Yunan Anchor of the Burma Road C

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The Burma Road. I didn't know as I stood on Qingpai Lu, the main street of Kunming, but I was seeing the last of the old Yunnan, the cobblest streets teamed with activity.

Rick Shellmen darted between the mules and ponies of the caravan. Chickens and pigs and dogs started out of the way. Both strike-rumbling carts. The air was heavy with dust and insinuating smells. I walked down toward the Great Gate.

This day was a little different from any other day in Koon Ming. Traffic like this had been going on here for ages. Caravans had been coming and going. But then as now, Koon Ming was a gateway to the little-known hill country.

It hardly seemed possible that Koon Ming was a mile high. For towering above it were mountains. Some of them 16,000 feet high. Magnificent are they not? Oh, Dr. Wu. I never tired of looking up at those mountains.

They are so forbidding and austere. They look almost impossible. They are, Mr. Kanover. Men have cut trails through them and taken caravans through them for long years. But they have never really conked. It's always seen to me that those caravan roads lead out to Strangeland.