Ray McGillivray

“ Mad creatures people Bo-hai, creatures that burrow deep beneath the Wall, from Ninghia to Langchau, coming out only for orgies of the night. Any Mongol knows that venturing alone to the salt shores of Gileshtai means joining forever the flitting horde of Nameless Ones—for lepers, and the shades of lepers centuries dead, owe no allegiance either to living law or to the kindly teachings of Tao, the All-Wise. ”

“ Let them come! Only let me see them. . . !" fell soundlessly from his stiffened lips.
Without cessation, his eyes swept the semi-circle of open desert. At his back, a curious, overhanging basalt cliff denied attack. In front of him, and to the sides, black figures of the Chinese lay or squatted.
Christensen and Roberts, experienced delvers in Oriental antiquity, had planned the journey. At the time they came to Kulang the crisis of Chinese famine had not arrived. They had taken with them Porterfield, an enthusiastic youth from the consulate at Shanghai. ”

“ THE sands of Bo-hai never quite are dark.
It matters not that a blood-red, maniacal sun deserts this waste; that sullen cloud banks close in with freezing chill of midnight. A misty, spectral light yet emanates from the sand—quite as if stored-up heat and light were retained by the layers of baked, anydrous surface. At any time sharp eyes may discern the ghostly shadow of a man who walks, even fifty yards distant. ”

“ Porterfield roused himself. "Go back?" he cried. "I would not go back for all the wealth of the Indies! You don’t mean to say . . . .?"
"I do," answered Roberts grimly. "Within six months. Men may live or die, but history must be written. The Yengi may not have smashed all of those forty jars . ”

“ The man, unconscious now, had his head shaved except for the circle and queue usual among natives of Inner Mongolia. Except that no sign of leprosy showed, he looked the part of a desert exile. Tearing away his black cotton shirt, however, Roberts saw, with a sinking heart, that the intruder's skin was as white as his own!
Desperately, casting aside all caution in use of the flash-lamp, Roberts worked. He found the wound, a gaping hole from soft-nosed bullet, which lay just beneath the stretched ridge of the left clavicle. Probably the bullet had punctured the top of the man's lung. ”

“ The diggers might defend camp valiantly in daylight combat; at night they were inclined to commend themselves to Maitreya (Buddha) , and await his dispensation with fatalistic calm.
Roberts watched, his own rifle and revolvers loaded and ready, and a second rifle reposing before him in the midst of a dozen loaded clips of cartridges. Sunk in a grim, terrible fit of depression at knowledge of his comrades' fate and his own impotence, Roberts repeated over and over a defiance that was near a prayer. ”

“ He snatched one last breath of desert air, knelt, swung himself down into space, and let go. As Bowen had said, the drop was short, but Roberts, in the dark, fell sidewise to the slimy bricks of the passage.
In a second he was up, shrinking involuntarily from the contact. When Bowen was lowered from the slit of light, Roberts caught him and set him down carefully. The Chinese did not follow.
"I told them to wait there," Bowen whispered. "They'd be useless down here. There's no sense in spoiling two brave boys." ”

“ A light of wild derision gleamed in Bowen's eyes, upturned to the flash. Seizing Roberts' hand he drew the fingers along his bowed ridge of backbone.
"Algae," he gritted. "Algae from Gileshtai the Accursed. Puncture, you know. Scum grows in the spinal fluid. Every month I stoop more and more. The pain, you know. Now when I run I am bent like a question mark. Oh. I tried to escape a dozen times. Always they caught me. Couldn't travel far or fast, you see. And no food to take. They—they did this, They are clever. ”

“ It will be terrible suffering for you, but you are a man—a white man! Even if it costs the life you do not value you must give these men their chance. I will have two of the diggers support you. . . ."
SOME of his intense earnestness caught hold in Bowen's dulled brain. ”

“ Roberts saw that the dead Chinese had leather pads in place of hands at the end of his wrists. . . .
WITH the melting away of the horde of Yengi, Roberts—bearing Bowen, who was unconscious part of the time—and Porterfield found a way out. At the surface they saw fall two hundred of the lepers, yet none of the latter moved to attack. The instant the white men left the opening, the Yengi fought in swarms to return.
"I told them . . . . cure . . . . Maybe it is . . . . maybe not . . ." gasped Bowen. He shuddered and lay still. Roberts held a dead man in his arms. ”

“ He fired, conserving bullets now, for down the corridor as far as he could see the Yengi had banked themselves. Already a breastwork of Chinese bodies was growing in front of the chamber entrance.
Behind him, Porterfield sputtered over swallowing his portion.
"Awful taste!" he cried, grimacing.
"They're treated with something," answered Christensen, wiping his lips and leaping to Roberts' side with one of the ancient eggs. ”

“ Bowen was unharmed, however, except for scratches. His revolvers had kept him out of serious danger. He seemed to take an inhuman delight in snapping away at every figure of a Chinaman that showed itself. When all had fallen between him and the turn of corridor, he still fired away. Before the four left, he had to reload all four of his revolvers.
Bowen and Roberts left in the van, Christensen and Porterfield were given the job of protecting the rear. The four hurried down the corridor, occasionally stopping for a second to pump out a shot or two at some unsuspecting, hurrying figure. ”

“ Just seeing a healthy man makes 'em crazy. Moat people wouldn't understand how mad they get. They want to kill, but not all at once. Oh, no! Death like that is quick and sweet. I used to be a coward about it, but not now. ”