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.But the resemblance was strong and the Chinese boy crawled back into the clump of tall grass with a fast-beating heart to keep the little group of civilian prisoners under close observation.For some minutes the prisoners remained standing where they were, obviously awaiting orders.The Chinese civilians hung their heads, their shoulders sagged, and they eyed their captors apprehensively as they came and went around them.Only the European held himself upright on the banks of the stream, emanating a sense of calm dignity despite his disheveled appearance.When several guards divided up the group and herded the Chinese toward a separate bivouac, the European walked quietly ahead of his own two guards without any urging; even when one of his captors jerked roughly at dangling rope to halt him beside a small shelter, he still managed to retain his composure.With coarse shouts and gestures the guards commanded their prisoner to enter the shelter and one guard squatted on a rock a few feet away, cradling his rifle on his knees, watching him with narrowed, intent eyes.But the European did not obey immediately: instead he unslung the bundle of belongings from his shoulder and lowered himself to his knees beside the tattered awning.Pressing his palms together in front of his chest, he bent his head reverently to pray and in his place of concealment at the top of the ridge, Big Liang had to stop himself from leaping into the air with a loud whoop of triumph.Seeing the man with the straw-colored hair assume the attitude of prayer removed the last shadow of doubt from his mind.After many hundreds of weary miles their long search was finally over! Taking one last lingering look at the kneeling missionary to reassure himself, Big Liang bounded away up the wooded hillside in a crouching run, frantic to convey the good news to his father.6I see you’ve got a foreign devil for a prisoner,” said Big Liang, sidling alongside a pock-faced Young Vanguard boy dressed in an outsize Kuomintang greatcoat that overhung his hands and brushed the ground around his ankles.“What’s he like?”“He comes from a country forty thousand Ii away across the sea.All the people there have long noses and red or yellow hair like him.” The Young Vanguard spoke without pausing in his task of gathering fallen pine branches for the campfires; his voice was partly contemptuous but also a little awestruck.“He says he has an invisible friend who looks after him all the time.That’s who he prays to.”“Did he tell you that?”“Yes.He calls his friend Yeh-su.He says Yeh-su used to make sick people well again just by touching them.I think he’s cockeyed.”Big Liang stooped and added another branch to the growing bundle of wood in his own arms.His faded Red Arty cap from the Hsiang River battlefield was pulled well forward over his face, and he spoke gruffly in an offhand m2nner though his interest in the foreigner was only superficial.“Why is he a prisoner?”“He’s a spy for the Kuomintang traitors and the foreign armies who want to invade China.His crazy stories about his magician Yeh-su are just an excuse to travel deep into China to spy on us.”“Will he be killed?”“I expect so.The Red Army has demanded a big payment for his freedom.But nobody will pay it.” The pock-faced boy laughed jeeringly.“Not even his invisible friend Yeh-su, who’s supposed to be the foreigners’ Son of Heaven.”“I’m glad it’s not me in the shoes of the Big Nose.” Big Liang laughed in his turn, glancing toward the row of deserted mud-walled houses at the foot of the hill where he had seen the guards quartering their captives half an hour earlier.The fair-haired figure of Pastor Ke was visible, seated before the doorway of one cottage, resting from the day’s march, and Big Liang’s mind raced, trying to think how he might pass him the note written by his father that was burning a hole in a pocket of his wadded jacket.Since first spotting the missionary, he and his brother and father had been shadowing the group of civilian prisoners for two days, studying their movements and watching for a chance to try to make secret contact with him.When at the end of the second day his father had seen the Young Vanguard mess boys, buglers, and messengers fanning out across the hill above the mountain village to gather firewood, he had urged his son to mingle among them and try to get into the camp.One of the Little Red Devils had asked which unit he was from, but Big Liang had mumbled and pointed over the hill toward another Central Red Army regiment camped nearby; to his relief, his reply had not been questioned.“At least he’s not a coward, like the landlords and local despots,” said the boy as he turned back toward the village with his arms full of firewood.“He’s been beaten with bamboo canes — a hundred stripes.— and didn’t cry out once.And he dived into the Hsiang to rescue one of his guards.Nothing seems to really frighten him, He says he’s not afraid because he knows Yeh-su is always there beside him.”“Is his nose really very long?” asked Big Liang, turning deliberately down the hillside beside the boy, carrying’ his own bundle of sticks.“I’ve never seen a foreign devil close up.”“Yes — as big as this mountain.” The ‘Young Vanguard grinned mischievously and nodded toward the crest of the hill where a jagged outcrop of granite reared upward to a point.“And his eyes are really strange too — blue, just like the sky.Come on! I’ll show you.He’s sitting outside that cottage, look.We’ll run past and I’ll drop some of my sticks so you can get a good look at his nose.”Scarcely daring to breathe lest he should undo his good fortune, Big Liang broke into a trot behind the boy and followed him down to the village.The mud of the track between the cottages was rutted and frozen hard, and the patter of their feet seemed unnaturally loud in the late afternoon stillness.As they approached the doorway outside which Jakob was resting under the watchful eyes of a sentry, Liang hardly dared look ahead in case the missionary recognized him and called out.He had already decided what he would do, and when the Young Vanguard let a few sticks slip to the ground outside the cottage, Liang deliberately tripped over him, spilling the whole of his own armful of branches at Jakob’s feet.As he scrambled up, Big Liang’s face reddened naturally in his anxiety and he felt his heart race when he saw the missionary rise from his seat to help collect the fallen firewood.The Young Vanguard at his side, red-faced too, called his apologies to the guard, who started toward them, shouting and gesticulating.In the confusion Big Liang moved close to Jakob and tugged from his pocket the slip of paper that he had folded into a small square [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]