The thing was now interesting, if only from a psychological point of view.... The _ku-ping_ advanced, without hesitation, and brought us to a high wooden paling which shut off one half of this immense hall from the other. Inside the paling, as far as we could see, there were just mountains of empty sacks--hundreds of thousands of them, even millions, I should think. But the paling was impassable. A small gate leading through it was still locked with a heavy Chinese padlock, and there was no key. One of the officers gave a wave of his hand, and a couple of the soldiers went out and reappeared with axes. In a few blows they had cleared a broad opening; the _ku-ping_ sprang through, and, like bloodhounds that scent a trail, ran swiftly up the steep slopes of the great masses of empty bags, looking eagerly about them. Then, finally calculating aloud, they marked down a spot. They had located the exact place where they would have to begin to work. They stripped themselves to the waist with great rapidity, and, feeling that their reputations were at stake, without any warning they were heaving away among those empty sacks like so many madmen. Faster and faster they worked, throwing away the sacks. Choking clouds of dust, now rising as if by magic, filled the whole vast hall and drove us back coughing and gasping for air, until, fairly beaten, we had to stand outside. As if through a thick vapour we could dimly see those men still working more and more rapidly. I wondered how they could breathe....