The situation outside the gates was even more serious. A rumour had broken through the bazaar that the foreigners had come to mark out the land for a railway. The people in this province were fanatics on the question of “fire-horses,” and every hour the feeling grew against the intruders. Talham suspected the Mandarin of fostering this feeling. Twice when he had called at the Yamen His Excellency had been indisposed and only his “men-shang” was visible. On the occasion of the second visit (he had called in on his way back from one of his trips of exploration) a hostile crowd surrounded his horse, and somebody from the outskirts of the crowd had thrown a stone which narrowly missed his face. Instantly the big man turned his horse, scattering the people left and right. He had seen the face of the thrower, and reaching down he caught him by the collar of his jacket and galloped with him at full speed through the streets, his prisoner alternately running and stumbling in the powerful grip of his captor. Talham reached the compound and the gates closed behind him; then he turned his attention to his captive. “Seize that man,” he said in Chinese, and the guard obeyed the order reluctantly. Talham dismounted and came to where the man stood. “Why did you throw stones?” he asked. “Because you are a ‘foreign devil’ and are going to bring the ‘fire-horses’ across the graves of our ancestors,” said the Chinaman. “Who told you this?” “Everybody knows it,” answered the prisoner, emboldened by the fact that he had escaped immediate punishment. “You are not of this town. Where do you come from?” The man hesitated. “I come from Tang Ti,” he said suddenly. “Oh, liar, and son of a liar!” said Talham. “You come from Tai-pau.” The man shifted uneasily on his feet. “Who sent you?” asked Talham. “Let me see his shoulder.” Again the guard showed some reluctance to obey, and Talham himself stepped forward and tore the blouse of the man from his neck and scrutinised the yellow flesh for the sign of the tell-tale tattoo. It was there. “Go back to Lao-ae Soo T’si,” he said, “and tell him that I know who is at the bottom of all this hostility. I speak to you fairly,” he added, “because I see you are a student, and perhaps you are the son of great parents.” The young man nodded. “I am the son of a son of a Mandarin,” he said with pride. Your Chinaman will never deny his parentage if it be sufficiently illustrious. “Well, then, son of a son of a Mandarin, or son of a son of a gun, whichever you are,” said Talham, “go quickly from this place and take with you as many of your friends as you can find.” With that he turned the man loose. That night Talham’s escort deserted in a body, and the big man was jubilant. “It couldn’t have happened better,” he said. “I was wondering how I could get rid of the beggars.”