The air was cool and the path was damp, and water tumbling
everywhere down from the rocks formed pretty cascades and rivulets. We
heard the clang of the hatchets, and soon came upon men felling timber
and sawing up trees into coffin boards. We were in the Valley of the
Shadow, and it was the finest coffin center of the district. I took my
boots off to wade through water which overran the pathway, and just
beyond my men, exhausted with their awful toil, lay flat on their backs
to rest; they were dead beat. One pointed up to the perpendicular cliff,
momentarily closed his eyes and looked at me in disgust. I gently
remonstrated. It was not my country, I told him; it was the "Emperor's."
And after a time we reached the top.
Shadows were lengthening. In the distance we saw the mountains upon
which we had spent the previous night, whose tops were gilded by the
setting sun. Down below all was already dark. A cold wind blew the trees
bending wearily towards the Valley.
And still we plodded on.
* * * * *
We had come to Siao-p'ing-ho, 115 li instead of the 140 I had been led
to believe my men would cover. Every room in the hut was full, we were
told, but the next place (with some unpronounceable name), fifteen li
farther down, would give us good housing for the night.
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