it is today and there is reason to believe that this general region was not only the distributing center of man but also of many of the forms of mammalian life which are now living in other parts of the world. For instance, our American moose, the wapiti or elk, Rocky Mountain sheep, the so-called mountain goat, and other animals are probably of Central Asian origin.

Doubtless there were many contributing causes to the extensive wanderings of primitive tribes, but as they were primarily hunters, one of the most important must have been the movements of the game upon which they lived. Therefore the study of the early human races is, necessarily, closely connected with, and dependent upon, a knowledge of the Central Asian mammalian life and its distribution. No systematic palaeontological, archaeological, or zooelogical study of this region on a large scale has ever been attempted, and there is no similar area of the inhabited surface of the earth about which so little is known.

The American Museum of Natural History hopes in the near future to conduct extensive explorations in this part of the world along general scientific lines. The country itself and its inhabitants, however, present unusual obstacles to scientific research. Not only is the region one of vast intersecting mountain ranges, the greatest of the earth, but the climate is too cold in winter to permit of continuous work. The people have a natural dislike for foreigners, and the political events of the last half century have not tended to decrease their suspicions.

It is possible to overcome such difficulties, but the plans for extensive research must be carefully prepared. One of the most important steps is the sending out of preliminary expeditions to gain a general knowledge of the natives and fauna and of the conditions to be encountered. For the first reconnoissance, which was intended to be largely a mammalian survey, the Asiatic Zooelogical Expedition left New York in March, 1916.

Its destination was Yuen-nan, a province in southwestern China. This is one of the least known parts of the Chinese Republic and, because of its southern latitude and high mountain systems, the climate and faunal range is very great. It is about equal in size to the state of California and topographically might be likened to the ocean in a furious gale, for the greater part of its surface has been thrown into vast mountain waves which divide and cross one another in hopeless confusion.

Yuen-nan is bordered on the north by Tibet and S'suchuan, on the west by Burma, on the south by Tonking, and on the east by Kwei-chau Province. Faunistically the entire northwestern part of Yuen-nan is essentially Tibetan, and the plateaus and mountain peaks range from altitudes of 8,000 feet to 20,000 feet above sea level. In the south and west along the borders of Burma and Tonking, in the low fever-stricken valleys, the climate is that of the mid-tropics, and the native life, as well as the fauna and flora, is of a totally different type from that found in the north.

The natives of Yuen-nan are exceptionally interesting. There are about thirty non-Chinese tribes in the province, some of whom, such as the Shans and Lolos, represent the aboriginal inhabitants of China, and it is safe to say that in no similar area of the world is there such a variety of language and dialects as in this region.

Although the main work of the Expedition was to be conducted in Yuen-nan, we decided to spend a short time in Fukien Province, China, and endeavor to obtain a specimen of the so-called "blue tiger" which has been seen twice by the Reverend Harry R. Caldwell, a missionary and amateur naturalist, who has done much hunting in the vicinity of Foochow.

The white members of the first Asiatic Zooelogical Expedition included Mr. Edmund Heller, my wife (Yvette Borup Andrews) and myself. A Chinese interpreter, Wu Hung-tao, with five native assistants and ten muleteers, completed the personnel.

Mr. Heller is a collector of wide experience. His early work, which was done in the western United States and the Galapagos Islands, was followed by many years of collecting in Mexico, Alaska, South America, and Africa. He first visited British East Africa with Mr. Carl E. Akeley, next with ex-President Theodore Roosevelt, and again with Mr. Paul J. Rainey. During the Asiatic Zooelogical Expedition Mr. Heller devoted most of his time to the gathering and preparation of small mammals. He joined our party late in July in China.

Mrs. Andrews was the photographer of the Expedition. She had studied photography as an amateur in Germany, France, and Italy, as well as in New York, and had devoted especial attention to the taking of photographs in natural colors. Such work requires infinite care and patience, but the results are well worth the efforts expended.

Wu Hung-tao is a native of Foochow, China, and studied English at the Anglo-Chinese College in that city. He lived for some time in Teng-yueh, Yuen-nan, in the employ of Mr. F.W. Carey, Commissioner of Customs, and not only speaks mandarin Chinese but also several native dialects. He acted as interpreter, head "boy," and general field manager. My own work was devoted mainly to the direction of the Expedition and the hunting of big game.

In order to reduce the heavy transportation charges we purchased only such equipment in New York as could not be obtained in Shanghai or Hongkong. Messrs. Shoverling, Daly & Gales furnished our guns, ammunition, tents, and general camp equipment, and gave excellent satisfaction in attention to the minor details which often assume alarming importance when an expedition is in the field and defects cannot be remedied. All food and commissary supplies were purchased in Hongkong (see Chapter IX).

* * * * *

When the announcement of the Expedition was made by the American Museum of Natural History it received wide publicity in America and other parts of the world. Immediately we began to discover how many strange persons make up the great cities of the United States, and we received letters and telegrams from hundreds of people who wished to take part in the Expedition. Men and boys were the principal applicants, but there was no lack of women, many of whom came to the Museum for personal interviews.

Most of the letters were laughable in the extreme. One was from a butcher who thought he might be of great assistance in preparing our specimens, or defending us from savage natives; another young man offered himself to my wife as a personal bodyguard; a third was sure his twenty years' experience as a waiter would fit him for an important position on the Expedition, and numerous women, young and old, wished to become "companions" for my wife in those "drear wastes."

Applicants continued to besiege us wherever we stopped on our way across the continent and in San Francisco until we embarked on the afternoon of March 28 on the S.S. Tenyo Maru for Japan.

Our way across the Pacific was uneventful and as the great vessel drew in toward the wharf in Yokohama she was boarded by the usual crowd of natives. We were standing at the rail when three Japanese approached and, bowing in unison, said, "We are report for leading Japanese newspaper. We wish to know all thing about Chinese animal." Evidently the speech had been rehearsed, for with it their English ended abruptly, and the interview proceeded rather lamely, on my part, in Japanese.

Japan was reveling in the cherry blossom season when we arrived and for a person interested in color photography it was a veritable paradise. We stayed three weeks and regretfully left for Peking by way of Korea. But before we continue with the story of our further travels, we would like briefly to review the political situation in China as a background for our early work in the province of Fukien.



During the time the Expedition was preparing to leave New York, China was in turmoil. Yuan Shi-kai was president of the Republic, but the hope of his heart was to be emperor of China. For twenty years he had plotted for the throne; he had been emperor for one hundred miserable days; and now he was watching, impotently, his dream-castles crumble beneath his feet. Yuan was the strong man of his day, with more power, brains, and personality than any Chinese since Li-Hung Chang. He always had been a factor in his political world. His monarchial dream first took definite form as early as 1901 when he became viceroy of Chi-li, the province in which Peking is situated.

It was then that he began to modernize and get control of the army which is the great basis of political power in China. Properly speaking, there was not, and is not now, a Chinese national army. It is rather a collection of armies, each giving loyalty to a certain general, and he who secures the support of the various commanders controls the destiny of China's four hundred millions of people regardless of his official title.

Yuan was able to bind to himself the majority of the leading generals, and in 1911, when the Manchu dynasty was overthrown, his plots and intrigues began to bear fruit. By crafty juggling of the rebels and Manchus he managed to get himself elected president of the new republic, although he did not for a moment believe in the republican form of government. He was always a monarchist at heart but was perfectly willing to declare himself an ardent republican so long as such a declaration could be used as a stepping stone to the throne which he kept ever as his ultimate goal.

As president he ruled with a high hand. In 1913 there was a rebellion in protest against his official acts but he defeated the rebels, won over more of the older generals, and solidified the army for his own interests, making himself stronger than ever before.

At this time he might well have made a coup d'etat and proclaimed himself emperor with hardly a shadow of resistance, but with the hereditary caution of the Chinese he preferred to wait and plot and scheme. He wanted his position to be even more secure and to have it appear that he reluctantly accepted the throne as a patriotic duty at the insistent call of the people.

Yuan's ways for producing the proper public sentiment were typically Chinese but entirely effective, and he was making splendid progress, when in May, 1915, Japan put a spoke in his wheel of fortune by taking advantage of the European war and presenting the historical twenty-one demands, to most of which China agreed.

This delayed his plans only temporarily, and Yuan's agents pushed the work of making him emperor more actively than ever, with the result that the throne was tendered to him by the "unanimous vote of the people." To "save his face" he declined at first but at the second offer he "reluctantly" yielded and on December 12, 1915, became emperor of China.

But his triumph was short-lived, for eight days later tidings of unrest in Yuen-nan reached Peking. General Tsai-ao, a former military governor of the province, appeared in Yuen-nan Fu, the capital, and, on December 23, sent an ultimatum to Yuan stating that he must repudiate the monarchy and execute all those who had assisted him to gain the throne, otherwise Yuen-nan would secede; which it forthwith did on December 25.

Without doubt this rebellion was financed by the Japanese who had intimated to Yuan that the change from a republican form of government would not meet with their approval. The rebellion spread rapidly. On January 21, Kwei-chau Province, which adjoins Yuen-nan, seceded, and, on March 13, Kwang-si also announced its independence.

About this time the Museum authorities were becoming somewhat doubtful as to the advisability of proceeding with our Expedition. We had a long talk with Dr. Wellington Koo, the Chinese Minister to the United States, at the Biltmore Hotel in New York. Dr. Koo, while certain that the rebellion would be short-lived, strongly advised us to postpone our expedition until conditions became more settled. He offered to cable Peking for advice, but we, knowing how unwelcome to the government of the harassed Yuan would be a party of foreigners who wished to travel in the disturbed area, gratefully declined and determined to proceed regardless of conditions. We hoped that Yuan would be strong enough to crush this rebellion as he had that of 1913, but day by day, as we anxiously watched the papers, there came reports of other provinces dropping away from his standard.

On the Tenyo Maru we met the Honorable Charles Denby, an ex-American Consul-General at Shanghai and former adviser to Yuan Shi-kai when he was viceroy of Chi-li. Mr. Denby was interested in obtaining a road concession near Peking and was then on his way to see Yuan. His anxiety over the political situation was not less than ours and together we often paced the decks discussing what might happen; but every wireless report told of more desertions to the ranks of the rebels.

It seemed to be the beginning of the end, for Yuan had lost his nerve. He had decided to quit, and one hundred days after he became emperor elect he issued a mandate canceling the monarchy and restoring the republic. But the rebellious provinces were not satisfied and demanded that he get out altogether.

About this time we reached Peking, literally blown in by a tremendous dust storm which seemed an elemental manifestation of the human turmoil within the grim old walls. Our cousin, Commander Thomas Hutchins, Naval Attache of the American Legation, was awaiting us on the platform, holding his hat with one hand and wiping the dust from his eyes with the other.

The news we received from him was by no means comforting for in the Legation pessimism reigned supreme. The American Minister, Dr. Reinsch, was not enthusiastic about our going south regardless of conditions, but nevertheless he set about helping us to obtain the necessary vise for our passports.

We wished first to go to Foochow, in Fukien Province, where we were to hunt tiger until Mr. Heller joined us in July for the expedition into Yuen-nan. Fukien was still loyal to Yuan, but the strong Japanese influence in this province, which is directly opposite the island of Formosa, was causing considerable uneasiness in Peking.

We were armed with telegrams from Mr. C.R. Kellogg, of the Anglo-Chinese College, with whom we were to stay while in Foochow, assuring us that all was quiet in the province, and through the influence of Dr. Reinsch, the Chinese Foreign Office vised our passports. The huge red stamp which was affixed to them was an amusing example of Chinese "face saving." First came the seal of Yuan's impotent dynasty of Hung Hsien, signifying "Brilliant Prosperity," and directly upon it was placed the stamp of the Chinese Republic. One was almost as legible as the other and thus the Foreign Office saved its face in whichever direction the shifting cards of political destiny should fall.

At a luncheon given by Dr. Reinsch at the Embassy in Peking, we met Admiral von Hintze, the German Minister, who had recently completed an adventurous trip from Germany to China. He was Minister to Mexico at the beginning of the war but had returned to Berlin incognito through England to ask the Kaiser for active sea service. The Emperor was greatly elated over von Hintze's performance and offered him the appointment of Minister to China if he could reach Peking in the same way that he had traveled to Berlin. Von Hintze therefore shipped as supercargo on a Scandinavian tramp steamer and arrived safely at Shanghai, where he assumed all the pomp of a foreign diplomat and proceeded to the capital.

The Americans were in a rather difficult position at this time because of the international complications, and social intercourse was extremely limited. Dinner guests had to be chosen with the greatest care and one was very likely to meet exactly the same people wherever one went.

Peking is a place never to be forgotten by one who has shared its social life. In the midst of one of the most picturesque, most historical, and most romantic cities of the world there is a cosmopolitan community that enjoys itself to the utmost. Its talk is all of horses, polo, racing, shooting, dinners, and dances, with the interesting background of Chinese politics, in which things are never dull. There is always a rebellion of some kind to furnish delightful thrills, and one never can tell when a new political bomb will be projected from the mysterious gates of the Forbidden City.

We spent a week in Peking and regretfully left by rail for Shanghai. En route we passed through Tsinan-fu where the previous night serious fighting had occurred in which Japanese soldiers had joined with the rebels against Yuan's troops. On every side there was evidence of Japan's efforts against him. In the foreign quarter of Shanghai just behind the residence of Mr. Sammons, the American Consul-General, one of Yuan's leading officers had been openly murdered, and Japanese were directly concerned in the plot. We were told that it was very difficult at that time to lease houses in the foreign concession because wealthy Chinese who feared the wrath of one party or the other were eager to pay almost any rent to obtain the protection of that quarter of the city.

A short time later it became known to a few that Yuan was seriously ill. He was suffering from Bright's disease with its consequent weakness, loss of mental alertness, and lack of concentration. French doctors were called in, but Yuan's wives insisted upon treating him with concoctions of their own, and on June 6, shortly after three o'clock in the morning, he died.

Even on his death-bed Yuan endeavored to save his face before the country, and his last words were a reiteration of what he knew no one believed. The story of his death is told in the China Press of June 7, 1916:

According to news from the President's palace the condition of Yuan became critical at three o'clock in the morning. Yuan asked for his old confidential friend, Hsu Shih-chang, who came immediately. On the arrival of Hsu, Yuan was extremely weak, but entirely conscious.

With tears in his eyes, Yuan assured his old friend that he had never had any personal ambition for an emperor's crown; he had been deceived by his entourage over the true state of public opinion and thus had sincerely believed the people wished for the restoration of the monarchy. The desire of the South for his resignation he had not wished to follow for fear that general anarchy would break out all over China. Now that he felt death approaching he asked Hsu to make his last words known to the public.

In the temporary residence of President Li Yuan-hung, situated in the Yung-chan-hu-tung (East City) and formerly owned by Yang Tu, the prominent monarchist, the formal transfer of the power to Li-Yuan-hung took place this morning at ten o'clock. Yuan Chi-jui, Secretary of State and Premier, as well as all the members of the cabinet, Prince Pu Lun as chairman of the State Council, and other high officials were present.

The officials, wearing ceremonial dress, were received by Li-Yuan-hung in the main hall and made three bows to the new president, which were returned by the latter. The same ceremony will take place at two o'clock, when all the high military officials will assemble at the President's residence.

The Cabinet, in a circular telegram has informed all the provinces that Vice-President Li-Yuan-hung, in accordance with the constitution, has become president of the Chinese Republic (Chung-hua-min-kuo) from the seventh instance.

So ended Yuan Shi-kai's great plot to make himself an emperor over four hundred millions of people, a plot which could only have been carried out in China. He failed, and the once valiant warrior died in the humiliation of defeat, leaving thirty-two wives, forty children and his country in political chaos.




Three days after leaving Shanghai we arrived at Pagoda Anchorage at the mouth of the Min River, twelve miles from Foochow.

We boarded a launch which threaded its way through a fleet of picturesque fishing vessels, each one of which had a round black and white eye painted on its crescent-shaped bow. When asked the reason for this decoration a Chinese on the launch looked at us rather pityingly for a moment and then said: "No have eye. No can see." How simple and how entirely satisfactory!

The instant the launch touched the shore dozens of coolies swarmed like flies over it, fighting madly for our luggage. One seized a trunk, the other end of which had been appropriated by another man and, in the argument which ensued, each endeavored to deafen the other by his screams. The habit of yelling to enforce command is inherent with the Chinese and appears to be ineradicable. To expostulate in an ordinary tone of voice, pausing to listen to his opponent's reply, seems a psychological impossibility.

There had been a mistake about the date of our arrival at Foochow, and we were two days earlier than we had been expected, so that Mr. C.R. Kellogg, of the Anglo-Chinese College, with whom we were to stay, was not on the jetty to meet us. We were at a loss to know where to turn amidst the chaos and confusion until a customs officer took us in charge and, judiciously selecting a competent looking woman from among the screaming multitude, told her to get two sedan chairs and coolies to carry our luggage. She disappeared and ten minutes later the chairs arrived. Dashing about among the crowd in front of us, she chose the baggage for such men as met with her approval and after the usual amount of argument the loads were taken.

We mounted our chairs and started off with apparently all Foochow following us. As far as we could see down the narrow street were the heads and shoulders of our porters. We felt as if we were heading an invading army as, with our thirty-three coolies and sixteen hundred pounds of luggage, we descended upon the homes of people whom we did not know and who were not expecting us. But our sudden arrival did not disturb the Kelloggs and our welcome was typical of the warm hospitality one always finds in the Far East.

No matter how long one has lived in China one remains in a condition of mental suspense unable to decide which is the filthiest city of the Republic. The residents of Foochow boast that for offensiveness to the senses no town can compare with theirs, and although Amoy and several other places dispute this questionable title, we were inclined to grant it unreservedly to Foochow. It is like a medieval city with its narrow, ill-paved streets wandering aimlessly in a hopeless maze. They are usually roofed over so that by no accident can a ray of purifying sun penetrate their dark corners. With no ventilation whatsoever the oppressive air reeks with the odors that rise from the streets and the steaming houses.

In Foochow, as in other cities of China, the narrow alleys are literally choked with every form of industrial obstruction. Countless workmen plant themselves in the tiny passageways with the pigs, children, and dogs, and women bring their quilts to spread upon the stones. There is a common saying that the Chinese do little which is not at some time done on the street.

The foreign residents, including consuls of all nationalities, missionaries, and merchants, live well out of the city on a hilltop. Their houses are built with very high ceilings and bare interiors, and as the occupants seldom go into the city except in a sedan chair and have "punkahs" waving day and night, life is made possible during the intense heat of summer.

A telegram was awaiting us from the Reverend Harry Caldwell, with whom we were to hunt, asking us to come to his station two hundred miles up the river, and we passed two sweltering days repacking our outfit while Mr. Kellogg scoured the country for an English-speaking cook.

One middle-aged gentleman presented himself, but when he learned that we were going "up country," he shook his head with an assumption of great filial devotion and said that he did not think his mother would let him go. Another was afraid the sun might be too hot. Finally on the eve of our departure we engaged a stuttering Chinese who assured us that he was a remarkable cook and exceptionally honest.

If you have never heard a Chinaman stutter you have something to live for, and although we discovered that our cook was a shameless rascal he was worth all he extracted in "squeeze," for whenever he attempted to utter a word we became almost hysterical. He sounded exactly like a worn-out phonograph record buzzing on a single note, and when he finally did manage to articulate, his "pidgin" English in itself was screamingly funny.

One day he came to the sampan proudly displaying a piece of beef and, after a series of vocal gymnastics, eventually succeeded in shouting: "Missie, this meat no belong die-cow. Die-cow not so handsome." Which meant that this particular piece of beef was not from an animal which had died from disease.

The first stage of our trip began before daylight. We rode in four-man sedan chairs, followed by a long procession of heavily laden coolies with our cameras, duffle-sacks, and pack baskets. The road lay through green rice fields between terraced mountains, and we jogged along first on the crest of a hill, then in the valley, passing dilapidated temples with the paint flaking off and picturesque little huts half hidden in the reeds of the winding river. It was a relief to get into the country again after passing down the narrow village streets and to breathe fresh air perfumed with honeysuckle.

A passenger launch makes the trip to Cui-kau at the beginning of the rapids, but it leaves at two o'clock in the morning and is literally crowded to overflowing with evil-smelling Chinese who sprawl over every available inch of deck space, so that even the missionaries strongly advised us against taking it. The passengers not infrequently are pushed off into the water. One of the missionaries witnessed an incident which illustrates in a typical way the total lack of sympathy of the average Chinese.

A coolie on the Cui-kau launch accidentally fell overboard, and although a friend was able to grasp his hand and hold him above the surface, no one offered to help him; the launch continued at full speed, and finally weakening, the poor man loosed his hold and sank. This is by no means an isolated case. Some years ago a foreign steamer was burned on the Yangtze River, and the crowds of watching Chinese did little or nothing to rescue the passengers and crew. Indeed, as fast as they made their way to shore many of them were robbed even of their clothing and some were murdered outright.

Our first day on the Min River was the most luxurious of the entire Expedition, for we were fortunate in obtaining the Standard Oil Company's launch through the kindness of Mr. Livingston, their agent. It was large and roomy, and the trip, which would have been worse than disagreeable on the public boat, was most delightful. The Min is one of the most beautiful rivers of all China with its velvet green mountains rising a thousand feet or more straight up from the water and often terraced to the summits.

Perched on the bow of our boat was a wizened little gentleman with a pigtail wrapped around his head, who said he was a pilot, but as he inquired the channel of everyone who passed and ran us aground a dozen times or more to the tremendous agitation of our captain, we felt that his claim was not entirely justified.

The river life was a fascinating, ever-changing picture. One moment we would pass a sampan so loaded with branches that it seemed like a small island floating down the stream. Next a huge junk with bamboo-ribbed sails projecting at impossible angles drifted by, followed by innumerable smaller crafts, the monotonous chant of the boatmen coming faintly over the water to us as they passed.

When evening came we had reached Cui-kau. The sampans in which we were to spend eight days were drawn up on the beach with twenty or thirty others. Right above us was the straggling town looking very much like the rear view of tenement houses at home. Darkness blotted out the filth of our surroundings but could do nothing to lessen the odors that poured down from the village, and we ate our dinner with little relish.

Our beds were spread in the sampans which we shared in common with the four river men who formed the crew. There was only a mosquito net to screen the end of the boat, but all our surroundings were so strange that this was but a minor detail. As we lay in our cots we could look up at the stars framed in the half oval of the sampan's roof and listen to the sounds of the water life grow fainter and fainter as one by one the river men beached their boats for the night. It seemed only a few minutes later when we were roused by a rush of water, but it was daylight, and the boats had reached the first of the rapids which separated us from Yen-ping, one hundred and twenty miles away.

In the late afternoon we arrived at Chang-hu-fan where Mr. Caldwell stood on the shore waving his hat to us amidst scores of dirty little children and the explosion of countless firecrackers. Wherever we went crackers preceded and followed us—for when a Chinese wishes to register extreme emotion, either of joy or sorrow, its expression always takes the form of firecrackers.

There had been a good deal of persecution of the native Christians in the district, and only recently a band of soldiers had strung up the native pastor by the thumbs and beaten him senseless. He was our host that night and seemed to be a bright, vivacious, little man but quite deaf as a result of his cruel treatment. He never recovered and died a few weeks later. Mr. Caldwell had come to investigate the affair, for the missionaries are invested by the people themselves with a good deal of authority.

We spent that night in the parish house just behind the little church, a bare schoolroom being turned over to us for our use, and it seemed very luxurious after we had set up our cots, tables, chairs, and bath tub; but the house was in the center of the town and the high walls shut out every breath of pure air. The barred windows opened on a street hardly six feet wide, and while we were preparing for bed there was a buzz of subdued whispers outside. We switched on a powerful electric flashlight and there stood at least forty men, women and children gazing at us with rapt attention, but they melted away before the blinding glare like snow in a June sun.

That night was not a pleasant one. The heat was intense, the mosquitoes worse, and every dog and cat in the village seemed to choose our court yard as a dueling ground in which to settle old scores. The climax was reached at four o'clock in the morning, when directly under our windows there came a series of ear-splitting squeals followed by a horrible gurgle. The neighbors had chosen that particular spot and hour to kill the family pig, and the entire process which followed of sousing it in hot water and scraping off the hair was accompanied by unceasing chatter. Boiling with rage we dressed and went for a walk, vowing not to spend another night in the place but to sleep in the sampans.

On the whole our river men were nice fellows but they had the love of companionship characteristic of all Chinese and the inherent desire to huddle together as closely as possible wherever they were. On the way up the river to Yuchi every evening they insisted on stopping at some foul-smelling village, and it was difficult to induce them to spend the night away from a town. Moreover, at our stops for luncheon they would invariably ignore a shady spot and choose a sand bank where the sun beat down like a blast furnace.

The Chinese never appear to be affected by the sun and go bareheaded at all seasons of the year, shading their eyes with one hand or a partly opened fan. A fan is the prime requisite, and it is not uncommon to see coolies almost devoid of clothing, dragging a heavy load and with the perspiration streaming from their naked bodies, energetically fanning themselves meanwhile.

Mr. Caldwell was en route to Yuchi, one of his mission stations far up a branch of the Min River, and as there was a vague report of tiger in that vicinity we joined him instead of proceeding directly to Yen-ping. The tiger story was found to be merely a myth, but our trip was made interesting by meeting Miss Mabel Hartford, the only foreign resident of the place. She has lived in Yuchi for two years and at one time did not see a white person for eight months with the exception of Mr. Caldwell who was in the vicinity for three days. It requires four weeks to obtain supplies from Foochow, there is no telegraph, and mails are very irregular, but she enjoys the isolation and is passionately fond of her work.

She has had an interesting life and one not devoid of danger. In 1895 she was wounded and barely escaped death in the Hwa Shan (Flower Mountain) massacre in which ten women and one man were brutally murdered by a mob of fanatic natives known as "Vegetarians." The Chinese Government was required to pay a considerable indemnity to Miss Hartford, which she accepted only under protest and characteristically devoted to missionary work in Kucheng where the massacre occurred.

Conditions at Yuchi when we arrived were most unsettled and for some months there had been a veritable "reign of terror." A large band of brigands was established in the hills not far from the city, and we were warned by the mandarin not to attempt to go farther up the river. A few months earlier several companies of soldiers had been sent from Foochow, and the result of turning loose these ruffians upon the town was to make "the remedy worse than the disease."

The soldiers were continually arresting innocent peasants, accusing them of being brigands or aiding the bandits, and shooting them without a hearing. At one time accurate information concerning the camp of the robbers was received and the soldiers set bravely off, but when within a short distance of the brigands the commanders began to quarrel among themselves, guns were fired, and the bandits escaped. A Chinaman must always "save his face," however, and when they returned to Yuchi they arrested dozens of people on mere suspicion and executed them without the vestige of a trial. Finally conditions became so intolerable that no one was safe, and after repeated complaints by the missionaries, a new mandarin of a somewhat better type was sent to Yuchi.

As it was impossible to do any collecting farther up the river because of the bandits, we left for Yen-ping two days after arriving at Yuchi. Yen-ping is a wonderfully picturesque old city, situated on a hill at a fork of the river and surrounded by high stone walls pierced and loopholed for rifle fire. Such walls, while of little use against artillery, nevertheless offer a formidable obstacle to anything less than field guns as we ourselves were destined to discover.

The Methodist mission compound encloses a considerable area on the very summit of the hill, backed by the city wall, and besides the four dwelling houses, comprises two large schools for boys and girls. Mr. Caldwell's residence commands a wonderful view down the river and in the late afternoon sunlight when the hills are bathed in pink and lavender and purple a more beautiful spot can hardly be imagined.

But the delights of Yen-ping are somewhat tempered by the abominable weather. In summer the heat is almost unbearable and the air is so nearly saturated from continual rain that it is impossible to dry anything except over a fire. From all reports winter must be almost as bad in the opposite extreme for the cold is damp and penetrating; but the early fall is said to be delightful.

The larger part of Fukien, like many other provinces in China, has been denuded of forests, and the groves of pine which remain have all been planted. This deforestation consequently has driven out the game, and except for tigers, leopards, wolves, wild pigs, serows and gorals, none of the large species is left. However, the dense growth of sword grass and the thorny bushes which clothe the hills and choke the ravines give cover to muntjac, or barking deer, and many species of small cats, civets, and other Viverines. These animals come to the rice paddys, which fill every valley, to hunt for frogs and fish, but it is difficult to catch them because of the Chinese who are continually at work in the fields.

We spent a week trapping about Yen-ping and although we caught a good many animals they were almost always stolen together with the traps. We had this same difficulty in Yuen-nan as well as in Fukien. None of us had ever seen natives in any part of the world who were such unmitigated thieves as the Chinese of these two provinces. The small mammals are hardly more abundant than the larger ones for the natives wage an unceasing war on those about the rice paddys and have exterminated nearly all but a few widely distributed forms.



A few days after our arrival in Yen-ping we went with Mr. Caldwell and his son Oliver to a Taoist temple seven miles away in a lonely ravine known as Chi-yuen-kang. The walk to the temple in the early morning was delightful. The "bamboo chickens" and francolins were calling all about us and on the way we shot enough for our first day's dinner. Both these birds are abundant in Fukien Province but it is by no means easy to kill them for they live in such thick cover that they can only be flushed with difficulty.

Early in the morning we frequently heard the francolins crowing in the trees or on the top of a hill and when a cock had taken possession of such a spot the intrusion of another was almost sure to cause trouble which only ended when one of them had been driven off.

For two miles and a half the Big Ravine is a narrow cut between perpendicular rock walls thickly clothed to their very summits with bamboo and a tangle of thorny vines. In the bottom of the gorge a mountain torrent foams among huge bowlders but becomes a gentle, slow moving stream when it leaves the cool darkness of the canon to spread itself over the terraced rice fields.

About a mile from the entrance two old temples nestle into the hillside. One stands just over the water, but the other clings to the rock wall three hundred feet above the river, and it was there that we made our camp.

The old priest in charge did not appear especially delighted to see us until I slipped a Mexican dollar into his hand—then it was laughable to see his change of face. The far end of the balcony was given up to us while Mr. Caldwell and Oliver put up their beds at the feet of a grinning idol in the main temple.

We had come to Chi-yuen-kang to hunt serow (see Chapter XVII) and had brought with us only a few traps for small mammals. Harry had seen several serow exhibited for sale on market days in towns along the river, and all were reported to have been killed near this ravine. There was a village of considerable size at the upper end and here we collected a motley lot of beaters with half a dozen dogs to drive the top of a mountain which towered about two thousand five hundred feet above the river.

Never will we forget that climb! We tried to start at daylight but it was well toward six o'clock before we got our men together. A Chinaman would drive an impatient man to apoplexy and an early grave for it is well-nigh impossible to get him started within an hour of the appointed time, and with a half dozen the difficulty is multiplied as many times. Just when you think all is ready and that there can be no possible reason for delaying longer, the whole crowd will disappear suddenly and you discover that they have gone for "chow." Then you know that the end is really in sight, for chow usually is the last thing.

We waited nearly two hours on this particular morning before we started on the long climb to the top of the mountain. The sun was simply blazing, and in fifteen minutes we were soaked with perspiration. When we were half way up the dogs disappeared in a small ravine overgrown with bamboo and sword grass and suddenly broke into a chorus of yelps. They had found a fresh trail and were driving our way.

Harry ran to a narrow opening in the jungle, shouting to us to watch another higher up. We were hardly in position when his rifle banged, followed by such a bedlam of yells and barks that we thought he must have killed nothing less than one of the hunters. Before we reached them Harry appeared, smiling all over, and dragging a muntjac (Muntiacus) by the fore legs. He had just made a beautiful shot, for the clearing he had been watching was not more than ten feet wide and the muntjac flashed across it at full speed. Caldwell fired while it was in mid-air and his bullet caught the animal at the base of the neck, rolling it over stone dead.

This beautiful little deer in Fukien is hardly larger than a fox. Its antlers are only two or three inches in length and rise from an elongated skin-covered pedicel instead of from the base of the skull as in all other members of the deer family. On each side of the upper jaw is a slender tusk, about two inches long, which projects well beyond the lips and makes a rather formidable weapon.

We hoped that this muntjac was going to prove a "good joss," but instead a disappointing day was in store for us. When we had worked our way to the very summit of the mountain under a merciless sun and over a trail which led through a smothering bamboo jungle, we saw dozens of fresh serow tracks. The animals were there without a doubt and we were on the qui vive with excitement.

We selected positions and the men made a long circuit to drive toward us as Caldwell had directed. After half an hour had passed we heard them yelling as they closed in, but what was our disgust to see them solemnly parading in single file up the bottom of the valley on an open trail and carefully avoiding all thickets where a serow could possibly be. As Harry expressed it, "all the animals had to do was to sit tight and watch the noble procession pass." The beaters very evidently knew nothing whatever about driving nor were we able to teach them, for they seriously objected to leaving the open trails and going into the bush.

We worked hard for serow but the men were hopeless and it was impossible to "still hunt" the animals at that time of the year. The natives say that in September when the mushrooms are abundant in the lower forests the serow leave the mountain tops and thick cover to feed upon the fungus, and that they may be killed without the aid of beaters, but at any time the hunt would involve a vast amount of labor with only a moderate chance of success. After we had left Fukien, Mr. Caldwell purchased a fine male and female serow for us which are especially interesting as they represent a different subspecies (Capricornis sumatrensis argyrochcaetes) from those we killed in Yuen-nan.

Chi-yuen-kang did yield us results, however, for we discovered a wonderful bat cave less than a mile from our temple. Its entrance was a low round hole half covered with vegetation, and opening into a high circular gallery; from this three long corridors branched off like fingers from the palm of a giant's hand. The cave was literally alive with bats. There must have been ten thousand and on the first day we killed a hundred, representing seven species and at least four genera. This was especially remarkable as it is unusual to find more than two or three species living together.

The cave was a regular bat apartment house for each corridor was divided by rock partitions into several small rooms in every one of which bats of different species were rearing their families. The young in most instances were only a few days old but were thickly clustered on the walls and ceilings, and each and every one was squeaking at the top of its tiny lungs. The place must have been occupied for scores, if not hundreds, of years for the floor was knee-deep with dung.

When we returned the day after our first visit we found that many of the young bats had been removed by their parents and in some instances entire rooms had been vacated. After the first day the odor of the cave was so nauseating that to enable us to go inside it was necessary to wear gauze pads of iodoform over our noses.

The bats at this place were killed with bamboo switches but later we always used a long gill net which had been especially made in New York. We could hang the net over the entrance to a cave and, when all was ready, send a native into the galleries to stir up the animals. As they flew out they became entangled in the net and could be caught or killed before they were able to get away. It was sometimes possible to catch every specimen in a cavern, and moreover, to secure them in perfect condition without broken skulls or wings.

If a bat escaped from the net it would never again strike it, for the animals are wonderfully accurate in flight and most expert dodgers. Even while in a cave, where hundreds of bats were in the air, they seldom flew against us, although we might often be brushed by their wings; and it was a most difficult thing to hit them with a bamboo switch. Their ability in dodging is without doubt a necessary development of their feeding habits for, with the exception of a few species, bats live exclusively upon insects and catch them in the air.

It is a rather terrifying experience for a girl to sit in a bat cave especially if the light has gone out and she is in utter darkness. Of course she has a cap tightly pulled over her ears, for what girl, even if she be a naturalist's wife, would venture into a den of evil bats with one wisp of hair exposed!

All about is the swish of ghostly wings which brush her face or neck and the air is full of chattering noises like the grinding of hundreds of tiny teeth. Sometimes a soft little body plumps into her lap and if she dares to take her hands from her face long enough to disengage the clinging animal she is liable to receive a vicious bite from teeth as sharp as needles. But, withal, it is good fun, and think how quickly formalin jars or collecting trays can be filled with beautiful specimens!



On Sunday, June 18, we went to the bat cave to obtain a new supply of specimens. Upon our return, just as we were about to sit down to luncheon, four excited Chinese appeared with the following letter from Mr. Caldwell:


There was quite a lively time in the city at an early hour this morning. The rebels have taken Yen-ping and it looks as though there was trouble ahead. Northern soldiers have been sent for and the chances are that either tonight or tomorrow morning there will be quite a battle. Bankhardt, Dr. Trimble and myself have just made a round of the city, visiting the telegraph office, post office and other places, and while we do not believe that the foreigners will be molested, nevertheless it is impossible to tell just what to expect. It is certain, however, that the Consul will order all of us to Foochow if news of the situation reaches there. Owing to the uncertainty, I think you had better come in to Yen-ping so as to be ready for any eventuality.

After talking the situation over with Dr. Trimble and Mr. Bankhardt, we all agreed that the wisest thing is for you to come in immediately. I am sending four burden-bearers for it will be out of the question to find any tomorrow, if trouble occurs tonight. The city gates are closed so you will have to climb up the ladder over the wall behind our compound. Best wishes.


P.S.—Later: It is again reported that Northern soldiers are to arrive tonight. If they do and trouble occurs your only chance is to get to Yen-ping today.


The camp immediately was thrown into confusion for Da-Ming, the cook, and the burden-bearers were jabbering excitedly at the top of their voices. The servants began to pack the loads at once and meanwhile we ate a roast chicken faster than good table manners would permit—in fact, we took it in our fingers. We were both delighted at the prospect of some excitement and talked almost as fast as the Chinese.

In just one hour from the time Harry's letter had been received, we were on the way to Yen-ping. It was the hottest part of the day, and we were dripping with perspiration when we left the cool darkness of the ravine and struck across the open valley, which lay shimmering in a furnace-like heat. At the first rest house on the top of the long hill we waited nearly an hour for our bearers who were struggling under the heavy loads.

Three miles farther on a poor woman tottered past us on her peglike feet leaning on the arm of a man. A short distance more and we came to the second rest house. We had been there but a few moments when three panting women, steadying themselves with long staves and barely able to walk on feet not more than four inches long, came up the hill. With them were several men bearing household goods in large bundles and huge red boxes.

The exhausted women sank upon the benches and fanned themselves while the perspiration ran down their flushed faces. They looked so utterly miserable that we told the cook to give them a piece of cake which Mrs. Caldwell had sent us the day before. Their gratitude was pitiful, but, of course, they gave the larger share to the men.

It was not long before other women and children appeared on the hill path, all struggling upward under heavy loads, or tottering along on tightly bound feet. Probably these women had not walked so far in their entire lives, but the fear of the Northern soldiers and what would happen in the city if they took possession had driven them from their homes.

Farther on we had a clear view across the valley where a long line of people was filing up to a temple which nestled into the hillside. Half a mile beyond were two other temples both crowded with refugees and their goods. Hundreds of families were seeking shelter in every little house beside the road and were overflowing into the cowsheds and pigpens.

At six o'clock we stood on the summit of the hill overlooking the city and half an hour later were clambering up the ladder over the high wall of the compound, just behind Dr. Trimble's house. We were wet through and while cooling off heard the story of the morning's fighting. It seemed that a certain element in the city was in cooeperation with the representatives of the revolutionary organization. These men wished to obtain possession of Yen-ping and, after the rebellion was well started, to gather forces, march to Foochow, and force the Governor to declare the independence of the province.

The plot had been hatching for several days, but the death of Yuan Shi-kai had somewhat delayed its fruition. Saturday, however, it was known throughout the city that trouble would soon begin. Sunday morning at half past three, a band of one hundred men from Yuchi had marched to Yen-ping where they were received by a delegation of rebels dressed in white who opened to them the east gate of the city. Immediately they began to fire up the streets to intimidate the people and in a short time were in a hot engagement with the seventeen Northern soldiers, some of whom threw away their guns and swam across the river. The remaining city troops were from the province of Hunan and their sympathies were really with the South in the great rebellion. These immediately joined the rebels, where they were received with open arms. It was reported that the tao-tai (district mandarin) had asked for troops from Foochow and that these might be expected at any moment; thus when they arrived a real battle could be expected and it was very likely that the city would be partly destroyed.

We had a picnic supper on the Caldwell's porch and discussed the situation. It was the opinion of all that the foreigners were in no immediate danger, but nevertheless it was considered wise to be prepared, and we decided upon posts for each man if it should become necessary to protect the compound.

Hundreds of people were besieging the missionaries with requests to be allowed to bring their goods and families inside the walls, but these necessarily had to be refused. Had the missionaries allowed the Chinese to bring their valuables inside it would have cost them the right of Consular protection and, moreover, their compound would have been the first to be attacked if looting began.

On Monday morning while we were sitting on the porch of Mr. Caldwell's house preparing some bird skins, there came a sharp crackle of rifle fire and then a roar of shots. Bullets began to whistle over us and we could see puffs of smoke as the deep bang of a black powder gun punctuated the vicious snapping of the high-power rifles. The firing gradually ceased after half an hour and we decided to go down to the city to see what had happened, for, as no Northern troops had appeared, the cause of the fighting was a mystery.

We went first to the mission hospital which lay across a deep ravine and only a few yards from the quarters of the soldiers. At the door of the hospital compound lay a bloody rag, and we found Dr. Trimble in the operating room examining a wounded man who had just been brought in. The fellow had been shot in the abdomen with a 45-caliber lead ball that had gone entirely through him, emerging about three inches to the right of his spine.

From the doctor we got the first real news of the puzzling situation. It appeared that all the men who had arrived Sunday morning from Yuchi to join the Yen-ping rebels were in reality brigands and, to save their own lives, the Hunan soldiers quartered in the city had played a clever trick. They had pretended to join the rebels but at a given signal had turned upon them, killing or capturing almost every one. Although their sympathies were really with the South, the Hunan men knew that the rebels in Yen-ping could not hold the city against the Northern soldiers from Foochow and, by crushing the rebellion themselves, they hoped to avert a bigger fight.

As we could not help the doctor he suggested that we might be of some assistance to the wounded in the city, and with rude crosses of red cloth pinned to our white shirt sleeves we left the hospital, accompanied by four Chinese attendants bearing a stretcher. In the compound we met a chair in which was lying an old man groaning loudly and dripping with blood. Beside him were his wife and several boys. The poor woman was crying quietly and, between her sobs, was offering the wounded man mustard pickles from a small dish in her hand! Poor things, they have so little to eat that they believe food will cure all ills!

The bearers set the chair down as we appeared and lifted the filthy rag which covered a gaping wound in the man's shoulder, over which had been plastered a great mass of cow dung. Just think of the infection, but it was the only remedy they knew!

We took the man upstairs where Dr. Trimble was preparing to operate on the fellow who had been shot in the abdomen. The doctor was working steadily and quietly, making every move count and inspiring his native hospital staff with his own coolness; the way this young missionary handled his cases made us glad that he was an American.

On the way down the hill several soldiers passed us, each carrying four or five rifles and slung about with cartridge belts—plunder stripped from the men who had been killed. A few hundred yards farther on we found two brigands lying dead in a narrow street. The nearest one had fallen on his face and, as we turned him over, we saw that half his head had been blown away; the other was staring upward with wide open eyes on which the flies already were settling in swarms.

There was little use in wasting time over these men who long ago had passed beyond need of our help, and we went on rapidly down the alley to the main thoroughfare. Guided by a small boy, we hurried over the rough stones for fifteen minutes, and suddenly came to a man lying at the side of the street, his head propped on a wooden block. An umbrella once had partly covered him but had fallen away, leaving him unprotected in the broiling sun. His face and a terrible wound in his head were a solid mass of flies, and thousands of insects were crawling over the blood clots on the stones beside him. At first we thought he was dead but soon saw his abdomen move and realized that he was breathing. It did not seem possible that a human being could live under such conditions; and yet the bystanders told us that he had been lying there for thirty hours—he had been shot early the previous morning and it was now three o'clock of the next afternoon.

The man was a poor water-carrier who lived with his wife in the most utter poverty. He had been peering over the city wall when the firing began Sunday morning and was one of the first innocent bystanders to pay the penalty of his curiosity. I asked why he had not been taken to the hospital, and the answer was that his wife was too poor to hire anyone to carry him and he had no friends. So there he lay in the burning sun, gazed at by hundreds of passers-by, without one hand being lifted to help him.

Our hospital attendants brushed away the flies, placed him in the stretcher and started up the long hill, followed by the haggard, weeping wife and a curious crowd. On every hand were questions: "Why are these men taking him away?" "What are they going to do with him?" But several educated natives who understood said, "Ing-ai-gidaiie" (A work of love). They got right there a lesson in Christianity which they will not soon forget. It is seldom that Chinese try to help an injured man, for ever present in their minds is the possibility that he may die and that they will be responsible for his burial expenses.

We left the stretcher bearers at the corner of the main street with orders to return as soon as they had deposited the man in the hospital and, under the guidance of a boy, hurried toward the east gate where it was said seven or eight men had been shot. Our guide took us first to a brigand who had been wounded and left to die beside the gutter. The corpse was a horrible sight and with a feeling of deathly nausea we made a hurried examination and walked to the gate at the end of the street.

A dozen soldiers were on guard. We learned from the officer that there were no wounded in the pile of dead just beyond the entrance, so we turned toward the river bank and rapidly patrolled the alleys leading to the tao-tai's yamen (official residence) where the firing had been heaviest. The yamen was crowded with soldiers, and we were informed that the dead had all been removed and that there were no wounded—a grim statement which told its own story.

The yamen is but a short distance from the hospital so we climbed the hill to the compound. The sun was simply blazing and I realized then what the wounded men must have suffered lying in the heat without shelter. We returned to the house and were resting on the upper porch when suddenly, far down the river, we saw the glint of rifle barrels in the sunlight, and with field glasses made out a long line of khaki-clad men winding along the shore trail. At the same time two huge boats filled with soldiers came into view heading for the water gate of the city. These were undoubtedly the Northern troops from Foochow who were expected Monday night.

Even as we looked there came a sudden roar of musketry and a cloud of smoke drifted up from the barracks right below us—then a rattling fusillade of shots. We could see soldiers running along the walls firing at men below and often in our direction. Bullets hummed in the air like angry bees and we rushed for cover, but in a few moments the firing ceased as suddenly as it began.

We were at a loss to know what it all meant and why the troops were firing upon the Northern soldiers whom they wished to placate. It was still a mystery when we sat down to dinner at half past seven, but a few minutes later Mr. Bankhardt rushed in saying that he had just received a note from the tao-tai. The mandarin's personal servant had brought word that the Northern soldiers, who had just entered the city, were going to kill him and he begged the missionaries for assistance. Bankhardt also told us of the latest developments in the situation. It seems that the city soldiers supposed the Northern troops to be brigands and had fired upon them and killed several before they discovered their mistake. A very delicate situation had thus been precipitated, for the Northern commander believed that it was treachery and intended to attack the barracks in the morning and kill every man whom he found with a rifle, as well as all the city officials.

The story of the way in which the missionaries acted as peacemakers, saved the tao-tai, and prevented the slaughter which surely would have taken place in the morning, is too long to be told here, for it was accomplished only after hours of the talk and "face saving" so dear to the heart of the Oriental. Suffice it to say that through the exercise of great tact and a thorough understanding of the Chinese character they were able to settle the matter without bloodshed.

The following day twenty brigands were given a so-called trial, marched off to the west gate, beheaded amid great enthusiasm, and the incident was closed. In the afternoon a messenger called and delivered to each of us an official letter from the commander of the Northern troops thanking us for the part we had played in averting trouble and bringing the matter to a peaceful end.

An interesting sidelight on the affair was received a few days later. A young man, a Christian, who was born in the same town from which a number of the brigands had come, went to his house on Monday night after the fight and found seven of the robbers concealed in his bedroom. He was terrified because if they were discovered he and all his family would be killed for aiding the bandits. He told them they must leave at once, but they pleaded with him to let them stay for they knew there were soldiers at every corner and that it would be impossible to get away.

While he was imploring them to go, a knock sounded at the door. He pushed the brigands into the courtyard, and opened to three soldiers. They said: "We understand you have brigands in your house." He was trembling with fear, but answered, "Come in and see for yourself, if you think so."

The soldiers were satisfied by his frank open manner and, as they knew him to be a good man, did not search the house, but went away. The poor fellow was frightened nearly to death, but as his place was being watched it was impossible for the brigands to leave during the day.

At night they stripped themselves, shaved their heads, and dressed like coolies, and were able to get to the ladder down the city wall just below the mission compound where they could escape into the hills.

The day after this occurrence, about four o'clock in the afternoon, a breathless Chinese appeared at the house with a note to Mr. Bankhardt saying that his Chinese teacher and the mission school cook had been arrested by the Northern soldiers and were to be beheaded in an hour. We hurried to the police office where they were confined and found that not only the two men but three others were in custody.

The mission cook owned a small restaurant under the management of one of his relatives and, while Bankhardt's teacher and the other man were sitting at a table, some Northern soldiers appeared, one of whom owed the restaurant keeper a small amount of money. When asked to pay, the soldier turned upon him and shouted: "You have been assisting the brigands. I saw some of them carrying goods into your house." Thereupon the soldiers arrested everyone in the shop.

The police officials were quite ready to release the teacher and the other man upon our statements, but they would not allow the cook to go. His hands were kept tightly bound and he was chained to a post by the neck. The soldier who arrested him was his sole accuser, but of course, others would appear to uphold him in his charge if it were necessary.

The cook was as innocent as any one of the missionaries, but it required several hours of work and threats of complaint to the government at Foochow to prevent the man from being summarily executed.

We were not able to get any mail from Foochow during the rebellion because the constant stream of Northern soldiers on their way up the river had paralyzed the entire country to such an extent that all the river men had fled.

The soldiers were firing for target practice upon every boat they saw on the river and dozens of men had been killed and then robbed. The Northern commander told us frankly that this could not be prevented, and when we announced that we were going to start will all the missionaries down the river on the following day, he was very much disturbed. He insisted that we have American flags displayed on our boats to prevent being fired upon by the soldiers.

Although it had taken eight days to work our way laboriously through the rapids and up the river from Foochow to Yen-Ping, we covered the same distance down the river in twenty-four hours and had breakfast with Mr. Kellogg at his house the morning after we left Yen-Ping. In two days our equipment was repacked and ready for the trip to Futsing to hunt the blue tiger.



For many years before Mr. Caldwell went to Yen-ping he had been stationed at the city of Futsing, about thirty miles from Foochow. Much of his work consisted of itinerant trips during which he visited the various mission stations under his charge. He almost invariably went on foot from place to place and carried with him a butterfly net and a rifle, so that to so keen a naturalist each day's walk was full of interest.

The country was infested with man-eating tigers, and very often the villagers implored him to rid their neighborhood of some one of the yellow raiders which had been killing their children, pigs, or cattle. During ten years he had killed seven tigers in the Futsing region. He often said that his gun had been just as effective in carrying Christianity to the natives as had his evangelistic work. Although Mr. Caldwell has been especially fortunate and has killed his tigers without ever really hunting them, nevertheless it is a most uncertain sport as we were destined to learn. The tiger is the "Great Invisible"—he is everywhere and nowhere, here today and gone tomorrow. A sportsman in China may get his shot the first day out or he may hunt for weeks without ever seeing a tiger even though they are all about him; and it is this very uncertainty that makes the game all the more fascinating.

The part of Fukien Province about Futsing includes mountains of considerable height, many of which are planted with rice and support a surprising number of Chinese who are grouped in closely connected villages. While the cultivated valleys afford no cover for tiger and the mountain slopes themselves are usually more or less denuded of forest, yet the deep and narrow ravines, choked with sword grass and thorny bramble, offer an impenetrable retreat in which an animal can sleep during the day without fear of being disturbed. It is possible for a man to make his way through these lairs only by means of the paths and tunnels which have been opened by the tigers themselves.

Mr. Caldwell's usual method of hunting was to lead a goat with one or two kids to an open place where they could be fastened just outside the edge of the lair, and then to conceal himself a few feet away. The bleating of the goats would usually bring the tiger into the open where there would be an opportunity for a shot in the late afternoon.

Mr. Caldwell's first experience in hunting tigers was with a shotgun at the village of Lung-tao. His burden-bearers had not arrived with the basket containing his rifle, and as it was already late in the afternoon, he suggested to Da-Da, the Chinese boy who was his constant companion, that they make a preliminary inspection of the lair even though they carried only shotguns loaded with lead slugs about the size of buckshot.

They tethered a goat just outside the edge of the lair and the tiger responded to its bleating almost immediately. Caldwell did not see the animal until it came into the open about fifty yards away and remained in plain view for almost half an hour. The tiger seemed to suspect danger and crouched on the terrace, now and then putting his right foot forward a short distance and drawing it slowly back again. He had approached along a small trail, but before he could reach the goat it was necessary to cross an open space a few yards in width, and to do this the animal flattened himself like a huge striped serpent. His head was extended so that the throat and chin were touching the ground, and there was absolutely no motion of the body other than the hips and shoulders as the beast slid along at an amazingly rapid rate. But at the instant the cat gained the nearest cover it made three flying leaps and landed at the foot of the terrace upon which the goat was tied.

"Just then he saw me," said Mr. Caldwell, "and slowly pushed his great black-barred face over the edge of the grass not fifteen feet away.

"I fired point-blank at his head and neck. He leaped into the air with the blood spurting over the grass, and fell into a heap, but gathered himself and slid down over the terraces. As he went I fired a second load of slugs into his hip. He turned about, slowly climbed the hill parallel with us, and stood looking back at me, his face streaming with blood.

"I was fumbling in my coat trying to find other shells, but before I could reload the gun he walked unsteadily into the lair and lay down. It was already too dark to follow and the next morning a bloody trail showed where he had gone upward into the grass. Later, in the same afternoon, he was found dead by some Chinese more than three miles away."

During his many experiences with the Futsing tigers Mr. Caldwell has learned much about their habits and peculiarities, and some of his observations are given in the following pages.

"The tiger is by instinct a coward when confronted by his greatest enemy—man. Bold and daring as he may be when circumstances are in his favor, he will hurriedly abandon a fresh kill at the first cry of a shepherd boy attending a flock on the mountain-side and will always weigh conditions before making an attack. If things do not exactly suit him nothing will tempt him to charge into the open upon what may appear to be an isolated and defenseless goat.

"An experience I had in April, 1910, will illustrate this point. I led a goat into a ravine where a tiger which had been working havoc among the herds of the farmers was said to live. This animal only a few days previous to my hunt had attacked a herd of cows and killed three of them, but on this occasion the beast must have suspected danger and was exceedingly cautious. He advanced under cover along a trail until within one hundred feet of the goat and there stopped to make a survey of the surroundings. Peering into the valley, he saw two men at a distance of five hundred yards or more cutting grass and, after watching intently for a time, the great cat turned and bounded away into the bushes.

"On another occasion this tiger awaited an opportunity to attack a cow which a farmer was using in plowing his field. The man had unhitched his cow and squatted down in the rice paddy to eat his mid-day meal, when the tiger suddenly rushed from cover and killed the animal only a few yards behind the peasant. This shows how daring a tiger may be when he is able to strike from the rear, and when circumstances seem to favor an attack. I have known tigers to rush at a dog or hog standing inside a Chinese house where there was the usual confusion of such a dwelling, and in almost every instance the victim was killed, although it was not always carried away.

"There is probably no creature in the wilds which shows such a combination of daring strategy and slinking cowardice as the tiger. Often courage fails him after he has secured his victim, and he releases it to dash off into the nearest wood.

"I knew of two Chinese who were deer hunting on a mountain-side when a large tiger was routed from his bed. The beast made a rushing attack on the man standing nearest to the path of his retreat, and seizing him by the leg dragged him into the ravine below. Luckily the man succeeded in grasping a small tree whereupon the tiger released his hold, leaving his victim lying upon the ground almost paralyzed with pain and fear.

"A group of men were gathering fuel on the hills near Futsing when a tiger which had been sleeping in the high grass was disturbed. The enraged beast turned upon the peasants, killing two of them instantly and striking another a ripping blow with his paw which sent him lifeless to the terrace below. The beast did not attempt to drag either of its victims into the bush or to attack the other persons near by.

"The strength and vitality of a full grown tiger are amazing. I had occasion to spend the night a short time ago in a place where a tiger had performed some remarkable feats. Just at dusk one of these marauders visited the village and discovered a cow and her six-months-old calf in a pen which had been excavated in the side of a hill and adjoined a house. There was no possible way to enter the enclosure except by a door opening from the main part of the dwelling or to descend from above. The tiger jumped from the roof upon the neck of the heifer, killing it instantly, and the inmates of the house opened the door just in time to see the animal throw the calf out bodily and leap after it himself. I measured the embankment and found that the exact height was twelve and a half feet.

"The same tiger one noon on a foggy day attacked a hog, just back of the village and carried it into the hills. The villagers pursued the beast and overtook it within half a mile. When the hog, which dressed weighed more than two hundred pounds, was found, it had no marks or bruises upon it other than the deep fang wounds in the neck. This is another instance where courage failed a tiger after he had made off with his kill to a safe distance. The Chinese declare that when carrying such a load a tiger never attempts to drag its prey, but throws it across its back and races off at top speed.

"The finest trophy taken from Fukien Province in years I shot in May, 1910. Two days previous to my hunt this tiger had killed and eaten a sixteen-year-old boy. I happened to be in the locality and decided to make an attempt to dispose of the troublesome beast. Obtaining a mother goat with two small kids, I led them into a ravine near where the boy had been killed. The goat was tied to a tree a short distance from the lair, and the kids were concealed in the tall grass well in toward the place where the tiger would probably be. I selected a suitable spot and kneeled down behind a bank of ferns and grass. The fact that one may be stalked by the very beast which one is hunting adds to the excitement and keeps one's nerves on edge. I expected that the tiger would approach stealthily as long as he could not see the goat, as the usual plan of attack, so far as my observation goes, is to creep up under cover as far as possible before rushing into the open. In any case the tiger would be within twenty yards of me before it could be seen.

"For more than two hours I sat perfectly still, alert and waiting, behind the little blind of ferns and grass. There was nothing to break the silence other than the incessant bleating of the goats and the unpleasant rasping call of the mountain jay. I had about given up hope of a shot when suddenly the huge head of the man-eater emerged from the bush, exactly where I had expected he would appear and within fifteen feet of the kids. The back, neck, and head of the beast were in almost the same plane as he moved noiselessly forward.

"I had implicit confidence in the killing power of the gun in my hand, and at the crack of the rifle the huge brute settled forward with hardly a quiver not ten feet from the kids upon which he was about to spring. A second shot was not necessary but was fired as a matter of precaution as the tiger had fallen behind rank grass, and the bullet passed through the shoulder blade lodging in the spine. The beast measured more than nine feet and weighed almost four hundred pounds.

"Upon hearing the shots the villagers swarmed into the ravine, each eager not so much to see their slain tormentor as to gather up the blood. But little attention was paid to the tiger until every available drop was sopped up with rags torn from their clothing, whilst men and children even pulled up the blood-soaked grass. I learned that the blood of a tiger is used for two purposes. A bit of blood-stained cloth is tied about the neck of a child as a preventive against either measles or smallpox, and tiger flesh is eaten for the same purpose. It is also said that if a handkerchief stained with tiger blood is waved in front of an attacking dog the animal will slink away cowed and terrified.

"From the Chinese point of view the skin is not the most valuable part of a tiger. Almost always before a hunt is made, or a trap is built, the villagers burn incense before the temple god, and an agreement is made to the effect that if the enterprise be successful the skin of the beast taken becomes the property of the gods. Thus it happens that in many of the temples handsome tiger-skin robes may be found spread in the chair occupied by the noted 'Duai Uong,' or the god of the land. When a hunt is successful, the flesh and bones are considered of greatest value, and it often happens that a number of cows are killed and their flesh mixed with that of the tiger to be sold at the exorbitant price cheerfully paid for tiger meat. The bones are boiled for a number of days until a gelatine-like product results, and this is believed to be exceptionally efficacious medicine.

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