The waiting procession, the richly dressed courtiers and curtained palanquin, moved inside and the gates were slowly pulled close by lines of men dragging at ropes and chains to shut them. From within the main gate drifted out the sound, becoming fainter and fainter, of other trumpets sounding the order for the opening of other gates. Ten times, the boys counted, the trumpets blew, and the same "Wai! Wo!" throbbed against the sultry air. "Lawsy me!" Amos sighed, when no more trumpets were to be heard. "Ten walls and ten gates--at the very least! 'Course we don't know--" He rolled his worried eyes toward Chris, "We don't know whether those folks got to the Emperor or not. Likely he's in behind a couple more walls, just to be on the safe side." He searched his friend's face. "How are we going past all that many guards and trumpets, Chris? Even if we could tie up a guard or two, how in the world we going to push open gates that heavy?" Amos need not have been so concerned, for Chris had a good plan. But just at that moment the heat overcame Chris. Putting his head down on his arms, he slept. Amos slept too, and it must have been several hours later that the rising sound of a crowd talking and laughing with excitement penetrated their sleep and brought them to consciousness. For a moment they both lay rubbing their eyes and peering out. Then they realized, by the growing crowd on either side of the palace gate and along the narrow street leading away from it, that someone of importance was about to come from the palace and parade through the streets of Peking. "Wonder what goes on?" Chris muttered, as the crowds below swelled and grew. Boys climbed upon one another's shoulders, teakwood stools were brought for the richer people to stand on, and along the street that led away to the right around the palace walls, Chris and Amos could see embroidered silks hung from all the windows, and Chinese people in their best holiday clothes laughing excitedly. All were looking toward the gates, and at last, from far within, even more distantly than before, came the first sound of trumpets. These had a sweeter, clearer sound than those the boys had heard at noon. "Never heard a sweeter note," Amos said. "Might be made of silver, 'way they sound." The boys counted, and twelve times the low, lovely notes swung out on the air. "Twelve gates!" Chris said to Amos, "And look, you were right, they _are_ silver trumpets!" The trumpeters atop the great outer gates were now differently dressed, and there were not two but a dozen lined along the deep palace walls. The trumpets, ten feet long, were curved, and of silver that in the sunlight dazzled the eye. As they were blown, the final gates were pushed aside.