Evening star., 1923-08-05


lndo China In the direction of Slam, is
still on his way to Bangkok, where his
friend, the Italian poet, Is due to await
him with his luggage and funds.
BY HARRY L. FOSTER.
IN Pallin, when eventually 1 arriv-
ed there with Henri. l learned
that there was a trail to Siam.
1t zigzagged through the noun
tains to the Siamese port of Chanta-
boun. not far from Bangkok. There
we1 occasional native dwellings
along the way, and / could live
ch~aply upon rice, but 1 must have a
guide of some sort.
The French resident summoned
Moung Ba. young Burmese man.
aSer of the gem mines. who fire.
frequently sent his caravans over the
road. Moung Ba was very tall and
thin, and wore a flowing robe that
enhanced his natural dignity. He
had been educated in British school
at Rangoon and spoke good English.
None OF his men was making the
trip at present, he explained, but he
would be only too glad to accommo-
date a friend of the resident. and he
forthwith provided me with an aged,
pit-looking pack-horse and a
still more aged, decrepit-looking
Euide-a Burmese coolie in a long
coat and a breechcloth, with so much
tattooing upon his match-sticks of
legs that trousers would have been
superfuous.
L found myself wondering what dis
position should be made of his re-
mains in case he died en- route; but,
hesitating to question such a kindly
proffered gift, 1 hastened to a Chinese
shop, purchased a moth-eaten blanket
and two cans of preserves to supple
ment the rice upon which l must live
for days, and. with only a few small
coins still jingling in my pocket, 1
took my final leave of my kindly
French hosts.
They accompanied me to the edge
of the village. where a tiny trail led
away through the jungle, and left
me alone with old Gungha Dhin.
T DID not remain alone. j had not
l. plodded for more than half d mile
through the woods when / came
across an Annamite girl.
She sat beside the trail, a dainty
little brown maiden in black pajamas.
evidently waiting for some one, and
as we reached her she arose, held a
conference with the guide, calmly
placed her bundle of possessions upon
his pack-horse, raised her parasol and
fell into line. 1 wondered what her
destination might be, but neither she
nor Gungha Dhin spoke French or
English, and it seemed ungentlemanly
to throw her out of the party.
off we went, strange procession.
led the way in white linen suit.
looking rather dignified in pair of
brown goggles which l had purchased
in Saigon during my affluence. She
followed in, her bare feet with the
parasol over her head. The aged,
spindle-legged guide brought up the
rear with Moung Ba's equally aged
and spindle-legged horse. We arrived
in that order at nightfall at thatch-
ed cottage in the jungle, supped upon
rice and slept in a row upon the teak
wood floor with the half dozen other
natives who lived there.
These natives were generous and
VI ms ihto iiic q BiCSc VI dN
mating to soften the boards, and in
the morning refusing the coin which
] offered in payment for their hospi-
tality.
1t was an experience which one en-
counters only in the far interior of
Asia. Where the tourist is a familiar
sight every native, from baby to
grandpa, recognizes him as an easy
mark" and treats him accordingly
But here upon this lonely trail
through the wilderness, where the
people kept open house for all travel
ers who cared to stop. even a white
man found kindness and courtesy.
They discussed me and laughed at
me, yet their attitude was friendly,
and l thanked the Lord that 1 had at
last discovered some likable Asiatics.
And just then l met the Christian
Whence he came and how he reach
ed this remote hole in the mountains
at o'clock in the morning l could
not ascertain. But there he was-a
life-sized specimen of John Chinaman,
a barefooted youth in European
clothing, with his hair not clipped
short as the Chinese usually clip it,
but long and parted in the middle in
college, boy fashion.
Instead of approaching me with the
humility of the Cambodians or An
namites. he staggered up to me as
man approaches man and delivered
himself of the following:
ME good Chlistian. Me spik Eng
lish alle-same you, oh, yes, oh yes.
You go Chantaboun, me go Chanta-
boun, oh yes, oh yes, oh yes"
In consummation of this proposal
he presented me with a cigarette,
box of matches and hard boiled egg
and then tried to borrow SIS. There
was something about him which 1 did
not quite like, but | couldn't figure
out just what it was. 1 was tempted
to bid him go to some place even
warmer than Chantaboun, yet, hoping
that he might prove an interesting
and helpful member of the party, 1
gave him permission to join, but with
out the s5.
He PROMPTLY drew a harmonica
from his pocket.
Me savvy Tipperary," he an
nounced.
And. blowing Justify at the old war
song, with no sense of rhythm and
hitting d false note at the end of
each measure, that Chinaman took his
though he were the leader of it, and
away we went again through the jun
giles toward Siam.