CHAPTER TWENTY TWO.
"'TOP LITTLEE!"
Stan Lynn had good reason to stare, for at the sharp report of the riflepoor Wing's aspect of being a part of the gable disappeared instantly.He sprang to his feet with one hand clapped to his chest, the otherreaching round to his back, both busily searching for his wound, as heuttered a dismal cry.
The next moment both hands were in the air clutching for something tohold on by so as to save himself, but clutching in vain. For his footas he stood erect had slipped on the sharp slope of the tiled gable-end,and in far less time than it has taken to describe the catastrophe, thepoor fellow had fallen upon his back and was sliding rapidly down.
But he had not quite lost his presence of mind. Making a tremendouseffort he wrenched himself round so as to bring his chest underneath;and as he went on gliding down, Stan could see him striving hard to geta hold with his crooked fingers, which he vainly tried to drive inbetween the interstices of the tiles. They were too closely fitted,however, and it was not till he was three parts down that he was able tocheck his downward course.
"That's right!" shouted Blunt hoarsely, for, though Stan strove tospeak, no sound came from his parched lips. "Hold on; we'll soon helpyou."
Then, turning to the first of the men, whom the report of the rifle hadbrought rushing out to make for their posts to repel the imaginaryattack:
"Run up, some of you, with a rope. Get up on to the roof-ridge andlower one of the men down to get hold of him."
There was a rush back into the warehouse, but before half the men wereinside, Wing's weight had proved to be too much for his fragile hold.He slipped suddenly and glided down sideways till one foot caughtbeneath the eaves, and he made here a desperate effort to save himself,brought his other foot alongside the first, with his soft heels in thegutter, and then tried to turn over to plant his toes where his heelsrested; but he only succeeded in dislodging them, so that he came downwith his crooked fingers clutching in the hollow, and there he held on.
"That's right; hold tight!" cried Blunt again. "Help coming."
Stan would have added his voice could he have found utterance, but hecould only think and stand half-paralysed at the sight of the poorfellow swinging by his crooked fingers to the frail gutter.
Had he remained perfectly still, it is possible that he might have hungtill some one descended to him with a rope; but most probably theChinaman felt his fingers giving way, and before they were dragged fromtheir hold by his weight he made one more desperate effort to perform animpossibility. For, contracting his muscles, he slowly drew himself upby his arms till his chin was on a level with his hands, and meanwhilehis toes were tearing at the wall to find a footing--trying, but findingnot, for the soft boot-toes kept gliding over the wall beneath theeaves. Once by a desperate struggle he got what seemed to be a firmfooting, but it was only to hasten the disaster, for all at once asthose below gazed upward they saw that the poor fellow's knees wereclose up to his chest, and he hung like a stout package by his arms. Atthe same moment there was an encouraging shout, and one of the mostactive of the clerks, bearing a coil of rope, and followed by severalmore, appeared on the ridge.
"That's right," roared Blunt. "Be smart! Let yourself be lowered down.Hold hard, Wing!"
His words were supplemented by a shout from below, where half theemployees of the warehouse were assembled, all impotent to render anyassistance to the unfortunate sentry.
Instantly following the shout, which sounded to Stan as if meantderisively, the end came, for, as suggested, Wing's desperate effortonly meant putting greater strain upon the fingers in the guttering,forcing them right off, so that he fell like a light bundle rapidlythrough the air fully thirty feet, and as he reached the bottom, passingout of sight behind the wall, but really to rebound about a couple offeet, and then lie all of a heap just inside the little bastion solately made.
The dull thud which struck heavily upon Stan's ears acted like magic.The moment before the lad had stood looking upward feeling quiteparalysed. Then every nerve and muscle quivered, and, rifle in hand, hebounded to the bale wall, climbed over, and, wild with excitement,dashed to where poor Wing lay, to drop upon one knee by the sufferer,whom he fully expected to find lying dead.
The same thought was shared by those who followed the lad and climbed tothe top of the wall, for directly after Blunt said hoarsely:
"Lift his head gently, Lynn. Is he dead?"
"No--not bit dead," said the poor fellow in a plaintive voice as heslowly turned his face towards the questioner and opened his eyes."Only velly bad indeed. Bloken all to bit. Poo' Wing! I velly sollyfo' him."
The removal of the painful tension suffered by the lookers-on was sosudden that to a man they broke out into a loud laugh. Not amirthful-sounding explosion of mirth, for it was painful and hysterical.Every one had expected to hear Stan answer "Yes" to the manager'squestion, while the supposed-to-be-dead man's statement soundedinexpressibly droll, and his next words, in spite of a strong feeling ofcommiseration, only brought forth another burst that really was now oneof merriment. For the poor fellow said piteously:
"Not'ing to laugh at. Wing velly, velly bad."
"They don't mean it," whispered Stan, whose own face was stillconvulsed. "They laugh because they are so glad you are not killed."
"Here, let me come," cried Blunt. "I am a bit of a doctor in my way;"and he too bent down on one knee. "Now, Wing, my lad, cheer up. Let'ssee what's the matter with you."
"Plea' don't touch, Misteh Blunt," cried the poor fellow piteously."Tumble down such long way. Come all to piecee."
"No, no; not so bad as that. Come, come; I'll be gentle with you. Iwant to see where you're hurt before I have you lifted up."
"No, no; plea' don't," sobbed the poor fellow, with the tears runningdown his cheeks. "Not quite dead yet."
"No, no; of course not."
"Don't let the boys buly me yet a bit. Velly dleadful; makee poo' manflighten."
"Bury you? Nonsense! Who's going to bury a live man?"
"Only half alive. Oh deah! oh deah! Oh-h-h!"
"Come, come; be a man," said Blunt gently as he softly raised the poorfellow's head, manipulating it gently the while, and laying it downagain. "Does that hurt very much?"
"N-no," sighed the sufferer. "Not head bleak. All to piecee evelyplace, not head."
"Then you're not going to die, I hope," said Blunt. "Your skull is notfractured, and the hinges of your neck are not broken."
"You suah?"
"Quite sure, my lad. You wouldn't be talking like that if your neck wasbroken."
"P'l'aps not," sighed Wing. "Bleak to bit evelywheh, no alm, no leg.Oh deah! oh deah!"
"Now then, I want to lay you out straight so as to feel your body allover."
"Lay stlaight?" cried the poor fellow, with more animation. "Leady tobuly poo' Wing?"
"Nonsense!" cried Stan warmly. "No one thinks of such a thing. Let melay that arm close beside you."
"No, no," sighed the poor fellow. "Wing don't wantee see aim come off."
"It won't come off, my man," said Blunt kindly.--"That's right, Lynn.Well done! It's not broken. Neither is this," he continued as, withthe patient still groaning, the other arm was tenderly examined and laidstraight.--"Hurt you very much, Wing?"
"Not velly much. Bloken off. Wing can't feel."
Stan glanced at Blunt, and saw him frown and look more stern as he methis companion's eyes to exchange a look full of intelligence.
"Now his legs," said Blunt then. "Both together. Lay them outstraight."
This was done, Wing groaning softly the while.
"Bones all right," said Blunt half to himself; "joints move easily--nodislocation. That hurt you very much, Wing?"
"N-no. Hultee evelywheh else."
"Does that mean the spine is injured?" whispered Stan anxiously.
"I'm afraid so," was the reply.
Wing looked sharply from one to the other.
"Young Lynn say bote leg bloke light off?"
"No," said Blunt, smiling; "he didn't say anything of the kind. They'requite sound. Now then, I will not hurt you much. I'm going to feelwhether your ribs are broken."
"No, no; much betteh let be. All bloke littlee bit."
"I don't think so," said Blunt, passing his hands softly down the man'ssides over and over again from armpits to hips. "Now breathe, Wing."
"Wing keep on bleathe lil bit longeh. Not dead yet."
"`Not dead yet: see the _Quiver_,'" said Blunt softly to himself, as,incongruously enough, there came to his mind the words on one of thegreat bills which appeared upon nearly all the hoardings in London manyyears ago.
"Breathe again, Wing," continued Blunt. "Draw in as long a breath asyou can.--Well, do you hear me?"
"Wing 'flaid," was the reply.
"Afraid? What of?"
"'Flaid nevah bleathe again; so bad."
"Stuff! Do as I tell you."
"Oh deah! oh deah!" sighed the poor fellow as he obeyed, and retainedhis breath for some time.
"Well, does that hurt you very much?"
"N-no, n-no," sobbed the man. "Not velly much."
"Then there are no broken ribs, Lynn. Look here."
As he spoke Blunt passed his hands firmly about the sufferer's chest,even going so far as to press the ribs inward, without eliciting morethan a faint groan.
"There!" said Blunt; "nothing is broken. The injury must be to theback."
"Yes," said Wing, uttering a whimper. "Back. Velly, velly bad."
"Come, let's see," said Blunt. "We'll have you carried into the bigoffice now, and knock you up a bed of some kind. Give me your hand.--Take the other, Lynn, and let's raise him up into a sitting posture.Gently, mind."
"No, no; plea', plea' don't!"
"Why not?" said Blunt, who was watching the man keenly.
"Back bloke. Come in two bit. Bleak light off. Leave poo' Wing leglie all alone."
"Well, well!" said Blunt gently; "never mind; be a man. If you comeright in two we'll fasten you up tightly again with sticking-plaster.You'll soon grow together again."
"Eh?" exclaimed Wing, looking sharply from one to the other, but lookingin vain, for Stan took his cue from his companion and preserved aperfectly serious countenance.
"Now," said Blunt; "both together. Lift."
Wing uttered a louder groan than ever as he was drawn right up into asitting posture and lowered down again.
"Did that hurt much?"
"Oh, velly, velly much!" said Wing, with the tears trickling down hisplump face.
"Yes, you are a good deal shaken, Wing, my man, but you are not brokenin half."
"Misteh Blunt suah?"
"Yes, quite," replied Blunt. "You have had a wonderful escape frombeing killed. You are hurt, of course, but I believe that if you werehelped you could stand right up."
"Wing velly much 'flaid."
"I suppose so, but you are going to try."
"Must?"
"Yes, you must.--Now, Lynn, take one side; I'll take the other.--Come,Wing; just for a minute. Up with you like a man."
Wing gave each a piteous look, but said nothing, as he was again raisedinto a sitting position, and then allowed his arms to be drawn over hishelpers' shoulders as they bent down over him and rose together, broughthim up standing, and held him there.
"Now then, you can feel that you are not broken to bits, Wing?" saidBlunt.
"Yes; but hult velly bad."
"Of course it hurt, Wing; but you'll soon get better."
"Get betteh? No go die and be bulied?"
"You'll not die and be buried this time.--Do you see what saved him,Lynn?"
"Yes--of course. I see now. He must have come down upon those piled-upsilk-bales."
"To be sure; and they are so yielding and springy that they threw himoff again so that he fell on to the stones inside."
"Yes," said Wing piteously; "tumblee all togetheh. Come bump, bump onsilk-bales. Flow um off again on to stones and bang back dleadful bad."
"Yes; a very narrow escape for you," said Blunt firmly.--"Bring a boardhere, some of you."
Two of the coolies hurried off, to return in the fast-increasing gloomwith a broad plank, which was set down and Wing then lifted carefullyupon it, bearing the moving very well, and only uttering a groan or two.
"Now carry him into the office.--We'll make that the hospital, Lynn."
"'Top littlee! 'Top littlee!" cried Wing.
"What's the matter?" said Blunt sharply, speaking as if he felt that hehad spent enough time on his patient.
"Wing wantee say much 'blige, t'ank you. Um feel deal betteh now."
"That's right," said Blunt.
"Wing velly much 'flaid when he fall. Much mo' 'flaid when come downbump, bang on stones. Misteh Blunt, young Lynn, makee feel velly happy.Not bloke all bits. Going to live long time."
"That's right," said Blunt brusquely. "But look here; all your troublecame from your going to sleep when you were on sentry."
"Yes," said Wing dolefully. "Velly muchee solly. Sun hot--vellyhungly--velly dly mouth. Can't help go 'sleep. Misteh velly angly poo'Chinaman?"
"Not very, Wing, for you have been severely punished."
"Wing nevah do so no mo'e."
"That's right," said Blunt, who hurried away as soon as he had seen theinjured man lying comfortably; and Stan was about to follow, but Wingcaught his sleeve and signed to him to bend down.
"Young Lynn know who shot Wing?" he whispered.
"Yes," said the lad frankly.
"Young Lynn tell Wing."
"Yes, some day," replied the lad, who felt the blood flush to his face,but it was now so dark in the office with the blocked-up windows and thecoming night that the questioner could not see.
"Young Lynn tell Wing some day. Wing betteh now. Thought bloken alleepiecee. Not bloken allee piecee. Don't ca'e mandalin button now."
"That's right," said Stan. "Look, they're bringing you some bread andtea. Think you can eat and drink?"
"Velly much indeed," said the Chinaman.
"Begin at once, then," said Stan. "Here, I must go."
He hurried after Blunt, and as he went to where the latter was standingsweeping the dimly seen surroundings with his glass, it suddenlyoccurred to him that after firing the shot to startle Wing he had notreplaced the empty cartridge.
He opened the breech, and at the sound of its being closed upon thecartridge Blunt turned upon him suddenly.
"Hullo, young fellow!" he cried. "Going to fire again to startle me?"
"No," replied Stan. "I was thinking that I might have to shoot again,and it would not do to find that my rifle was not loaded."
"No," said Blunt thoughtfully. "I'm sorry, though, that I gave you thatorder. For a time I was quite under the impression that you had aimedat and hit the poor fellow. But he'll soon be right again."
"I hope so," said Stan. "Can you see anything with the glass?"
"Just the dim country, that's all. There! we'll set our sentries andlet all who can be spared lie down for a rest till we change guard, forwe must be military now. I shall take the first part of the night forvisiting the posts every hour; you will have to take the second half.Mind, you will have to visit each sentinel and see that he is awake andwatchful. You understand?"
"Quite," was the reply, given in a firm voice, though the lad could nothelp shrinking a little from the great responsibility about to be placedupon his shoulders.
"Come along, then."
Stan followed, and a short time after half-a-dozen sentries were leaningupon their rifles in different places, keeping a strict watch upon theriver, the direction from which danger was most likely to come; while,his part of the duties performed, the lad went to lie down on the bareboards in the office, near to where Wing was sleeping soundly. As helistened to the man's hard breathing a feeling of envy came over him.He wished that he too could sleep and forget
the danger, if only for anhour. He was completely fagged with the day's exertions; the heat wasgreat, and his brain was in a state of wild activity which made him feelthat he had never been so wakeful before in his life.
All was very still without, and as he turned upon the hard boards itseemed that every one must have gone off to sleep at once, while he wasgrowing more and more wakeful. Now and then he started up on one arm tolisten to a strange cry that suggested the approach of the enemy; butafter two or three repetitions he came to the conclusion that it musthave come from some riverside bunting, heron, or crane, and he lay downagain, but only to ask himself whether he might not just as well get upand join Blunt, to share the night-watch, for he was more sure than everthat it was impossible to sleep under such circumstances as these.
"Yes," he said to himself, with a feeling of satisfaction, "I'll dothat;" and it seemed to him that he got up to go and join the managerout on the dark wharf, where he could see him standing on a pile ofstones close to the river-edge, leaning upon his rifle and gazingup-stream for the first sight of the enemy who might at any moment come.
Blunt turned upon him at once in the darkness, looked down, stretchedout one hand and caught him by the shoulder, to say in a sharp whisper:
"Now then, my lad, time's up!"
Stan Lynn: A Boy's Adventures in China Page 22