Chinese houses, and some German mounted infantry, in addition to the
great bundles strapped to their saddles, were driving in front of them
a mixed herd of cattle, sheep and extra ponies which they had
collected on the way. The men were in excellent humour, and jested and
cursed as they hastened along, and in a thick cloud of dust raised by
all these hoofs they finally disappeared round a corner. It was only
when they were gone that I realised how silent and deserted the
streets had become. Not a soul afoot, not a door ajar, not a
dog--nothing. It might have been a city of the dead. After all the
roar of rifle and cannon which had dulled the hearing of one's ears
for so many days there was something awesome, unearthly and
disconcerting in this terrified silence. What had happened to all the
inhabitants?

I had ridden forward slowly for a quarter of an hour or so, glancing
keenly at the barred entrances which frowned on the great street, when
suddenly I missed my men. My pony had carried me along the raised
highway--the riding and driving road, which is separated from the
sidewalks by huge open drains. My men had been across these drains,
keeping close to the houses so that they could soon discover some sign
of life. Then they had disappeared. That is all I could remember.

I rode back, rather alarmed and shouting lustily. My voice raised
echoes in the deserted thoroughfare, which brought vague flickers of
faces to unexpected chinks and cracks in the doors, telling me that
this desert of a city was really inhabited by a race made
panic-striken prisoners in their own houses by the sudden entry of
avenging European troops. There were really hosts of people watching
and listening in fear, and ready to flee over back walls as soon as
any danger became evident. That explained to me a great deal. I began