SSUMAO TO TALI 



roofed Chinese gatehouse at either end had something light and 

 elegant yet withal daring in the way in which it was flung like 

 a gossamer ladder athwart the flood that flowed with sullen force 

 full 60 feet below. Confined as it was, the stream bore on its 

 face the evidence of restrained power, the might of the great 

 water which pours from north to south of Indo-China, to spread 

 with many affluents at last through Cambodia and Cochin China 

 over French territory. Once more, greeting to the vast river, over 

 and again purchased to France by the blood of her soldiers, by 

 the lives of her explorers, and by the achievements of diplomacy ! 



The march of the 21st (May) was only broken by an incident 

 that might have had a different termination. We were riding 

 along the brink of a sharp declivity, and Briffaud had just 

 remarked on the danger of a slip, when hardly were the words 

 uttered before I saw Sao fall from his mule and roll over and 

 over till caught by a bush 50 feet below. In a moment I 

 was off, and sliding down to his help as best I could. By little 

 short of a miracle he was found to have sustained no lasting 

 hurt : he had fallen asleep in the saddle, and had a wonderful 

 escape. Before halting in the evening we observed by the road- 

 side a sort of ijallows, from which was hung; a basket with what 

 seemed the queue of a Chinese sticking out of it. An inscription 

 warned the passer-by that this was the head of a pirate. 



On the 22nd (May) we reached the Siao-kiang (little river), 



wrongly called by Europeans the Yang-pi, from a place on its 



banks. The stream stole along with a singular ruddy tinge that 



harmonised well with the pale yellow herbage of its grey shores. 



A neat little village was coquettishly perched half-way up the 



opposite hillside, and behind it the fields rose to pastures, which 



yielded in turn to red earth at the margin of the pines. Between 



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