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.. meta::
   :PG.Id: 44256
   :PG.Title: Brown of Moukden
   :PG.Released: 2013-11-21
   :PG.Rights: Public Domain
   :PG.Producer: Al Haines
   :DC.Creator: Herbert Strang
   :MARCREL.ill: William Rainey
   :DC.Title: Brown of Moukden
              A Story of the Russo-Japanese War
   :DC.Language: en
   :DC.Created: 1906
   :coverpage: images/img-cover.jpg

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BROWN OF MOUKDEN
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   .. _`Herr Schwab under Fire`:

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      :alt: Herr Schwab under Fire

      Herr Schwab under Fire

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      Brown of Moukden

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      A Story of the Russo-Japanese War

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      BY

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      HERBERT STRANG

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      AUTHOR OF "KOBO: A STORY OF THE RUSSO-JAPANESE WAR"
      "TOM BURNABY" "BOYS OF THE LIGHT BRIGADE" ETC.

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      Illustrated by William Rainey, R.I.

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      G. P. Putnam's Sons
      New York and London
      The Knickerbocker Press
      1906  

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      "To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield."
                                         —*Tennyson's Ulysses*.

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*My dear Raymond,*

*Last year I wove a romance about the early incidents
of the great war now happily at an end; this year I have
chosen its later incidents as the background for my hero's
adventures.  But while in "Kobo" the struggle was viewed
from the Japanese stand-point, in "Brown of Moukden"
(which is in no sense a sequel) you will find yourself among
the Russians, looking at the other side of the shield.  It is
not the romancer's business to be a partisan; and we British
people were at first, perhaps, a little blind to the fact that
the bravery, the endurance, the heroism, have not been all
on the one side.*

*As a boy preparing for the Navy, you would have liked,
I dare say, to see Jack Brown in the thick of the great naval
battle at Tsushima.  But I had three reasons for giving
no space to that famous victory.  First, Jack could not
possibly have seen it.  Secondly, sea-fights had a very good
turn in "Kobo".  Thirdly, I hope some day to give you
sea-dogs a whole book to yourselves—but that, as Mr. Kipling
somewhere says, will be another story.  Meanwhile, if you
get half as much fun in reading this book as I have had
in writing it, I shall count myself very lucky indeed.*

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   *Yours sincerely,*
         *HERBERT STRANG.*

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   *September, 1905.*

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   Contents

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*Chapter* I
   `IVAN IVANOVITCH BROWN`_

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*Chapter* II
   `MR. WANG AND A CONSTABLE`_

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*Chapter* III
   `DEPORTED`_

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*Chapter* IV
   `THE GREAT SIBERIAN RAILWAY`_

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*Chapter* V
   `A DEAL IN FLOUR`_

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*Chapter* VI
   `IN FULL CRY`_

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*Chapter* VII
   `A DAUGHTER OF POLAND`_

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*Chapter* VIII
   `A CUSTOM OF CATHAY`_

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*Chapter* IX
   `AH LUM`_

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*Chapter* X
   `THE HIRED MAN`_

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*Chapter* XI
   `WAR-LOOK-SEE`_

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*Chapter* XII
   `THE RETREAT FROM LIAO-YANG`_

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*Chapter* XIII
   `MR. BROWN'S HOUSE`_

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*Chapter* XIV
   `A NIGHT WITH SOWINSKI`_

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*Chapter* XV
   `COSSACK AND CHUNCHUSE`_

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*Chapter* XVI
   `FIRE PANIC`_

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*Chapter* XVII
   `THE WAR GAME`_

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*Chapter* XVIII
   `A FIGHT IN THE HILLS`_

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*Chapter* XIX
   `CAPTAIN KARGOPOL FINDS THE CHUNCHUSES`_

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*Chapter* XX
   `THE BATTLE OF MOUKDEN`_

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*Chapter* XXI
   `AH LUM AT BAY`_

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*Chapter* XXII
   `CAPTURING A LOCOMOTIVE`_

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*Chapter* XXIII
   `FROM MAO-SHAN TO IMIEN-PO`_

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*Chapter* XXIV
   `LIEUTENANT POTUGIN IN PURSUIT`_

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*Chapter* XXV
   `THE PRESSURE-GAUGE`_

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*Chapter* XXVI
   `A DOUBLE QUEST`_

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*Chapter* XXVII
   `SAKHALIN`_

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*Chapter* XXVIII
   `THE EMPTY HUT`_

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*Chapter* XXIX
   `THE HEART OF THE HILL`_

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*Chapter* XXX
   `CROWDED MOMENTS`_

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*Chapter* XXXI
   `ENTENTE CORDIALE`_

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`*Glossary*`_

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   List of Illustrations

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*Plate* I
   `HERR SCHWAB UNDER FIRE`_ . . . . . . . . . *Frontispiece*

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*Plate* II
   `A SEARCH PARTY`_

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*Plate* III
   `JACK SAVES AH FU`_

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*Plate* IV
   `SOWINSKI'S VISITOR`_

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*Plate* V
   `AT FULL TILT`_

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*Plate* VI
   `"RECALL YOUR LAST WORD!"`_

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   Maps and Plans

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`Manchuria and part of Siberia`_

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`The Battle of Liao-yang.`_

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`The Battle of Moukden.`_

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`The Siberian Railway from Mao-shan to Han-ta-ho-tzü`_

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.. _`Ivan Ivanovitch Brown`:

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   CHAPTER I


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   Ivan Ivanovitch Brown

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Scenes in Moukden—Beyond the Walls—Lieutenant Borisoff—The
Cangue—Anton Sowinski—Criminal Procedure—Mr. Brown
Senior—Schlagintwert's Representative—The Automatic Principle

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The midsummer sun had spent its force, and as it
reddened towards its setting Moukden began to breathe
again.  The gildings on palace, temple, and pagoda
shone with a ruddy glow, but the eye was no longer
dazzled; garish in full sunlight, the city was now merely
brilliant, the reds and greens, blues and yellows, of its
house-fronts toned to a rich and charming beauty.  The
shops—almost every house is a shop—were open, displaying
here poultry, dried fish, and articles of common use;
there piles of Oriental merchandise: silks and embroideries,
parasols and screens, ornaments of silver and copper,
priceless porcelain and lacquered ware.  Monsters with
vermilioned faces grinned from the poles—hung with
branches and surmounted by peacocks with spread tail—that
bore the signs and legends of the merchants and
shopkeepers before whose doors they were erected: all
different, yet all alike in gorgeousness of colouring and
fantasy of design.

Two main thoroughfares traverse Moukden at right
angles.  Along these flowed in each direction a full tide
of people, gathering up cross currents at every side street
and alley.  It was a picturesque throng, the light costumes
showing in brilliant relief against the darker colours of
the houses and the brown dust of the roadway.  There
were folk of many nations: Manchus, Mongols, Tartars,
Greeks and Montenegrins, soldiers Chinese and Russian,
here and there a European war-correspondent escaping
from the boredom of his inn.  Pedestrians and horsemen
jostled vehicles of all descriptions.  Workmen staggered
along under enormous loads; labourers of both sexes
trudged homewards from the fields, their implements on
their shoulders.  A drove of fat pigs in charge of a
blue-coated swineherd scampered and squealed beneath the
wheels of a Russian transport wagon.  Here was a
rickshaw drawn with shrill cries by its human steeds; there
a rough springless two-wheeled mule-cart, painted in
yellow ochre, hauled by three mules tandem, and jolting
over the ruts with its load of passengers, some on the
backs of the mules, some on the shafts, some packed
beneath the low tilt of blue cotton.  Not far behind, a
trolley, pushed by perspiring coolies and carrying seven
men standing in unstable equilibrium, had halted to make
way for a magnificent blue sedan chair, wadded with fur
and silk, borne by four stalwart servants.  Through the
trellised window of the chair the curious might catch a
glimpse of a bespectacled mandarin, his mushroom hat
decked with the button indicative of his rank.  With
shouts and blows a detachment of Chinese soldiers,
red-jacketed infantry, carrying halberts, javelins, and sickles
swathed to poles, forced a passage for his excellency
through the crowd.

The heavy air quivered with noise: the mingled cries of
street merchants and children, the clatter of hoofs, the
din of gongs at the doors of the theatres, weird strains
of song accompanied by the twanging of inharmonious
guitars, and, dominating all, the insistent strident squeak
of a huge wheelbarrow, trundled by a grave old Chinaman,
unconscious of the pain his greaseless wheels inflicted
on untutored sensibilities.  A Russian lady passing in a
droshky grimaced and put her fingers to her ears, and a
wayfarer near her smiled and addressed a word to the
torturer, who looked at him aslant out of his little eyes
and went on his way placid and unabashed.

The pedestrian who had spoken was one by himself in
all that vast throng.  That he was European was shown
by his garments; a western observer, however little
travelled, would have known him at a glance as an English
lad.  His garb was light, fitting a slim, tall figure; a
broad-brimmed cotton hat was slanted over his nose to
keep the glowing rays from his eyes; he walked with the
springy tread and free swinging gait never acquired by an
Oriental.  He wormed his way through the jostling crowd,
passed through the bastioned gate of the lofty inner
ramparts, crossed the suburbs, where the gardens were in
gorgeous bloom, and, leaving the external wall of mud
behind him, came into the brown, rough, dusty road,
lined on both sides with booths, leading to the railway-station.
Rich fields of maize and beans and millet covered
the vast plain beyond, and upon the sky-line lay a range
of wooded hills.

By and by the walker came to the new street that had
sprung up beside the railway-station since the Russian
occupation: a settlement tenanted by traders—Greek,
Caucasian, and Hebrew—dealing in every product of the two
civilizations, eastern and western, here so incongruously
in contact.  Nothing that could be sold or bartered came
amiss to these polyglot traders; they kept everything from
champagne to saké (the rice beer of Japan), from boots to
smoked fish.  Hurrying through this oven of odours, he
passed the line of ugly brick cottages run up for the
Russian officials, and arrived at the station.  It was quiet at
the moment; there was a pause in the stream of traffic
which had for some time been steadily flowing southward.
Save for the railway servants, the riflemen who guard the
line, and a few officers desperately bored in their effort to
kill time, the platform was deserted.  The Russian
lieutenant on duty accosted the new-comer.

"Well, Ivan Ivanovitch, what can we do for you to-day?"

"The same old thing," replied the lad slowly in Russian.
"Can you send a wire to Vladivostok for my father?"

"Very sorry; it is impossible to-day as it was yesterday.
None but military messages are going through."

"Well, I just came up on the chance."

"When are you leaving?  We shall miss you."

"Thanks!  In a few days, I hope.  Father has just
about settled up everything.  In fact, that consignment of
flour is the only thing left to trouble about now.  I hope
it will get through safely, but the Japanese appear to be
scouting the seas pretty thoroughly.  As soon as we hear
from our agent at Vladivostok we shall be off."

"Come and have a glass of tea in the buffet.  It may
be the last time."

Jack Brown—known to his Russian friends as Ivan
Ivanovitch, "John the son of John"—accepted the invitation.
After a chat and a glass of tea from the large steaming
samovar, always a conspicuous object in a Russian
buffet, he left the station as the dusk was falling and a
haze spread over the ground, covering up the many
unlovely evidences of the Russian occupation.  For variety's
sake he changed his course and took a path to the left
that skirted the native graveyard, intending to enter the
city by one of the northern gates.  A line of heavy native
carts, with their long teams of mules and ponies, was
slowly wending northwards; women, their hair decorated
with flowers, were taking their children for an airing
before the sun set and the gates were closed; a beggar
stood by the roadside cleverly imitating a bird's cry by
blowing through a curled-up leaf.  Jack came to the great
mandarin road and turned towards the city; such evening
scenes were now a matter of course to him.  But he was
still at some distance from the outer wall when he came
upon a sight which, common as it was in Moukden, he
never beheld without pity and indignation.  A big
muscular Chinaman of some thirty to forty years was seated
on the ground, his neck locked in the square wooden
collar known as the cangue, an oriental variant of the old
English pillory.  So devised that the head and the upper
part of the body are held rigid, the cangue as an
instrument of punishment is worthy of Chinese ingenuity.  The
victim, as Jack knew, must have sat throughout the long
sweltering day tortured by innumerable insects which his
fixed hands were powerless to beat off.  At nightfall a
constable would come and release him, conveying him to
the gaol attached to a yamen within the city, where he
would be locked up until the morning.  Then the cangue
would be replaced and the criminal taken back to the same
spot on the wayside.

Jack hurried his step as he approached, eager to leave
the unpleasant sight behind him.  But on drawing nearer
he was surprised to find that he knew the man,—surprised,
because he was one of the last who could have been
expected to fall into such a plight.  The recognition was
mutual; and as Jack came up, the parched lips of the
victim uttered a woeful exclamation of greeting.

"How came you here, Mr. Wang?" asked Jack in Chinese.

The crime was indicated on the upper board of the
cangue, but Jack, though he had more than a smattering
of colloquial Chinese, knew almost nothing of the written
language.  The poor wretch could hardly articulate; but
with difficulty he at length managed, in the short
high-pitched monosyllables of his native tongue, to explain.
He had been accused of fraud; the charge was totally
without foundation; but at the trial before the magistrates
witness after witness had appeared against him: it is easy
to suborn evidence in a Chinese court: and he had been
condemned to the cangue, a first step in the system of
torture by which a prisoner, innocent or guilty, is forced
to confess.

To one who knew the Chinese as Jack did, there was
nothing surprising in this explanation, except the fact that
Wang Shih was the victim.  He was a respectable man,
the son of an old farmer some fifteen miles east of
Moukden, and practically the owner of the farm, his father
being past work.  Hard-working and honest, he was the
last man to be suspected of trickery or base dealing.
Mr. Brown had done much business with him, and only recently
had had a proof of his good faith.  The Chinaman had
contracted to supply him with a large quantity of fodder.
A few days before the date of delivery he had been visited
by a business rival of Mr. Brown's, a Pole, who had come
to Moukden some four or five years before, and from
small beginnings had worked up a considerable business.
Almost from the first he had come into competition with
Mr. Brown.  The methods of the two men were diametrically
opposed,—the Pole relying on bribery, the corruption
of the official class with which he had to deal; the Englishman
sternly resolute to lend himself to no transaction in
Manchuria of which he would be ashamed at home.  Anton
Sowinski, as the Pole was called, offered Wang Shih the
strongest inducements to break his contract with
Mr. Brown; but finding his native honesty proof against
temptation, he had lost his temper, abused him, and
finally struck him with his whip.  The Chinaman was a
peaceable fellow; but beneath his stolidity slumbered the
fierce temper of his race.  Under the Pole's provocation
and assault his self-restraint gave way.  He seized Sowinski
with the grip of a giant, rapped his head soundly against
the fence, and then threw him bodily into the road.  The
contract with Mr. Brown had been duly fulfilled; and it
was, to say the least, unlikely that a man who had thus
kept faith to his own disadvantage should have descended
to vulgar fraud.

"Who was your accuser?" asked Jack.

"Loo Sen."

"He's a neighbour of yours, isn't he?"

"Yes, and has long borne us ill-will.  But it was not
he really.  As I left the yamen where I was tried, a
friend whispered me that Loo Sen was in the pay of
Sowinski."

"Ah! that throws a light on it.  Sowinski is having his
revenge.  It is a bad business, Mr. Wang."

Jack knew the ways of Moukden magistrates too well
to hope that the conviction and sentence could be quashed.
On the contrary, if the cangue proved ineffectual in
extorting a confession, there were various grades of torture that
could be applied in turn.  But prisoners often escaped;
their friends, it is true, afterwards suffered.  Wang Shih
was so big and strong that he might easily have
overpowered his gaoler some night when the cangue was
removed; it was, perhaps, only consideration for his family
that had restrained him.  Jack questioned him on this
point.

"Yes.  That is the reason.  The constable—wah!  I
could kill him easily; but what then?  I could not remain
in Moukden; I am too well known.  And my father would
not be safe.  They would behead him, and rob my family
of all they possess."

"Yes, I understand.  I wish I could do something for
you; but I see no way.  My father might have done something
at one time—possibly through the Russians, although
they are unwilling to mix themselves up in Chinese quarrels;
but in any case his influence is gone since the war began."

"You can do one thing for me, sir, if you will; that is,
send a message to my father.  Tell him to gather all his
things together and leave the district.  I will never confess
to a crime which I did not commit, and there will be time
for him, before I am beheaded, to get away."

"I will do that.  I would do anything I could to help
you, but——"

"Here comes the constable, sir."

Jack looked along the road and saw, slouching up, a
typical specimen of the Chinese constable.  In China the
constable is universally and deservedly detested.
Sheltered by the mandarins of the yamen, he preys upon the
rich and oppresses the poor.  The prisoner in his keeping
is starved, beaten, tortured until he yields his last copper
cash; if he escapes, the constable pounces upon his
unhappy relatives, and their fate is the same.  This man
scowled fiercely upon Jack, and the latter, seeing that no
good could come of remaining longer, spoke a final word
of sympathy to Wang Shih, and went on amid the
thinning stream of people to the city.

"Well, Jack," said his father, as the lad entered the
neat one-story house which served both as dwelling and
office; "any news?"

"None, Father.  The wires are still monopolized."

"That's a nuisance.  You'll have to pack off to Vladivostok
yourself, I'm afraid.  Ten chances to one, Captain
Fraser will not get through safely; still, one can never
tell.  I heard a rumour to-day that the Russian fleet has
made a raid from Vladivostok; and if it keeps the Japanese
employed, Fraser may make a safe run.  You've been a
long time."

"Yes.  I had a chat with Lieutenant Borisoff; but I
was detained on the way back.  What do you think?
Sowinski has got Loo Sen to bring a charge against
Wang Shih, and the poor fellow is in the cangue."

"Whew!  That's bad.  It means decapitation in the end."

"I suppose you can do nothing for him?"

"Nothing, I fear.  I'm sorry for the poor chap, especially
as I'm afraid it's partly through his holding to his
bargain with me.  But I've no influence now, and even if
I had, it would be useless to interfere in a purely Chinese
matter.  We could never prove that Sowinski had a hand
in it."

Mr. Brown reflected for some moments, Jack studying
his features.

"No," he said at last, "there's absolutely nothing we
can do.  This only proves that I am right in winding
things up and cutting sticks.  That fellow Sowinski is a
blackguard; if I stayed here he'd find some means of doing
me an injury next."

"But, Father, the Chinese are good friends of ours, and
you've never been on bad terms with the Russians."

"Not till lately, it is true.  But this war has brought a
new set of men here, and you know perfectly well that I've
offended some of them; General Bekovitch, for one, has
a grudge against me.  They don't understand a man who
won't bribe or be bribed; I really think they believe there
must be something fishy about him!  However, we'll be
off as soon as you get back from Vladivostok, and leave
the field to Sowinski.  I wish the Russians joy of him."

"When shall I go to Vladivostok?"

"The day after to-morrow; that gives Orloff another
chance.  And I've several little things still to settle up.
By the way, here's a queer letter I got just now; it was
brought by a Chinese runner from Newchang."

He handed the letter to Jack, who read:

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"Respected Sir,—The undersigned does himself the honour to
introduce himself to your esteemed notice, as per instructions
received per American Cable Company from my principals,
Messrs. Schlagintwert Co. of Düsseldorf, namely, 'Apply
assistance Brown of Moukden'.  I presume from aforesaid cable my
Co. may already have had relations with your esteemed Firma.
My arrival in Moukden may be expected within a few days of
receipt.  Believe me, with high esteem and compliments,

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"Your obedient servant,
   "HlLDEBRAND SCHWAB.

*"Postscriptum*.—Also representative of the *Illustrirte
Vaterland u. Colonien*."

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"Tear it up, Jack.  No doubt we shall be away when he
comes."

"Who are Schlagintwert, Father?"

"You remember those automatic couplings we tried on
the Harbin section three or four years ago——"

"The ones that took two men to fasten and four to
release?" said Jack, laughing.

"Exactly.  Well, they were Schlagintwert's."

At this moment the clang of a gong, followed by the
thud of a drum, sounded through the streets.

"They're closing the gates," said Jack.  "I think I'll
go to bed, Father; I'm pretty tired."

"Good-night, then!  I shan't be long after you.  I've
a little more writing to do.  Send Hi Lo in with some
lemonade."





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.. _`Mr. Wang and a Constable`:

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   CHAPTER II


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   Mr. Wang and a Constable

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The Flowing Tide—Backsheesh—At the Window—Hu Hang—Quis
Custodiet?—Mr. Wang's Grip

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Mr. Brown, like many another active and enterprising
Englishman, had left home as a young man and done
business in many parts of the globe.  He was a struggling
merchant in Shanghai when Jack, his elder son, was
born.  Nine years later he seized a promising opening in
Vladivostok, and removed thither with his family, now
increased by another boy and a girl.  When Jack was
eleven he was sent to school in England, being shortly
afterwards followed home by his mother, sister, and
brother.  Then, at the age of fifteen, he was recalled by
his father, who wished for his assistance in a new business
he was starting in Moukden.  Jack was nothing loth; he
had a great admiration for his father, and an adventurous
spirit of his own.  He had done fairly well at school;
never a "swot", still less a "smug", he had carried off
a prize or two for modern languages, and counted a prize
bat and a silver cup among his trophies.  Everybody liked
him; he always "played the game".

Mr. Brown had at first prospered exceedingly in
Moukden.  His business had been originally that of a produce
broker; but when the Russians extended their railway and
began to develop Port Arthur, he added branch after
branch, and soon had many irons in the fire.  He
supplied the Russian authorities with innumerable things,
from corn to building stones; he had large contracts with
them in connection with their great engineering feat, the
construction of the Trans-Siberian Railway, and in this
part of his business Jack had taken a special interest,
picking up thus a considerable knowledge of railway
plant, locomotives, and other details.  Being a man of
absolute integrity, respected and trusted by the natives,
Mr. Brown before long won the confidence of the officials
with whom he came in contact.  But he was a shrewd
student of affairs as well as a man of business.  He had
foreseen the outbreak of war, and viewed with amazement
the careless assurance of the Russian attitude towards
the "yellow monkeys", deemed so insignificant.  Making
many friends among the Russians, he saw much to admire
in them: their kindliness and abounding hospitality, their
perseverance in face of obstacles, their vital faith in their
country's destiny.  With the Japanese his personal relations
had not been so intimate; but he had watched their
progress from afar with the keenness of a clear-eyed observer,
and he knew that when the trial came, the Russians would
find the little men of Nippon no mean foes.

Events proved the accuracy of his forecast.  The
Russian fleet was bottled up, the Yalu crossed, Port Arthur
was already beleaguered, and Stackelberg's attempt to
relieve it had failed.  Mr. Brown talked with some of the
wounded who had been sent back from the Yalu to
Moukden, and were now in hospital in a Buddhist
monastery near the outer wall.  They were not downcast: they
spoke of being outnumbered and unprepared; when
General Kuropatkin's army was complete the tide would
turn, and then——  But he got them to talk of their
actual experiences in battle.  Some of them had been
within arm's-length of their enemies in a bayonet charge;
and what he learnt of the eager joy, the buoyant audacity,
displayed by the Japanese, strengthened his belief that,
given equal generalship, equal numbers, equal equipment,
such a spirit could scarcely be matched, and was bound to
lead them to victory.

Prudent but not alarmist, Mr. Brown considered how
the war would affect him.  The Japanese were pressing
northward; should Port Arthur fall, the besieging army
would be able to strengthen Marshal Oyama's forces in
the field.  If the Russians were compelled to withdraw
from Manchuria, Mr. Brown could hardly hope to save
his business, and it behoved him to set his house in order.
Another consideration weighed with him.  The
development of the railway and the imminence of war had
brought new men on the scene.  The Russian officers
whom he knew so well were withdrawn, and replaced by
men of another stamp—men who were not all so
clean-handed as their predecessors.  He soon became aware
that he was expected to grease their palms, and his
uncompromising resistance to corruption in every shape and
form made him disliked.  Several contracts were given
over his head; he found that in many cases the new-comer,
Sowinski, of whose antecedents nothing was known, was
favoured at his expense; and it was clear that these
circumstances, together with the general Russian distrust of
England and all things English, boded ill for his business.
He was turned fifty years of age, and had amassed a
comfortable fortune.  It appeared the part of discretion to
wind up his affairs before it was too late, and return to
England, where a man of his wealth and energy might
find occupation for his maturer years.  When he had once
made up his mind, Mr. Brown wasted no time.  He
proceeded to put his design into effect, and now expected in
a few days to leave Moukden for home.

It was past midnight before he had finished sorting his
papers.  That done, he smoked a final cigarette at the
door, then shot the bolt, turned out the lamp, and went
to bed in the room next to Jack's.

Jack had found it somewhat difficult to get to sleep.
He could not put Wang Shih's plight from his thoughts.
He had seen something of Chinese methods; there came
before his mind the vision of a poor wretch he had once
met on his way to execution, emaciated to a skeleton, one
of his legs blackened and withered, almost fleshless, and
wanting its foot, which had dropped off as the result of
his being chained by the ankle to a ring in his prison
wall.  Such evidence of inhumanity was horrible; it made
him shudder to think of Wang Shih, so good a fellow, so
fine a specimen of manhood, suffering and dying thus.
And he admired the Chinaman's fortitude, his loyalty to
his family, his refusal to avail himself of means of escape
lest his people should suffer.  Could not something even
yet be done for him?  Jack did not wish to complicate
matters; but, after all, they were on the eve of departure,
and he knew his father well enough to be sure that he
would not refuse to lend a helping hand if required.  But
puzzle as he might, he could see no way of saving both
Wang Shih and his family, and the problem was still
unsolved when he at length fell into a troubled sleep.

Suddenly he awoke.  The night was very close, and at
the first moment he thought his waking was due to the
heat.  But then he heard a slight scratching at his left.
He raised himself on his elbow to listen; he had never
seen or heard mice in the house.  The scratching
continued; it was very close at hand.  Surely at that time of
night it could not be anyone scratching at the paper
window?  He got out of bed; it was too dark to see
anything; he put his ear against the thin paper.  The
noise was certainly caused by the moving of a finger-nail.

"Who is there?" he asked softly in Chinese.

"Wang Shih, sir."

"Mr. Wang!  You've escaped, then.  All right!  I'll
come to the door."

On the way he went into his father's room, and touched
him on the elbow.

"Hey!  Who's that?  What's the matter, Jack?"

"Wang Shih is outside, Father."

"By Jove!  What does he want?"

"I don't know.  He has evidently escaped."

"Send him about his business.  I can't be mixed up in
this sort of thing."

"You might see him, Father.  He wouldn't have come
unless he saw some way of getting off without harming
anyone."

"Well, well!  Light the lamp, and let him in.  I'll slip
on my dressing-gown and follow you."

Jack went to the door, opened it, and was confronted,
not by one big form, as he expected, but by two.

"Who is with you, Mr. Wang?"

"Mr. Hu."

"Who is Mr. Hu?  Come inside both of you, and let
me lock the door."

The two Chinamen entered, blinking in the light of the
little oil lamp Jack had lit.

"Now, Mr. Wang, explain.  Who is Mr. Hu?"

"He is Hu Hang, the constable, sir."

"The constable!" exclaimed Jack, now recognizing the
low brow and shifty eyes.

"Yes; I had to bring him."

"What's this, what's this?" said Mr. Brown, coming
from his bedroom.  "What you two piecee man makee
this-side?"

Like almost all English merchants, he had found Chinese
too much for him, and in his intercourse with the natives
made use of pidgin English, the lingua franca of the
Chinese coast.

There was a world of humility and apology in Wang
Shih's kowtow.

"My lun wailo," he said.  "My no wantchee catchee
killum.  Muchee bobbely yamen-side.  Allo piecee
fightey-man bimeby look-see Wang Shih; no can wailo outside
that-time."

His exceptional size was certainly against him.  It was
clear that without some disguise the man could not hope
to escape from the city.

"Yes, that's all very well," said Mr. Brown reflectively.
Then turning suddenly to the second man: "But what
this piecee man makee this-side?"

"He Hu Hang; muchee bad policeyman, galaw!"

"Policeyman!  Yes, but what-for policeyman he come
this-side too?"

"Hu Hang he my policeyman.  He watchee my.  My
hittee Hu Hang velly muchee plenty hard, hai-yah!  Hu
Hang plenty silly top-side; my tinkee lun wailo chop-chop.
'Stoppee, stoppee!' say Hu Hang; 'what-for you makee
leavee my this-side?'  Ch'hoy!  My tinkee Hu Hang
belongey muchee leason.  Hu Hang lun wailo all-same."

Mr. Brown still looked puzzled.

"Don't you see, Father," broke in Jack, "Mr. Wang
couldn't leave the poor wretch to bear the brunt of his
escape.  They would have cut his head off as sure as a gun."

"Not much loss to his fellow-citizens, by the look of
him," said Mr. Brown, glancing critically at the scowling,
sullen countenance of the truant constable.  "Still, it was
uncommonly decent of Mr. Wang.  We must really do
what we can to get him away.  What you tinkee makee,
Mr. Wang?"

The man turned to Jack and addressed him in Chinese
with much movement of the hands and frequent glances
at Hu Hang.

"He says that after I left him," explained Jack, "he
heard that the yamen runners were already ill-treating his
people.  That means, of course, that they'll be stripped of
all they have.  His only chance was to get away and join
the Chunchuses.  If he can only join Ah Lum, no
mandarin will be rash enough to interfere with them.  Even
the Viceroy of Moukden is afraid of the brigands.
Mr. Wang's only difficulty is to get out of the city."

"A rather serious one.  No doubt by this time they're
keeping a pretty sharp look-out for him, and"—glancing
at the man's huge bulk and muscular development—"he's
not the kind of man to pass in a crowd."

The Chinaman, though unable to follow Mr. Brown's
English, had gathered the gist of what he said.  He
spoke again to Jack.

"If only we can lend him a cart, he says, and a new
tunic and pantaloons, he hasn't much doubt of being able
to get through.  We can surely manage that, Father."

"Well, it's risky; but I can't see the man come to grief
if it can be helped."

That Wang Shih understood this was clear, for his face
beamed, and he kowtowed with every mark of gratitude.

"But what about the constable?" said Mr. Brown to
Jack.  "Suppose he cuts up rough?"  Turning to Wang
Shih, he said: "Supposey policeyman makee bobbely;
what you do that-time?"

Mr. Wang grinned.  He took the constable by the
scruff of the neck and held him half-throttled at
arm's-length.

"Ch'hoy!  My keepee Mr. Hu allo-time long-side:
he plenty muchee 'flaid, savvy my belongey plenty stlong,
galaw!"

He gave the gasping wretch a final shake.  Mr. Brown
was satisfied.  The demonstration was complete.





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.. _`Deported`:

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   CHAPTER III


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   Deported

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.. class:: noindent small

Mesalliance—An Outing—Bonbons—"Mr. Blown"—A Northern
Frontier—Bandit and Patriot—Hi Lo—Arrested—Monsieur
Brin offers Condolences—Old Scores—General Bekovitch—Short
Notice—The General loses Patience

.. vspace:: 2

"Ah!  I disturb you, Mr. Brown.  I always disturb
somebody.  I disturb myself!  Therefore I go; another time,
another time."

"Not a bit of it, Monsieur.  Sit down; I shall be
through with these papers in five minutes.  What will
you drink?  We have a fair selection."

"Lemonade, my dear Mr. Brown, nothing but lemonade.
It is the cool drink."

"Hi Lo, wailo fetchee lemonade for Monsieur."

"Allo lightee, sah," said a little fellow of some thirteen
years, bright-eyed, rosy-cheeked, a smiling Chinese boy.

Monsieur Anatole Brin, correspondent of the *Soleil*, sat
down in a cane chair and wiped his perspiring bald pate
with a yellow silk handkerchief.  Mr. Brown continued
to sort his papers.  It was not possible for Monsieur Brin
to sit speechless.

"Ah!  Mr. Brown, you have things to do.  You do not
suffer, as we others, from nostalgia—the home-sickness,
you understand?  I sigh for Paris, for the boulevards, the
cafés, the Opera, for anything, anything, but this
Moukden.  It is five weeks that I am here; I have my paper,
my pencils, my authorization; I have presented to the
Viceroy my letter of credit, my photograph, as it is
ordained.  I have the red band on my arm; you see
it: the letters B.K., correspondent of war; also Chinese
arabesques, one says they mean 'Him who spies out the
military things!' and here I am still in Moukden.  I
spy out no military things; I broil myself with sun, choke
myself with dust; it is not possible to go to the south,
where the war is made; no, it is permitted to do anything
but what I am sent for; I become meagre with disappointment."

"Cheer up!  Yours is a hard lot, no doubt.  The modern
general has no liking for you correspondents.  But you
will get your chance, no doubt, in time.  The Japanese
are coming north.  There has been a fight at Wa-fang-ho,
I hear."

"What!" cried the Frenchman, starting up.  "A battle
and I not there!  I hear of no battle.  Colonel Pestitch hear
of none.  I ask him just now.  Does he tell me lie—prevaricate?"

"He probably knows nothing about it.  I knew it
through a Chinaman yesterday.  The natives outdo the
telegraph, Monsieur, especially the telegraph with a censor
at one end.  But, in fact, I have more than once heard the
result of an engagement before even the military authorities."

Monsieur Brin walked up and down the little office
impatiently twisting his moustache.

"Ah!  It is abominable—but yes, abominable.  Of what
good that France is the ally of Russia?  I might be
Japanese, or Englishman, with no alliance at all.  Why
did I quit Paris?  To put on this odious red badge, like a
convict.  For what?  To promenade myself about
Moukden, from day to day, from week to week, in prey to
hundred Chinese diseases, subject to thousand Chinese
odours!  Ah, quelle malaise, quel désappointement, quel
spleen!"

"You're in low spirits to-day, Monsieur.  Why don't
you go about the country and see the sights?"

"The sights!  I have seen them.  I have seen the
tombs.  They do not equal the Louvre, the Arc de
Triomphe, Notre Dame.  Pouah!  My throat fills itself with
dust, or my feet stick fast in the mud.  For the rest, if
I go farther I fall into the hands of the Koungouzes, the
brigands; they have asperity; I have respect for my skin."

"Look here, Monsieur, this won't do.  You'll make
yourself ill if you take things so hardly.  What do you
say to this, now?  My boy is going some fifteen miles
out to a farm, to see some friends of ours—Chinese, you
understand.  Why not go with him and see something
of the Chinese at home?  Our friend Mr. Wang has an
interesting family; you'll enjoy it, and get material for one
article at least for the *Soleil*."

"Ah! it is an idea.  We go—how?"

"On ponies.  They will put you up for the night.  You
can return in the cool to-morrow morning."

"It is an idea.  It please me.  There is no risk?"

"None, I should think.  You can take a revolver, but
Jack is pretty well known.  Hi Lo, tell Mr. Jack I want
him."

In a few seconds Jack entered.  He shook hands
cordially with Monsieur Brin, whom he had seen once or
twice since his arrival with a letter of introduction to
Mr. Brown.

"Jack, Monsieur Brin is making himself ill for want of
something to do.  Take him with you and introduce him
to Wang Shih's people.  I think he'll like them."

"I'll be glad, I'm sure.  Will you come, Monsieur?"

"With pleasure, to pass the time."

"I am starting immediately.  Hi Lo, saddle a pony for
Monsieur, quick."

The little fellow, son of Mr. Brown's compradore, ran
off, and returned in five minutes.

"Pony allo lightee, sah."

"Good boy!  Now, Monsieur, shall we start?"

"Hope you'll have a pleasant day, Monsieur," said
Mr. Brown.  "Look me up in the morning, and tell me how
you got on."

"Good-bye!  Thanks!  I have not disturb you—busy
man like you?"

"Not a bit.  Good-bye!"

Mounted on neat little ponies, Monsieur Brin and Jack
set off through the city.  To the Frenchman's surprise,
Jack did not choose the main thoroughfare direct to one
of the eastern gates, but turned first into one side street,
then into another.  They were dusty, dirty, crowded with
people, pigs, and poultry, and Monsieur Brin held his nose
and began to expostulate.

"Wait a little, Monsieur," said Jack.  "We are coming
to my street.  I never miss it when I come in this direction."

They came by and by to a street differing in no wise
from the rest, except that in one of the paper-windowed
houses a school was held.  No sooner had Jack appeared
at the end of the street than the sing-song of children at
lessons ceased as by magic, and out of the school flocked
a score of little ones, who rushed towards him with loud
and happy cries of greeting, scattering the fowls and pigs
and kicking up clouds of dust as they ran.

"Mon Dieu!" exclaimed Monsieur Brin, reining up his
pony to avoid trampling them.

"Don't be alarmed," said Jack, laughing.  "They are
my little pensioners."

The biggest of the children were already swarming
round the pony.  Jack put his hand into his pocket.
Instantly there was a yell of delight.  Then suddenly a
shower of sweetmeats fell on the outskirts of the crowd,
among the smallest of the children.  There was a merry
scramble; before the first handful was picked up a second
was scattered in the opposite direction, and soon every
child was on all-fours, hunting for treasure in the thick
brown dust.  Meanwhile every door in the street had
become blocked with smiling elders,—toothless old
grandames, brawny workmen, women, girls, all enjoying
the scene, chattering among themselves, some of them
giving pleasant salutation to Jack.  His pockets at last
were empty; his pony was becoming impatient; and,
laughingly threatening to run the youngsters down, he
moved on amid high-pitched cries of "Come again soon,
Mr. Blown!"

Monsieur Brin was vastly entertained.  The children's
antics were very droll, and Monsieur was a man of sentiment.

"My word!" he said.  "Here is something at last for
the readers of the *Soleil*.  I have no victories of war to
write; I write of a victory of peace; how a young
Englishman has won the hearts of all a street of Chinese;
how to them he is no longer foreign devil but sweet-stuff
saint.  Eh?  How became you so great a friend?"

"Oh, it is very simple.  I took a fancy one day to a
little toddler; picked him up out of the way of a boisterous
pig, and gave him a sweet to comfort him.  Other children
were looking on; next time I came this way a group of
them stood with their fingers in their mouths and their
eyes on my pockets.  I flung them a sweet or two; they
picked them up and scampered away as though half-scared;
but they were on the watch for me after that, and now,
as you see, it has become an institution.  They have very
easy-going schoolmasters here; as soon as my nose is
seen at the street end the word is given and out they
troop, and the elders know the sounds and come to see
the fun.  They are all very good friends of mine."

Leaving the narrow streets, they came at length to the
outer gate, guarded jointly by several sleepy Chinese
soldiers and a Russian sentry.  Jack was well known, and
the two riders passed through without difficulty.

Having a little business to settle with Mr. Wang
senior, Jack had offered, before Wang Shih left Mr. Brown's
house in the small hours of that morning, to ride
out and inform the family of his escape.  A ride of some
fifteen miles brought the two within sight of the farm.  It
was a brick building of one story, like all Manchurian
houses, with cow-byres, pig-sties, and poultry-houses
clinging to the wall.  The farmstead was surrounded by
lofty wooden palings, and Monsieur Brin's attention was
attracted by two fantastic warlike figures roughly daubed
in red and green on either side of the great gate.

"Oh!" said Jack, in reply to his question, "they're
supposed to scare away evil spirits."

"Hé!  Are not the dogs enough?"

The appearance of the two strangers was hailed by a
rush of dogs, large and small, yelping and barking fiercely,
but without malice.  The noise brought the inmates to
the door: an old Chinaman and his wife, and two girls
of eighteen or thereabouts, whose regular features, soft
brown eyes, and delicately ruddy complexion made an
instant impression upon the Frenchman.  He doffed his
hat with the most elegant and graceful ease, and was not
disconcerted when this unaccustomed mode of salutation
set the girls giggling.  The mistress led the visitors into
the best room, lofty, airy, clean, with paper windows; along
one side a broad platform some thirty inches from the
floor.  This was the k'ang, a hollow structure containing
a flue warmed by the smoke and hot air from the kitchen-fire;
it served as a table by day and a bed by night.  A
little graven image occupied a tinselled niche; and, the
kitchen-fire not being required in hot weather, a kettle
stood on a small brazier, boiling water for the indispensable tea.

The old people were greatly distressed at the disgrace
that had befallen their only son; still more at his
approaching fate, for to die without a male child to honour one's
ashes is the worst of ills to a Chinaman.  They were not
aware of his escape; but when Jack told them that he was
now at large, and had gone to join the great Chunchuse
chief Ah Lum, they all, parents and girls, clapped their
hands, feeling now secure against ill-treatment by the
Chinese officials.  The chief would send word from his
head-quarters to his agent in Moukden that Wang Shih
was under his protection, and the terror in which the
brigand was held was so great that the farmer's family
would remain unmolested.

Jack asked where was the encampment of the Chunchuse
band.  It varied, said the old man.  To avoid
capture by the Russians, the chief frequently shifted his
quarters.  His band was constantly on the move between
Kirin and the Shan-yan-alin mountains, going so swiftly
and secretly that no one knew where it would turn up
next.  One day it would be on the Hun-ho; a detachment
of Cossacks would be sent to cut it off, only to find
that it had disappeared.  Two or three days later it might
be heard of several hundred li away, on the Sungari.

"Yes," said the old man.  "Ah Lum is a great leader,
and a great hater of the Russians; but he hates the
Japanese nearly as much.  He would drive all foreigners
out of the country.  I am glad my son is with him,
though I fear he will not be able to return home until the
war is over."

Jack and Monsieur Brin spent some time in rambling
about the farm, the latter smoking innumerable cigarettes,
making copious notes, and every now and then breaking
forth into enthusiastic praise of the eldest daughter, who
he declared reminded him of his fiancée in the boulevard
Raspail.  He watched with absorbed interest the
Chinese way of making tea: the green leaves placed in a
broad saucer and covered with boiling water; another
saucer inverted over the first, and pushed back a little
way after the tea had "drawn", the beverage being
sipped through the interstice.  The old farmer insisted on
his guests going to see his coffin, a very handsome box
thoughtfully provided by his son and kept in an outhouse,
where Mr. Wang frequently spent an hour in meditation
on mortality.  Afterwards Brin was initiated into the
complexities of fan-tan—a guessing game that was
prolonged far into the night.  They slept comfortably on the
k'ang, and left about eight next morning very well pleased
with their visit.

The sun was already hot, and they rode at a walking
pace, partly to avoid the clouds of choking dust which
trotting would have raised.  They were still several miles
from the city when Jack saw a small Chinese boy hastening
in their direction.

"That's young Hi Lo," he said, as the figure came
more clearly into view.  "I wonder what he is coming
this way for!  Surely Wang Shih has not been caught
after all?"

The boy had broken into a run, and when he met them
Jack saw at once by his face that he bore grave news.
But he was not prepared for what the little fellow told
him in breathless gasps.  Soon after daybreak a squad of
Siberian infantry had appeared at Mr. Brown's house,
put the merchant under arrest, ransacked his papers, and
carried him off a prisoner.  Hi Lo's father, the compradore,
happened to be at a window of the front room as
the soldiers came up; and suspecting, with Chinese
shrewdness and dislike of the soldiers, that something
was amiss, he had run to the inner sanctum and removed
the most valuable papers from the safe before the
Russians entered.  But knowing that he was likely to be
searched, he had handed the papers to Hi Lo, hoping that
the boy would escape the visitors' attentions.  Mr. Brown
made a vigorous protest against the Russians' action, and
demanded by what authority they arrested him and the
crime with which he was charged; but the officer in
command refused to give him any information.  Before he
was marched off, he was allowed a few words with his
compradore, a servant of many years' standing.  Learning
that the papers were for the present secure, he had
managed, without making his meaning clear to the Russian
officer, to direct that they should be handed to Jack.
They were for the most part vouchers from the Russian
authorities for goods supplied; if not concealed, they
would certainly be seized, and Mr. Brown knew how
impossible it was to make a Russian official disgorge
plunder.  The whole thing was probably a mistake, at
the worst a plot which could no doubt be shown up.  The
first necessity was to put the securities out of harm's way;
then Jack could take whatever steps might be called for to
obtain his father's release, if he were still detained after he
had met the charge against him.

The boy told his story rapidly in pidgin English; not
that Jack did not understand Chinese, but because, like
all Chinese servants, Hi Lo made it a point of pride to use
his master's language.  Monsieur Brin could make nothing
of the narrative.

"What is the matter with you, my friend?" he asked,
seeing the look of concern on Jack's face.

"An annoying mistake, Monsieur.  My father has been
arrested by the Russians."

"Oho!  What has he been doing?"

"Nothing, of course.  Some official has been too
zealous, I suppose.  I must ride on, Monsieur."

"But may not you be arrested, too?"

"I don't think so.  If they intended it, they would
already have sent a detachment after me.  You may be
sure their spies know very well where I have been.  No,
I'm in no danger; but anyhow I must find out what it all
means, so if you don't mind, Monsieur, we'll hurry on and
chance the dust."

"Certainly, my friend.  My word! this is an
unfortunate end to our pleasant little picnic."

"You have the papers, Hi Lo?"

The boy produced them from some pouch in his wadded
cotton garments.  Jack looked them over.  They
represented a considerable sum of money.  He did not care to
have them about him, in case he should be searched.
What could he do with them?  For a moment he thought
of giving them into the care of Monsieur Brin, but on
reflection he hesitated to involve the correspondent in his
difficulties.  Hi Lo was a clever little fellow, devoted to
him; probably he would be the best custodian for the
present.  He gave the papers back to the boy.

"Keep them carefully, Hi Lo.  Don't come near our
house till I send for you."

Then he put his pony to a canter, and with Brin by his
side hastened on to the city.  At the moment, as Jack
knew, there were few Russian soldiers in Moukden.
General Kuropatkin was at the front, somewhere south
of Liao-yang; Admiral Alexeieff was at Harbin.  The
arrest must have been made in their absence, and
probably unknown to them, by the local military authorities.
But, knowing his father's innocence, Jack expected to find
that he had already been released.

On entering the city he said good-bye to Monsieur Brin,
who was full of condolence.

"If I can do anything, tell me," he said.  "Unhappily
I cannot telegraph; the soldiers have monopoly of the
wires; and, besides, there is the terrible censor.  But if
I can do anything——"

"Don't worry, Monsieur.  It will be all right.  My
father is a British subject; and though the Russians don't
love us just now, they won't do anything very dreadful, I
imagine.  Many thanks!  I will let you know how things
stand."

He rode straight home, and, finding that the house was
shut and locked, sought the compradore at his cottage
at the rear of the compound behind.  Learning from him
further details of the arrest, he at once set off for the
military head-quarters near the railway-station.  He knew
several of the Russian officers, but those to whom he
spoke had heard nothing of the singular occurrence.  One
of them offered to make enquiries.  He returned by and
by with the information that the order for Mr. Brown's
arrest had been given by General Bekovitch.  This was
not cheering, for General Bekovitch, as Jack knew, was
an officer who under a surface polish and refinement was
thoroughly unscrupulous, and one indeed whose enmity
Mr. Brown had incurred by his uncompromising attitude
towards the official methods of corruption.  Some time
before this, when Bekovitch was a colonel, he had
transferred to the Pole, Sowinski, a contract which had been
placed in Mr. Brown's hands.  The latter protested, and
Bekovitch's superior disallowed his action and gave him
metaphorically a rap on the knuckles.  The colonel was
deeply chagrined, both at the reprimand and at the loss of
the secret commission arranged with Sowinski.  He was
now promoted major-general; his superior was gone; and
Jack could hardly doubt that he had seized the opportunity
to pay off his grudge against the English merchant.  Jack
shrank somewhat from a meeting with the general, but his
indignation outweighed every other feeling, and, plucking
up his courage, he made his way to the luxurious
railway-carriage which served Bekovitch for quarters.

He had to wait some time before he gained admittance
to the general's presence.  When at last he was invited to
enter, he found Bekovitch lolling on a divan smoking a
cigarette, a champagne bottle at his elbow.  He was a
tall fair man, inclining to stoutness, with a long moustache
and carefully-trimmed beard, and looked in his white
uniform a very dignified representative of the military
bureaucracy.

Jack's residence as a boy in Vladivostok had given him
a good colloquial knowledge of Russian, so that he had no
difficulty in addressing the general in his own language.

"I have recently heard, sir, of my father's arrest," he
said, "and I have come to ask if you will be good
enough to tell me where he is and what he is charged
with."

"You are Mr. Brown's son?  How do you do?" said
the general suavely.  "I am sorry for you.  It is a bad
business altogether.  I should be quite justified in refusing
to give you information, but I am, of course, willing to
stretch a point in a case like this—father and son, you
know.  Well, I regret to say that I had to arrest your
father for giving military information to the Japanese."

"But, sir, that is ridiculous.  My father never did such
a thing.  He has had no connection, not even a business
one, with the Japanese; he doesn't like them.  Besides,
he would never think of doing anything underhand.  No
one who knows him could even imagine it."

If Bekovitch felt the personal application, he did not
show it.

"Very creditable, very creditable indeed.  A loyal son;
excellent.  I should be the last to undeceive you;
therefore we will say no more about it.  Let me offer you a
cigarette."

"No, thank you, sir.  Really the matter cannot end
thus.  What evidence have you against my father?"

The general shrugged.

"Well, if you will——  We had our suspicions; your
father is an Englishman, you know; we examined his
papers and found proof of our suspicions—full,
conclusive.  There is no doubt at all about it."

"But you will allow my father to clear himself.  I am
sure he can do so."

"We have no time for long-winded processes," replied
the general, throwing away the end of his cigarette and
lighting another.  "Moukden, as you must be aware,
young man, is under martial law."

"Then what has become of my father, sir?  Where is he?"

"We might have shot him, you know."  The general's
manner was suaver than ever.  "But we are a merciful
people.  Your father has merely been—deported."

At this Jack felt that either there was a hole in the net
woven around his father, or the Russians had feared to
proceed to extremities owing to his British nationality.

"Well, sir," he said, "I shall, of course, appeal to our
government."

"Certainly, my young friend, certainly!  But on what
ground?  See, I recognize your anxiety; it is perfectly
natural; for that reason I am patient with you.  But we
must be the judges as to who shall stay in Manchuria,
who shall leave.  Your father is now on his way to—to
the frontier.  You will follow without loss of time.  I give
you twelve hours to quit the city.  A pass shall be made
out for you; you will go by to-night's train to Harbin."

General Bekovitch's manner was as urbane and polite
as ever, but there was in his tone a something that warned
the boy that further protest would be useless.  Still, he
must make one more effort to discover his father's
whereabouts.

"Has my father gone to Harbin?" he asked.

"I have told you, my young friend, he has been
deported.  I can tell you no more."

"But why not tell me his route, General Bekovitch?
He was in any case leaving for England in a few days.
If I am to go to Harbin I should like to know whether
there is any possibility of overtaking my father and
proceeding to Europe with him."

For answer the general summoned an attendant.

"Michel Sergeitch, show this young man out."

Jack gave him one look, then turned in silence towards
the door.

"One moment," called the general after him.  "As I
said, a pass shall be sent you.  The train leaves at eight.
If you are found here to-morrow, you will be arrested and
escorted as a prisoner to the frontier.  That, I may
remark, is an unpleasant mode of travelling.  Remember,
eight o'clock."





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`The Great Siberian Railway`:

.. class:: center large bold

   CHAPTER IV


.. class:: center large bold

   The Great Siberian Railway

.. vspace:: 2

.. class:: noindent small

Duty and Inclination—A Domiciliary Visit—Monsieur
Brin Protests—A Reminder—The Ombeloke—Quandary—Salvage—A
Fortune in Soles—Fellow Passengers—From a Carriage
Window—A Further Search—At the Sungari Bridge—Off
the Line—The Compradore's Brother—Consultation—A
Bargain—The Terms—The Last Load—In a Horse-box

.. vspace:: 2

Jack had rage in his heart as he walked back to the city.
He was angry and indignant, but even more alarmed.
The general had told him little: was that little the truth?
What did he mean by "deported"?  If Mr. Brown had
really been put across the frontier, why should the general
have refused to say by what route he had travelled?  Jack
feared that there had been foul play, and his anxiety was
none the less because he could not imagine what form the
foul play had taken.

His own position was awkward.  He was homeless; in
a few hours he was to be packed like a bundle of goods into
a train and carried away against his will.  His father
might have preceded him to Europe; on the other hand,
he might not.  Was he to leave Moukden thus, in
uncertainty as to his father's fate?

Thus perplexed and troubled in mind, he walked back
to his house.  At the door he found Monsieur Brin in a
state of desperation at his inability to make head or tail
of the compradore's pidgin English.

"Ha, my friend!" he exclaimed, "I am glad to see you;
I must know the worst; I come in haste, but the Chinese
man speaks a language of monkeys; I understand it not.
Tell me what is arrived."

"I have seen General Bekovitch," replied Jack.  "He
told me almost nothing.  My father has been deported—for
betraying secrets to the Japanese, if you please!  Did
you ever hear of anything so ridiculous, so preposterous!"

"But that is all right.  O.K.  Deported!  Mr. Brown
is the happy man.  It would please me to be deported also.
He goes back to Europe: that I could accompany him!"

"But that is the point.  Has he gone back to Europe?
The general would not tell me.  And he is packing me off
too!  I have to leave by to-night's train for Harbin, or he
will put me under arrest."

"Hé!  That is a scandal.  I will expose it.  I will write
it all to my redacteur.  Ah!  But I ask myself, will the
redacteur publish my letter?  France is allied to Russia.
A French publicist has to consider not solely his own
persuasions, but his duty to his country.  I reflect: it will be
best actually to write nothing.  But if, my friend, there
needs money, demand me; I can furnish hundred, hundred
and fifty roubles: it will be to me a pleasure."

"Many thanks, Monsieur!  I do not think I shall need
your assistance.  I told the general I shall appeal to our
government.  Unluckily we have no consul here; the
nearest, I suppose, is at Shanghai; and being sent off to
Harbin, I don't know when I shall have an opportunity of
communicating with our authorities."

"Truly, it is a difficult situation.  And your goods here:
what will they become?"

"They'll be confiscated, I suppose.  As you see, I am
locked out.  Luckily we have nothing of any great value.
My father sent off in advance all that he wished to keep,
and they can't touch his account at the Hong-Kong and
Shanghai bank."

He said nothing about the securities in Hi Lo's possession,
not from any want of faith in the Frenchman's good-will,
but not entirely trusting his discretion.

"They have no right to lock me out," continued Jack.
"And as General Bekovitch said he'd send me a pass for
the train, he must suppose he'll find me here.  So if Mr. Hi
will put his shoulder to the door, I think we'll force the
lock and see what they have been doing."

The stalwart compradore made short work of the fastenings.
Accompanied by Monsieur Brin and the Chinaman,
Jack entered his father's house.  There were manifest
signs of ransacking.  The floor of the office was strewn
with papers; in the dining-room the drawers had been
emptied; and a large oaken press, a fine specimen of
Chinese cabinet-making on which Mr. Brown set much
store, had been forced open.  They were contemplating
the dismal scene when Hi Lo came running in.

"Masta," he said hurriedly, "thlee fo' piecee Lusski
walkee chop-chop this-side."

.. _`A Search Party`:

.. figure:: images/img-034.jpg
   :align: center
   :alt: A Search Party

   A Search Party

A few moments later the house was entered by four
Siberian infantrymen, headed by a lieutenant and
accompanied by a tall, fair, hook-nosed man, at the sight of
whom Jack started.  A light flashed upon him.  Anton
Sowinski was the Russian Pole who had been doing his
best to ruin Mr. Brown's business, and had so bitterly
resented Mr. Brown's successes.  It was he, too, who
had instigated the charge trumped up against Wang Shih
in revenge for a business defeat.  Was it unlikely that
Sowinski had been the agent in this other trumped-up
charge of espionage?  If not, what was his business now?

"I have come," said the lieutenant, "to bring you the
pass promised by General Bekovitch.  Here it is."

He drew a large unsealed envelope from his pocket, and
took from it a paper which he proceeded to read.  It
stipulated that Mr. John Brown, junior, was to leave Moukden
by the train for Harbin at 8 p.m., en route for Europe.
Replacing it in the envelope, the officer laid this upon the
table and said:

"I regret, Monsieur, that I have a disagreeable duty to
perform.  I am ordered to search the house and everybody
in it.  Mr. Brown is known to have been in possession of
certain vouchers which are now forfeit to my government.
They could not be found when he was arrested; the
conclusion is that they are in your possession.  I must ask
you to turn out your pockets."

"I have no papers," said Jack, "and I protest."

"I am sorry.  I have my orders to carry out.  Resistance
is useless."

"Oh!  I shall not resist.  Search away."

The lieutenant had already posted a soldier at the back
entrance, and had sent another man to bring into the room
anyone whom he might find on the premises.  As Jack
was being searched, Hi Lo was brought in; he had slipped
away when the Russians entered.  Jack hoped that the boy
had had time to hide the papers, for though the amount
they represented was small in comparison with his father's
total fortune, it was yet considerable in itself, and he was
anxious to save it, not merely for its own sake, but because
without it he would have no means of carrying through a
plan he had already dimly determined on.  Hi Lo's face
was void of all expression.  There were now in the room,
besides the Russians, Jack himself, Monsieur Brin, the
compradore, and his son.  The door was locked.

Jack was searched from top to toe.  Nothing was found
on him save letters of no importance.  The compradore
and Hi Lo were examined in turn; they submitted meekly,
and Jack almost betrayed his relief when he saw that the
papers had not been discovered on the boy.  Then the
officer turned to Monsieur Brin, glancing at the red band
on his arm.

"But I am a Frenchman," exclaimed the angry correspondent.
"Why do you search me?  I have nothing.  I know nothing."

"I find you in Mr. Brown's house.  I have orders to
search everybody.  I hope you will make no difficulty,
Monsieur."

"Difficulty!  It is you that make difficulty.  It is an
insult, an indignity.  I am an ally; peste! for what good
to be an ally if I am thus treated as an enemy!  But I do
not resist; no, I resign myself.  From no one but an ally
would I endure such an indignity."

"I am exceedingly sorry, Monsieur.  General Bekovitch,
in giving orders, of course did not contemplate for
a moment the case of a French correspondent being
present; but my instructions are positive.  I have no
choice but to carry them out."

"Well, I protest still once more.  I will make the
French nation know the price they pay for this so
agreeable alliance."

Monsieur Brin was searched.  No papers were found on
him except his pocket-book, a lady's photograph, and
several letters, which the officer glanced through, the
Frenchman fuming with impatience and indignation.  At
the conclusion of the search the lieutenant threw a meaning
glance at Sowinski, whose attitude throughout had
convinced Jack of the correctness of his surmise.  The Pole's
presence was in itself a sufficient proof of his personal
interest in Mr. Brown's fate.  An hour was spent in
making a further examination of the scattered papers;
nothing incriminating being found, the lieutenant gave
his men the order to march.  At the last moment he
glanced at the envelope on the table.

"Take care of it, Monsieur," he said; "it would be
awkward for you if it were lost."

When the party had gone, Monsieur Brin fairly exploded
with wrath.  English was too slow for him; a rapid torrent
of French came from his quivering lips.  But Jack's
attention was diverted from the Frenchman by the strange
antics of Hi Lo, who was dancing round his father, his
face beaming with delight.

"You hid the papers?" said Jack.  "You are a good
boy.  Where are they?"

The boy pointed to the envelope on the table.

"What do you mean?"

"Masta, look-see.  Masta, look-see."

Jack lifted the envelope.  The boy's glee puzzled him.
Opening it, he took out the Russian pass, and with it half
a dozen thin slips of paper written upon in Russian and
French.  He could hardly believe his eyes.  They were
the very papers for which the officer had sought so
diligently but in vain.

"How is this?  What does it mean?" he said in blank
amazement.

"Hai-yah!  Velly bad Lusski man look-see Masta;
allo piecee bad man look-see all-same; no can tinkee Hi
Lo plenty smart inside.  Hai-yah!  Allo piecee Lusski
man look-see that-side; my belongey this-side, makee no
bobbely; cleep-cleep 'long-side table; my hab papers allo
lightee: ch'hoy! he belong-ey chop-chop inside ombeloke;
Lusski no savvy nuffin 'bout nuffin, galaw!"

Jack burst into a roar of laughter, and translated the
boy's pidgin to the bewildered Frenchman.  While the
Russians were intent on searching Jack, and their backs
were towards Hi Lo, the boy, knowing that his turn must
come, seized the opportunity to slip the precious papers
into the unclosed envelope on the table.  Monsieur Brin
flung up his hands and began to pirouette, then stopped to
laugh, and held his shaking sides.

"Hi! hi! admirable!  Excellentissime!  Bravo! bravo!
Ma foi!  Comme il est adroit!  Comme il est spirituel!
Ho! ho!  Tiens!  Le gars mérite une forte récompense.  Voilà!"

In his excess of enthusiasm he took a silver dollar from
his pocket, spun it, and handed it to Hi Lo.  The boy was
sober in an instant.  He gravely handed the coin back.

"No wantchee Fa-lan-sai man he dollar," he said.

Brin looked to Jack for an explanation.

"He is much obliged, but would rather not.  You made
a little mistake, Monsieur.  You can't offend a Chinaman
of this sort more than by offering him money.  He is,
indeed, a clever little chap.  I'll take care he doesn't go
unrewarded."

"Ha!  That is another point for my chapter on the
characteristics of the Chinese.  But now, my friend, what
will you do?"

"Really, Monsieur, I don't know.  I must talk it over
with the compradore."

"Very well then, I leave you.  I go to write notes of
this most interesting episode.  I begin to enjoy war
correspondence.  You go at eight?  I will be at the station
to say adieu."

Jack spent more than an hour in serious consultation
with Hi An, the compradore, a man of forty, who had
served his father for nearly twenty years, and was heart
and soul devoted to his interests.  There was no question
but that Jack must leave Moukden that night, and Hi An
advised him to go straight to Moscow and take the first
opportunity of communicating with the British Foreign
Office.  Meanwhile the compradore himself would do
what he could to trace the whereabouts of his master.
But this course Jack was very unwilling to adopt.  In
the first place, he had his father's instructions to realize
the securities, so cleverly saved by Hi Lo.  Then there
was the consignment of flour which he hoped might run
the Japanese blockade and come safe to harbour at
Vladivostok.  If it should arrive it would be worth a
large sum of money, and Jack was not disposed to yield
that a spoil to the Russians.  Last and most important
consideration, he was oppressed by the mystery of his
father's fate.  With the likelihood of innumerable delays
on the congested railway, he might be three weeks or a
month reaching Moscow; he foresaw difficulties in inducing
the Foreign Office to move in a case where there was
so little to go upon; and, above all, it was unendurable to
think that his father might, for all he knew, be still near
at hand, in danger and distress.

He was already determined, then, that, leave Moukden
if he must, he would not leave Manchuria.  But what
could he do to secure his objects and his own safety?  He
wondered whether the news of his father's arrest had been
telegraphed to Harbin and Vladivostok.  That was
unlikely, he thought, for two reasons.  It was well known
that Mr. Brown had been winding up his business; the
Russian authorities, unless specially informed, would not
suppose that there was any plunder to be got apart from
what was found at Moukden.  And the telegraph had been
for months past very much overworked, what with the heavy
railway traffic and the constant messages flashing to and
fro between the principal depots in Manchuria and between
Manchuria and St. Petersburg.  It was therefore unlikely
that the enforced departure of a Moukden merchant would
be considered of sufficient importance to communicate.  If
this reasoning was correct, and Jack could contrive to
reach Vladivostok before the news filtered through, he
might save the remnants of his father's property, and turn
the vouchers into negotiable securities.  He would then
find himself in possession of considerable funds, which he
might use if necessary in tracking his father.

The first thing was to get to Vladivostok.  The pass
stipulated that he should go through Harbin over the
Siberian railway to Moscow.  To reach Vladivostok he
must change trains at Harbin, and by that very fact
become a fugitive and an outlaw.  Apparently General
Bekovitch did not intend to send him north under an
escort; it probably never occurred to him that with his
father deported, his home broken up, Jack would make an
effort, in face of the definite order to quit the country, to
remain.  But though no escort was provided, he would
undoubtedly be watched; and to slip away at Harbin in a
direction the opposite of that intended promised to be a
matter of considerable difficulty and danger.

The compradore shook his head when Jack explained
what he had in his mind.  Then, finding that his young
master was determined, he did not attempt to dissuade
him, but set himself in earnest to talk over ways and
means.  He had a brother in Harbin, a grain merchant,
who had dealings with the Russians.  This man might be
able to give Jack information and assistance, and to him
the compradore wrote a short note of introduction.  The
next thing was to provide for the safety of the Russian
vouchers.  Jack might be searched again *en route*, and
it was therefore inadvisable to carry them in his pocket.
He pondered for a time without finding any solution of the
difficulty.  He was sitting with crossed legs, his hands
clasping his knee, his eyes cast down.  Studying the
heavy thick-soled boot he wore in summer, under stress
of Manchurian mud, he suddenly bethought himself.

"You can turn your hand to most things, Mr. Hi; do
you think you could split the sole of one of my boots and
put it together again?"

"Of course, sir."

"That's the very thing, then.  No one would ever think
of taking my boot to pieces."

Hi An very quickly and deftly performed the necessary
operation.  Between the two parts of the split sole Jack
placed the vouchers and letter of introduction; then the
compradore neatly stuck them together again.  He
produced a roll of rouble notes, enough to pay preliminary
expenses and leave a margin for emergencies.

"There, Master," he said.  "I have done all I can."

"You're a good fellow.  I must trust to the chapter of
accidents for the rest.  I may never see you again, Mr. Hi.
If I come to grief, you will do what you can to find my
father?"

"I will, Master, if I have to trudge on foot all the way
to Pekin to ask help of the Son of Heaven himself."

Some minutes before eight o'clock Jack, by virtue of his
pass, was admitted without a ticket to the platform at
which the train for Harbin was drawn up.  He had been
compelled to take his farewell of Monsieur Brin, the
compradore, and Hi Lo outside, much to the Frenchman's
indignation.  The line was very badly managed; the
officials were soldiers, with no technical acquaintance with
railway management.  Trains were despatched from Moukden
to Harbin, and from Harbin to Moukden, at any time that
suited the officials at either end, without prearrangement,
sometimes even without communication between the
stations.  On this particular train there was no distinction
of classes, and Jack found himself one of some forty
passengers packed into a carriage built for thirty.  The
company was exceedingly mixed.  Russian officers were
cheek by jowl with Chinese merchants; a huge
long-bearded Russian pope was wedged between a German
commercial traveller and a Sister with the red cross on
her arm; at one end was a group of chattering Greek
camp-followers, who brought out a filthy pack of cards
long before the train started, and began a game of makao,
which continued, with intervals for squabbling and refreshment,
all the way to Harbin.  Jack made himself as comfortable
as he could in a corner, and prepared to sleep if
the close proximity of his fellow-passengers and the
stuffiness of the air allowed.

It was past nine o'clock before the train steamed out.
Punctuality is a virtue non-existent on the Siberian
railway.  The journey taxed Jack's patience to the utmost.
The line is single, doubled at intervals of five versts to
allow of the passage of trains in opposite directions.  The
train was constantly being shunted into sidings, remaining
sometimes for hours, no one could tell why; and one of
the most annoying features of the constant stoppages was
that the train, after running through a station where the
passengers would have been glad to obtain refreshments,
would come to a stand several versts beyond, where
they had nothing to do but kick their heels and look
disconsolately out on the country.  On one of the sidings
stood a goods train, two trucks of which were loaded
with a large gun; it had no doubt been injured by a
Japanese shell, and was being returned to arsenal for
repair.  In another train Jack noticed a truck crowded
with poor wretches who appeared to be chained
together—misdemeanants from the army, he surmised, on their way
to one of the penal settlements in Siberia.  At short intervals
appeared the little brick huts of the soldiers guarding
the line, and occasionally a group of three or four of those
green-coated guards might be seen riding along at the
foot of the embankment on their stout Mongol ponies.

Jack had travelled many times along the line, but not
recently, and he was greatly interested in the amazing
developments which it had undergone.  New buildings of
brick seemed to have sprung up like mushrooms along
its course.  Where formerly had been spacious fields of
kowliang—the long-stalked millet of the country—with
Chinese fangtzes few and far between, there were now wide
bare stretches upon which Russian industry was erecting
storehouses, engine-sheds, tile-covered residences for
the officials.  Some thirty-five miles from Moukden is
Tieling, which, when Jack's train passed through at three
o'clock in the morning—having taken just six hours to
run that distance—seemed to be nothing but a collection
of scaffolding, with Chinese bricklayers already at work,
trowel in hand.  Between Tieling and Harbin stretches an
immense plain, fertile for the most part, and hitherto left
almost unspoiled.  Nowhere does the line pass through
a Chinese village; these were purposely avoided by the
Russian engineers from motives of policy, and in deference
to native susceptibilities.  They are for the most part
out of sight from the railway.  All that can be seen is, on
the right, the broad rutty mandarin highway; on the left,
a narrower road edging interminable fields of kowliang.
There are few stations between Moukden and Harbin: at
two, Tieling and Kai-chuang, the Russians had established
their base hospitals.

Hour after hour passed.  Jack whiled away a good
part of the time by whittling sticks with his penknife,
somewhat to the amusement of the Russian army doctor
who sat next to him, and who did not appear to notice
that the sticks were shaped to a definite size, and that,
after several had been thrown away, two or three were
placed in Jack's pocket.  Many times the train was halted
at a doubling to allow a troop train to pass, filled with
Russian soldiers on the way to the front, shouting,
singing, in the highest spirits.  At one point an empty Red
Cross train stood on a siding, having emptied its freight
of wounded men at one of the hospitals.

During one of the stoppages the belaced official who
acted as guard politely requested Jack to step into the
station-master's office, where he was searched by one of
the soldiers.  He was thus left in no doubt that he was
under surveillance, and when he got back to his carriage
he found that his bag had been opened.  He congratulated
himself on his forethought in concealing his papers so
effectually in his boot.

At the moment of saying good-bye the compradore had
given him a piece of news that made him anxious to
complete his journey.  A Chinese employed at the station had
told him that Anton Sowinski had booked a seat by the
next day's train.  It was by no means impossible that this
train, if it happened to carry any important passengers,
would overtake and pass the first somewhere on the line.
The Pole was likely to spread the news of Mr. Brown's
arrest, and if he should succeed in getting to Vladivostok
before Jack the game would certainly be up.

At length, about forty-five hours after leaving Moukden,
someone said that Harbin was in sight, and there was
instantly a movement and bustle among the passengers.

"Keep your seat," said the doctor to Jack with a smile.

"Thanks!  I know," said Jack with an answering smile.

The train slowed down, then stopped at the southern
end of the bridge over the Sungari river.  It was as
though the engine were parleying with the sentry.  On
the right rose the barracks of the frontier guards,
surrounded by a loopholed wall.  At the bridge end were
two guns framed in sand-bags, and watched by two
sentinels.  Across the river, above and below the bridge,
an immense boom prevented traffic either up or down.
While the train halted, an official came along the carriages,
fastened all the windows, locked all the doors; to open
them before the bridge was crossed entailed a heavy
penalty.  When all the passengers were thus secured,
and there was no chance of any Japanese spy throwing
a bomb on to the bridge, the train moved slowly on,
passed more guns at the farther end, and came to rest
at the spacious station in the Russian quarter of the town.

.. _`Manchuria and part of Siberia`:

.. figure:: images/img-044.jpg
   :align: center
   :alt: Map of Manchuria and part of Siberia

   Map of Manchuria and part of Siberia

A train from Vladivostok was expected during the afternoon,
and the composite train would leave for the west at
nine o'clock.  Jack went out with the majority of the
passengers into the buffet, which is one of the admirable
features of the Russian railway system, and ordered a
good meal.  Then he looked over some illustrated papers,
making no attempt to leave the station, having noticed
that he was still watched by one of the train attendants.
Time hung heavily; he took a nap on one of the seats,
and when he awoke found that the Vladivostok train had
arrived, and the night train for the west was being made
up.  Strolling out with his bag, he showed his pass to
an official, and by means of a liberal tip secured a sleeping
compartment to himself.  He explained with many yawns
that, being tired out, he intended to turn in as soon as the
train started, and asked the man to arrange his bed and
lock him in.  The attendant complied, and a few minutes
later Jack noticed him in conversation with the man under
whose watchful eyes he had been all day.  The latter
appeared satisfied and went away.

The train was late in starting; a high personage, it
seemed, was expected.  Jack stood for some minutes at
the door, watching the varied crowd on the platform
Suddenly he heard cheers; the high personage had no
doubt arrived.  A warning bell rang; the officials called
to the passengers to take their seats.  Jack took off his
coat in full view from the platform, then drew the curtain,
opened his bag, and took from it, not a night costume,
but a brush, a comb, and a collar.  Then he turned off
the light.

But instead of throwing himself on his bed, he went to
the opposite door of the compartment and tried it; as he
expected, it was locked.  He put on his coat, crammed
into the pockets the articles he had taken from his bag,
and from his vest pocket took one of the sticks he had
been whittling on the way from Moukden.  Leaning out
of the window, he inserted it in the lock.  The train was
just beginning to move.  Would this extemporized key
serve?  He turned it; the lock clicked; and the next
moment he was on the foot-board.  Silently closing the
door he dropped to the ground, and ran alongside the
moving train, stumbling and tripping over the rugged
ballast.  The pace quickened and the train began to
distance him; but he made all the speed he could, and
by the time the last carriage had passed him he found, to
his relief, that he was beyond the station and in darkness.
Dodging behind an engine-shed he clambered over a fence,
left the railway, and set off to find the house of the
compradore's brother.

He had taken the precaution, before starting, to obtain
very explicit directions, in order to save time, and to
avoid the risk involved in asking questions.  The Chinese
part of the town is some three miles from the station, on
lower ground near the river.  The streets were abominably
filthy; and by the time Jack reached the priestan or
merchants' quarters he felt sadly in need of a bath.  By
following the compradore's instructions he found the grain
store of which he was in search, though with some trouble.
All the business premises in the neighbourhood were closed
for the night; there were few people in the streets: the
Chinaman as a rule barricades himself in his house at
nightfall.  Making sure by peering at the sign that he
had come to the right house, Jack gently knocked at the
door.  It was opened by a Chinaman, whom Jack recognized
by the light of the oil-lamp he carried as the
compradore's brother.

"I am from Moukden, Mr. Hi," said Jack, "and have
a note from your brother Mr. Hi An."

"Come in," said the Chinaman at once, without any
indication of surprise.  Jack pulled off his dirty boots and
followed him to a little back shop, where he had evidently
just been engaged in brewing tea.  He asked Jack to sit
down, poured him out a dish of tea, and then waited with
oriental patience to hear what his visitor had to say.
Prising open the sole of one of his boots, Jack drew out
the compradore's note.  It bore only three Chinese
characters, and said merely that Hi An wished his brother to
give all possible assistance to the bearer.  The Chinaman
looked up with an expression of grave polite curiosity and
still waited.

The compradore having said that his brother could be
thoroughly trusted, Jack explained to him, as simply and
clearly as he could, the circumstances that had brought
him to Harbin, and the object of his visit.  When the
Chinaman had heard the story, and learnt what was
expected of him, he looked somewhat scared.  He said that
the Russians would inflict the most terrible punishments
upon him if they discovered that he had sheltered and
assisted a fugitive.  He spoke of his terror of the Russian
knout.  But the Englishman might command him to do
what he could.  Had he not himself received benefits from
Mr. Brown?  Five years ago, he said, when he was on
the verge of ruin, he had written to his brother the
compradore for assistance.  Hi An, a born gambler, like every
Chinaman, had himself been speculating disastrously, and
was unable to give any help.  But he had appealed to
Mr. Brown, who had at once advanced the sum required
and set the grain merchant on his feet again.  The loan
had long since been repaid: in business transactions the
Chinaman is the soul of honour: but he had never lost his
feeling of gratitude; and his recollection of Mr. Brown's
kindness, together with his brother's request, made him
willing to run some risk on behalf of his benefactor's son.

Jack talked long over the situation with his host.  His
object was to get to Vladivostok as soon as possible.
Having no pass he could not travel openly, and when
breakfast-time came next morning his absence from the
Moscow train would be discovered, even if it were not
found out before; the news would be telegraphed to
Harbin, and there would instantly be a hue and cry.  The
Chinaman doubted whether this would be the case; the
train officials would be too anxious to screen their own
negligence.  Still, it would be unsafe for Jack to remain
in Harbin; as for himself, he saw no way of helping him.

"I must go by train," said Jack, "and secretly.  Could
I go hidden in a goods wagon?"

"That might be possible," said the Chinaman; "but
goods trains are not fast; they are often delayed for hours
and even days.  The journey would take a week, and though
you might carry food with you, you would have to leave
your hiding-place for water, and you could not escape
discovery."

"Still, it may be that or nothing.  Have you yourself
any goods going in that direction?"

"No.  My business is chiefly to supply fodder to the
Russians, more especially for horses that are being sent
south.  I completed a large contract yesterday.  One
thing I can do.  I can go to the station in the morning
and learn what trains are expected to leave for
Vladivostok.  That is the first step.  You will remain
concealed in my house.  You were not seen as you entered?"

"No.  The street was clear."

"Then nobody but my wife and myself need know that
you are here.  I will do what I can for you."

"Thank you!  And if it is a question of bribery, you
need not be niggardly."

The Chinaman smiled.  He had not had dealings with
Russian officials for nothing.

Jack was provided with a couch for the night, and,
being very tired after his long journey and the
excitement of his escape, he soon fell asleep.  About five
o'clock he was awakened by the Chinaman's hurried
entrance.

"It is all arranged, sir," he said, "but at a terrible
price.  A train conveying horses is to leave for
Vladivostok at seven.  The sergeant in charge is well known
to me: I have had dealings with him.  All Russians can
be bribed; but this man—sir, he is an extortioner.  Still,
after what you said, I made the bargain with him.  You
give him at once twenty roubles; you arrive safely at
Vladivostok and give him thirty roubles more.  I tried
to make him accept twenty-five for the second sum, but
he refused."

Jack could not help smiling at this naïve evidence of the
oriental habit of bargaining.  He felt that if he reached
Vladivostok for fifty roubles he would have got off
remarkably well.

"But how is it to be managed?" he asked.

"I gave him to understand, sir, that you are a foreign
correspondent wishing to see Vladivostok, and that there
is a delay in the forwarding of the necessary authorization.
It was because you are a foreigner that the sergeant was
so firm about the five roubles.  He talked about the risk
he ran, and said that you must leave the train some time
before it arrives at Vladivostok and walk the rest of the
way.  He said, too, that if you should be discovered you
were not to admit that he had any knowledge of your
presence.  I promised that you would do all this."

"Very well.  I am exceedingly obliged to you.  But
how am I to go?  What will the sergeant do for twenty
roubles?"

"He will give you a corner in a horse-box."

"Does the train consist of nothing but horse-boxes?"

"Horse-boxes and the sergeant's van.  You cannot go
in that."

"No.  And how am I to get into the horse-box without
being seen?  There are sure to be soldiers and officials
about."

The Chinaman rubbed his hands slowly and pondered.

"If it had been yesterday," he said, "you might then
have gone hidden in a hay-cart.  But my last loads were
delivered yesterday."

"Who knows that?"

"The inspector of forage; perhaps others."

"And is the inspector likely to be at the station this
morning?"

"Not so early as seven; he is too fond of his bed for that."

"Where is the train standing?"

"On a siding at some little distance from the station.
You can drive straight up to it from the road through
the goods entrance.  But there is a sentry at the gate."

"Well, Mr. Hi, I think I see a way to dodge the sentry,
with your kind assistance.  I suppose you have some hay
or straw in your store?"

"Certainly."

"Then if you will load up a wagon with several large
bundles, and leave a hole for me in the middle, I think I
can get to my place in the horse-box."

"But you might be seen as you slip out."

"We can lessen the risk of that.  You can drive the
wagon up to the horse-box as though bringing a final load
that had been overlooked.  I am covered by the bundles.
You move them in such a way that the sides of the cart
are well screened, at the same time leaving a passage for
me.  I ought to be able to slip into the box without being
observed.  And if you are willing I will chance it."

The Chinaman agreed, and as the time was drawing
near, and the earlier the plan was carried out the better,
he went off to get his wagon loaded.  Shortly after six
the cumbrous vehicle was brought up as close as possible
to a door giving into the yard of the store.  Jack thanked
Mr. Hi very warmly for his services, and begged him, if he
should by any chance learn of Mr. Brown's whereabouts,
to communicate with his brother in Moukden.  Choosing
a moment when nobody but the Chinaman and his wife
was near, Jack slipped into the wagon, and was in a few
moments effectually concealed by the bundles of hay.  He
found in the bottom of the cart a supply of food and a
large water-bottle thoughtfully provided by his obliging
host.

Mr. Hi himself mounted to the bare board behind his
oxen, grasped the rope reins in one hand and the
long-thonged whip in the other, and drove off.  Jack did not
enjoy the drive, jolted over the vile roads, and half-choked
by the full-scented hay.  The wagon came to the gate of
the goods entrance, and the Chinaman was challenged by
the sentry.  He pulled up, and with much deference
explained that he had brought a last load of hay for the
horses about to leave for Vladivostok, pointing at the
same time to the long line of horse-boxes standing on
the siding, about three hundred yards away.  The sentry
jerked his rifle over his shoulder and said nothing.  Taking
his silence for consent, the Chinaman lashed his oxen, and
the wagon rumbled over the bumpy ground and two or
three lines of metals until it reached the last carriage but
one, next to the brake-van.  The Chinaman jumped to the
ground, backed the wagon against the door, and began to
arrange his bundles as Jack had suggested.  He whispered
to Jack that nobody was near; and next moment a form
much the colour of hay crept on all-fours out of the wagon
into the van.  Then Mr. Hi built up the hay with what
was already in the vehicle, so as to conceal him and yet
allow a little air-space near one of the small windows.
There were three horses in the van.  Though early
morning, it was already close and stuffy, and Jack looked
forward with anything but pleasure to the heat of mid-day
and the prospect of many hours in this equine society.





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`A Deal in Flour`:

.. class:: center large bold

   CHAPTER V


.. class:: center large bold

   A Deal in Flour

.. vspace:: 2

.. class:: noindent small

Vladivostok—Orloff—Russian Resentment—Large Profits—Quick
Returns—Overreached—A Droshky Race—The Waverley—Captain
Fraser—Sowinski comes Aboard—Sea Law—Pourboire

.. vspace:: 2

It was two o'clock in the morning on the second day after
Jack left Harbin.  The train slowed down as it rounded a
loop, and finally came to a stop.  Jack was fast asleep in
his corner of the horse-box.  He was awakened by a touch
on the shoulder.

"You get down here, sir."

"Ah!  Where are we, sergeant?"

"Four versts from Vladivostok."

"That's well.  And what sort of a night?"

"Fine, sir; but dark as pitch."

"Thanks!  Let me see; is it twenty-five roubles I owe you?"

"Thirty, sir, no less; more if you like."

"Here you are.  Have you got a match?  Take care:
a spark, you know!  Count them; three ten-rouble notes.
Now, how am I to get into the town?"

"The road's not far on the other side of the line.—Nobody
is to know how you got here, sir."

"I understand that.  Many thanks!  It has been a pretty
rapid journey for Manchuria, I think."

"Yes.  Live stock comes next to the Viceroy.  Horses
are none the better for being jolted over three hundred
miles of rail, so they've let us pass several goods trains on
the way."

"Any passenger trains allowed to pass us?"

"Not one."

"Then I couldn't have got here sooner.  Thanks again!"

Jack dropped from the foot-board, ran down the embankment,
and in a few minutes struck the high-road.  He had
not thought it necessary to explain to the sergeant that he
knew the district.  It was, as the Russian had said, very
dark, but Jack made his way to a plantation near the road,
through which he knew that a little stream ran.  There
he had a thorough wash, changed his collar, brushed and
shook his clothes, and felt a different creature.  Then he
sat down on the moss-grown roots of an oak, and ate
the Chinese cakes and dried fruit that remained from the
stock of food given him by Hi Feng, the compradore's
brother, washing it down with water from the brook.
Dawn was breaking by the time he had finished his frugal
breakfast, but it was useless to go into the town until
the business houses opened.  He therefore determined to
remain in the secluded nook he had chosen, and sat there
thinking of what lay before him.

About eight o'clock he rose to continue his walk to the
town.  It was two years since he had last visited it, and
he was struck by the progress it had made in the interval.
Founded only forty years before, the city had grown very
rapidly; but since the Russian occupation of Manchuria it
had made giant strides.  New hospitals and barracks had
been erected; the surrounding hills, once decked with
forest, but now treeless, were covered with immense forts
and earthworks, at which vast gangs of coolies were still
at work.  The wooden shanties that formerly lined the
shore had for the most part given place to more solid and
imposing structures of brick and stone.  Other signs of
development caught Jack's eye as he walked towards the
harbour; but he was too eager to complete his errand to
dwell upon them, especially as he heard behind him in the
distance the rumble of an approaching train.  It overtook
him just as he turned down one of the steep, narrow side
streets leading to the office of his father's agent; and as he
saw the long line of carriages, including several sleeping-cars,
roll past, he could not but wonder whether Anton
Sowinski was among the passengers, and hastened his steps.

The office had just been opened for the day when he
arrived.  Alexey Petrovitch Orloff was a big, jovial Russian
of some forty years; honest, or Mr. Brown would have had
no dealings with him; a little greedy; a good business
man, and on excellent terms with his principal.  But Jack
knew little about him outside their business transactions,
and had made up his mind not to trust him with his secret.

"Ah, Ivan Ivanovitch!" exclaimed Orloff as Jack
entered.  "I was expecting you or your father.  You
came by the night train?"

"Yes.  You must have been asleep when it arrived."

"What sort of a journey had you?"

"It was very hot."

"Yes, we have been baked here.  When did you leave?"

"On Thursday."

"A fairly quick journey, considering the state of the line.
You left before my letter arrived?"

"Yes.  Of course you guess the object of my visit?"

"The consignment of flour?  You have had great luck,
I must say; but Captain Fraser always is lucky.  Of
course his cargo was not contraband according to English
ideas, but we Russians have been rather strict of late, and
the Japanese will probably follow suit.  However, Captain
Fraser never saw a Japanese cruiser the whole voyage.  It
should be an excellent speculation for your father.  Prices
are naturally high just now."

"That is good news.  We shouldn't like to wind up
with a failure."

"Of course not.  It is a pity your father is retiring; we
are bound to win in the end; but I've no doubt he can well
afford it.  And I'm not the man to complain, if, as I hope,
I can get hold of a part of his business.  Perhaps he is
wise after all.  Manchuria is not the most comfortable
country to live in—just now, at any rate; and I fancy an
Englishman will have a poor time of it in Moukden,
eh?"  (He gave Jack a shrewd look.)  "Your newspapers have
so completely taken the side of the enemy."

"Yes, there is a strong feeling at home in favour of
Japan, and your people resent it.  That's natural enough."

"It's rather worse than that.  People here are saying
that Russia and England will be at war before a month's
out."

"Nonsense!"

"They say so.  Our cruisers have stopped a P. and
O. liner, the *Malacca*, in the Mediterranean, and put a prize
crew on board.  She was carrying contraband, it appears;
but your fire-eaters—jingoes, is that the name?—are
thirsting for our blood."

"We don't all eat fire and drink blood, Alexey Petrovitch."

"True.  And you English will find you have backed
the wrong horse."

"You haven't been much troubled here, then?"

"No.  The bombardment did us no harm.  Our cruisers
sank three Japanese transports the other day, and they
captured another of your ships with contraband, the
*Allanton*: you'll see her lying in the harbour now."

"Well, it appears to be lucky for us that the *Waverley*
was, in a sense, on your side.  About this consignment of
flour: do you think you can find an immediate purchaser?
We want to realize and get away at once."

The Russian's eyes gleamed, but his reply was cautious.

"Well, Ivan Ivanovitch, it is always more difficult to
sell in a hurry than if you can wait.  A good profit can
be made, but we must take our time.  It is a matter of
bargaining.  The man in a hurry always suffers."

"Yes, I know.  We must be prepared to sacrifice something.
At the market rate the flour ought to fetch about
27,000 roubles; but look here, if you can find an immediate
purchaser at 25,000 I'll let it go."

Orloff still hesitated, but Jack could see that he was
making an effort to restrain his eagerness.

"In business," he said, "it is best to be frank.  If you
will give me my usual commission of two and a half per
cent—what do you say to my taking over the stuff myself?"

Jack smiled.

"I say that it pays very well to be principal and agent
at the same time.  But we won't quarrel about the
commission.  If you'll write me a cheque for 24,375 roubles,
we'll call the matter settled.  I've full authority to act."

The Russian, looking as if he was sorry he had not
improved the opportunity still further, sat down at once
and made out the cheque, adding:

"There will be one or two papers to sign.  I will get
them from the dockyard people."

"Very well.  In the meantime I'll pay this into the
bank and call back as soon as I can."

"What is the hurry?  Business is slack, and I suppose
I shan't see you again for a long time."

"Probably not.  But there's a ring at your telephone.
Evidently someone wants to do business.  I'll see you
again shortly."

Orloff was disposed to be talkative, but Jack was on
thorns lest the train he had seen come in should have
brought Sowinski.  He had the cheque; while in the train
he had taken the vouchers from the sole of his boot; he
wondered whether he could complete his business at the
bank before Sowinski, supposing him to be in Vladivostok,
should come upon the scene.  He hurried to the branch of
the Russo-Chinese bank, where he was well known to the
officials.  Business there also was slack; the manager said
indeed that trade in Vladivostok would be ruined if the
war continued much longer.  Within half an hour, Jack
left the building with bills on Baring Brothers for the
amount of the cheque and the sum represented by the
vouchers, less 2000 roubles in notes which he kept for
his immediate and contingent expenses.

He hurried back to Orloff's office, keeping a wary eye
on the people thronging the streets, among them many
soldiers in the *pashalik*, their characteristic peaked cap.
When he entered the room, Orloff flung down his pen
and gave a shout of merriment.

"I must tell you the joke, Ivan Ivanovitch.  Not five
minutes after you left, who should come in but
Sowinski!"  Jack repressed a start.  "He had happened to hear, he
told me, that the *Waverley* had arrived with a consignment
of flour for your father.  Was I empowered to sell?
Ha! ha!  It was not a matter of much consequence, he
said.  Ha! ha!  I know Sowinski.  But, having a small
contract to fulfil in a month's time at Harbin, he could do
with the flour, if it was to be had cheap.  'Mr. Brown is
leaving the country, I understand,' says he.  Ha! ha!"

Sowinski had evidently not told Orloff of the arrest.
Jack wondered for a moment why.  But the explanation
at once suggested itself.  If the fact were known, the
consignment would no doubt be impounded by the Russian
authorities in Vladivostok, and then the Pole would lose
his chance of making a profitable deal.

"I assure you I was not eager," continued Orloff, still
laughing.  "Sowinski is no friend of mine.  In the end
he went down to the harbour, inspected the consignment,
and bought it for 27,000 roubles, the market price, as you
yourself mentioned."

"Quick returns and by no means small profits," said Jack.

"Yes.  But—ha! ha!—what makes me laugh is something
else.  I was rung up at the telephone—just as you
went, you remember; two vessels had been signalled from
the mouth of the harbour carrying flour—not a moderate
consignment like yours, but a whole cargo each.  You
see, Ivan Ivanovitch?  The market price of Sowinski's
lot will fall in an hour to 20,000 roubles, and it serves him
right.  How your father will laugh when he learns how
his rival has overreached himself!  By the way, the
*Waverley* is sailing this morning, in ballast of course."

"Indeed!"  No information could have pleased Jack
more.  "Captain Fraser is an old friend of ours.  I should
like to see him."

"Then you haven't much time to lose.  But you may as
well sign these papers to complete our little transaction—the
last, I am sorry to say.  You will be back again?"

"I am not sure.  I am not staying in Vladivostok long,
and I'll say good-bye in case I don't get time to run in
again."

"And when do you leave for home?"

"As soon as possible."

"By the Trans-Siberian, I suppose?"

"Probably; unless we can get through the lines to
Newchang."

"That will be easy enough soon.  Reinforcements are
pouring in for General Kuropatkin, and he'll soon be
strong enough to drive those waspish little yellow men
into the sea."

"Perhaps.  Well, good-bye, Alexey Petrovitch!"

"Remember me to your father."

"I will, the moment I see him.  Good-bye!"

Leaving the office Jack hailed a droshky, and ordered
the man to drive down to the harbour.  Knowing that
Sowinski was actually in the town he felt insecure with
such valuable property in his pocket.  As he stepped into
the vehicle he glanced round, and, forewarned though he
was, he started when he saw, a few yards up the street,
the man he was anxious to avoid hurrying in his direction.
By the look on the Pole's face, and his quickened step,
Jack knew that he had been recognized.  It was touch
and go now.

"Quick, my man!" he said quietly to the driver, "time
presses."

The man, scenting a tip, whipped up his horse, and
it sprang forward, throwing Jack back into his seat.
At the same moment he heard the Pole shouting behind;
but his voice was at once drowned by the clatter of the
wheels, and the droshky man, standing in the car, and
driving with the usual recklessness of the Russian
coachman, was too much occupied in avoiding the traffic to
turn his head.  Jack, however, a minute later looked
cautiously over the back of the vehicle.  Sowinski, with
urgent gestures, was beckoning a droshky some distance
up the street.  He was now nearly a quarter of a mile
behind; and, turning a corner, Jack lost him from sight.
But the street he had now reached was a long straight
one, leading direct to the shore, and almost clear of traffic.
In a few seconds the pursuing droshky swung round the
corner at a pace that left Jack amazed it did not overturn.
To throw the Pole off the scent was impossible now; it
was an open race.  In two minutes Jack's droshky rattled
down the incline to the shore.  He had the fare and a
handsome tip in readiness.  Springing from the car
almost before it had stopped, he paid the man, leapt
down the steps into a sampan, and called to the burly
Chinaman smoking in it:

"The English ship *Waverley*!  A rouble if you put
me aboard quickly."

The Chinaman looked stolidly up.

"She is about to sail, master.  See!  And they will
not allow you on board.  There are difficulties.  The
port officers——"

Jack waited for no more.  Taking a rouble note from
his pocket, he cried:

"Here is six times your fare; this or nothing!"

At the same time he seized the yuloh,—the pole that does
duty for a stern oar, and shoved off.  There is nothing a
Chinese coolie will not do for a rouble.  The man sprang
to the oar, worked its flat end backwards and forwards
with all his strength, and sent the sampan over the water
at a greater speed than its clumsy build seemed capable of.
Jack kept his head low in order to be sheltered as long as
possible by the shanties on shore and the sampans crowded
at the water's edge; Sowinski, he felt, would not hesitate
to take a shot at him.  He could see the Pole spring from
his droshky and rush at break-neck pace towards the
waiting row of craft.  He leapt into one, pointed Jack
out to the coolie, and in a few moments started in
pursuit.

The *Waverley* had left the inner harbour where
merchant vessels drop anchor, and was steaming dead slow
out to sea.  The captain stood on the bridge, and the
vessel hooted a farewell to the cruiser *Rurik* that lay in
the middle of the channel.  Suddenly Captain Fraser
became aware that the voice sounding clear across the
still water was hailing him.  Glancing round, he saw a
sampan making rapidly towards him from the shore, and
in it a youth with one hand to his mouth, the other
waving his hat.  The captain first swore, then signalled
half-speed ahead; it was some Russian formality, he
supposed, and as a British sailor he'd be hanged if he
delayed another moment for any foreign port officer.  But
next moment he heard his own name in an unmistakably
English accent, and, looking more closely at the shouter,
recognized him.

"Young Mr. Brown!" he muttered.  "What's he wishing?"

At the same time he jerked the indicator back to
"stop", a bell tinkled below, and the vessel came to a
stand-still.

"Ay, ay!" he shouted.  "And be hanged if there isn't
another man bawling.  What's in the wind, anyway?"

The first craft was soon alongside, a rope was heaved
over, and in a few seconds Jack stood on deck.

"Pleased to see you, Mr. Brown," said the Captain.
"Ay, and I wouldna have sto'ped for no ither man."

"Thanks, Captain!  I want your help."  Jack spoke
hurriedly; the second sampan was but a biscuit-shot
distant.  "The Russians have collared my father on a
charge of spying for the Japanese; I don't know where
he is; that fellow in the boat is at the bottom of it.  I've
managed to steal a march on him and sell the flour you
landed the other day, and I want you to take charge of
these bills and deposit them at the Hong-Kong and
Shanghai Bank for me."

"Eh, laddie, is that a fact?  And what'll you do yersel'
the now?"

"Oh, I'll stay and find my father.  Here's Sowinski.
I'm jolly glad I got here first."

The other sampan was by this time under the vessel's
quarter.  A seaman came up to the captain.

"A furriner, sir, talking double Dutch."

"Quay."

He left the bridge and went to the side.

"What might you be wishing the now?" he said.

Sowinski began to address him in very broken English,
eked out with French and Russian.

"I'm no' what you might ca' a leenguist," said the
Captain, after a patient hearing.  "What'll he be meaning,
Mr. Brown?"

"He says I'm a fugitive, and insists on your giving me
up.  If you don't, he'll have the boat stopped at the
signal station, and you'll be heavily fined."

"He's a terrible man, yon; there's nae doot about it.
Just tell him to bide a wee, Mr. Brown, until you an' me
has had a wee bit crack.  Now, sir," he added in a lower
tone, when this had been interpreted to the Pole, "hadn't
ye better come wi' me now ye're aboard?  If you go
ashore you may be caught.  I'm no sure but we'll be
overhauled by a Russian cutter as we gang out, but I've
no contraband aboard; in fact, I've run a cargo in for the
Russians, an' well they know it.  Your father may be
half-way to Europe by this time; I canna see there'd be ony
guid biding to look for him."

"That's good of you, Captain, but I must stay.  They
say they've deported my father; but somehow I feel sure
he is still in the country, and I shall try to hang on here
by hook or crook till I find him."

"Aweel; then the best thing will be to get yon terrible
Turk aboard.  Just ask him to step up, sir."

As Sowinski was clambering up the side the captain
signalled the engine-room to go ahead dead slow.  He
invited the Pole to join him on the bridge.  Captain
Fraser looked him critically up and down; then said
blandly:

"And is it a port officer I'm to understand you are,
Mister?"

"A port officer!  Not so.  I am man of affairs, business
man.  But in name of his majesty ze Imperator I—I
arrest zis young man."

"Just exactly.  But I beg your pardon, Mister—Mister—what?"

"Sowinski."

"Just exactly.  Well, then, Mr. Sowinski, do ye happen
to have about ye a warrant for the arrest o' this young
man in the name o' the Imperator, by which, I preshume,
you mean the Czar?  Where's your authority, man?"

The Pole looked puzzled.

"Audority!  I have no audority.  But I tell you, zis
young man is deported; he escape from arrestation;
he——"

"Tuts!  And you have the impidence to come aboard
my ship: to haud me up, a British subject; to cause loss
to my owners—to my owners, I say—without authority?
I'll learn you, Mister, what it is to haud up a British
ship without authority.  Hi, Jim! lug this man below,
and if he doesna behave himsel' just clap him under
hatches."

Sowinski, wriggling desperately, and volubly protesting
in half a dozen languages, was bundled from the
bridge.

"He's got the wrong sow by the lug in Duncan Fraser,"
said the captain, with a grim tightening of the lips.  "I'll
just tak' him along to Shanghai if the coast is clear,
Mr. Brown, though I may have to drop him a few miles lower
down if I see signs of any Russians being inqueesitive.
And if you must go ashore, laddie, tak' a word frae
me—keep out o' the road o' the Russians."

"I'll be careful, Captain.  When you get to Shanghai
you'll tell our consul all about it, and ask him to wire to
England?  The newspapers will take it up, and I should
think Lord Lansdowne will make official enquiries at
St. Petersburg."

"Ay, I'll do what I can.  You're quite determined to bide?"

"Oh yes!  And another thing, Captain: I think, if you
don't mind, you'd better let my mother know; she expects
us home, and not hearing, would be alarmed.  Tell her
not to worry; it's sure to come all right in the end."

"Ay, I'll do that.  I never heard the like o't.  What
the ballachulish will the Russians be doing next!  I needna
say I wish ye good luck, sir.  Will you take a wee
drappie?"

"Not to-day, Captain, many thanks all the same!  A
pleasant voyage to you!"

Both sampans had kept pace with the steamer; the
coolies were beginning to be anxious about their fares.
Jack bade his friend the captain a cordial farewell; the
vessel stopped; and, dropping into his sampan, Jack
ordered the man to put him ashore at the nearest point.
Within a yard of the shore the Chinaman brought the
punt to a stop and demanded two roubles.

"But the bargain was one."

"I did not know, Master.  I do not risk offending the
Russians for a rouble.  Give two, or I will not let you
land."

He looked at Jack with victorious malice in his beady
black eyes.  For a moment Jack hesitated; he did not
wish to have an altercation with the man; at the same
time he objected to be "done".  He stood up in the
sampan and drew a bundle of notes from his pocket.
Selecting one, he folded it; then, flinging it to the coolie,
he sprang suddenly overboard, giving the sampan a kick
which sent it backwards.  The man also had risen; the
sudden movement made him lose his balance, and he fell
over the yuloh into the water.  Jack quietly walked away.
As he did so he heard loud laughter on his left hand.
Turning, he saw that the incident had been witnessed by
two Russian officers who had been walking towards the
mouth of the harbour.  Knowing the ways of the Chinese
coolie, they were much amused at the readiness with which
Jack had disposed of the boatman.  One of them shouted
"Well done!" in Russian.  Jack smiled, and replied with
a couple of words in the same tongue; then hurried on,
thanking his stars that the matter had ended so well.





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`In Full Cry`:

.. class:: center large bold

   CHAPTER VI


.. class:: center large bold

   In Full Cry

.. vspace:: 2

.. class:: noindent small

In Chinatown—A Deal in Horseflesh—North and by
East—A Korean Host—Across the Line—Buriats—Father
Mayenube—Gabriele—A Shot—Hard Pressed—In
Hiding—Suggestio Falsi

.. vspace:: 2

Jack's business in Vladivostok was now completed.  He
had secured the last of his father's property; bills
representing several thousands of pounds were in the safe
hands of Captain Fraser, soon to be confided to the
Hong-Kong and Shanghai Bank.  So far his task had been
unexpectedly easy; his difficulties, he felt, were now to
begin.  During the long journey from Harbin he had
spent hours endeavouring to think out a plan to adopt if
his secret visit to Vladivostok proved successful.  By
hook or crook he must get back to Moukden and learn
the result of the compradore's enquiries; the question was,
how?  The return journey would be attended by many
difficulties; even if he should reach Moukden in safety
it would only be to find himself encompassed by danger.
Yet he saw no other chance of tracing his father, and
whatever the risks and perils, he felt that his duty called
him to face them.

The first thing, then, was to make his way back to
Moukden.  To return by the railway was out of the
question.  He dared not go openly, and he knew no one
in Vladivostok whom he could trust to negotiate for a
clandestine passage.  His only course was to slip away,
gain the Manchurian frontier, and cross the Shan-yan-alin
range of mountains—a long and difficult journey at the
best, and in the present circumstances hazardous in the
extreme.  If he evaded the Russians in and around
Vladivostok he would still be exposed to capture by
Chinese bandits, to say nothing of the tenfold risks as he
neared his journey's end.

His difficulties were intensified by the desperately short
notice at which he must now quit Vladivostok.  Sowinski,
furious at being outwitted in the matter of the bills, would
be goaded to madness by his detention on board the
*Waverley*, and as Captain Fraser would probably consider
it prudent to put him ashore at no great distance, it might
not be long before he telephoned to head-quarters and
thus raised the hue and cry in Vladivostok itself.  To the
natives Jack might easily pass for a Russian; carefully
made up, he might, with his smattering of Chinese, be
taken by the Russians for a native.  But there was no
time for such preparations; and a Russian policeman on
the hunt for an Englishman, with the Pole's description of
him, must be an exceptionally incompetent member of his
class if he failed to recognize the fugitive.  Speed was
thus the first essential.

Hurrying up from the shore he made up his mind what
to do.  Fortunately he was in the Chinese quarter of the
town; it was the part of prudence to avoid the Russian
settlement on the hill.  He remembered a Chinese
horse-dealer with whom Mr. Brown had done business when
he lived in the town years before.  The Chinese had
altered less than the official city, and he thought he
could find his way to the merchant's house.  Taking his
bearings, he walked rapidly through several streets, and
found to his delight that his recollection had not failed
him.  The horse-dealer was at home; he did not recognize
Jack, who was a boy of eleven when his transactions with
Mr. Brown had taken place; but he well remembered the
English merchant.  And when he learnt that Jack wished
to purchase a pony he rubbed his hands together and led
him at once to the stables to view the stock.  They were
a weedy lot, like most of the native animals.  Jack was
careful to show no haste or eagerness; he looked them
over critically, rejected one after another in spite of all the
flowery things the Chinaman found to say in their favour,
and finally refused to buy.  As he expected, the merchant
then managed to find a better beast—a beautiful little
Transbaikal pony, sturdy, well-made, and evidently full of
mettle.  Jack could not have wished for a better animal;
but, experienced in the ways of Chinese business men, he
gave no sign of his approval.  The merchant quoted a
price; Jack hemmed, hesitated—he knew better than to
close at once; and then offered half.  Eager as he was
to get away, he patiently chaffered for nearly an hour;
then, when the Chinaman was beginning to think he had
lost his customer, Jack suddenly closed with the last offer,
and the pony became his at two-thirds of the price first
asked.  The purchase of a saddle did not take so long;
and when he rode off, both dealer and customer were
equally pleased.

In the street Jack stopped a young Chinese boy and
sent him to a purveyor's shop for a small supply of
portable food.  The messenger returned with some dried fish
and stale cakes of potato-rice, all he could procure.  With
this tied behind his saddle Jack set off.  It was an anxious
moment when he passed a brown-coated Cossack policeman,
and a little farther on he gave a jump when a
squadron of Cossacks swung round the corner of the
street.  But they rode on without giving him more than
a casual glance.  Not daring to hasten, he slowly made
his way through the city and out into the country.  It
was still only eleven o'clock; he had nine or ten hours
of daylight before him, and though the pony was somewhat
soft for want of exercise, it was no doubt good for
thirty miles at a pinch.

Vladivostok stands at the end of a narrow peninsula,
with the Amur Bay running for several miles into the land
on the west, and the Ussuri Bay on the east.  To gain
the Manchurian frontier Jack would have to ride
northwards, cross the railway at the head of the Amur Bay or
beyond, and then turn to the south-west.  It was
obviously unsafe for him to ride parallel with the railway
line, for his escape, if discovered, would no doubt be
telegraphed ahead, and the road would be watched,
especially in the neighbourhood of the stations.  His best
course, therefore, would be to strike up eastwards towards
the head of the Ussuri Bay, away from his ultimate
destination, and trust to luck to find a hill-path leading back
that would enable him to cross the line somewhere between
the head of the Amur Bay and the garrison town of
Nikolskoye.  His way led through the plantation where he had
made his toilet early that morning, then to the right
towards the hills.

Though Vladivostok itself has sprung up with marvellous
rapidity, the country is as yet sparsely peopled.
At one time the town was closely surrounded by
magnificent woods; but the axe of the lumberman has been
busy, and the same work of deforesting that has robbed
the town of picturesqueness is now being pursued inland.
One of the few people Jack met along the unfrequented
road he had chosen was a Russian colonist riding behind
a cart laden with pine logs and driven by a coolie.  Jack
threw him a friendly "Good morning!" as he passed, and
received a feeling "Very hot, barin" in return.  It was
indeed hot; the almost naked Korean labourers in the
fields were streaming with sweat; and Jack was glad to
halt at a little brook to refresh himself and his beast.

After riding for some three hours, and covering, as he
guessed, about eighteen miles, almost entirely uphill, he
saw the sea below him on the right, and the far coast-line
running to all appearance due south.  This must be
Ussuri Bay.  He had evidently come far enough east; it
was time to change his course to the north-west.
Swinging round, he had not ridden far before he came to a
small farm, the house surrounded, like all Chinese isolated
country buildings, with a mud wall.  His pony required
food, and though he felt some misgivings he thought
this too good an opportunity to be neglected.  He rode
up.  The owner, he found, was a Korean; Jack did not
speak Korean; but by the help of Chinese and pidgin
Russian he succeeded in making the man understand
what he wanted.  He then asked how far it was to
Nikolskoye, and learning that it was thirty versts, roughly
twenty miles, he decided to give his pony a good rest
and start again about six o'clock, so that darkness would
have fallen by the time he came to the neighbourhood of
the railway.  Having seen that the animal was rubbed
down and provided with a good feed of hay, he joined
the farmer in a game of *wei-ch'i*, a difficult variant of
chess, and with this and a slow laborious conversation,
in the course of which his host expounded his hazy ideas
of the war, he managed to get through the hot afternoon.

Soon after six he set off again.  The way was mainly
downhill now, and easier riding.  About nine o'clock he
saw in the gloaming a little settlement ahead, and beyond
it the hexagonal water-tower and timbered store-house of
the typical Siberian railway-station, but on a small scale.
The path he was following led direct to the hamlet, and
the sight of several small knots of people at that hour of
the evening showed that a train would shortly be passing;
the peasants have not yet lost their curiosity about the
iron horse.  He thought it well to avoid observation by
leaving the track—road it could not be called—and
striking across a bean-field.  Making a wide sweep he came to
the railway some three versts north of the station.  He
rode very cautiously as he approached the line, tied his
pony to a tree, and scouted ahead to make sure that the
line rifle guard, whose hut might be expected a few versts
beyond, was not in sight.  Suddenly he heard the distant
rumble of a train—the night train for Harbin.  In a moment
he saw that the passage of the train would give him an
opportunity of crossing the line unobserved.  He went
back to his pony, led it as near as he dared to the
embankment, and waited.

The engine came snorting along at a fair pace, the fire
throwing a glow upon the darkling sky.  The train clattered
by.  Immediately after the last carriage had passed, Jack
mounted the embankment, dragging his pony, crossed the
single line, and descended on the other side.

With a lighter heart he got into the saddle again, and
rode his excellent little steed across the fields in the hope
of ere long striking a road.  Pursuit would be difficult in
the darkness; the greatest danger was to be expected
with daylight, and it was very necessary that he should
put as many miles as possible between himself and the
railway before dawn.  His course must be mainly south-west;
the nearest town of any size was Hun-chun, some
sixty miles in that direction; but having a vague idea
that the Russians had erected a fort there, he had already
made up his mind to avoid that town itself.  Four or five
hundred miles and countless perils lay between him and
Moukden; but with the hopefulness of youth he rode
confidently on.  Danger and difficulty were only incentives to
caution; if he anticipated them, it was merely that, being
prepared, he might be the more ready to grapple with and
overcome them.  Ever present in his mind was the belief
that his father's fate hung upon the success of his
enterprise.

Coming by and by to a rough track between the fields,
he followed it until past midnight.  Then, feeling that his
pony could do no more, and being unable in the darkness
to guide himself by the little compass he wore on his
watch-chain, he left the track, rode into a plantation to
the right, off-saddled, and, hitching the bridle to a tree,
threw himself on the ground and fell asleep.

During the short hours of darkness his slumbers
were disturbed by dreams.  Sowinski, Orloff, Monsieur
Brin, the Chinese horse-dealer—all figured in a strange
phantasmagoria.  Monsieur Brin had lost his pass, and
was shedding tears because he could not tear the red
brassard from his arm, when Jack awoke with a start.
Looking at his watch he found it was five o'clock.
He must be up and away.  He ate the last of his food;
the pony had already made a meal of the shoots of creeping
plants; then, with the instinct born of his fugitive
condition, Jack approached the edge of the plantation
to spy out the country.  Before him, not many yards
away, was a narrow river; behind—he gave a great
start, for little more than half a mile distant he saw a
troop of Russian horsemen trotting smartly along the
road towards him.  They might be going, of course, to
Possiet Bay, or Novo Kiewsk, or the Korean frontier.
But he noticed at a second glance that the leading man
was bending low in his saddle, as though following a trail.
He distinguished their uniform now; they were Buriats,
Mongols by race and Buddhists by religion, hard riders,
excellent scouts, the most reckless and daring of the
Russian cavalry.  Without a moment's hesitation he went
back to his pony, snatched from the ground the saddle
that had formed his pillow, threw it over the animal's
back, and, tightening the girths with hands that shook
in spite of himself, he plunged with the pony into the
thickest part of the plantation.

.. vspace:: 2

At seven o'clock that morning, in a neatly-thatched,
white-washed brick cottage, surrounded by a luxuriant
and well-kept garden, in the hill-country above the
Chuan, a little group sat at breakfast.  The room was
plain but spotlessly clean.  The wooden floors shone; the
white plastered walls were covered with coloured lithographs
representing the seven stations of the Cross; the
little windows were hung with curtains of Chinese muslin.
A narrow shelf of books occupied one corner, a stove
another; and the table in the centre was spread with a
snow-white cloth, dishes of fruit, and home-made bread.

At the table three persons were seated.  One was a tall
man of fine presence, with clear-cut features, soft brown
eyes, long white hair and beard.  He wore the loose white
tunic and pantaloons of a Chinaman, but the cross that
hung by a cord round his neck was not Chinese.  Jean
Mayenobe was a Frenchman, a priest, one of those
devoted missionaries who cut themselves off from home and
kindred to live a life of self-denial, peril, and humble
Christian service in remote unfriendly corners of the globe.

His companions were a woman and a girl.  The former
was plain-featured and plainly dressed, with placid
expression and humble mien.  The latter seemed strangely
out of place in her surroundings.  She was young,
apparently of some seventeen years.  Her features were
beautiful, with a dignity and a look of self-command rare
in one of her age.  Her complexion was ruddy brown;
her bright hair, gathered in a knot behind, rebelled against
the black riband that bound it, and fell behind her ears
in crispy waves.  Before her on the table was a samovar,
and she had just handed a cup of tea to the missionary.

"Father," she said in French, "I am so tired of waiting.
I am beginning to think that permission will never
come.  But why should it be refused?  It is not as if I
were seeking some benefit.  In appearance I lose, not gain."

"True, my child, you have nothing personally to gain.
I have said before, it is not every daughter who would
come thousands of miles and suffer hardship in order to
bear her father company in exile and imprisonment.  And
such exile!  The little I know of Sakhalin is frightful.  It
gives me pain to think of your knowing even so much."

"I am not afraid.  And if the treatment of prisoners in
Sakhalin is so bad, that is all the more reason why I should
be at my father's side, to help and comfort him a little.  Why
do they refuse to let me go?"

"Probably they have forgotten all about you.  The
war occupies them completely.  And I repeat, if you
have patience your father may come to you.  I have no
belief that the Russians will win in this terrible war.  I
heard but a little while ago from a brother priest near
the scene of operations at Hai-cheng, who has studied
the combatants, that he is convinced of the ultimate
success of the Japanese.  If they are victorious they will
probably demand that Sakhalin shall be restored to them,
and it will no longer be a place for Russian prisoners.
Rest in the Lord, my child; wait patiently for Him, and
He will give thee thy heart's desire."

Gabriele Walewska was silent.  Father Mayenobe sank
into a reverie.  The elderly woman looked sympathetically
at her mistress, laid her hand on hers, and murmured a
few words in Polish, to which the girl responded with a
grateful smile.  The sound of a distant shot coming through
the open window shook the missionary from his musing.

"Russian officers out snipe-shooting again, I suppose,"
he said.  "It reminds me I must go, my child.  That
poor Korean convert of mine is at the point of death, I
fear.  I must go to him.  I may be absent all day."

"We shall be quite happy, father.  I shall pick the
last of your strawberries to-day, and make some of your
favourite tartlets for supper."

"You will spoil me," said the priest with a smile.
"Dominus vobiscum."

When the missionary had gone, Gabriele left the Korean
servants to clear the table, and, accompanied by her old
nurse, went out into the garden with a light wicker basket.
As she did so she scanned the surrounding country for
signs of the shooting party.  The mission station was at
the summit of a low hill, and below it, towards the east,
stretched a tract of sparse woodland, alternating with
cultivated fields.  A stream bathed the foot of the hill,
and wound away to join the Hun-Chuan, its course
traceable by the thickness of the wooded belt and the more
vivid green of the fields.

While the girl was still picking the ripe red berries she
heard another shot, this time closer at hand.  She rose,
and out of pure curiosity searching the landscape she
saw, about two miles away, a band of horsemen galloping
through a field of kowliang, already so well grown that
the stalks rose almost to the horses' heads.  There were
some thirty or forty of the riders, at present little more
than specks in the distance.  It struck her as rather a large
hunting party, and she wondered what they were chasing,
big game being unknown in the neighbourhood, and the
time of year unusual for such sport.  As she stood looking,
the horsemen left the field and disappeared into the
wooded belt bordering the stream.

Expecting them to come again into sight a little higher
up, Gabriele remained at the same spot.  It occurred to
her that one of them might be bringing the written
permission she desired, and had taken advantage of his errand
to organize a hunt.  Suddenly she was startled to see a
figure on horseback emerge from the copse but a few yards
below her.  It was a young man, a European; he was
swaying in his saddle; and she noticed with feminine
quickness that one arm was supported in a sling—a
handkerchief looped round his neck.  The next moment
the rider caught sight of her; his eyes seemed to her to
speak the language of despair.  He swayed still more
heavily, and was on the point of falling from his horse
when Gabriele sprang down the slope and caught him.
Calling to her nurse and a Korean man-servant near at
hand, with their help she lifted him from the saddle and
loosened his shirt-collar, then sent the Korean for water.

Jack was dazed at first, all but swooning.

"Thank you!" he said in Russian.  "I was almost
done, I think.  But please help me to mount again.  I
must ride on."

"Impossible, gospodin!" she said.  "You are hurt, I
see; the injury must be seen to."

"It is good of you, but my arm must wait.  Please help
me to mount my pony."

His wounded arm, his urgent manner, recalled to
Gabriele the shots she had heard, the band of horsemen she
had seen galloping in the distance.

"You are in danger?" she said quickly.  "Is it not so?"

"Yes.  There are Buriats behind me; they are close on
my heels.  Indeed"—he smiled wanly—"it is your duty,
as a Russian, I suppose, to give me up."

"I am not a Russian," she exclaimed.  "And if I were,
I should not lightly give up a fugitive to the Russian police.
You can go no farther; what can I do?  There is so little
time."

For a few seconds she appeared to be considering.  Her
brow was knit; she looked at him anxiously.  Fully trusting
her, he made no further effort to continue his flight,
for which, indeed, he was manifestly unfit.  Half-reclining
on his pony's neck, he waited, panting.

Then she spoke rapidly to the Korean.

"Take the pony, unsaddle him, and turn him loose in
the kowliang yonder.  Saddle the Father's pony, ride a
few yards in the stream, then gallop past the edge of
the copse, through the hemp field, up to Boulder Hill.  If
you are followed by horsemen, throw them off the scent.
Don't let them see you closely.  Return after dark, but
make sure the Buriats are not here before you come in."

An unregenerate Korean would probably have hesitated,
but this man had been for some time under Father
Mayenobe's training, and in a few minutes he had brought
out the pony and cantered away.  Meanwhile Gabriele,
asking Jack to lean upon her arm, had led him into the
copse to a large beech, the lowest branch of which sprang
from the trunk about twelve feet from the ground.  Asking
him to remain there, she ran off with the fleetness of
a doe, and soon returned with a light ladder.  Setting
this against the tree, she assisted Jack to mount; when
he reached the fork he saw that the interior of the
trunk was hollow.  Then she pulled up the ladder, lowered
it into the hollow space, and helped Jack to descend.
Drawing up the ladder again, she let it down outside,
ran down, and carried it swiftly back to the house, leaving
Jack inside the trunk, where he stood upright, supporting
himself with his uninjured arm.

Scarcely five minutes had passed since his first
appearance.  The Buriats had not yet come in sight; they had
clearly been checked by the fugitive's sudden divergence
from his previous line of flight, and nonplussed by his
precaution in riding for some distance through the stream.
But in another five minutes half a dozen horsemen, with a
handsome young Russian lieutenant at their head, drew
rein in front of the house.  Gabriele was unconcernedly
shelling peas at the window of the little dining-room.

The officer was evidently surprised to see a young
European lady.  With heightened colour he bent over his
saddle and addressed her in Russian.

"Have you seen a man on horseback in (he neighbourhood,
Mademoiselle?"

Gabriele looked up, with a puzzled expression.

"Monsieur parle-t-il français?" she said.

"Oui, Mademoiselle," returned the officer, then
repeating his question in French.

"Yes," she replied.  "A few minutes ago a man
galloped from the stream, past the copse, and rode auay
along the side of the hill."

"Merci bien, Mademoiselle," said the lieutenant,
translating the information for his men.

They at once began to hunt for the tracks, and in a few
moments spied the hoof-marks of a galloping horse.  One
of them discharged his rifle to bring up the rest of the
troop, who had scattered over the face of the country,
endeavouring to pick up the trail of the fugitive.  Some
were already galloping off in the direction indicated by
Gabriele.  Soon the rest of the Buriats came riding by
in twos and threes, until the whole band was in full cry up
the hillside.

Gabriele remained at the window shelling peas until
she was sure that the last horseman had passed.  Then
she took a bottle of home-grown wine from the
missionary's store, filled a cup and gave it to her old
nurse to carry, and returned with the ladder to the tree.

"It is I," she said as she approached.  "I am bringing
you wine."

Mounting into the tree, she handed down the cup.  Jack
drained it at a draught.

"You are suffering?" said the girl.

"Not much.  It is a flesh wound; I have lost some
blood, and was faint.  I am better now."

"You must remain in the tree.  The danger is not yet
past; but have patience.  I dare not stay longer; they will
come back soon.  Hope on."





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`A Daughter of Poland`:

.. class:: center large bold

   CHAPTER VII


.. class:: center large bold

   A Daughter of Poland

.. vspace:: 2

.. class:: noindent small

Suppressio Veri—The Keys—At Fault—A Polish Patriot—A
Daughter's Love—A Common Sorrow—A French Mission—A
Council of War—From Canton—A Surprise Visit—Hide
and Seek—Ladislas Streleszki

.. vspace:: 2

All was silent for nearly an hour.  Slowly the minutes
passed.  Jack felt he had never been so wretchedly
uncomfortable.  His legs ached; his arm throbbed with
pain; there was not room in his hiding-place to sit; the
stuffiness of his prison and the attentions of innumerable
insects so tortured him that he could hardly refrain from
crying out to be released.  Eagerly he listened for the
return of the tall strong girl whose quick wit had thrown the
Buriats off his track.  When would she come again?  At
last, after a period of waiting that seemed ten times as
long as it really was, he fancied he heard her footsteps.
He listened; yes, it was certainly someone approaching;
his long imprisonment was ended.  But just as the
footsteps, now distinctly audible, neared the tree, his ears
caught the heavy thud of horses galloping, and a few
moments afterwards an angry voice saying in French:

"The man you saw, Mademoiselle, is not the man we
are searching for.  My sergeant, who is following him
up, sends me word that he got a clear view of him as
he breasted the hill.  The dress is different, the horse is
different——"

He broke off as if expecting an explanation.

"How unfortunate, Monsieur!" exclaimed Gabriele in
a tone of concern.  "I fear you must have come a long
distance out of your way."

"That is as it may be, Mademoiselle," replied the
lieutenant, somewhat nettled.  "Perhaps not so far either,
for we tracked our man to within a few hundred yards of
your house."  He paused a moment, then added suspiciously:
"What was he like, the man you saw galloping?"

"What was he like?" she repeated reflectively.  "I
think he was about your height; but then you are
mounted, and so was he, and it is so difficult to judge
when a man is mounted, is it not, Monsieur?  And then
he was going so fast; in a flash he was by; there was his
back disappearing into the copse.  It was a broad back;
yes, certainly a broad back; and he was hitting his pony;
yes, I remember that clearly, poor thing! and it was going
so fast, too."

All this was said with the most artless simplicity, and
Jack was amused, though his heart was beating hard with
apprehension.

"But, Mademoiselle, what was he like?" repeated the
officer, finding some difficulty in repressing his anger.

"The man I saw, Monsieur, or the man you saw, or the
man your sergeant saw?  There are so many—they confuse me."

"The man you saw.  Come, Mademoiselle, we are
wasting time.  Was he a white man, or a Chinaman, or
what?"

"Oh, his colour!  Really, I cannot say.  You see,
Monsieur, the sun was in my eyes.  I saw his back plainly,
a broad back; but he was riding fast, and hitting his
pony; yes, poor thing! he was hitting it very hard."

The lieutenant hesitated; Jack held his breath.

"You will pardon me, Mademoiselle, if I ask you to
let me search your house."

"Not my house, Monsieur.  It belongs to Father Mayenobe."

"Peste!" he exclaimed as he dismounted.  "This
house, whosesoever it is.  The man gave us the slip in
this neighbourhood, and my orders are to capture him."

"Certainly search, Monsieur.  Father Mayenobe is
away from home, or I am sure he would receive you as
the occasion demands.  The house is open to you.
Perhaps a few of you would enter at a time?"

The frowning officer glanced at her, unable to decide
whether she was mocking him.  But her face was perfectly
grave.

"Certainly, Mademoiselle," he replied a little uneasily.
"Two will be sufficient; and with your permission I will
accompany them.  Doubtless," he added, as by an
afterthought, "it will prove a mere form."

"I suppose it is quite right, Monsieur.  I know nothing
about these things.  Perhaps I ought to say no until
Father Mayenobe returns.  But then I couldn't prevent
you, could I?  So you had better go in and do your duty.
Let me see, you will want the keys."  She took a bunch
from her pocket.  "There are very few.  This is the key
of the larder."

She innocently handed him the bunch, indicating the
one she had mentioned.

"Only the larder is locked," she added.  "The natives,
you are aware, Monsieur, will overeat if one is not careful."

The young officer, looking very much ashamed of himself,
took the bunch, and having no answer ready, moved
towards the house.

"Will you show us the house, Mademoiselle?"

"Oh no, Monsieur! that would be to countenance your
intrusion.  I cannot be expected to do that."

The conversation had been carried on throughout within
a few feet of Jack.  In spite of his wound, his uncomfortable
position, and the danger of discovery, he found
himself shaking with silent laughter, imagining the play
of expression on the faces of Gabriele and her victim.

The lieutenant with two of his men went into the house.
There was silence for a while, broken only by the champing
of the Buriats' ponies and the rattle of accoutrements,
the men sitting their steeds mute and motionless.
Then the voice of the officer could be heard interrogating
the old nurse, who merely shook her head to every
question.  She knew nothing but Polish, and the officer's
Russian was as incomprehensible to her as his French.  After
a few minutes he returned.

"Accept my apologies and my thanks, Mademoiselle,"
he said, as he handed her the keys.  "We must pursue
our chase elsewhere.  Bonjour!"

"Bonjour, Monsieur!"

The troop rode away, taking a different course.  Gabriele's
lips curved in a smile as she watched them.  The
officer glanced back just before riding out of sight.  She
was walking slowly towards the house.

Half an hour afterwards the missionary returned.

"Father," said Gabriele, "I have played the good
Samaritan since you have been away."

She explained to him rapidly what had occurred.

"My daughter," he said gently, "I cannot blame you,
but you acted rashly, very rashly indeed."

"What would you have done, Father?" she asked archly.

"Just what you did, my dear," he replied with twinkling
eyes.  "But we must be careful.  The Russians look
askance at our missions as it is; they only want a pretext
to expel us."

"And the poor young man is all the time in the tree!
He must be nearly dead with fatigue."

"But we cannot release him yet.  Some of the Russians
may return this way from their chase of Min-chin.  I hope
they will not shoot the poor fellow by mistake."

Jack waited, feeling more and more exhausted, and
wondering how long his irksome durance was to last.
By and by he again heard horses galloping.  The Buriat
sergeant and one of his men had returned from their
fruitless chase.  Min-chin, the Korean servant, had outridden
them, and they had lost trace of him.  They pulled up at
the missionary's house to ask the whereabouts of the
remainder of the troop, then they rode on.  Watching them
out of sight, and waiting for some time to assure himself
that danger was past, Father Mayenobe carried the ladder
to the tree, and soon Jack, pale, worn, and hungry, lay in
the priest's own bed.  The father, like most of the French
missionaries in China, knew something of medicine and
surgery; he examined Jack's wound, dressed and bound
up his arm, and said that he was not to think of getting
up for several days.  It was in fact nearly a week before
he was allowed to leave the bed, and the missionary saw
that watch was kept night and day to guard against a
surprise visit from the Russians.

During this period of enforced seclusion Father Mayenobe
learnt Jack's story.  Though it made him feel more
than ever the gravity of his position if his guest should be
discovered, it did not abate by a jot his determination to
do what he could for him.  Indeed, his sympathy for Jack
was enhanced by a certain similarity between his
circumstances and Gabriele's.  He told Jack her story.  Her
father was a large land-owner, the descendant of a great
Polish family, a man of noble character, greatly beloved of
his tenants and respected by his peers.  Like every true
Pole he was a strong patriot, and had been a member of
one of the secret associations that have for their object the
restoration of Polish liberties.  Some six years before, the
society had been betrayed by one of its members; Count
Walewski, with several of his compatriots, was arrested
and sent without trial into exile; and as a deterrent to
other Poles who might contemplate revolt, the place
selected for his punishment was the bleak barren island
of Sakhalin, the farthest eastern limit of the Russian
empire.  There was special cruelty and indignity involved
in this choice, for the island was reserved as a rule for
murderers and the lowest class of criminals; and his
friends in Poland were aghast when they heard to what
a living death he had been condemned.

At the time of the count's arrest and banishment, his
daughter Gabriele was only eleven years of age.  Her
father's estates being confiscated, and she a motherless
child, she was adopted by her paternal aunt, an unmarried
lady of ample means, who took her to her home in Paris,
educated her, and treated her with a mother's care.  But
as the girl grew older and learned to understand more
fully the hopelessness of her father's fate, she resolved at
all costs to share his exile, and to do what lay in her power
to alleviate and sweeten his terrible lot.  Her aunt, fearful
of allowing a young girl to undertake a mission so terrible,
and being too infirm to accompany her, did all that she
could to turn her from her purpose.  But with increasing
years the girl's determination became ever stronger.  She
grew up quickly into a thoughtful strong-willed maiden,
full of patriotic ardour, of passionate resentment against
the Russian government, and of an overflowing love for the
father whose affection she remembered so well, and whose
noble qualities she had not been too young to appreciate.
While grateful for all the kindness her aunt had showered
upon her, she was possessed by an overmastering sense
of duty to her father.  At last, when she was nearly
seventeen, but in looks and mind older than her years,
she threatened to set forth without assistance if her aunt
refused her assent and help.  Having no alternative the
poor lady yielded, only stipulating that Gabriele's old
nurse should accompany her.  For some months they
vainly tried to get permission from St. Petersburg for the
girl to join her father.  In the case of ordinary criminals
no difficulty was usually made; it was clear that, as
happens so often in Russia, the political offence was to be
visited more heavily than the worst of crimes.  Then she
started without permission, hoping to obtain the necessary
authorization at Vladivostok.  She was provided with
letters of introduction to a Polish family in Siberia, and
one to Father Mayenobe, whose sister had been a teacher
at the pension Gabriele had attended in Paris.  But the
outbreak of the war had so much disorganized things that
the Polish friends were not to be found.  She arrived in
Vladivostok; there her request for permission to go to
Sakhalin had been referred by one official to another,
shelved, and finally ignored.  Then, friendless and despairing,
she had written to the missionary asking his advice.
He had already heard of her from his sister.  Riding at
once into Vladivostok he endeavoured to get the required
permission; but the governor and officials had something
more important to consider than the romantic impulses
of a Polish school-girl, and they politely shunted all his
representations.  At his suggestion Gabriele and her
nurse had returned with him to his little mission station in
the hills, where they had since remained, hoping that in
course of time they would gain their object.

When Jack was well enough to leave his bedroom and
share the simple life of the missionary and his household,
it was apparent that the two young people were drawn
together by the common circumstances of their fate.
From the first moment Jack had felt a strong admiration
for the girl whose resourcefulness had saved him from
capture; while Gabriele regarded his position as even
worse than her own, for she knew at any rate where her
father was.  They had many long conversations together;
the girl put her own sorrows into the background, and
entered heartily into Jack's perplexities and plans.  Father
Mayenobe often joined them in talking things over, and
soon won Jack's admiration for his character, and respect
for his wise counsel.

Jack had opportunities of seeing something and learning
more of his new friend's mission work.  Jean Mayenobe had
been a favourite pupil of Monsieur Venault, the young
nobleman who gave up his career as a courtier of Louis XVIII,
and devoted his whole fortune and forty-two years of his life
to his labour of love in Manchuria.  A great part of a French
missionary's work consists in relieving the poor and sick
and caring for orphans.  He does little actual preaching
of the Gospel; he conducts service in a small church or
oratory attached to his house, but converts are made chiefly
through the agency of native Christians, and through the
training of orphan children from tender years.  The priest
dresses and fares little better than the poorest of his flock,
and is never absent from his charge, fulfilling with absolute
literalness the Divine command.

One day a Korean youth in training for the priesthood
came in with a message from the Sister in charge of the
orphanage at Almazovsk.  He remained for several days
in the house.  Observing his manly open countenance and
his air of energy and enthusiasm, so much in contrast to
the average Korean's flabby effeminacy, Jack understood
what an influence for good the Christian missionary can wield.

The talk in the little mission-house turned again and
again upon the mystery of Mr. Brown's fate.

Father Mayenobe confessed that he was unable to make
a likely guess as to the merchant's whereabouts.

"There are so many places in Siberia to which he may
have been sent.  Sakhalin, you suggest?  Sakhalin is little
used now for political prisoners, although, as in Count
Walewski's case, some few are still sent there."

"How am I to find out?  It is the uncertainty that is so
terrible."

"I can think of no safe means.  If the Russians are
determined to keep his whereabouts secret——"

"That is itself an admission that they are in the wrong,"
interrupted Gabriele.

"It may be.  I was going to say that if that is their
determination it will be very difficult to trace him, and the
only likely course would be to follow up enquiries along
the railway."

"That is almost hopeless in present circumstances.  The
war has disorganized everything.  Besides, how am I to
get into Moukden again?"

"Why attempt it?  Why not try to gain the coast and
make for home, and trust to diplomatic representations at
St. Petersburg?"

"No, no, father, I certainly disagree with you," cried
Gabriele.  "You know how slowly diplomacy works.
Think of it; Monsieur Brown may pass months, perhaps
years, in the most terrible uncertainty and suspense.  No;
if I were in his place I would do as he means to do.  Oh,
I wish I were a man!"

"But think of the danger!  If he were to go as a
European, he would be set upon by Chinese in the
out-of-the-way parts through which he must pass.  In the towns
the English and the French are respected when other
Europeans are not, but in the country parts all alike are
foreign devils, of less account than pigs.  If he got safely
within the Russian lines he would probably be arrested as
a spy and shot.  His only chance is to go as a Chinaman."

"As a Chinaman?"

"Yes, disguised to the best of our ability."

Gabriele looked dubiously at Jack, as though questioning
whether any disguise would serve.

"What do you say yourself, Monsieur Brown?" asked
the missionary.

"I must risk it, father.  I have been long enough in
China to know the difficulties and dangers in my way; I
don't underrate them, I assure you.  But anything is better
than this harrowing uncertainty.  I could not remain idle;
I feel I must do something to clear up the mystery, even
though I should be venturing on a forlorn hope."

"Well, my son, I will not dissuade you.  Fortune
favours the brave, they say.  You are determined to go;
God go with you!  But we must think of how it is to be done."

"I must go as a Chinaman, that is certain.  It had
better be as a southern Chinaman.  Mademoiselle perhaps
does not know that the spoken language of the north and
south are so unlike that natives of the one can only
communicate with the other by written characters or by pidgin
English.  I can't write Chinese, and if I pretend to be
quite illiterate (as indeed I am from the Chinese point of
view) I may hope to pass muster.  I can speak pidgin
English.  We had a Canton servant in Shanghai with
whom I spoke nothing else, and we use it still with the
servants in Moukden."

"But there is a greater difficulty—the difficulty of feature.
You would pass better in Canton as a Manchu, than as a
Cantonese in Manchuria."

"I can only risk it.  A little saffron and henna——"

"And a pigtail, Monsieur Brown?—will you have to
wear a pigtail?" said Gabriele.

"Yes, unluckily," said Jack with a rueful smile.  "My
own hair won't suffice.  But false pigtails are common
enough in China.  I shall ask your help with that,
Mademoiselle."

"It would amuse me—if it were not so terribly serious."

"You will go as a Chinaman, then," said the priest.
"But you must have a story to tell on the way if you are
questioned: have you thought of that?"

"Yes.  Suppose I give out that I am the servant of a
Moukden mandarin, returning from a special mission to
Hun-chun, hinting perhaps at anti-Russian intrigue?"

Father Mayenobe stroked his beard.

"It is inevitable," he said.  "For you this is a state of
war, and in war the first principle is to deceive the enemy.
Still, I do not like your venture.  The more I think of it,
the more heavy do the odds appear against success."

"Father, do not let us go into that again," pleaded
Gabriele.  "Can you suggest any better plan for
Monsieur Brown?"

"I confess I cannot.  Well, let it be so, then.  I will
do all in my power to help you, my son."

A fortnight passed away.  The wet season had begun,
and though the rainfall was not so continuous as is
commonly the case, the streams were swelled to overflowing
and the rough tracks rendered impassable.  The mission
station, being on a hillside, suffered less than huts on the
lower ground.  During the unfavourable weather much
anxious care was given to Jack's preparations.  The
costume was got ready in every detail; Gabriele with
her own hands plaited the pigtail and wadded the loose
tunic and pantaloons.  At last all was in readiness, and
Jack only awaited a fine day to set off.

One afternoon, when the sun was hot, raising a thick
vapour from the sodden fields, Min-chin came running
into the house with the news that a party of Buriats were
riding up the hill.  It happened that Father Mayenobe
had taken advantage of the change of weather to visit
some of his little flock a few miles off.  Without a
moment's delay Jack hastened to the hollow tree, and
was safe inside by the time the horsemen rode up.  They
surrounded the house, and the officer, an older man than
the lieutenant whom Gabriele had discomfited, alighted
at the door and called for the priest.  Gabriele appeared.
It was evident from the officer's manner that he had heard
of her.

"Mademoiselle," he said in French, "you will please
give me a plain answer.  A stranger has been seen in and
about this house.  Who is he?"

"Oh! you mean the catechumen from Almazovsk?"

The captain looked hard at her.

"Come, Mademoiselle, where is the man?"

"The catechumen?  He is gone.  He went three days
ago, all through the rain.  He would not remain, though
Father Mayenobe pressed him to wait in hope of finer
weather.  You seem to doubt me," added the girl.  "The
house has been already searched once, in Father Mayenobe's
absence; I assure you there is nobody in it but our servants;
if you will not accept my assurance you had better
search again."

She moved away, and began to occupy herself with
simple household matters, completely ignoring the
Russians.  The captain did not go shamefacedly about his
work as the lieutenant had done; he searched the little
house thoroughly, ransacking every hole and corner.  The
task did not take him long; he found nothing.  Coming
out again, he beckoned to a man in civilian costume whom
Gabriele had not previously noticed.  As he rode forward,
she started; but in an instant recovered herself.  He spoke
a few words to the captain; then the latter, with a curt
word of farewell to the girl, gave his men the order to ride
away.  Gabriele did not like his look; he had seemed too
easily satisfied, and consulted with the civilian; and she
sent two of the servants to keep watch at the only
convenient approaches to the settlement.  Her precaution
was justified.  Two or three hours later the party rode
back at a gallop.  The alarm was given by one of the
sentinels, and Jack had time to get back into the
serviceable beech before they arrived.  A second search was
made, this also fruitless; then the horsemen finally
departed, convinced against their will that they had come
once more on a false scent.

When Jack left his hiding-place he saw by the expression
of Gabriele's face that she had something to tell him.  A
red spot burned on each cheek, and her eyes were blazing.

"How dare he!  How dare he!" she exclaimed.  "Oh,
if I could have killed him!  It was Ladislas Streleszki,
the traitor, the villain, the man who betrayed my father.
He was our steward; we did not know for a long time
who had done that foul deed; but when my father was
arrested Streleszki disappeared, and it was many months
before we understood."

"Do you mean, Mademoiselle, that he is now a Russian
officer?"

"No, no; but when they came the second time he was
with them."

"Did he not recognize you?"

"No; it is six years since he saw me, and I have changed
very much.  I was afraid he might; I thought perhaps a
chance word from one of the officers in Vladivostok through
whom my applications have passed, had brought him here
to persecute me.  But it cannot be so; he hardly looked
at me.  I knew him at once; he has altered little; his hair
is turning grey; but I could never mistake him; one
eyelid droops and——"

"Indeed!" cried Jack with a start.  "Is it his left eyelid?"

"Yes.  Oh, why do you ask?"

"Sowinski, my father's enemy, has the same defect.  Did
you hear him speak, Mademoiselle?"

"Yes; his voice is gruff and coarse."

"Then Streleszki and Sowinski are the same man.  Good
heavens, we have indeed had a narrow escape!  It would
have been all up with me if I had been found, and I fear
your fate would have been sealed too.  I am to blame for
staying here so long.  I must not bring you into danger
again.  I will go to-day."





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`A Custom of Cathay`:

.. class:: center large bold

   CHAPTER VIII


.. class:: center large bold

   A Custom of Cathay

.. vspace:: 2

.. class:: noindent small

The Forbidden Mountain—Two from Canton—Clutching at
Straws—Ipsos Custodes—A Question of Dollars—The
Yamen—The Majesty of the Law—Judge and Jury—The
Cage—Torture—Mr. Wang—Benevolence and Aid

.. vspace:: 2

"Hai-yah!"

"Ph'ho!"

"Fan-yun!"

"Fan-kwei!"

"Look at his eyes!  How big!  Round as the moon.
See how they goggle and glare!"

"Yah!  Ugly beast!  His nose!  Look at it!  Like the
beak of a hawk."

"And his hair!  Ch'hoy!  Like the fleece of a sheep."

"And his clothes!  Ragged as a quail's tail."

"No doubt of it, he is a foreign devil, ugly pig."

"Why still alive?  Kill him at once, say I.  Foreign
devils are dangerous to keep.  One come, thousands follow.
Kill at once; if we had done that with the Russians, no
more trouble.  He will bring ill-luck on the village.  What
luck have we had since the Russians came digging into
the Hill of a Thousand Perfumes?  Who can say how
many demons they let loose?"

"Yah!  Who has found ginseng since then, who?
Nothing but ill-luck now.  An Pow dead, strong as he
was; Sun Soo drowned in the river; all our oxen carried
off by Ah Lum and his Chunchuses.  Hai! hai!  And this
foreign devil will make things worse.  Why did they not
chop off his head at once?"

To this conversation, carried on within a few feet of
him, Jack listened in a somewhat apathetic spirit.  He
was utterly dejected, worn out, humiliated.  He lay in a
large wooden cage near the headman's house in the
village of Tang-ho-kou in the Long White Mountains.
It was a secluded spot, in a district supposed to be sacred
to the emperor's ancestors, where it was sacrilege even for
a Chinaman to tread.  The inhabitants were an exclusive
community, ruled by a guild, owning only nominal
allegiance to the emperor, and essentially a self-governed
republic.  They were unmolested, for government is lax
in Manchuria, and the Long White Mountains are far
from the capital and difficult ground to police; theoretically
the guildsmen went in danger of their heads, practically
they were monarch of all they surveyed.

A group of the villagers was collected on this July
evening about the cage, discussing the foreign prisoner,
interrupting their conversation to snarl at him.

"It is true; his head ought to be chopped off, but they
were afraid."

"Afraid of what?"

"Of what might be done to them.  The illustrious
viceroy at Moukden is very strict.  Even a foreign devil
may not be killed without leave.  Why?  Because if one
is killed, there is trouble.  The kings of the foreign devils
are angry, and many good Chinese heads have to fall.
They have sent to ask leave to behead the barbarian:
better still, to slice him.  He fought like a hill tiger
when they caught him, and two men even now lie
wounded."

"How did they catch him?"

"A Canton man, mafoo to his excellency General Ping
at Moukden, overtook him riding in the hills.  He was
making a bird's noise with his lips; that was suspicious.
But the Canton man was wary.  He spoke to him as a
friend, and rode alongside.  Where did he come from?
Thus asked the Canton man.  The barbarian shook his head
and answered in pidgin, the tongue of the foreign devil in
the south.  Yah!  That was his ruin.  Our Canton friend
also speaks pidgin.  'You come from Canton?' says he.
'Yes.'  'What part?  Where did you live?  Do you
know this place or that?  What is your business?'  Those
were his questions; a shrewd fellow, the Canton man.  He
left him at the next village; then followed with six strong
men.  They got ahead of him, hid in a copse by the
roadside, and when the foreign devil came up, rushed out upon
him.  They were seven; but it was a hard fight.  Ch'hoy!
These barbarians are in league with a thousand demons;
that is why they are so fierce and strong.  But they got
him at last, and brought him here; worse luck! he shall
suffer for it yet."

The crowd drew nearer to their helpless prisoner, stared
at him, jeered, cast stones and offal, and, worked up by
the teller of the story, were only kept from tearing him to
pieces by the guard and the bars of the cage.  Exposed
without shelter to the broiling sun, Jack was dizzy and
faint.  His clothes had been torn to tatters in the struggle,
his pigtail wrenched from his head.  He had had no food
for many hours, and, what was worse, no water.

He had been able to catch the gist of what the chief
speaker in the crowd had said.  How stupid of him to
whistle—a thing a Chinaman never does!  How unlucky
that he had met a man from Canton!  The dialects of the
north and south differ so much that by professing to be a
Southerner he had come so far on his journey undetected;
but in conversation with a Cantonese his accent had
inevitably betrayed him.  And now he knew that he could
expect no mercy.  A European carries his life in his
hands in China whenever he ventures alone out of the
beaten track.  In Manchuria just then, with the natives
embittered by the wanton destruction of their towns and
villages, the chances of a captive being spared were
infinitesimal.  Only fear of the mandarins had apparently
caused them to hold their hands in his case; but Jack
had little reason to suppose that the mandarins would
interfere to protect him.  No order would be issued; but
the villagers would receive a hint to do as they pleased;
and Jack well knew what their pleasure would be.  In
the unlikely event of diplomatic pressure being afterwards
brought to bear, the mandarins could still repudiate
responsibility, and the villagers would suffer; several,
probably the most innocent, would lose their heads.  But
Jack knew that he had placed himself outside the
protection of the British flag.  Neither the mandarins nor
the villagers had anything to fear.

The sun went down; the village watchman beat his
wooden gong; and the group gradually dispersed.  Only
the guard was left.  Parched with thirst, Jack ventured
to address him, asking for a cup of water.  The man, with
more humanity than the most, after some hesitation
acceded.  He was generous, and brought also a mess of
rice.  Greatly refreshed by the meal, scanty though it
was, Jack felt his spirits rising; with more of hope he
began to canvass the possibilities in his favour.  But he
had to admit that they were slight.  There was just one
ray of light, dim indeed; but a pin-point glimmer is
precious in the dark.  He had heard the villagers mention
the brigand Ah Lum, the chief of the Chunchuses, who
had levied upon their oxen.  This was the chief whom
Wang Shih had left Moukden to join.  If Jack could
only communicate with Wang Shih there might still be
a chance for him.

He began a whispered conversation with his guard, and
learnt that, a few days before, Ah Lum's band was known
to be encamped in the hills some twenty miles to the
south-west.  It was resting and recruiting its strength after a
severe brush with a force of Cossacks, who had almost
succeeded in cutting it to pieces during a raid on the railway.

"Do you know Wang Shih?"

"No; Ah Lum has several lieutenants.  His band numbers
nearly eight hundred; there were more than a thousand
before the fight with the Russians."

"You know what a dollar is?"

"It is worth many strings of cash."

"Well, if you will take word to Mr. Wang about me,
I will give you fifty dollars."

"Where will you get them from?" asked the man
suspiciously.  "Were you not searched, and everything taken
from you?"

"True, I was searched; but the foreign devil has ways
of getting money that the Chinaman does not understand.
It is a small thing I ask you to do.  The reward is great;
fifty dollars, hundreds of strings of cash.  You will never
get such a chance again."

True to the oriental instinct for haggling, the man argued
and discussed for some time before he at last agreed to
Jack's proposition.

"You must make haste," said Jack.  "If the messenger
to the mandarin returns before you, I shall be killed and
you will get no money."

The man at once explained that it was impossible for
him to leave the village; he must find a messenger.

"Very well.  He is to find Wang Shih and say that
Jack Brown from Moukden is in peril of death.  You can
say the name?"

"Chack Blown," said the man.

"That will do.  Now, when can you send your man?"

The guard said that he would be shortly relieved; then
he would lose no time.  In a few minutes a man came to
take his place, and Jack, with mingled hopes and fears,
settled himself in a corner of the cage, to sleep if possible.
Half an hour later the guard returned with the welcome
news that a messenger had started, after bargaining for
twenty of the fifty dollars, and would travel all night on
foot, for he had no horse, and to hire one would awaken
suspicion.

"But," added the guard, "he is a trusty man, much
respected, and a great hater of foreign devils, like all good
Chinamen.  If he had had his way the honourable foreign
devil would have been executed this afternoon."

"Then how comes it," asked Jack, "that he is willing
to go as messenger?"

The guide looked puzzled.

"Surely the honourable barbarian understands?  Did I
not explain that I promised Mr. Fu twenty dollars?"

Even in his misery Jack could not forbear a smile.  His
messenger was doubtless the man who had led the chorus
of threats and insults a few hours before.  The man's
convictions were no doubt still the same; but the prospect
of a few dollars had completely divorced precept from
practice.

Then Jack reflected that the enterprise was a poor
chance at the best.  There was little likelihood of the man
finding Wang Shih in time, and if he found him, it was
uncertain whether his sense of gratitude was sufficiently
keen to bring him to the rescue.  Yet, in spite of all,
Jack's impatient eager thought followed the messenger,
as though hope could give him winged feet.

He spent a miserable night.  In that hill country even
the summer nights are cold; and his clothes having been
well-nigh torn from his back, he had scant protection.
He slept but little, lying awake for hours listening to the
mice and rats scampering around the cage, and to the
long-drawn melancholy howls of the village dogs.

Soon after dawn he heard a great commotion in the
village.  His pulse beat high; he hoped that Wang Shih
had arrived.  But when his friendly guardian came to
resume duty, his heart sank, for he learnt that the
headman's messenger to the local mandarin had returned,
bringing word that the barbarian should be suitably dealt
with by the guild.  The mandarin had evidently washed
his hands of the matter; the guard had no doubt that
when the headman was ready Jack would be taken before
him, and he must expect no mercy.  The people had never
ceased to grumble at the delay in executing him; and
nothing could be hoped of the headman, for he was a
native of Harbin, and bore a bitter grudge against the
Russians, who in constructing their railway had cut
through his family graveyard, and in defiling the bones
of his ancestors had done him the worst injury a Chinaman
can suffer.  Jack was to have no breakfast; his captors
were so sure of his fate that they thought it would
be a mere waste to feed him.

An hour passed—a terrible hour of suspense.  The
villagers began to gather round the cage, and their looks
of gleeful and malicious satisfaction struck Jack cold.
All at once they broke into loud shouting as a posse of
armed yamen-runners forced their way through.  Jack
was taken out of the cage, and, surrounded by the runners
and followed by the jabbering crowd, was marched to the
headman's house.  He there found himself in the
presence of a dignified Chinaman, a glossy black moustache
encircling his mouth and chin, his long finger-nails
denoting that he did not condescend to menial work.
He was in fact a prosperous farmer, who, besides
possessing large estates (to which he had no title) in the
Forbidden Country, carried on an extensive trade in
ginseng, a plant to which extraordinary medicinal virtues are
attributed by the Chinese, and so valuable that a single
root will sometimes fetch as much as £15 in the Peking
market.  The headman, feeling the importance of the
occasion, had got himself up in imitation of a magistrate,
wearing a round silk buttoned cap and a blue tunic.

He had evidently made a study of the procedure in a
mandarin's yamen.  He was the only man seated at a long
table; at each end stood a scribe with a dirty book, which
might or might not have been a book of law, outspread
before him; at his right hand stood a man with a lighted
pipe, from which during the proceedings the headman
took occasional whiffs; in front stood a group of runners
in weird costumes, wearing black cloth caps with red
tassels.  From the sour expression on the Chinaman's
face Jack knew that he was already judged and
condemned; but he held his head high, and gazed
unflinchingly on the stern-visaged Chinaman.

It is proper for a prisoner to take his trial on his knees,
and one of the runners approached Jack and sharply bade
him kneel.  He refused.  Two other men came up with
threatening gestures, and laid hands on him to force him
down.  He resisted; he had the rooted European
objection to kowtow to an Asiatic.  With too much good sense
to indulge himself in heroics, he yet recalled at this
moment by a freak of memory the lines written on the heroic
Private Moyse of the Buffs.  His back stiffened; there
was the making of a pretty wrestling match; but the
headman, mindful of the stout fight when the prisoner was
arrested, and desiring that the proceedings should be
conducted with decorum, ordered his men to desist.  Then he
began his interrogatory.

"You are an Russian?"

"No, an Englishman."

"Where have you been living?"

"In Moukden."

"What have you been doing there?"

"I lived with my father."

"Who is he?"

"He is a merchant."

"What is his name?"

"He is known as Mr. Brown of Moukden."

"What did he trade in?"

"In many things.  He supplied stores of all kinds."

"To the Russians?"

"Yes."

"Assisting them to build the iron road that is the ruin
of Manchuria?"

"I believe your august emperor gave the Russians permission."

"Do not dare to mention the Son of Heaven.  Do not
dare, I say, you foreign devil!  Where is your father now?"

"I do not know.  He was arrested by the Russians."

"Why?"

"They accused him of giving information to the Japanese."

"Did he give information?"

"No."

"Ch'hoy!  Then clearly he was in league with the
Russians.  He, too, is worthy of death.  What brought
you into the Shan-yan-alin mountains?"

"I am trying to find my father.  I was on my way to Moukden."

"Do you know that the Ch'ang-pai-shan is sacred to
the emperor?  Nobody is allowed to tread these hills, on
pain of death."

"I am in your honour's august company."

The headman winced and blinked.  That was a home-thrust.
He grew angry.

"Enough!  You are a foreign devil.  By your own
confession you have been in league with the Russians,
assisting them in their impious work, disturbing the
feng-shui in the most sacred city of the virtuous Son of
Heaven.  You are found in insolent disguise within the
limits of the Forbidden Mountains; you resisted lawful
arrest, to the severe injury of two of my officers.  It is
clear that you are a vile example of the outer barbarians
who are scheming to drive the Manchu from his
immemorial lands, defiling the graves of our fathers, and
bringing our sons to shame.  You are not fit to live;
every one of your offences is punishable with death; in
their sum you are lightly touched by my sentence upon
you, that you suffer the ling-ch'ih, and then be beheaded.
Confess your crimes."

Jack had answered the man's questions briefly and
calmly, and listened with unmoved countenance to his
speech.  The decision was only what he had expected.
The worst was to come.  He knew that by the laws and
customs of China he could not be executed until he had
acknowledged the justice of the sentence and made open
confession of his crime; he knew also that, failing to
confess voluntarily, he would be tortured by all the most
fiendish methods devised by Chinese ingenuity until
confession was extorted from his lacerated, half-inanimate
frame.  The end would be the same; for a moment, in his
helplessness and despair, he thought it would perhaps be
better to acquiesce at once and get it over.  But then
pride of race stepped in.  Could he, innocent as he felt
himself to be, act a lie by even formally acquiescing in the
sentence?  He did not know how far his fortitude would
enable him to bear the tortures in store; but he would not
allow the mere prospect to cow him.  He had paused but
a moment.

"I have nothing to confess," he said.

The headman gave a grunt of satisfaction.

"Put him in the cage," he said.

Jack's blood ran cold in spite of himself.  The word
used by his judge was not the name of the cage in which
he had already been confined, but meant an instrument of
torture.  Amid the exultant hoots of the crowd of natives,
who spat on the ground as he passed, he was hauled from
the presence and taken to a yard near by.  In the centre
of it stood a bamboo cage somewhat more than five feet
high.  Its top consisted of two movable slabs of wood
which, when brought together, left a hole large enough to
encircle a man's neck, but too small for his head to pass
through.  The height of the cage was so adjusted, that
when the prisoner was inside with his head protruding
from the top he could only avoid being hung by the
neck so long as his feet rested on a brick.  By and by
that would be removed; he might defer strangulation for
a short time by standing on tiptoe, but that would soon
become too painful.  Jack had never seen the instrument
in use, but he had heard of it, and he quailed at the
imagination of the torture he was to endure.

His arms were bound together; he was locked into the
cage; his head was enclosed; and the mob jeered and
yelled as, the brick being knocked away after a few
minutes, he instinctively raised himself on his toes to ease
the pressure on his neck.  How long could he endure
it? he wondered.  Had the messenger failed to find Wang
Shih?  Had some perverse fate removed the Chunchuse
band at this moment of dire peril?  Humanly speaking,
his salvation depended on Wang Shih, and on him alone:
was his last hope to prove vain?  Should he now yield,
confess, and spare himself further torture?  Already he
was suffering intense pain; he gained momentary relief
for his feet by drawing up his legs, a movement which
brought his whole weight upon his neck; but that was
endurable only for a few seconds.  He closed his eyes to
shut out the sight of the yelling mob; pressed his lips
together lest a moan should escape him: "I will never
give in, never give in."  he said to himself; "pray God it
may not be long."

The pain became excruciating; he no longer saw or
heard the yelling fiends gloating over every spasm of his
tortured body; he was fast sinking into unconsciousness,
and the headman, fearful of losing his victim, was about
to give the order for his temporary release, when suddenly
his ears caught the sound of galloping horses.  The noise
around him lulled; he heard loud shouts in the distance,
and drawing ever nearer.  Then the crowd scattered like
chaff, and through their midst rode a brawny figure
brandishing a riding-whip of bamboo.  Dashing through
the amazed throng at the head of thirty shouting bandits
he leapt from his horse, sprang to the cage, tore away the
catch holding the two panels together, and Jack fell, an
unconscious heap, to the bottom of the cage.

The first alarm being now passed, the villagers raised a
hubbub.  They clustered about the new-comers, protesting
with all their might that the prisoner was merely a
foreign devil, an impious pig.  But Wang Shih cleared a
space with his whip; then, springing to the saddle again,
he raised his voice in a shout that dominated and silenced
the clamour of the mob.

"Hai-yah!  What are you doing, men of Tang-ho-kou?
Is this foreigner a Russian that you treat him thus?  A
fine thing truly!  You skulk in your fangtzes, afraid to
come out with the honourable Ah Lum and me and fight
the Russians, and yet you are bold enough to catch a
solitary man, a friend of the Chinaman, and to misuse him
thus because he is alone!  Know you not that he is an
enemy of the Russians?  They have imprisoned his father;
it is reverence for his father that brings him here.  Is filial
piety so little esteemed in Tang-ho-kou to-day?  Ch'hoy!
I see your headman aping a lordly mandarin; let him
listen.  I say you are lucky I do not burn your village
and execute a dozen of you as you were about to execute
the stranger.  But I will be merciful.  I will take from you
a contribution of five thousand taels for my chief; and
your headman—ch'hoy! he shall stand for half an hour in
the cage.  That shall suffice.  But beware how you offend
again.  Learn to distinguish your friends from your
enemies—an Englishman from the Russians whom the dwarfs
of Japan are helping us to drive back to the frozen north.
Take heed of what I say—I, Wang Shih, the worthless
servant of his excellency Ah Lum, the virtuous commander
of many honourable brigands."

This speech made an impression upon the crowd.  The
headman was beginning to slink away, but Wang Shih
noticed the movement and sent one of his men after him.
In spite of his protests he was dragged to the cage,
from which Jack, now fully conscious, had been removed;
he was fastened in it, and compelled to tiptoe as his
erstwhile prisoner had done.  But after some minutes
Jack, with a vivid remembrance of his own sufferings,
interceded for the wretched man, and Wang Shih released
him, bidding him collect from the villagers the tribute he
had demanded.  The presence of the thirty well-armed
Chunchuses was a powerful spur to haste, and within half
an hour the amount was raised.  Meanwhile Jack's neck
had been bathed, and his muscles were beginning to
recover from the strain to which they had been put.  He
declared that he was well enough to ride away with his
deliverers.  He had first to pay the guard the fifty dollars
agreed upon.  Not wishing to disclose the hiding-place in
the soles of his boots where he kept his notes, he borrowed
from Wang Shih the necessary sum in bar silver.  Then,
mounted upon a horse borrowed from the headman's own
stables, he rode with the brigands from the village.





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.. _`Ah Lum`:

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   CHAPTER IX


.. class:: center large bold

   Ah Lum

.. vspace:: 2

.. class:: noindent small

Ishmaels—The Chief—Fair Words—Wise Saws—Ah Fu's
Tutors—An Honorary Appointment—Chopping Maxims—A
Deputation—Hunting the Boar—A Forest Monarch—Charging
Home—The Knife—A Close Call

.. vspace:: 2

The Chunchuse camp, Jack learnt as he rode, was some
thirty miles distant in the hills.  It had been shifted; it
was always shifting; that was why the intervention of
Wang Shih had been so nearly too late.

Jack was somewhat amused when he reflected on the
strange company in which he found himself.  He had
heard a good deal about these redoubtable bandits, but
never till this day had he seen any of them.  Their bands
were, he knew, very miscellaneous in their composition.
Escaped prisoners, whether guilty, or innocent like Wang
Shih, frequently sought refuge with one or other of the
brigand chiefs.  Men who had been ruined in business,
or were too indolent for regular work; men possessed of
grievances against the mandarins, or by a sheer lust of
adventure and lawlessness; helped to swell their numbers;
and Mr. Brown had once remarked that they reminded
him of the motley band that gathered about David in the
cave Adullam: "Every one that was in distress, and every
one that was in debt, and every one that was discontented".

The name Chunchuse means "red beard", and was
originally applied by the natives to any foreigner.  Since
the bandits were almost all clean-shaven, like the majority
of Chinamen, Jack could only conjecture that they were
styled "red beards" from some fancied resemblance of
their predatory ways to the methods of the hated foreigners.
They were held in terror by all the law-abiding inhabitants,
and the machinery of the Chinese government was totally
unable to keep them down.  Since the coming of the
Russians they had grown in numbers and in power.
Knowing every inch of the country they were able to
wage an effective guerrilla warfare against the invaders,
often surprising scouting parties of Siberian riflemen or
Cossacks, raiding isolated camps, damaging the railways,
and capturing convoys.

Jack was interested in taking stock of his strange
companions.  They were tall strapping fellows, powerfully
built, with muscular and athletic frames, and they included
men of every race known in Manchuria.  Their costumes
differed as greatly as the men themselves.  Some were
clad in the usual garb of Chinamen; others had black cloth
jackets with brass buttons, tight-fitting trousers, and long
riding-boots reaching to the knees.  Their heads were
covered with knotted handkerchiefs of red, black, or yellow
cotton, beneath which their pigtails were coiled up out of
sight.  Each carried a rifle and a revolver stuck in his
leather belt.

On the way to the camp Wang Shih gave Jack a few
particulars about the band, in which he had already risen
to a high position.  Ah Lum, the chief, had been for many
years notorious for the daring with which he would swoop
with a few men on rich merchants travelling through the
country, even though they might be escorted by Chinese
soldiers.  But since the outbreak of the war such sources
of gain had ceased, and he had gradually collected a very
large following for the purpose of conducting irregular
operations against his country's despoilers.  All were
magnificent horsemen; the Russians had in vain endeavoured
to hunt them down; and the very rifles they carried were
the spoil of successful raids.

After a ride of about five hours through the hills, Wang
Shih's party reached the Chunchuse camp.  It was a
strange mixture of shelters, many of them huts built of
the stalks of kowliang, yet arranged, as Jack noticed, in
a certain order.  Conspicuous in the middle of the camp
was a large tent, in which, as they approached, Jack
recognized the Russian service pattern.  This too was
evidently part of the spoil of a raid.

At the outskirts of the camp Wang Shih dismissed his
men, proceeding alone with Jack to the tent.  It was the
head-quarters of the chief.  There was no sign of state,
no sentinel at the entrance; Wang Shih rode up
unquestioned, and unceremoniously shouted into the tent
for Mr. Ah.  If Jack had expected to see the typical
brigand of romance he must have been disappointed.
Ah Lum was the shortest member of the band, a wiry
figure with a slight stoop.  His appearance was that
of a university professor rather than a warrior.  He was
apparently between forty and fifty years of age, with an
intelligent and thoughtful cast of countenance, enhanced
by a pair of horn spectacles over which he looked
searchingly when Jack was introduced to him.  Ah Lum was,
in fact, a man of considerable education and even
learning.  He had taken the highest honours in the
examinations for the successive degrees of Cultivated Talent,
Uplifted Literary Man, and Exalted Bookworm; and the
poems he composed when competing for a place in the
Board of Civil Office were acknowledged as superior to
anything recently written in the Mandarin language.  But
his success on this occasion awoke a bitter jealousy in the
breast of a "same-year-man" who had kept pace with him
throughout his career until this last promotion.  The
disappointed candidate adopted a characteristically Chinese
mode of wreaking vengeance.  He committed suicide on
Ah Lum's door-step.  According to Chinese belief Ah Lum
would not only be haunted ever after by his rival's spirit,
but would also have to clear himself before the mandarin's
court of a charge of murder.  Unluckily the mandarin
was an enemy of Ah Lum; his price for a favourable
judgment was more than the Exalted Bookworm could
offer; and the latter, seeing that his condemnation was
certain, discreetly vacated his desk at the Board of Civil
Office and betook himself to the mountains.

Jack only learnt all this gradually.  His first impression
of Ah Lum as a spectacled, courteous, polished savant left
him wondering how such a man had succeeded in imposing
his authority on the hard-living, hard-faring, reckless
set of outlaws who composed his band.  That he had
some personal force of character was a foregone
conclusion, for his position could depend on nothing else.
He received Jack very kindly, and, having Heard his story
from Wang Shih, promised to do all he could to help him.

"Mr. Wang," he said, bowing to his lieutenant, "does
me the honour to be my friend.  Has he not rendered me
great services?  Surely it becomes me to serve his friends
when my insignificant capabilities permit.  Meanwhile
deign, sir, to regard all our contemptible possessions as
your own, and excuse our numberless shortcomings.
Where good-will is the cook, the dish is already seasoned."

He paused, as though expecting a comment on the proverb.

"Quite so," said Jack, feeling that he ought to say
something.

The chief proceeded at once to warn him of the danger
of pursuing further his attempt to enter Moukden in
disguise.  If he tried to pass as a Canton man he might at
any moment meet a real Cantonese, as had already
happened to his cost; and, besides, the Cantonese were not
loved in Manchuria.  As a Manchu, on the other hand,
he would be apt to betray himself in endless little ways.
However, if he were bent on it, Ah Lum would do what
he could to secure him good treatment.  Meanwhile, after
what he had gone through, a few days' rest in camp would
do him no harm.

"Haste is the parent of delay," he said; "whereas if
one has a mind to beat a stone, the stone will in due time
have a hole in it."

Again he paused, like an actor waiting for the gallery's
applause to his tag.

"A very sound maxim," said Jack, thinking it well to
humour this singular moralist.

The chief concluded with an offer of hospitality so
cordial, that Jack, anxious as he was to pursue his mission,
could not well decline it.

Wang Shih, Jack found, was third in command.  His
enormous strength, allied to a bull-dog courage, had
enabled him to force his way to the front in a community
where those qualities were esteemed above all others.
That they were not the only titles to respect was proved
by the position of the chief; and the longer Jack stayed in
the camp the more he was impressed by the ease and
firmness with which Ah Lum swayed his band.

The chief had a son, a boy of twelve, who from the first
took a great liking to Jack.  Ah Fu was a bright boy,
vivacious for a Chinese; and Ah Lum loved him with even
more than the usual Chinaman's devotion.  He doted on
the child.  He never tired of talking about him to Jack.

"If," he said, "a man has much money, but no child,
he cannot be reckoned rich: if he has children, but no
money, he cannot be reckoned poor.  And I am blessed in
my son: he is dutiful, respectful, voracious of knowledge.
'A bad son', says the Sage, 'is as a dunning creditor;
but a good son as the repayment of a long-standing debt'."

At great pains he had kidnapped two graduates for the
express purpose of having Ah Fu carefully trained in the
elements of Chinese culture.  Himself a man of education,
he set the highest value on learning.  "Weeds are the
only harvest of an untilled field," he would say.  "Though
your sons be well disposed, yet if they be not duly
instructed, what can you expect of them but ignorance?"  In
addition to his daily instruction in the philosophers
and poets, the boy went through all kinds of physical
exercises—practising with the bow and the rifle, riding a
spirited little pony, learning fearless horsemanship from
the best rider in the band; and the Chunchuses rival the
Cossacks in the superb management of their steeds.
Before Jack had been a day in the camp he was requested
by the chief to teach his son English.  He agreed, though
he thought that in the short time he was to spend with
them not much could be done.  Ah Lum was very pressing
in the matter.  Jack, he was sure, had all the learning of
the west (this tickled Jack; how the fourth-form master
at Sherborne would have roared!).  The learning of the
east Ah Lum himself could get for the boy.  In addition
to the kidnapped graduates he had his eye on an astronomer
of distinction at Kirin, and at Tieling there lived a
very learned man, skilled in the casting of horoscopes.
But he had naturally few opportunities of providing
European instruction.  "True doctrine cannot injure the true
scholar," he said.  "An ounce of wisdom is worth a world
of gold."  He was particularly anxious that Ah Fu should
lack nothing in education through his father's outlawed
condition.  Himself a poet, he set much store by poetry;
and having learnt from Jack that the most popular
English poet was Tennyson, he made it a special point that
the boy should from the first learn some of his poems.
Jack was amused; he did not tell the chief that poetry
was not so highly esteemed in England as in China; but
happening to know a few odds and ends of Tennyson's
verse, he got Ah Fu to repeat them after him until the
boy could recite them faultlessly.  Jack had his doubts
whether the poems thus recited would have been
recognized by an Englishman, but that was nothing to the
point.

After a week, when he felt his strength thoroughly
recruited, Jack spoke of continuing his journey.  But Ah
Lum, in his politest manner, urged excellent reasons why
he should remain a little longer.  It had been raining
almost continuously since his arrival; the streams were in
flood; the rivers were not fordable.  Moreover, a large
body of Russian troops was moving between the camp
and Moukden; and Chinamen were being narrowly
questioned and examined under suspicion of being Japanese
spies in disguise.  Day after day passed; every hint of
Jack's that he wished to be off was met by some new
excuse enforced by maxims, and turned by a question as
to how Ah Fu was getting on with his poetry.  At last
Jack grew uneasy and suspicious; it appeared as if Ah
Lum intended to keep him as an additional tutor, unpaid.
He began to think of taking French leave, but was
restrained by several considerations: the fact that he owed
his life to the brigands; the danger lest his disappearance
should cause a quarrel between Wang Shih and the chief;
the hope that he might find the Chunchuses useful in
prosecuting his search; and the risk of recapture, for he
knew that the country people would certainly give him
up to the chief if they caught him.

He abandoned therefore the idea of flight, resolving to
stay on with what patience he could muster, and hoping
to obtain his end by mild persistence.  But his courteous
and repeated applications were met by still more courteous
and equally firm refusals—not direct refusals, but regrets
that on one pretext or another the "Ingoua superior man"
could not safely leave the camp.  Ah Lum's stock of
proverbs and maxims was again drawn upon.  "Though
powerful drugs be nauseous to the taste, they are
beneficial to the stomach.  So, candid advice may be
unpleasant to the ear, but it is profitable for the conduct.
The carpenter makes the cangue that he himself may be
doomed to wear."

"Exactly."

There was a want of conviction in Jack's stereotyped
reply.  He was growing tired of these eternal copy-book
headings, which seemed to him often the merest platitudes—tired
of expressing the assent which his sententious host
always looked for.  He asked Wang Shih to expostulate
with the chief; but when the Chinaman ventured to
suggest that the young Englishman's dutiful regard for his
father ought to be respected and his errand furthered, he
got a good snubbing for his pains.

"It is easy to convince a wise man," said Ah Lum with
a snap; "but to reason with fools, that is a difficult
undertaking.  You cannot turn a somersault in an oyster-shell."

Greatly daring, Wang Shih cited a maxim very
pertinent, he thought, to the case.

"True, honourable sir; but is it not written: 'Of a
hundred virtues, filial piety is the best'?"

"No doubt," retorted Ah Lum, still more snappishly.
"But remember that if a man has good desires, heaven
will assuredly grant them."

And Jack had to kick his heels, and drum poetry into
Ah Fu, thinking disrespectfully of proverbial philosophy.

Thus three weeks passed.  During this period the band
grew steadily stronger.  Jack reckoned that it now
numbered at least eleven hundred.  The rains having ceased,
the camp was moved some twenty miles to the north-west,
not in a direct line to Moukden, but nearer to that city.
To Jack this was a crumb of comfort; but there were
disadvantages in the change, for with the finer weather and
the removal to somewhat lower ground, the midges and
mosquitoes became more lively and troublesome, and he
spent many a hot hour of pain and smart.

Another fortnight went by.  The Chunchuses had been
inactive so far as brigandage was concerned, and, except
that they did no work, they might have been nothing but
a peaceful mountain tribe.  But one day a deputation
came to the chief from a village lying in the midst of a
woody and well-cultivated valley a few miles from the
camp.  They announced that their plantations of young
bamboos were being devastated by a herd of wild boars
with which they were unable to cope, and they had been
deputed to beg the Chunchuse chief to come to their
assistance.  Ah Lum was never unwilling to please the country
people when he saw a chance of gaining a substantial
advantage.  "Let no man," he would say, "despise the
snake that has no horns, for who can say that it may not
become a dragon?"  Food was running short, and but for
the deputation it was probable that some fine night the
village would have been raided and plundered.  But the
request for assistance opened the way for a deal; Ah Lum
consented to organize a battue in return for a large supply
of food and fodder; and after half a day had been spent
in haggling, the deputation returned, promising to send in
the quantity first demanded.

The chief was exceedingly pleased.

"Do not rashly provoke quarrels, but let concord and
good understanding prevail among neighbours.  Seeing
an opportunity to make a bargain, one should think of
righteousness."

Jack welcomed the impending hunt as a pleasant change,
and appeared to gratify the chief when he asked to be
allowed to join in it.  As a diversion from the sugared
sweetness of Tennyson, he bethought himself to teach
Ah Fu Fielding's fine song "A-hunting we will go"; and
when the boy learnt the meaning of the words, he was all
afire to share in the chase.  Ah Lum was pleased with his
spirit; but being unwilling that his only son should run
any risk, he at first declined his request.  The boy
persisted, pointing out that he was already a good shot, and
asking what was the good of his learning poems of hunting
if he was not allowed to express in action the ardour
thus fostered.  This argument appealed to the chief's
sense of the fitness of things; he would have agreed with
Socrates that action was the end of heroic poetry; he
yielded, stipulating, however, that throughout the hunt
the boy should remain at his side.

Jack soon found that the hunt was not to be conducted
on the lines of pig-sticking in India.  He remembered the
vivid account of such an adventure given him by a Behar
planter whom he had once met on board a steamer between
Shanghai and Newchang.  Nor were the animals to be
caught in artfully-contrived pits, as is the custom in
Manchuria.  The chief was ignorant of the Indian method,
and was possessed of too strong a sporting instinct to be
content with the work of a trapper; it was to be a real
hunt, as he understood it.  The cover in which the boars
were known to lurk was about a square mile in extent.
Ah Lum intended to take advantage of the large force at
his disposal and arrange for beaters to drive the animals
to a comparatively open space, at the end of which he and
a select few would take up their positions and shoot down
the boars as they emerged from cover.  This seemed
likely to be a safe way of effecting the desired object; and
though not sport in the British sense, it would at any rate
make some demand on their nerve and their marksmanship.

The important day came.  On a bright fresh morning,
soon after the sun had gilded the hilltops, when the air
was clear and a cool breeze tempered the summer heat,
Ah Lum, accompanied by seven of his best marksmen and
by Ah Fu and Jack, rode down to skirt the base of the
hill and gain the northern side of the clearing to which the
boars were to be driven.  Jack had been provided with a
rifle and a long knife; his pupil rode at his side, armed
with a carbine; and very proudly the boy bore himself.
At the foot of the hill the party were met by some of the
villagers, come to guide them to their destination.  When
they reached the spot they found that the clearing was
about a furlong across, with thin plantations behind them
and on either side, and in front a mass of dense, almost
impenetrable scrub interspersed with trees.

The party of ten took up their position in line facing
the scrub, standing a few feet apart; Ah Lum was in the
centre, with the boy on his left, and Jack one place farther
in the same direction.  Jack felt that if the Manchurian
boar was anything like the Indian specimen of which his
planter friend had told him, the party might have a lively
time should two or three of the beasts break cover at the
same moment, especially if they should charge down through
the plantations on left and right.  The Chunchuses,
however, were evidently secure in their numbers and the
stopping power of their military rifles.

The beaters, nearly a thousand strong, had been sent
to their allotted positions earlier in the morning.  They
formed a rough semicircle more than two miles in length.
When all was ready, the chief sent a horseman to the
farthest point with orders to begin the beat.  The clang
of a gong soon rang out in the still morning air;
immediately the sound was taken up all along the arc; drums,
gongs, rattles, shrill yells combined to form a
pandemonium of noise.  Flocks of birds clattered out of the
tree-tops and flew in consternation over the country;
hares and rabbits darted out of the underwood as the
beaters closed in; a fox or two, even a wolf, came
padding out, stopped at the edge, gave a glance at the line
of men, and disappeared on either side.  All these passed
unmolested; the ten stood in silent expectation, ready to
bring their weapons to the shoulder.

Suddenly from the centre of the scrub pounded with
lowered tusks a large boar.  He had advanced some
yards into the open before he was aware of the ten
human figures ranged opposite to him.  Then, swerving
heavily to the left, he trotted towards the plantation.  At
the same moment two shots rang out as one; the chief
and his son had fired together, the others waiting in
courtesy.  Ah Lum, for all his spectacles, his poetry, and
his sentences, was an excellent shot; the boar fell within
a yard of the trees; the chief's bullet had penetrated his
brain.

Hardly had the smoke cleared away when two other
boars appeared at different parts of the scrub.  Eight
rifles flashed; the boar to the right fell; but the other,
unhurt, instead of making towards safety in the plantation,
dashed straight across the open.  As by a miracle
it survived a volley from the whole party of ten, and had
come within twenty yards of them before it was struck
mortally and rolled over.  The hunters, their attention
fixed on the gallant beast that had just succumbed, did
not notice that he was followed at a few yards by a huge
tusker, the glare of whose red eyes sent a thrill through
one at least of the party.  Dashing at headlong speed
through the plantation almost in a line with the hunters,
the boar came on unswervingly, heedless of a scattering
fire.  The hunters impeded each other; Ah Lum and the
men on his right could hardly fire as they stood
without hitting their companions.  There was a moment's
hesitation; then the chief, with a cry to his boy to run,
stepped calmly to the front, preparing to fire at a range
of only a few yards.  But one of his men on the left, in a
nervous anxiety born of the emergency, rushed forward,
and, stumbling against his leader, spoilt his aim.  The shot
flew wide.  The unfortunate man paid dearly for his clumsiness.
In another moment the boar was among the party,
making frantic rushes, ripping and tearing with his
formidable tusks, his bloodshot eyes glaring with the
concentrated fury which only a wounded boar can express.
Several shots were fired, but the beast's movements were
so rapid that they either missed him, or, hitting him at a
non-fatal spot, served only still further to infuriate him.
The inexperienced hunters, indeed, were in greater danger
than the boar from each other's firearms.  They hesitated
in confusion, moving this way and that to avoid each other;
then, in a sudden panic, several of them took to their heels
and made for the shelter of the trees.

But Ah Fu stood his ground, as though fascinated.  His
father and Jack perceived at the same moment that the
boar in desperate and vengeful rage was heading straight
for the boy, who held his carbine at the slant, looking on
as at some fearful thrilling spectacle.  Ah Lum and Jack,
separated from the boy in their movements for securing good
aim, sprang to his assistance.  But before they could reach
his side the beast was upon him.  Awake to his danger,
the little fellow raised his carbine to his shoulder and fired
almost point-blank; but the Russian service bullet has no
stopping power to check a wild boar in full career; the
boy was toppled over, receiving a gash in the leg from
the mighty tusk.  Then the animal wheeled in his tracks
to pursue his vengeance.  Jack's rifle was empty; even if
it had been loaded he could hardly have fired without
running the risk of hitting the boy.  The chief was still a few
yards away, he, too, rendered helpless by the same appalling
danger.  Jack saw that in an instant his little pupil,
now gamely struggling to his feet, must be gored to death.
Dropping his rifle, he drew his knife, and flung himself
upon the blinded, maddened brute, driving the weapon
between its shoulders.  So great was his impetus that he
stumbled full across the boar, which, intent upon its
purpose, struggled on a foot or two, staggering under the
blow, but making light of Jack's weight.  Even as Jack
was wondering whether his stroke had failed, the beast
uttered a long squealing grunt, fell on its knees, then
rolled over stone-dead within a few inches of Ah Fu.

.. _`Jack saves Ah Fu`:

.. figure:: images/img-116.jpg
   :align: center
   :alt: Jack saves Ah Fu

   Jack saves Ah Fu

The chief caught the boy in his arms and held him in a
warm embrace; the runaway Chunchuses, no more boars
being visible, came dropping back from the plantations;
and Jack, his coat covered with blood, rose panting from
the back of the victim.





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`The Hired Man`:

.. class:: center large bold

   CHAPTER X


.. class:: center large bold

   The Hired Man

.. vspace:: 2

.. class:: noindent small

Gratitude—On Humanity—A Broken Thread—The Hill
Country—Nearing Moukden—The Compradore—News at
Last—Sowinski's Address—Burnt Offerings—A Little
Black Box—Toitshe!—Pidgin—Excellence—Herr
Schwab—Photographabbaratus

.. vspace:: 2

After the rescue of Ah Fu, Jack stood in a new relationship
to Ah Lum.  The boy was the apple of the chief's
eye; nothing was too good for his deliverer.  When the
party reached camp after the memorable adventure, Ah
Lum paraded his whole band, and, his voice broken by
unwonted emotion, proclaimed the Englishman his friend.
In all such moments of ceremony the literary man, the
university graduate, appeared through the brigand chief.
After reciting the heroic deed in the flowery language a
scholarly Chinaman always has at command, he continued:

"Forgetfulness of a favour received is a sure sign of a
bad heart.  Let me speak in a similitude.  A man is on
a long journey; his money is all spent; he is destitute, far
from home, without friends, and perishing from want.  To
him comes a stranger whose goodness of heart leads him
to present the wanderer with a few hundred cash, thereby
preserving his life.  Should he afterwards see this man,
his benefactor, ought he not to make some expression of
gratitude?  It is a common saying, if we receive from
others a favour like a drop of water, the return should be
as an overflowing fountain.  How much more when a
man snatches from death a male child!  Does not the
Sage say: 'The three greatest misfortunes in life are: in
youth to bury one's father; at the middle age to lose one's
wife; and, being old, to have no son'?  Heaven has already
afflicted me with the first and the second of these
tribulations; the honourable foreigner by his magnanimous
courage has spared me the last.  It is a true saying,
'The brave act like tigers, not like mice'.  Some of
you, to the shame of your ancestors, acted like mice; the
Ingoua leapt forth like a tiger and saved my pearl from
the snout.  He is my friend; whosoever does him a service
does a greater service to me.  As the Poet says:

   |  "'The Spring that feeds the Mountain Rill
   |  Helps the great River to grow greater still'."
   |

Making allowances for the chief's surcharged emotion,
Jack felt that there could be no longer any obstacle to his
departure.  Ah Lum, indeed, was torn between two
impulses.  He wished to keep by his side the youth who had
shown that he could not only teach English poetry, but
display courage and readiness in a moment of danger.
He wished also to show his gratitude practically, and
knew that he could do so in no more acceptable way than
by furthering Jack's search for his father.  After a night
of indecision his generosity prevailed; he called Jack into
his tent, and promised, if he still wished to go, to do all
that he could to help him.  But he pointed out that it
would be very dangerous for him to venture into
Moukden.  There were both the Chinese and the Russians to
reckon with.  As for the former, he could furnish Jack
with a pass which would probably secure him from
molestation; but if it were found upon him by the Russians, it
would in itself be sufficient to hang him.  Jack, however,
felt that there was little chance of tracing his father
except by beginning at Moukden and working along the
railway, and he once more expressed his unalterable
determination to face whatever risks this course might
involve.

Ah Lum then settled down to a serious discussion of
ways and means.  He agreed that Jack's best plan would
be to try his luck again as a Chinaman; but not this time
as a Cantonese; there were too many Cantonese about.  It
would be better to pass as a native of one of the interior
provinces, such as Sz-chuen.  The dialect was not likely
to be known to anyone in Moukden, so that the matter of
speech would not be a difficulty.  He might be supposed
to have come down the Yang-tse-kiang on river boats,
and to have drifted to Manchuria with an Ingoua; the
Ingoua, as every Chinaman knew, were great travellers;
this would explain his knowledge of pidgin English.

The chief spoke with great simplicity and earnestness;
evidently he was sincerely anxious on Jack's behalf.  It
was only at the end of the conversation that he reverted
to his academic manner.

"Prudence," he reminded Jack, "is what is most
necessary to be cultivated by the young.  Your path will
be beset with perils; a chance word may be your undoing.
When you converse in the road, remember there are men
in the grass.  For myself, I am old enough to be your
father; this and my affection must be my excuse for
offering words of advice.  What says the proverb?  'In a
melon-patch, do not stoop down to arrange your shoes;
under a plum-tree, do not lift your hand to adjust your
cap.'"

Jack knew from experience that, being fairly mounted
on his hobby, the chief could not easily be stopped, and
settled himself to listen in patience.

"There are three things mainly to strive for: filial piety,
that is the most important; integrity; and humanity.  Let
us take the last first.  Humanity is among the greatest
of the virtues.  If a man wish to attain the excellence
of superior beings, let him cultivate the attributes of
humanity.  They include benevolence, charity, clemency——"

At this moment a voice was heard at the entrance:
"The august decree is fulfilled."

The curtain was parted, and there entered the chief's
second in command, a big ferocious-looking fellow, holding
up to Jack's horrified gaze two ghastly blood-stained
human heads.  Ah Lum looked at the hideous objects
with unmoved countenance.

"That is well," he said.  "Affix them on poles, and
set them in the centre of the camp, with this scroll in
large characters from the poet P'an T'ang-she'n:

   |  "'Virtue is best; hold Knavery in dread;
   |  A Thief gains nothing if he lose his Head.'"
   |

The incident interrupted the chief's homily before his
first heading was developed.  The flow of his ideas seemed
broken, for on the departure of his lieutenant he turned the
conversation into another channel.

Jack afterwards learnt that the unfortunate wretches
decapitated were two members of the band who had
stolen fowls from a farmer.  Since robbery was a principal
reason of the Chunchuses' existence, Jack was amazed
at such an offence meeting with so terrible a punishment,
until he heard that the farmer thus robbed had purchased
immunity from Ah Lum by a gift of fodder, and the chief
was inexorably merciless to any who were guilty, or who
made him appear guilty, of a breach of faith.  Jack was
now convinced, if he had not been before, that Ah Lum
was no mere spectacled pedant.

One fine morning Jack set off on his long journey to
Moukden.  His appearance was indistinguishable from
that of a well-to-do Manchu.  Every detail of his costume
was correct, from the round black hat and glossy pigtail
to the cloth boots with white felt soles.  He was mounted
on a good pony, and accompanied by a trusty
Chunchuse.  Ah Fu shed tears at parting; Ah Lum and
Wang Shih were undisguisedly sorry to lose him, and
the former indeed declared his willingness at any time to
welcome him back, and even to give him a command in
his band.  Jack thanked him warmly, pressed his closed
fists to his breast in Chinese salutation, and rode away.

It was nearly a thousand li—more than 300 miles—from
the camp to Moukden; not as the crow flies, for in that
country of forest, mountain, and river a straight course is
impossible.  The traveller has to proceed by pack roads,
to ford streams deep and swift, to ascend and descend
rugged forest-clad slopes; and if his journey is timed in
the rainy season he suffers inconveniences and perils
without number.  It was fortunate for Jack that the rains were
not so persistent and continuous this year as is sometimes
the case.  He was delayed at one or two stages of his
journey by thunder-storms and swollen rivers; but, thanks
to his guide, who knew the country perfectly, he was able
to cover an average of about twenty-five miles a day.  At
another time nothing would have delighted him more than
to take things easily, for he passed through some of the
most magnificent scenery in the world, a country teeming
with game of all kinds, and dotted at out-of-the-way
spots with interesting monuments.  But, determined to
reach Moukden as soon as possible, he was not to be
allured by the cry of pheasants or the trails of the tiger
and the deer.

Furthermore, unequipped for such travelling as attracts
the globe-trotter, he found the inevitable discomforts of
the route somewhat trying to his patience.  On fine days
he was plagued for hours at a time by myriads of midges,
which swarmed about his head, biting with fiendish
ferocity.  But his own sufferings were slight in
comparison with his pony's.  From sunrise to sunset huge
gadflies infested the poor animal, settling upon its tough
hide, and piercing it till the beast was streaming with
blood.  Jack spent the greater part of the day in smashing
the terrible insects with his whip, slaying hundreds and
still leaving hundreds unslain.  The nights also were times
of torment.  Putting up at some inn, he had to pass the
hours in a crowded room, sealed up to prevent the ingress
of midges, filled with smoke and the sickening odours of
stewed pork and rancid vegetables.  He slept on the
k'ang, sometimes wedged in among a crowd of natives
by no means too clean, never knowing but that he might
have the dangerous company of an adder before the morning.
He had to put up with such food as the inn afforded,
mostly Chinese pork and salted eggs, with an occasional
bonne bouche in the way of a trout when there happened to
be Korean fishermen in the neighbourhood.  But night by
night he rejoiced in the completion of another good stage
of his journey; and, thanks to his prudence and the clever
management of his guide, he aroused no suspicions, and
was accepted as a native, morose and uncompanionable
indeed, but excused as being a wanderer from a distant
province.

At length, on the fourteenth day after leaving the
Chunchuse camp, the two travellers reached a village some
twelve miles from Moukden.  They were squatting at
dinner in an inn when a detachment of Cossacks rode up,
in the course of a foraging expedition.  Jack felt a little
anxious as they entered, but to them he was a mere Chinaman
like the rest; he escaped notice, yet was relieved when
they rode off in the direction of Moukden.  When they were
well on their way he suggested to his guide that it would
be good policy to follow hard on their heels; entering the
city in their wake he might hope to pass without attracting
special attention.

It was late in the day, near the time for the closing of
the gates, when the Cossacks approached the city.  To
Jack's disappointment, instead of entering they rode off to
the north-west, in the direction of the railway.  He thought
it advisable to put up in a little hamlet some two miles
from the walls and wait till morning.  There was sure to
be a considerable crowd of country people awaiting the
opening of the gates, and in the crush he was likely to
pass unrecognized.  Early in the morning, therefore, he
took leave of the Chunchuse and turned his pony's head
towards Moukden.  Though outwardly calm, he had many
an inward tremor as he joined the crowd of people—labourers,
farmers with carts loaded with beans, drovers
with black pigs, women with fowls and geese slung round
their necks—a miscellaneous throng, all too intent on their
business, however, to give more than a passing glance to
a rider hardly distinguishable from themselves.

The gates were thrown open, and Jack passed through
with the rest, feeling tolerably secure now that he was at
last within the walls.  Turning off from the main road, he
made his way by narrow and tortuous alleys to the street
where the compradore lived in his cottage at the foot of
Mr. Brown's garden.  The man was smoking at the door,
and his son Hi Lo was playing at knuckle-stones on the
ground near him.  Jack reined up and dismounted, saying
nothing at first in order to test the efficacy of his disguise.
The compradore looked up, but did not recognize him.
The boy was quicker.  At the first glance he jumped up,
ran to his father, and whispered in his ear.  The man
started, kowtowed, then, looking hurriedly and anxiously
around and up and down the street, invited Jack to enter.
When the door was shut he expressed his delight at
seeing his young master once more.  He had heard from
his brother at Harbin of the successful stratagem by
which Jack had managed to start for Vladivostok, but,
knowing what risks the journey involved, he had ever
since been fearful lest some harm should have befallen him.

"I have had some narrow escapes," said Jack, "but
here I am, you see, safe and sound.  I'll tell you all about
it by and by; but first tell me, Mr. Hi, have you discovered
anything about my father?"

The compradore's face fell as he related the result of his
enquiries.  A Chinaman once in Mr. Brown's employment
had been working at the railway-station at Shuang-miao-tzü,
about half-way between Moukden and Harbin, when,
on a siding in an open truck, among a crowd of malefactors
in chains, he had been amazed to recognize his former
master.  The truck had remained there for two days; the
man had tried to get speech with Mr. Brown, but in vain.
By questioning and comparing notes Jack came to the
conclusion that this was the very truck he had seen from
the window of the train on his way to Harbin.  His blood
boiled at the recollection of the miserable wretches and the
thought that his father was among them; he felt an insane
desire to rush off at once and confront General Bekovitch
with the discovery; but he knew how fatal such a step
would be; and after an explosion of wrath which he could
not control, and at which Hi An looked on with every mark
of sympathy, he regained his composure, and, recognizing
that there was no hope save in patience, settled down to
discuss his future course of action.  He knew full well
that an unlucky accident might at any time put an end to
his quest and perhaps his life, and resolved that so far as
in him lay he would not fail through lack of caution.

After the first moment of relief and happiness at seeing
Jack again, the compradore showed himself seriously
concerned for his young master's safety.  If he were detected
by the Russians he ran the risk of being shot as a spy.
His disguise was perfect; Moukden was probably the last
place where his enemies would expect to find him; but
while the Russians were in possession there would always
be found Chinamen ready to curry favour with them,
and earn a little cash.  After some discussion it was
arranged that the compradore should give out that Jack
was a distant relative from Sz-chuen, and Hi An himself
suggested that he should feign illness for a time until his
future movements could be carefully thought out.

"I shall want a name," said Jack with a smile.  "What
can you call me?"

"Sin Foo, master.  I had a nephew of that name; he is
dead, poor boy; it is a good name."

"Very well.  Now we must make further enquiries along
the line to see what has become of that truck.  I have
plenty of money; the flour we expected came safely to
Vladivostok, and I sold it.  You have friends you can
employ?"

"Yes.  But it will take a long time."

"Of course.  I wish I could go up the line myself.  Is
it impossible?"

"You must not think of it, master.  If it were known
that questions were being asked about an Englishman
arrested by the Russians, suspicion would be awakened,
and what could you say if you were caught?  No, leave
it to my countrymen; they will know exactly how to
enquire, without seeming too curious.  As for you, it is
best to remain in Moukden, and wait until we get more
news."

"I'm afraid you are right.  Well, let it be so for the
present.  Tell me, is Sowinski in the city?"

"Yes, he is living in your father's house."

At that Jack fired up again.  Red with anger he strode
up and down the room, itching to do something, yet feeling
all the time his helplessness.  Then he checked himself
with a laugh.

"I'll never do for a Chinaman," he said, "if I show
temper so easily.  You must teach me to fix my face,
Mr. Hi."

"Yes, master," said the compradore seriously.  "I will
buy a little image of Buddha, and put it in a corner of the
room.  If you look at it for two hours every day your face
will be as calm as a still pool."

The compradore's house was very small, and before a
week was out Jack was terribly sick of being cooped up
in it from morning till night.  Only after dark, when the
quarter was quiet—and that was at a very late hour, for
when Chinamen start playing fan-tan it becomes a trial of
endurance—only then did the compradore think it safe for
his guest to issue forth for a breath of air.  The proximity
of Sowinski was itself a danger.  Moreover, his acquaintances,
among them Sowinski's Chinese servants, were
becoming curious.  It was impossible to harbour a stranger
long in secret; for a couple of days the story of a sick
cousin passed muster, but the compradore had omitted to
state the nature of the illness, and his friends began to
enquire whether they might not be allowed to see the sick
man and join Hi An himself in the charms and exorcisms
proper to cure him.  Thus pushed into a corner, the
worthy man drank in their sight the ashes of burnt
yellow paper, and whispered that he feared his relative
was sickening for a fever; it would not be safe to admit
visitors.  He was about to sacrifice to the divinities on
the sick man's behalf; and, taking his courage in both
hands, he invited a number of his friends to accompany him.

Jack rolled with laughter when he afterwards learnt
what had happened.  His amusement was all the greater
because the compradore was so obviously ill at ease lest
he should have incurred the displeasure of the divinities by
sacrificing for a man who was not ill.  Professing to be
not quite sure of the disease, he had gone first to the
roadside shrine of his Excellency the Small-Pox and burnt
incense there; then to the Honourable Divinity the Plague;
finally, to make short work of it and cover all imaginable
complaints, he had proceeded to the deity known as
Mr. Imperfect-In-Every-Part-Of-His-Body, a hideous idol with
sore eyes, hare-lip, and ulcerated legs.  Convinced now
that the travelled relative must be in a desperately bad
state, the inquisitive neighbours gave a wide berth to
Hi An, and no longer desired to cross his threshold.

But when a week had passed, Jack, finding his inactivity
intolerable, came to the conclusion that it would really be
safer if he moved about a little.  The neighbourhood would
expect to be invited either to his funeral or to a feast in
celebration of his recovery, and the talk that would ensue
when neither event happened might develop danger both
for himself and for his host.  One evening the compradore,
on returning home, chanced to mention that during the
day he had been asked by a foreign war-correspondent if
he could recommend a servant.  The stranger already had
a capable mafoo, or groom, but this man had absolutely
refused to carry or have anything to do with a little black
box on which his master set great store, and the foreigner
had met with the same refusal from every native to whom
he applied.  Hi An himself was somewhat amused at the
situation.  Having served Mr. Brown for so many years,
and in so many different places, including the southern
treaty ports, he was well aware that the black box was
a harmless photographic camera: had not Master Jack
himself possessed one in Shanghai?  But the Moukden
natives, not yet accustomed to the kodak of the
globe-trotter, were convinced that the mysterious box was
choke-full of little black devils impatiently waiting for
any confiding Chinaman simple enough to be lured within
their influence.  The correspondent, being somewhat stout
and far from active, was loth to carry the camera himself,
and had almost resigned himself to the dead-lock.

"Poor fellow!" said Jack, laughing.  "How did you
come across him, Mr. Hi?"

The compradore explained that the correspondent
appeared to be a business connection of Mr. Brown's, for he
had tried to find the merchant when he arrived in Moukden
some weeks before, and was greatly disappointed and
distressed when he learnt what had happened.

"How should I suit?" said Jack, as an idea struck him.

"Ch'hoy!" exclaimed the compradore.  "Master a servant?"

"Why not?  I should be able to move about then; as
the servant of a European I should run less risk of being
suspected either by Russians or Chinese than if I were
a masterless man; and I might—the chance is small, but
still it is a chance—I might come upon some trace of my
father if attached to a foreign correspondent, whose duties
will surely take him from place to place."

"But, master, a servant!  And to a foreigner; not even
a Yinkelis or a Melican man, but a Toitsche!  Ch'hoy!"

There was a world of contempt in the Chinaman's tone.
To the average Chinaman all "foreign devils" are alike;
only those whose business brings them into relations with
Europeans recognize degrees.

"I know you don't like the Germans; but what does it
matter, Mr. Hi?  A German is less likely to see through
my disguise than an Englishman.  Besides, of a hundred
virtues, filial piety is the best.  You know the maxim?"

The compradore scratched his head.  He found these
ideas difficult to reconcile.  But after some further talk he
yielded, and promised to go to the correspondent early
next morning and offer the services of Sin Foo, a young
man whose honesty and industry he could guarantee.

A little before noon next day he returned.  The
correspondent was delighted with the prospect of engaging a
suitable man, but must see the candidate first.  He was
living with a number of other correspondents at the Green
Dragon Hotel, and wished to see Sin Foo at once.

"Is Monsieur Brin there?" asked Jack instantly.

"No, master.  He went to Harbin a week ago.  He
was very sad."

"Lucky for me!  Then we'll go at once, Mr. Hi."

The neighbours had already been prepared to see Hi
An's relative out-of-doors at last; the application to
Mr. Imperfect-In-Every-Part-Of-His-Body had been abundantly
successful.  Most of them were engaged in their usual
occupations at that time of day, and Jack attracted little
notice as he walked through the streets at Hi An's side.
At the hotel he was presented to a short, corpulent
German, wearing gold spectacles and a battered wide-awake,
and smoking a huge pipe.

"He belongey Sin Foo," said Hi An.

Jack made the kowtow in the most approved style.
The German looked him up and down.

"So!" he said.  "You been servant before?"

"Suttingly," replied Jack, remembering his fagging
days at school.

"So!  You strong?"

"My plenty stlong, masta!"

"Not afraid of little box?"

"No fea'!  My cally littee box this-side, that-side,
allo-side, all-same."

"Goot!  You are shust ze man I seek.  Now to fix ze
so imbortant business of vages.  Business are business.
Vat you say to ten yen—ach!  I zink still I am in Japan:
vat say you to ten dollar per mensem—ze monce?"

"Allo-lightee—" began Jack, but the compradore interposed.

"Ch'hoy!  Ten piecee dollar!  Ph'ho!  My hab catchee
Sin Foo—one piecee first-chop man; he numpa one boy;
my fetchee he this-side; no can makee pidgin so-fashion
for littee bittee cash.  Sin Foo, come wailo chop-chop;
folin genelum no savvy pidgin China-side fashion."

The compradore's intervention showed Jack that he
must needs exercise every care if he was to play his part
properly.  To have accepted the German's first offer
without bargaining would have betrayed him to any travelled
man.  After an hour's discussion an arrangement was
concluded between the stranger and Hi An.  Sin Foo was
to have nothing else to do but to take charge of the
photographic apparatus.  The terms agreed upon were
so high that the German declared that he must dismiss
his mafoo and engage a cheaper man.  Whereupon the
compradore suggested Hi Lo to fill the place, and Jack
regarded the opportunity as almost a special providence,
for he had been dreading the discomforts and dangers that
might arise from enforced companionship with a Chinese
mafoo.  With Hi Lo for a fellow-servant, however, he
need fear neither danger nor discomfort, and he was
pleased when the German accepted the boy, but at
ridiculously low wages.

Jack was to enter upon his duties at once.  As soon as
the compradore had gone to fetch Hi Lo, the German took
the opportunity to explain who and what he was.

"I cannot shpeak your bidgin talk," he said.  "You
understan' blain English, boy?"

"My savvy littee bit Yinkelis; my tly understan'
masta—he talkee Yinkelis first-chop."

"Ver' vell.  Now you call me Excellenz; you can say zat?"

"No, not a bit of it."

The phrase slipped out before Jack could check it.  Luckily
the German was not aware of the *lapsus linguae*.

"Zat is not bolite English; you should say, 'No, sir,
I am sorry, or I regret, zat I cannot say Excellenz.'  Vell,
can you call me 'mein Herr-r-r'?"

"He no belongey lightee China-side.  My no can talkee
so-fashion.  China boy tly; he say 'mine hell'."

"Ach!" grunted the German.  "Zat vill nefer do, not
at all.  But I cannot vaste ze time to egsblain.  You must
zen call me—master.  Ver' vell.  Now, my name is
Schwab—Hildebrand Schwab."  Jack suddenly remembered the
letter his father had shown him on the day before the
arrest; this, then, was the representative of Schlagintwert
& Co. and correspondent of the *Illustrirte Vaterland und
Colonien*.  "And remember zis," continued Schwab.  "If
you meet any man vat vant Birmingham screw, Manchester
soft goots, Viltshire bacon, or hair-oil, superfine,
you vill let me know at vunce—at vunce.  Ven ze var is
ofer I shall do goot business in all zose zinks—ja, and
many more.  It is only in var zat I am gorresbondent; in
beace I rebresent ze solid firma Schlagintwert Gombany
of Düsseldorf.  You understan'?"

"Allo lightee, Herr."

"Ver' goot, ver' goot inteed.  You say it not so bad.
Now I tell you ozer zink.  I haf come at great egsbense
from San Francisco to take photographs of ze scenes of
var.  I am already some veeks here, vaiting, vaiting, for
bermission to go to ze front.  You understan'?  At last
it come.  I haf it now in my pockett.  How do I get it?
Ach! it vas qvite simble.  Ven I am tired of vaiting, I
go to Herr Oberst Pesteech, bresscensor, and I say:
'Your servant, noble sir; Hildebrand Schwab.  Entweder
you give me ze bermission to see zis var business, or I vire
to our Kaiser who is in Berlin.  At Berlin, and viz ze
Kaiser, business are business.'  Zat is ze vay I shpeak.
So I return to my hotel: siehe da! ze bermission is already
zere.  Zat vere business.  Ver' vell.  Now I tell you vat
ve do.  To-morrow ve go to ze front, vere ze var is.  You
vill haf ze camera; you vill assist me to make my
photographs.  I vill learn you how.  And give notice, boy,
zat I am not bermitted to photograph ze bositions of ze
Russian army; nor Russian troops on ze march; nor
Russian troops in action, egzept I get anozer bermission
from ze Russian general.  Vat is zat for a kind of
bermission I do not say.  Zerefore you vill take photographs
ven I tell you, and no ozer time.  You understan'?"

"Savvy allo masta talkee; my tinkey velly nice."

"So; come zen viz me; I vill learn you ze—ze—ze
control of ze photographabbaratus."





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`War-Look-See`:

.. class:: center large bold

   CHAPTER XI


.. class:: center large bold

   War-Look-See

.. vspace:: 2

.. class:: noindent small

Schwab is Shocked—Snapshots—The Coming Battle—To
Liao-yang—Schwab's Opportunity—Carpe
Diem—Suobensius—Shimose—Last
Wishes—Stackelberg—Something
Accomplished—Rhapsody—Two-Piece Pony

.. vspace:: 2

That night Jack shared a tiny room with Hi Lo.  The
boy had become accustomed to see his master in Chinese
dress, but the situation was entirely changed now that he
had to regard him as an equal and address him as Sin
Foo.  Jack impressed on the little fellow that everything
depended on his caution—Jack's own safety, and the
prosecution of his quest; and Hi Lo showed a quite painful
anxiety to behave with discretion and yet with naturalness.

Next day Schwab spent several hours in explaining to
Jack, not too lucidly, the working of the camera; the
development of the negatives he reserved for himself.
Then he prepared to sally forth to make a few experiments.
An American correspondent, standing with his
hands in his pockets at the door of the little Chinese
hotel, observed Jack as he passed.

"Hello, Schwab!" he shouted.  "Caught a Tartar at last, eh?"

"Yes, Mr. Vanzant—if zat is not a shoke.  Zis man is
not afraid—he gif sign of modicum of intelligence; I zink
he vill do."

"I guess he will do for your camera; well, so long!"

Walking out of the city, Schwab set Jack to take
photographs of a few prominent objects—the Temple of Earth
beyond the eastern gate, the Tomb of Wen-Hsiang, the
statesman who rose from being a table-boy to the highest
official appointments, Dr. Christie's Hospital, where the
little Scots doctor had dispensed the blessings of Western
surgery and medicine to thousands of grateful patients.
Schwab was delighted with Sin Foo's rapid progress; it
amazed him.

"Truly I zink ze Manchu is not such a fool as he look,"
he said.

"My plenty muchee glad masta likee Sin Fool," said
Jack gravely.

"Ach!  You do so vell zat to-morrow ve go to take var
pictures.  Zere vill soon be a great battle; ze Russians
shall at last do goot business."

In the afternoon they went up to the railway-station to
see if seats could be booked in next morning's train, Jack
carrying the camera in case anything of interest should
offer.  The station was crowded.  For many days troops
had been passing towards the south; the platform was
now thronged with soldiers, surgeons, nurses,
camp-followers.  Schwab was amazed, his German sense of
discipline was shocked, to see colonels walking arm in
arm with lieutenants; still more when he noticed a
placard stuck up in the buffet, signed by General Sakharoff,
threatening with dire punishment any officer who should
presume to criticise his superiors or their conduct of the
operations.  He was disgusted also to observe, in a
siding, a superb dining-room car in which a company of
officers and ladies were eating and drinking with a
light-hearted gaiety that ill matched the occasion, if the rumours
of the stupendous battle approaching were well founded.

"You, Sin Foo," said Schwab, "I tell you zis; zat
is not var.  Zat is not ze vay ve Gairmans shall behave
ourselves ven ve go to invade England; zen you vill see
var zat *is* var.  You understan'?"

Seeing little probability of obtaining a seat in the train,
Schwab decided to return to the hotel and journey south
on ponies.

As they left the station a number of Russian soldiers
who had just marched in were lying dead-beat in a sort of
trench parallel with a siding.  A troop train was being
slowly made up, doubtless to convey these and other men
southward to the front.  Schwab stood contemplating them
for a moment.  Then he turned to Jack.

"Boy, upfix ze camera; ve vill take schnapshot of zese men."

"Allo lightee, masta," replied Jack, wondering at the
German's choice of a subject.  He was to be enlightened
on that point later.

It was late in the day by the time they reached the city.
Passing along the principal street, they saw a crowd of
natives hurrying down a side alley uttering piercing shouts.
Jack noticed that two or three of them had buckets
suspended from the ends of a long bamboo pole carried on
the shoulder.

"My tinkey house hab catchee fia."

"A gonflagration in Moukden!  Zat vill be ver' interesting
to ze abonnenten of my baber.  Ve vill take it on ze hop."

Schwab led the way, his tall bulky form making a path
through the crowd.  A pawn-shop was ablaze.  The roof
had already fallen in.  Siberian infantrymen were trying
to keep order in the crowd—hundreds of Chinamen yelling,
jostling each other, going hither and thither with their
buckets, splashing through the mud.  Many of them were
laughing uproariously; to the Chinaman a fire is purely a
spectacle, to be enjoyed without any disturbing sympathy
for the victims, whose efforts to save themselves and their
goods are greeted as the most enjoyable farce.  Some of
the crowd were waving bright-coloured flags; in the glare
from the burning house it was like a scene from a country
fair.  Here and there Chinamen were squirting feeble and
futile jets of water on the house from tiny copper pumps,
like the syringes used at home for watering flowers.  An
old mandarin in yellow silk forced his way through the
press, paying no heed to the fire, anxious only to get home
without soiling his white socks.  But the throng was
becoming unwieldy; there was danger of the whole quarter
being set ablaze; and at last a Russian captain came up
with a squad of men at the request of the Chinese Viceroy
himself, and set about clearing the street in a business-like
way.  For a few minutes the confusion seemed redoubled;
the Chinamen scampered this way and that as the Russians
came at the double along the street.  This moment was
seized by Schwab, who evidently had a keen eye for a
tableau.  At his bidding Jack took a snap-shot of the
strange scene—a scene that would have been appropriate
to the stage of a comic opera.  Then he returned with his
employer to the Green Dragon.  The correspondents
there—French, Italian, English, and American—were in the
bustle of preparation for moving out next day to
Liao-yang, where a big battle was expected to take place.

Jack, it must be confessed, was considerably excited at
the prospect of seeing something at close quarters of this
terrible war, which had brought forth so many surprises
for the world.  Hitherto he had seen nothing but its fringe;
and of the many contradictory rumours he had heard he
was not disposed to believe too much.  The Russian officers
with whom he had talked were divided into two classes:
the partisans of Alexeieff and those of Kuropatkin.  The
majority pinned their faith to Kuropatkin.  If he had been
left alone, they said, the war would have followed an
entirely different course.  He would have waited patiently
at Harbin until his army had been raised to overwhelming
strength; then he would have taken the offensive and
driven the Japanese into the sea.  But his strategy had
been dictated either by Alexeieff or from St. Petersburg.
Worse than that, he had not been able to devote his whole
energies to the proper work of a commander-in-chief.
That in itself was a stupendous task for one man, afflicted
with a poor staff.  But the general had been compelled
to attend to details of commissariat, hospital arrangements,
the supply of clothes, the preparation of maps.
His was a harassing struggle against corruption,
incompetence, and drunkenness.  Once, alighting at a
railway-station to make an inspection, he found the platform
strewn with intoxicated officers.  With a burst of anger,
unusual in a man habitually patient and calm, he ordered
the wretched men to be sent on by the first train to the
front.

What had been the course of the war since that
memorable May day when the invading army crossed the Yalu?
General Kuroki's brilliant dash was followed by several
weeks of what to the outside world seemed comparative
inaction.  But during that period both sides were straining
every nerve: the Russians to hurry forward reinforcements
and complete the great fortified positions along the
railway; the Japanese to perfect the arrangements for the
three great armies which were, first, to cut off Port
Arthur, and then to move northwards against the main
Russian forces concentrating in the neighbourhood of
Liao-yang.  General Stackelberg having failed at
Wa-fang-ho in his forlorn hope against the army investing
Port Arthur, the northward movement of the Japanese
was slowly resumed, the Russian right being steadily
driven back along the railway with occasional half-hearted
attempts to stem the Japanese advance.  Meanwhile
General Kuroki on the east had forced the mountain
passes at Motien-ling, and General Nodzu, in command
of the centre, was preparing for the attack on the Russian
position at To-ma-shan that resulted in the evacuation of
Hai-cheng.  The beginning of August found the three
Japanese armies relentlessly driving the Russian forces
towards the fortified positions south of Liao-yang which
General Kuropatkin had prepared as the scene of his first
serious attempt to roll back the tide of invasion.

It was a warm, dry morning, the 29th of August, when
Schwab, Jack, and Hi Lo, mounted on hardy ponies, hit
the Green Dragon for their forty miles ride to Liao-yang.

Just before they reached the gate, Jack had an exceedingly
uncomfortable moment when he noticed his father's
enemy Sowinski hurrying in the opposite direction in a
Pekin cart.  The Pole passed without recognizing the tall
figure in Chinese dress, though he gave a nod to Schwab.
Jack knew that to the European all Chinamen look pretty
much alike; but he did not wish to come to too close
quarters with the Pole, and was glad that for a time at any
rate he would run no risk of being recognized in the streets.

The rains had ceased some days before; the wind was
beginning to dry the mud which in the wet season renders
all traffic impossible.  The other correspondents had
already gone to the front, and when our riders left the mud
walls of Moukden behind them they saw nobody on the
road except a regiment of Cossacks marching off behind
their band, and a number of Greek camp-followers going
south in the hope of reaping some profit from the battle.

As they approached Liao-yang they heard the dull
boom of guns in the distance.  For several days the three
Japanese armies under Generals Kuroki, Oku, and Nodzu
had been marching through mountain passes and the
valleys opening upon the Tai-tse-ho, and the Russians
had been falling back on the circular line of defences
which for three months they had been strengthening.  As
he heard the thunderous reverberations, Schwab exulted.

"So!" he exclaimed, "I haf vaited long time.  At last
my obbortunity haf come.  Zis are business.  Ze *Illustrirte
Vaterland und Colonien* shall haf fine bictures taken
egsbress by a Gairman viz native assistance on ze sbot.
Famos!"

Liao-yang is a walled city lying on the direct road from
Moukden to Newchang and Port Arthur, and even more
picturesquely situated than the capital.  Three miles north
of the city flows the Tai-tse-ho, taking a northerly course
by the north-east corner of the walls.  The railway passes
at some distance to the west, making an acute angle with
the western end of the city.  Southward the ground rises
gradually.  Here the Russians had prepared their defences;
the crests of the hills were scored with several lines of
trenches, the result of three months' diligent spade-work.

Schwab and his two companions, entering the city from
the north, found themselves in the midst of great bustle
and activity.  The streets were thronged with soldiers;
long lines of transport wagons were arriving; and the
merchants, native and foreign, were plying a brisk trade.
Schwab had some difficulty in finding a lodging; the
hotel, kept by a Greek, was full; but he at length secured
a small cottage near the wall at an exorbitant rental.  It
was evening when they arrived; Hi Lo prepared a supper
consisting of tinned sausages and biscuit brought from
Moukden, and pears purchased from a local fruiterer.
The booming of artillery had ceased, but the city was full
of noise, and Jack was amazed at the careless light-hearted
mood in which the soldiers, officers and men, were
preparing for the struggle.

Before seeking repose on his frowsy k'ang that night,
Herr Schwab went out to prospect for a spot on which to
place his camera next day.  He returned in a state of
exaltation.

"Zere shall be colossal combat," he said.  "I haf
shtood on ze blatform by ze reservoir, and zere I converse
viz high Russian officer, his gloves vite as snow.  No
more shall zere be evacuation, he tell me; ze fight shall
now be to ze death.  Boy, ve shall see shtubendous
zinks.  You are afraid?"

.. _`The Battle of Liao-Yang.`:
.. _`The Battle of Moukden.`:

.. figure:: images/img-140.jpg
   :align: center
   :alt: Map of Battle of Liao-Yang, Aug-Sept. 1904. Map of Battle of Moukden.

   Map of Battle of Liao-Yang, Aug-Sept. 1904. Map of Battle of Moukden.

"My no aflaid this-time, masta; allo-same my tinkey
no hab look-see bobbely yet; what-time guns makee big
bang-lo, that-time masta talkee 'bout Sin Foo he belongey
aflaid."

"Vell, you muss screw your gourage to ze shticky
place, for vizout doubt ve shall be in ze midst of
schrapnells.  It insbires me: I breeze deep.  I zink of my
ancestor Hildebrand Suobensius, a great fighter, a
Landsknecht, in ze Middle Age.  Vun say zat I am ver' like."

Herr Schwab struck his chest, and continued:

"It is in ze blood.  Zerefore vake me early in ze
morning; ve shall be early out to secure a goot blace."

But there was no need for Sin Foo to wake his master.
Before day had fully broken, Herr Schwab was shocked
from his sleep by the boom of heavy guns—the opening of
a cannonade that broke the paper windows and set the
crockery rattling.  Springing up, he bade Hi Lo saddle
the two ponies, and, stuffing some biscuits into his pocket,
set off with Jack and the camera, leaving Hi Lo to guard
the house.

He led the way to the north-west of the town, past the
reservoir and the brick-built government offices near the
railway-station, which was already crowded with officers
scanning the horizon through their binoculars.  On the
previous night he had marked a solitary hill, known as
the Shu-shan, some distance south-west of the city, as an
ideal place for a general view of the battle-field.  An old
Korean signal-tower crowned its summit; it was
approached on two sides by easy slopes, but on the north
was precipitous, its rocky face cut by ravines dark with
overhanging clumps of firs.  At the western base a battery
of artillery was posted.

Arriving at the hill, Schwab saw that it was impossible
to ride up its northern face, while to ascend on either side
would be to court death from the Japanese shells.  But in
his zeal on behalf of the *Illustrirte Vaterland* he was
determined to gain the summit.  Hitching the pony's
reins to a tree, he bade Jack follow him up the steep
acclivity nearer the road, warning him to be very careful
of the camera.  After a stiff climb they, panting, reached
the top.  Just as they appeared there was a prolonged
whistle followed by a sharp crack; the new-comers were
assailed with loud shouts; several hands seized upon
Schwab and forced him into a trench cut in front of the
tower, and rough Russian voices informed the puffing
German that he had narrowly escaped a shrapnel.  He
did not understand what they said; but Jack, who had
slipped into the trench behind him, whispered:

"My tinkey this plenty nasty place.  Japanese he shoot
too stlaight."

Herr Schwab mopped his face with a red bandanna and
glanced somewhat nervously around.  But the shock wore
off, and finding himself to all seeming well protected, his
courage soared into antiquity.

"My ancestor, Hildebrand Suobensius——" he began.

There was a shriek above him; another shell had burst
but a few yards away.  He dropped flat in the trench.
Twisting his neck until one side of its fleshiness was
creased with deep furrows, he said:

"Tell me, boy, do you see any more shells goming?"

Jack peeped cautiously over.

"My no look-see no mo'e, masta.  He come long-long
chop-chop all-same."

Schwab slowly rose to his knees, again mopping his
brow.

"Zis is most terrible.  Never did I zink zat var vas
such a business!  Gnädiger Himmel! vy haf I gome?
Boy, I haf a bresentiment."  His voice sank on a tragic
note.  "I feel it here."  He laid his hand on the lower
buttons of his ample waistcoat.  "I, Hildebrand Schwab,
shall vizout doubt be killed."  He wrung the bandanna
out.  "Listen, boy, gif notice: ven I am killed you shall
send all my goots to Schlagintwert Gompany in Düsseldorf,
all egzept ze letter to Schneiders Sohne, vich gontain order
for vun dozen trouser stretchers for General Belinski; zat
you shall bost.  And listen, boy:"—here his voice sank to
a confidential whisper—"in my writing-desk zere is a visp
of my hair tied up viz bink ribbon, and a boem, a boem
of lov; zese you vill send to ze Frau Jane Bottle, at ze
address on ze envelope, and you vill register ze packett.
Yes—and insure it—you shall insure it for hundert
dollars."

Herr Schwab sighed deeply, at the same time keeping
an eye on the direction whence the last shell had come.

Another shrapnel burst a few yards in his rear.  He
groaned, lamenting bitterly.  The men of Stackelberg's
1st Siberian Infantry paid no attention to him; in the
trench they were secure.  General Stackelberg himself was
at the other end, grimly peering through his glasses over
the epaulement.

Suddenly the projectiles ceased to pass over them.
Jack ventured to raise his head and scan the surrounding
country.  Before him stretched a plain dotted with villages,
the fields covered with the waving green stalks of
kow-liang.  On the crests beyond, some two miles away, lay
the batteries of the Japanese; their infantry was
swarming in the intervening level, but concealed by the
kow-liang.  To the left, separated from the Shu-shan hill by
the An-shan-chan road, was an irregular line of lower
heights, stretching as far as the eye could reach and out
of sight.  Here were posted the main forces of the
Russian infantry, ensconced in cunningly devised trenches.
In every gap between the rocky hills batteries were
placed, concealed by every possible device.  To the west
of Shu-shan the Russian cavalry, with a portion of the
1st Siberian Army Corps, was stationed to protect the
railway and the right flank.  Behind, between the hills
and the town, large forces of infantry were held in reserve,
with the hospital tents and field ambulances.  Temporary
lines of rail had been laid from the station to the rear of
the hills, and on these trolleys containing ammunition
were pushed along by men.

Jack explained as much of the position as he could see
to Schwab, who, in the security of the trench, took diligent
notes, for reproduction in the *Illustrirte Vaterland* as
first-hand evidence.

"But tell me, boy, do you see General Kuroki?  I do
not lov General Kuroki; he ill-use me, he gif me vat zey
call beans, ven I vas in Korea last year.  Is he in sight?"

"My no can look-see one piecee Japanese.  Allo hidee
inside kowliang."

"So!  I make a note of zat.  All ze Japanese hide.
Ver' goot."

Jack now became aware that General Stackelberg was
standing erect at the end of the trench, fully exposed to
the Japanese gunnery.  The general, in hooded cloak,
wearing white gloves, spick and span as if on parade,
was calmly sweeping the plain with his glass, issuing
orders, dictating telegrams, slowly, deliberately.  Shells
again began to fly around; but Stackelberg, summoned
to the telephone installed behind the tower, walked erect
towards the spot heedless of a shrapnel that burst within
a few yards of him, bespattering his clothes with black
dust.  Jack felt a thrill of admiration; the general was
giving the lie to the slanderers who said that at
Wa-fang-ho he had skulked in his carriage.

Now the sharp crackle of musketry was mingled with
the shrieking of the shells.  Long lines of Japanese were
threading their way through the fields, endeavouring to
turn the Russian right.  Stackelberg marked the
movement; he gave an order; the Russians in the trenches
sprang to their feet and ran down the slope to reinforce
the threatened position.  Rain began to fall, and Schwab
raised his head from the trench.

"Ach! it rains.  Vill it shtop ze battle, zink you?"

"My no tinkey so," said Jack.  "Japanese, he fetchee
plenty big guns; he come this-side chop-chop."

"Ach, ich Unglücklicher!"  Schwab hastily dropped
back into safety.  "Nefer shall I leave ze Vaterland again.
But I shall not return; Düsseldorf shall zee me no more;
no; I haf a bresentiment; I feel it here."

Jack, following the movement of his employer's hand,
made a suggestion.

"P'laps masta he belongey hungly; p'laps he want-chee
chow-chow."  He offered him a biscuit.

Schwab shook his head dismally.

"No, no; I haf no abbedide."

"My eat he."

Nibbling the biscuit, Jack, in a lull of the firing,
ventured to leave the trench.  A moment later he called
to Schwab.

"My hab catchee one-piecee pictul.  Japanese lunning
long-side kowliang; littee littee black t'ings inside gleen
stalks."

"Gott sei dank!  I shall not die vizout agomblishing
somezink for ze Vaterland.  Ach! zere is anozer!"

There was a gentle sound overhead, like the cry of a
wounded bird.  An aide-de-camp crossing the hill-top fell
with a groan.  A bearer-party marked with the Red Cross
appeared from behind the tower and swiftly bore him out
of sight.

Schwab flattened himself as much as his rotund form
permitted against the floor of the trench.  The cannonade
was resumed with redoubled fury.  The din was incessant;
shells whistling and shrieking; musketry crackling; the
Russian batteries in their emplacements thundering as
they replied to the Japanese.

Whole ranks of the Japanese were mowed down in the
fields; still they pressed on.  They were attempting to
turn the Russian right.  Reinforcements were hurried to
the threatened regiments; battery answered battery; the
ground trembled under the repeated shocks.  The attack
was repulsed, and long blood-stained tracks marked the
path of the bearers as they conveyed thousands of wounded
to the rear.  Stackelberg had held his own.

Dusk was falling, the rain ceased, and a steaming mist
rose over the ground.  There was a lull in the firing.
Jack stood upon the epaulement.  To the left he saw a
village in flames.

"My hab catchee nuzza velly good pictul, masta," he said.

"Goot boy!  Zink you it is now safe for me to shtand opp?"

"My tinkey so.  He fightey man tinkee hab plenty nuff."

Schwab got up slowly on his knees, peered over the
edge of the trench, then stood upon his feet.  He was
beginning to regain his spirits.

"So!  Famos!" he exclaimed.  "I see all ze whole
fielt of battle; I see burning villages, black fielts, hundert
or tousand dead men.  Zis is var.  Vat a—vat a"—Herr
Schwab was at a loss for words—"vat a zink is var!"  He
threw out his chest and snuffed the smoke-laden
breeze.  "But I muss go and describe ze battle for my
journal, illusdraded viz photographs taken by a Gairman
sobjeck on ze sbot.  My ancestor Hildebrand——"

They were turning to walk down the hill; a belated
shrapnel shell burst within a few yards of them, peppering
the ground in all directions.  A splinter shaved off an inch
or two of the leather cover of the camera.  Schwab cut
short his reminiscence by dropping flat upon the
rain-soaked ground.  When he arose, a pitiable object, after
a short period of self-communing, without further words
he hastened towards the path.

Another shell crashed upon the rocks to the left, hurling
a lofty fir-tree into the ravine.

"Ach! gome alonk, gome alonk!  Ve shall be killed.
Let us go to find our bonies."

Scrambling down to the spot where they had left the
animals, Schwab uttered a woeful cry; they had
disappeared.  A Siberian infantryman was passing; him
the German interrogated.  But the Russian shook his
head; he knew no German.  Jack ventured to question
him in broken Russian.

"Yes, I did see two ponies.  A Chinaman led them.
That was long ago."

"He say-lo China boy hab catchee two-piecee pony,
wailo long-time."

Schwab lifted up his voice in bitter lamentation.  It was
growing dark; the ground had been made a miry swamp
by the rain; there was no alternative but to tramp back
through it to Liao-yang.  They reached the mandarin
road.  Their feet sank ankle-deep in mud; at every step
they almost left their boots behind.  Long stretches of
the road were under water.  Carts were passing drawn by
long teams of mules.  Schwab tried to bargain for a seat,
but the drivers refused to listen to him; their loads were
wounded men, who at every jolt uttered heart-rending
moans.  Jack suggested that they should leave the road
and cut across the fields to the railway; they would find
the embankment easier walking.  This they did, pursued,
as it seemed, by the whistling bullets of the Japanese.  At
length, unharmed, untouched, they reached the northern
gate, and, entering, made their way all bemired, weary and
famished, to the cottage where Hi Lo awaited them.





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`The Retreat from Liao-yang`:

.. class:: center large bold

   CHAPTER XII


.. class:: center large bold

   The Retreat from Liao-yang

.. vspace:: 2

.. class:: noindent small

Rifle and Bayonet—Kuroki—Schwab's Strategic Movement—The
Moukden Road—At Yentai—One of the Wounded—Pawns in the
Game—Our Friends the Enemy—Story and Song—Schwab Smokes

.. vspace:: 2

Next day dawned bright and clear.  The fusillade had
continued almost throughout the night, and the Japanese
had made repeated assaults on the Russian trenches in
the centre, only to be driven back every time with
enormous slaughter.  The first day's battle had no decisive
result; the Japanese had failed to dislodge the Russians
from any part of their line of defences.  Jack was eager to
go out again; his excitement had been kindled by what
little he had been able to see of the opposing movements;
after the first tremors, the shriek of shells and whistling
of bullets had left him unmoved, and he was all afire to
witness the continuation of the great struggle.  But
Schwab absolutely refused to budge.

"It vas not a bresentiment," he said.  "It vas a
bileattack.  Zose shells, zeir schmell vas vorse zan
Schwefelwasserstoffgas—I forget ze English name, but
ze schmell is ze same; it is a schmell of eggs
suberannuated.  I suffer egstremely.  Besides, zey haf shtole
my bonies.  And vat do I discover?  I discover a damage
in ze ubber egstremity of ze camera.  Vy you tell me
nozink about zis?  I discover it, I say.  Who done zat?
Vy you bermit it?  It is not business: it annoy me
egstremely.  I lose many dollars ven I shall gome to
sell ze photographabbaratus.  My gustomers vill now
see it is not new.  Venever I zink of it I suffer bile.  I go
not again to zis battle, no more does ze camera; I vait
for ze next.  I vill stay and cure ze bileattack.  You shall
see ze battle; I vill take notes ven you return."

Jack had no intention of running unnecessary risks in
order that Schwab might make "copy" out of his
experiences.  But he made his way towards the
railway-station, expecting to obtain from the embankment as
good a view as was possible without venturing again on
the shell-swept hills.  His choice was fortunate, for it
happened that the closest fighting of the day took place
west of the railway.  General Oku had made up his mind
to force this, the weakest spot in the Russian position.
While, therefore, General Nodzu in the centre was repeating
the first day's bombardment, the Russian right, throughout
the day, was the scene of as terrible a series of infantry
attacks as the world's history has known.  Time after time
the Japanese advanced to storm the trenches; time after
time they were mowed down by the pitiless bullets of the
enemy; but again and again they returned to the charge,
recking nothing of death or wounds, thinking it a privilege
indeed to end their lives in their country's cause.  On both
sides the bayonet did its fell work; at one point a trench
was captured by a company of Japanese, but their ammunition
was spent, they were unsupported, and their plight
being perceived from a Russian trench a hundred yards
distant, they were bayoneted to a man.  As the hot
day wore on, the Russians were driven back against the
railway embankment; streams of wounded, their cries of
agony mingled with the horrid sounds of war, flowed
incessantly towards Liao-yang; and when sunset put an end
to the firing, the bearer-parties went about their awful work
on the battle-field.

Except for the slight impression made on the right, the
Russian position was intact.  The Siberian regiments had
held their own with splendid tenacity, and were almost
recompensed for their terrible sufferings by the message
of thanks from General Kuropatkin, who had witnessed
their heroic resistance from his train beyond the
railway-station.  Jack started to return to Schwab with the
impression that the force of the Japanese attack was broken,
and that on the morrow the Russians would take the
offensive.  The day closed with a terrible rain-storm that
turned the fields and roads into a quagmire.  The streets
of the city were thronged; soldiers, Chinamen, camp-followers,
pedlars improving the occasion, all jostling one
another in noisy confusion.

Standing at the door of his cottage, Schwab hailed an
American correspondent who was passing just as Jack
appeared.

"Is ze battle finished gomblete?" asked Schwab eagerly.

"Yes; the Russians have won.  It is their first victory.
I am on my way to telegraph the news to New York—if
I can get a wire."

"Zen I vill write my account of ze closing scenes,"
said Schwab to Jack.  "To-morrow, if ze sun shine,
you can take more pictures of ze Japanese defeat."

But half an hour later the American looked into the
house on his way back to his own quarters.

"I was mistaken, Schwab," he said; "it is not a
victory after all."

"Eh?" said Schwab, looking up from his papers.

"The Russians are leaving their positions; evacuation
has begun."

"Himmel!  Vat is ze meaning of zat?"

"Kuroki has crossed the Tai-tse-ho, and is threatening
our communications.  You had better clear out."

Schwab might well be amazed.  During the desperate
and persistent attacks on the Russian right and centre,
General Kuroki had crept steadily round their left, and
forced a passage at a ford twenty-five miles east of the
town.  The news, as conveyed to Kuropatkin, was that
the Japanese general had four divisions; he had, in truth,
only two; and, misled by the exaggeration, Kuropatkin
had felt it necessary to detach some of the seasoned
Siberian regiments from Stackelberg's command in order
to reinforce the less trustworthy European corps whom
Kuroki was attacking.  But the American was mistaken
in speaking of evacuation.  The commander-in-chief had
only decided to abandon his advanced position, which had
always been too widely extended for effective defence, and
to withdraw his forces to the inner entrenchments, forming
a large arc almost encircling the town, and resting at
each end on the river.

Overpowered by the terrors of "war that was real war",
Schwab was goaded into feverish activity by the news of
the withdrawal.  His own pony was gone; so was Jack's;
but Hi Lo's remained, and this the German ordered to
be instantly prepared for himself.  Whether the interest
of the Schlagintwert Company or the safety of his own
rotund skin was the more important consideration did
not appear; but it is certain that, within half an hour
after receiving the news of Kuropatkin's order, Schwab
was riding as fast as the congested traffic would allow
towards the north.  He carried the precious camera and
the negatives with him, leaving the tripod with Jack.

"You muss shift for yourself," said he at the moment
of leaving.  "You and Hi Lo muss gome on behind.  I
muss go qvick; it is a matter of business.  Vun bony vill
not carry zree, and if I do not arrive in Moukden before
ze Russians zere vill be no money left to bay your vages.
Take most egstreme care of ze dribod."

Jack was not ill pleased to see the back of his employer.
In other circumstances he might have been amusing; as it
was, he was a trial of patience.

"I think we will wait till morning," said Jack to Hi Lo.
"I am not sure all is over yet.  In any case the Japanese
won't come into the city in the dark; the firing has stopped;
and we shall see our way better by daylight."

So they stretched themselves on the k'ang and slept
until the dawn.  When they arose it was obvious that
Schwab's flight was premature.  True, the roads
northward were crowded with fugitives, but they were in the
main natives; the Russians held their positions; and Jack
saw a fine regiment marching, not northward, but southward,
in the direction of the enemy, singing the Russian
national anthem with a spirit that little betokened a failing
cause.  But Jack felt that Schwab would expect his two
servants to follow him; he would be helpless without them.
The exodus from the city was already so great that it
seemed best to go northwards by the pontoon bridge while
it was possible.  He therefore started on his way back to
Moukden.  Hi Lo had managed to secure a mule—Jack
did not enquire how; and on this, with the boy trudging by
his side, Jack crossed the river by the pontoon and gained
the mandarin road.

He found himself in a scene of terrible confusion.  The
road was blocked with vehicles of all descriptions,—droshkies,
Pekin carts, ammunition wagons, country carts with
their unwieldy teams; and crowds of camp-followers and
Chinese tradesmen.  Drivers were shouting, soldiers
cursing, women shrieking.  Chinamen staggered along with
poles over their shoulders, a basket slung at each end
containing a child barely awake, but laughing with glee at what
seemed to its innocence a novel and pleasing adventure.
Women passed, bent under heavy bundles containing their
household gear; carts were heaped with bits of furniture,
ambulance wagons with wounded and dead; here was a
soldier leading a little donkey with a battered drum upon
its back, there a farmer whose clumsy cart was filled with
cackling ducks and squealing pigs.  Now an axle would
break, and the contents of the wagon were scattered over
the ground; now the wheels of one cart would become
locked with those of another, and the tangled teams
plunged and kicked in the mud.  Then the uproar
became still more furious; riders, careless of what damage
they might do, pressed their horses through the throng
in haste to make good their escape from the terrible shells
whose coming was announced from afar.  The Japanese
had begun to bombard the station.

Jack saw that he had little chance of making his way
through the crush.  Calling to Hi Lo, he turned aside
into a field of kowliang, already trampled, and rode on
over the ruined crop.  In the distance, on the left, he
caught sight of train after train steaming northwards.
Behind, dense clouds of smoke obscured the city: the
Russian quarter of Liao-yang was in flames.  Ever and
anon a detonation shook the air, and by and by the
whistle of bullets was heard; the Japanese had occupied
the Shu-shan hill, and with their terrible long-range
weapons were firing into the Russian settlement.

The fourteen miles from Liao-yang to Yentai took Jack
six hours.  It was evening when he arrived—too late to
go farther; and he put up for the night in a ruined hut.
Russians were massed in the town, and covered the slopes
towards the mines.  The Russian left wing had been
driven back in this direction, and it was to reinforce the
hard-pressed troops here that Kuropatkin had withdrawn
Stackelberg with his Siberians.  But it was too late.  Next
day Kuroki flung his divisions upon the Russian entrenchments.
At a critical moment General Orloff, professor in
a Russian military college, attacked, contrary to his
instructions.  The Japanese hidden in the kowliang awaited
the onset, then poured in a terrible fire, which threw the
first regiment, composed of raw recruits, into confusion.
They broke and fled; the regiment behind, prevented by
the high stalks from seeing what had happened, opened
fire upon their own comrades; a third was led into the
same fatal error; and the entire left wing, bewildered,
disorganized, sought safety in flight.  Yentai was filled
with the Russian wounded; surgeons, with coats off and
shirt sleeves tucked up, went about their work in the open
streets; the air was filled with the screams and groans of
men in agony.

Jack hurried through the town, and came again into the
open country.  A mile north of the town he overtook a
bearded veteran crawling painfully along; he was wounded
in the chest.  He looked with haggard, covetous eyes on
Jack's mule; his face was drawn and white; sweat was
streaming from his brow.  Jack stopped and sprang to
the ground.

"Get on my mule," he said in Russian.  "Hi Lo, help
me to lift him up."

The man broke into sobbing exclamations of thanks.
Supported by Jack on one side, by Hi Lo on the other,
he rode on during the rest of that hot day.  At dusk they
entered a straggling village, and Jack was thinking of
looking for a shelter for the night when a rough voice
from a cottage cried:

"Ach, Strogoff! come here, comrade."

"Nu, Chapkin," said the wounded man.  "I am wounded,
old friend."

Jack led the mule to the door, and helped to carry the
man into the cottage.  It had been appropriated by a
group of Russian soldiers who had become separated from
their regiment.  They received their wounded comrade
with rough expressions of sympathy; and, learning from
him of the Chinaman's kindness in lending his mule, they
invited Jack and Hi Lo to stay with them.  Jack was
nothing loth.  He shared his few remaining biscuits with
the men, and sent Hi Lo out to buy some fruit if possible.

The boy returned with some pears and peaches, which
formed a welcome addition to their black bread and cakes
of buckwheat.

Sitting on the k'ang, Jack was an interested listener to
the soldiers' talk.  He did not understand all they said;
they were simple moujiks, whose broad dialect was not
easy to follow; but he picked up a good deal of their
conversation.

Strogoff had to relate how he had received his wound.
His story was long in the telling, punctuated by many an
"Ach!" "Och!" "Eka!" "Nu!" from his comrades.

"Ach!" he concluded, "the Japanese are fine fellows,
but they are too little to use the bayonet.  A bigger man
would have made a better job of it, and I should be dead
now."

"Da!  But you'd rather be alive, Strogoff?"

"How can I tell, Kedril?  Will the doctors be able to
mend my wound?"

"Not if they're such fools as the generals," grunted
Kedril, a big, shaggy rifleman who had lost an arm.

"True, there are some fools among them.  But better
be a fool than a knave, like the commissaries.  Why, half
the biscuits served out to us to-day were full of maggots,
and my boots—look at them!—are made of paper.  Do
you think the Little Father knows how we are cheated?"

"No, no; the Emperor does not know, Almazoff.  He
would not suffer these evils if he knew them.  Nu! he
cannot be everywhere, like the Lord God."

"Things will be better some day.  We've done our
part, little pigeon.  But the Emperor would not like it
if he knew what lies they have told us.  Why, they said
the Japanese were dirty little men like monkeys; but
they're cleaner than you and me, Strogoff."

"And they said they walked with their heads downwards."

"No, Chapkin, that's the English.  They say the
English walk upright in their own country, but when
they go to another place of theirs called Australia they
turn upside down and walk on their heads."

"That can't be true, because Australia belongs to
Germany.  It's a part of America, I believe."

"Nu!  America belongs to England, so I dare say I was
right after all.  Anyway, the Japanese walk on their feet
like us, and they fight well.  I wonder what made them
so angry with us?"

"I don't know.  What do we get angry about when
we're at home?  Perhaps the Little Father called the
Emperor of Japan a sheep; if you called me a sheep I
should fight you; but emperors can't fight; of course not,
for they've no one to give them orders except the Lord
God, and He couldn't give orders to both at once."

"But if they quarrel, why should they make us fight in
thousands?  It would be much better if his excellency the
general and the Japanese marshal took off their coats and
fought, just they two.  That would be a fight worth seeing,
eh, comrades?—a fight after the old style, before they did
everything by machinery."

"Da!  It wouldn't matter so much if they made each
other's nose bleed, instead of us shooting at the little
Japanese and them shooting at us.  Why, think of the
thousands of widows there must be in Little Russia—da! and
in Japan too, for I expect they have a kind of marriage
there."

"True, we haven't any quarrel with the little men; and
they're not very angry either.  When I was wounded in
the bayonet charge, and lay on the ground, a Japanese
came up and gave me a cigarette; ach! the sun was hot,
and I was fanning myself with my cap, and he made me
take a little paper fan he had.  Here it is: I shall give it
to my little Anna, dushenka! when I get home again."

"Ach! shall we ever get home again?  Look at the
thousands of versts we are away; and we've got to stay
till we beat the Japanese!  Sing us your song, Chapkin—you
know, the one that always makes me cry."

The big veteran addressed took a sip from his half-empty
flask of vodka, and began, in a fine baritone every
note of which was charged with pathos—

   |  "No more my eyes will see the land
   |    Where I was born.
   |  I suffer at my lord's command;
   |    My limbs are torn.
   |  Upon my roof the owl will moan;
   |    The pigeon for her mate will yearn;
   |  My heart with grief is broken down:
   |    No, never more shall I return!"
   |

The simple words brought tears to the eyes of all those
rough soldiers.  Kedril grunted and growled.

"Don't make us more sad.  Almazoff, you're the only
fellow among us who can read: read us something out of
your English book; the piece about the great fight in
heaven; that's the stuff for a soldier."

Almazoff took from his pocket a dirty dog-eared paper-covered
book, and turned over the leaves.  Having found
the place, he began, in a slow sonorous chant—

.. vspace:: 2

.. class:: noindent small

"Then rose a storming fury, and such uproar as never yet had
been heard in Heaven.  Arms clashed on armour, a din of horrible
discord; the furious wheels of brazen chariots roared with rage;
dire was the noise of battle.  Overhead with awesome hiss flew
fiery darts in flaming volleys, and their flight covered either host
with a vault of fire.  Beneath this burning dome the embattled
armies shocked together, with deadly onset and unquenchable
rage: all Heaven resounded; and had earth been then, the whole
earth had quivered to her centre.  What wonder, when on both
sides millions of angels fought, fierce foes, of whom the feeblest
could wield the elements and arm himself with the might of all
their regions!——"

.. vspace:: 2

Thus he read on, and through the rough prose of the
Russian translation Jack caught echoes of the famous
passage in *Paradise Lost*.

Far into the night the reading, story-telling, singing,
went on.  In the morning Jack took leave of the simple
brave fellows and resumed his journey.  On the way he
learnt that the Russian army was in full retreat.  General
Kuropatkin's able dispositions had extricated his worn
troops from the danger of being surrounded, and they
were falling back in good order, disappointed but not
disheartened, towards Moukden.  Thither Jack made with
all speed; and entering the city with Hi Lo by one of the
south gates in the evening, he found Schwab placidly
smoking his pipe at the door of the Green Dragon.





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`Mr. Brown's House`:

.. class:: center large bold

   CHAPTER XIII


.. class:: center large bold

   Mr. Brown's House

.. vspace:: 2

.. class:: noindent small

Schwab and Sowinski—Extempore—The Camera cannot
Lie—Sowinski Suspicious—Shadowed—Short Notice—Run
to Earth—A Hole in the Fence—Lares et Penates—The
Press—Sowinski's Supper

.. vspace:: 2

Weeks passed.  Moukden was no longer the city Jack
had known.  Hitherto but few Russian troops had been
seen in its streets; now these were thronged from morning
till night.  Regimental wagons, ammunition carts, rumbled
hither and thither, raising clouds of dust.  Officers strolled
about, buying knick-knacks of the curio dealers; war
correspondents kicked their heels in the hotels; droshkies,
rickshaws, troikas, flew this way and that, to the
disturbance of the placid people of this ancient city.

There were already signs of winter in the streets.  The
seasons in Manchuria do not shade off one into another;
summer heat stops, almost at one stride comes winter cold.
One morning the shops in the principal streets were hung
with furs—the skins of wild cats, foxes, martens, otters,
sheep, raccoons; fur caps, lined coats, woollen hoods,
sheepskin leggings, stockings of camel's hair.  The Chinese
merchants near the eastern ramparts plied a brisk trade with
Russian officers, offering their customers cups of tea with
true oriental politeness, and raising their prices a hundred
per cent.

They had been weeks of idleness for Jack.  The Japanese
had occupied Yentai; the Russians had thrown up entrenchments
to the south of Moukden.  There was talk of their
taking the offensive; but warlike operations had ceased
for a time, and Schwab had been too busy developing his
negatives to think about taking more photographs.  Jack
spent much of his time with the compradore, hoping day
after day, but in vain, for news of his father.  He had
caused money to be forwarded to Mr. Hi Feng in Harbin
for the purpose of pushing enquiries in the north, through
Chinese channels, and two trusty Chinese had been sent to
make investigations along the Moukden-Harbin section.
The latter returned quite baffled.  But Jack sent them out
again; he chafed at his own helplessness: meanwhile no
stone must be left unturned.  Once or twice he had seen
Sowinski in the streets; once he met him face to face near
the palace; but the Pole passed by without giving any
signs of recognition.

Schwab had become tired of the Green Dragon, and
now lived in a little house which he rented from a Chinese
grocer.  He was waited on by Hi Lo, who shared with
Jack a room looking on the street.  One day Jack was
standing at the window, watching the thronging traffic.
He was in low spirits: he had been so hopeful when he
left Father Mayenobe; was he to endure a long suspense
like Gabriele Walewska, but in more pain even than she,
not knowing whether his father was alive or dead?
Suddenly, behind a string of carts he saw Schwab
approaching in company with Sowinski.  Schwab was talking
eagerly.  Jack knew that his employer had had several
interviews with the Pole; he had probably been
establishing business relations between him and Schlagintwert
in anticipation of the close of the war.  The two entered
the house, and Jack, with a certain tingling of the
nerves, betook himself to the kitchen.  Presently Hi Lo
came in to prepare dinner; Sowinski was dining with his
master.  The boy waited at table, and, coming in and out
of the kitchen, he gave Jack from time to time information
of what was going on.  The Pole knew a little German;
both he and his host knew a little English; and as they
eked out their acquirements the quick-witted China boy
picked up scraps of their conversation and reported them
to Jack.

"He piecee Polo man talkee; say-lo what plice Melican
lails?  Masta he say velly cheap; he sellum evelyting
cheap; he say belongey plenty pidgin what-time fightey
man all wailo."

"Boy!" shouted Schwab from the other room.

"Hai-yah, masta!" replied Hi Lo, hurrying away.  He
returned in a few seconds.

"Masta say wantchee Sin Foo chop-chop."

Jack whistled under his breath.  For a moment he
thought of slipping out of the room.  But Schwab knew
he was there.  To leave without explanation would cause
trouble.  It would perhaps be best to brazen it out.  He
had already met Sowinski several times without being
recognized.  Yet he regretted that he had not taken French
leave the moment he saw the Pole coming.  He obeyed
the summons.

"You Sin Foo, bring ze photographs, zose I haf developed."

"Allo lightee, masta."

Jack went out conscious that the Pole's eyes had been
fixed on him.  Returning with the photographs he gave
them to Schwab, and was on the point of leaving the room
when the German bade him wait.  Schwab unrolled the
papers and spread them before his guest.

"Zere!  Vat you zink of zat?  Zose I took at ze battle
of Liao-yang.  Ach! zat, mein frient, vas a fearful time.
You vere not zere?  No—you are a man of beace; ve
gorresbondents are men of var.  Picture ze hill of
Shu-shan, schrapnel burst here, zere, everyvere; ze bullet fall
zick as leaves of Vallombrosa.  Zat hill, mein frient, vas
target for hundert fifty guns.  Zere am I, at ze top, fixing
ze Japanese batteries in my focus.  Danger!  Donnerwetter!
It vas truly bandemonium.  But vy am I zere?
Duty, mein frient, calls me; business are business; my
duty, I am baid to do it; but not enough, no, certainly not
enough.  Vy, I write zis mail to Düsseldorf and say I can
no longer encounter such danger for ze brice.  I muss haf
increase of screw.  Boy, fetch ze camera."

Jack laid it on the table.

"See, mein frient," continued Schwab.  "Gontemblate
zat hole!  Schrapnel!  Anozer inch, or inch and half—ach! it
is all ofer viz Hildebrand Schwab.  Ze var gorresbondent
run colossal risk, true; but ze var gorresbondent
vat is also var photographer—vy, his risk is—vat shall I
say? it is schrecklich, furchtbar!"

Jack was aghast at Schwab's magnificent assurance.
If he had been alone with the Pole, that would have been
another matter; but to dilate upon his exploits in the
presence of one who knew exactly what heroic part he
had played was astounding.  Jack reflected, however,
that he was merely a Chinese servant, and as such of
no importance.

Finding that his invention was more than equal to the
strain, Schwab proceeded with even greater confidence.

"Look at zis, mein frient.  Here ve haf terrible scene
of carnage in a Russian trench, a whole gombany is viped
out by vun shell."  Herr Schwab handed his guest the
photograph of soldiers sleeping in the ditch near the
Moukden railway-station.  "And zis—vat zink you of
zis?"  He picked out the snap-shot of Siberian infantry
before the blazing pawn-shop.  "Here, mein frient, ve
see Russian infantry vat make nightattack on village near
Yentai: zey set on fire house full of Japanese."

"Ver' good, ver' good," remarked the Pole with an acid
smile—"for a photograph made by night."

Schwab shot a suspicious glance at his guest.

"Ja!" he said, "it is vonderful.  Zese vill abbear in
ze bages of my baber, ze *Illustrirte Vaterland und
Colonien*, zey vill give true account, shpeaking better zan
volumes of gorresbondence, of ze horrible scenes vat zeir
rebresentative haf beheld at ze bost of danger."

Sowinski's attention had been flagging; perhaps his
intuition had detected the artistic temperament.  At any
rate Jack felt that his eyes were once more fixed on the
silent Chinese boy—fixed in a puzzled, scrutinizing gaze.
The epic of the camera being completed, and Schwab
turning the conversation once more to business, Jack
took the opportunity of slipping away.  Hi Lo remained
in the room to replenish the glasses.  When Jack's back
was turned, Sowinski, as Hi Lo reported later, leant
forward and asked quietly:

"Tell me, where did you get your boy?"

"Vich?  Sin Foo?  Oh!  I tell you.  I got him to
carry ze camera.  Ach! zese Chinamen!  Zey are above
all zinks suberstitious.  Zey zink ze camera hold tousand
defils; not one haf ze gourage to undertake it till I abbly
to ze gompradore of a Mr. Brown, for whom I had a
letter.  Mr. Brown is a bad lot; he is gone, none knows
vere—ze Russians haf him put out of sight for because he
haf betrayed zem to ze Japanese.  Perhaps you know him,
mein frient?  Vell, ze gompradore recommend me zis boy,
Sin Foo, vat haf some intelligence and do not fear ze
defils.  He is of use—yes, of use; he is not afraid to
follow me in ze zick of ze battle.  Vere ze gombat rage,
zere is Schwab and his camera.  It is in ze blood.  My
ancestor Hildebrand Suobensius vas a great fighter—a
Landsknecht.  I vill tell you his history——"

Hi Lo's report made Jack uneasy.  Sowinski was evidently
suspicious.  If his suspicions took definite form, it
was scarcely likely that a man of his rancorous disposition
would leave things as they were.  In the dusk of
the evening Jack hurried to his friend the compradore; he
felt that at this critical moment he needed advice from a
Chinaman of experience.  When Hi An heard what had
happened, he said at once that it would be madness for Jack
to remain longer in Moukden.  Sowinski would certainly
seek a resolution of his doubts; he would in any case have
Jack arrested; and being in disguise, Jack would in all
probability, if arrested, meet the fate of a spy.

While they were talking, Hi Lo came in hurriedly to
report that one of Sowinski's servants was hanging about
Schwab's house, apparently on the watch.  That clinched
the matter.  Jack must make himself scarce, and as
speedily as possible.  Where was he to go?  In the
confused state of the country he might easily disappear;
he could become a camp-follower, or mafoo to some
European.  But this would have its dangers; a Chinaman,
as he had already proved, would soon penetrate his
disguise; with a definite purpose before him, he did not
care to be the sport of chance.  He might take refuge
for a time with Wang Shih's people; but it was not
improbable that search would be made for him there, and
he did not wish to involve them in the escape of a spy.
There was his friend Ah Lum; he remembered the chief's
invitation, and bethought himself that the Chunchuses,
moving constantly about the country, enjoyed the best
opportunities of learning his father's whereabouts.  His
mind was made up; he would join the brigands.

But unluckily the city gates were now shut.  Since the
war had come nearer to the walls, the entrances had been
guarded more strictly.  No one was allowed to go in or
out after nightfall unless he wore a uniform or had a
pass.  The inner wall was too high to climb over; if by
any chance he could slip through the gates, traverse the
suburbs, and climb the outer wall, he might be shot; if he
waited till morning, he ran the risk of arrest.  Yet, all
things considered, it seemed better to wait.  Sowinski
was apparently not quite sure of his ground.  Then, to
ensure his escape, a pony was needed; and he would have
to enquire of Ah Lum's agent in the city, from whom
alone could he learn the present whereabouts of the band.
Finally, he was disinclined to leave Schwab without
personally informing him of his approaching departure.  This
was perhaps in the circumstances a small matter, but it
had more weight with Jack than he was probably aware of.

Taking leave of Hi An, he set off to return to Schwab's
house.  Hi Lo had preceded him.  As he walked he felt
that he was being dogged.  He did not care to assure
himself by looking back; but he took the first opportunity
of slipping into a side street, and hurrying to his
destination by a short cut.  Schwab was writing, alone.

"My velly solly, masta," said Jack, kowtowing with
even more than usual humility.  "My wantchee wailo."

"Vat you say?  Already vant holiday?  No, no, boy.
You haf been viz me not yet vun monce.  I do not gif
holidays so soon."

"My no wantchee holiday; my wantchee wailo allo-time;
no come back; hab catchee muchee plenty leason."

"Donnerwetter!  Vat is zat for a kind of business?
Zat is desertion; infamous!  Who zen vill carry ze
camera?  No, I cannot let you go; no, I refuse, I vill
bay you no vages."

"My velly solly.  My likee masta first-chop; wantchee
wailo all-same.  Masta no say Sin Foo belongey tellum
what-time he wantchee go.  Masta no wantchee pay-lo
wages? all-same; my no makee bobbely.  Suttinly my
wailo chop-chop."

"Ach!  Zat is ever so; ze goot servant cut his shtick;
ze bad servant shtick fast.  Vell, if I say no, vizout doubt
you vill run avay?"

"No fea'."

"Vell zen, I let you go.  You haf done me vell; zat is
ze truth.  But business are business; you haf served me
vun monce less two days.  I bay you zen fifteen dollar
less ze vorth of two days.  Vat is zat?"

"My no savvy, masta; my no hab catchee t'ings so-fashion
China-side."

"Vell, I vill gif you fifteen dollar, and zay nozink about
vat you owe me.  Vere you go?"

"My go look-see flend long long wailo."

"So!  I tell you zis; if again you gome back to
Moukden vile Hildebrand Schwab is var gorresbondent,
he alvays gif you job."

"Masta too muchee velly kind.  My tinkee Toitsche
genelum numpa one chappee, galaw!  My say-lo by-by,
masta; so long!"

The farewell interview had taken longer than Jack
anticipated.  He was anxious to be gone, feeling insecure in
Schwab's house.  Giving the hard-earned dollars to Hi
Lo, he hastened back by side streets to the compradore,
with a suspicion that he was watched as he left the house
by two Chinamen whom he caught sight of on the other
side of the road.  He peeped back at the first corner, and
saw that one of the men was coming in his direction; the
other had disappeared.  On reaching Hi An's house he
found that the man was absent; he had spoken of making
enquiries of Ah Lum's agent.  Jack waited rather
anxiously.  Twenty minutes passed, then the compradore
came in very hurriedly.

"Sowinski is coming with Russian soldiers!" he gasped.
"They will be here in five minutes.  I found Ah Lum's
man, Me Hong; he will send a guide to Hsien-chia-kou,
ten miles away.  You must not go near Me Hong.  But
how to get away!"

Jack fortunately could keep his head.  He had but a
few minutes to decide on a course, and he made the most
of them.  If he went into the street he would be at once
seen; probably there were already men on the watch at
each end.  The only other way out was by the back.  The
compradore peered out; as Jack expected, he saw several
figures lurking in the shade of the wall.  Jack remembered
that in the fence separating the compradore's garden from
Mr. Brown's there was a narrow gap through which Hi Lo
had been wont to creep as a short cut to the house.
Between the fence and the house there was a line of shrubs
about two and a half feet high.  It was growing dark; if
he could creep away under cover of the bushes to the hole
in the fence he might gain his father's house.  There he
would in truth be in the enemy's country; but the
attention of the watchers would probably be engrossed by the
soldiers whose tramp was now heard approaching, and his
own house would be the last that Sowinski would suspect
as the fugitive's hiding-place.  What the next step might
be Jack could not imagine; the first was risky, but he saw
no other.  In a word he told the compradore of his
intention.  The man gasped; then with a rapid movement took
a revolver from a shelf and pressed it into his young master's
hand.

"Good-bye, Mr. Hi!  I will let you know.  Don't forget
Father."

He slipped to the back door, dropped on all-fours, and
wriggled along the ground close to the line of shrubs.  He
had barely started when he heard Sowinski loudly
summoning Hi An to open the door.  The compradore made
some reply, apparently temporizing; the answer was an
angry shout, followed by a soothing response from the
faithful servant.  Jack heard no more; in another moment
he reached the gap in the fence.  He wriggled through;
the garden had been neglected since Mr. Brown's arrest,
and the undergrowth was rank; this was fortunate, for
only a few feet away he saw, leaning on the fence, the
form of a Russian soldier, and a yard or two beyond him
another.  They were talking together, or they might have
heard the rustle as Jack squeezed through the hole and
made for the house.

In these few moments he had been rapidly thinking.
He could not hope to hide in the house, but he might
pass through it, gain the front door, and escape by the
street.  Naturally he was so familiar with the house that
there was no danger of his going astray.  But, slipping
in by the back door and turning into the passage leading
to the front, his hope was suddenly dashed.  Three Chinamen
stood at the open door, completely barring his egress.
They were talking excitedly and in loud tones.  Jack
overheard one of them say that the Russians were arresting
a supposed Chinaman, actually an Englishman who had
come to spy for the Japanese, the very man who had
been living in Hi An's house behind, and whose illness
had given them such concern.  Evidently they were
servants of the Pole, stationed at the door to keep watch.
The three men blocked up the doorway and stood facing
the street.

Jack noiselessly slipped into the dining-room, lit by a
single lamp.  He felt like a fox in a hole, with dogs all
round ready to snap him up if he showed his nose.  He
looked round the familiar room with a curious sense of
aloofness.  Had this been for so long his home?  It was
the same room, the same furniture—a table, a few chairs,
engravings on the walls, the large oaken press; but a
different air seemed to pervade it now.  For a moment he
thought of hiding in the press until dead of night, and
then slipping away.  He opened the door; the lock had
been forced; the press was empty save for a few bottles
of wine.  Clearly this would not be a secure refuge; a
bottle might be required at any moment.  What else could
he do?  He could open the window—the only glass one
in the house—and drop into the street; but he would
certainly be seen by the men at the door or by a casual
passer-by, though there were few people about at that
hour of the evening.  Yet no other course suggested
itself, and he was moving towards the window when he
heard soft footsteps in the passage outside.  Quick as
thought he sprang behind the open door, listening with
thumping heart.

One of the servants passed by on the way to the kitchen.
He had left the others at the door to keep watch while he
prepared his master's supper.  The cloth, Jack noticed,
had been left on the table.  In a minute or two the man
would come into this very room, and Jack must be seen.
With nerves tingling he waited, setting his lips as a plan
of action was suggested to him by the emergency.  Soon
he heard the clink of glass.  The servant was returning.
He came from the kitchen carrying a tray with a glass
jug, a tumbler, and a plate.  He entered the room, walked
to the table, and set the tray upon it.  At that moment
Jack stepped quietly up to him from behind, brought one
arm round over his mouth to stifle any cry, and with the
other held the cold barrel of his pistol to the man's temple.

"Keep silent, for your life!" he whispered.

The Chinaman, with fear in his eyes, made no sound or
movement, but stood as still as his trembling limbs allowed.
Still keeping the pistol pointed at the man's head, Jack
quietly closed the door.  Then he said:

"I will do you no injury, but your safety and mine
require that you should be out of harm's way for a time.  I
have business with your master.  Go into that press.  So
long as you are quiet and do what you are told, you have
nothing to fear.  But if you make the slightest sound, that
moment will be your last.  You understand me?"

He spoke very low and rapidly, but distinctly.  The man
nodded; there was no mistaking the grim meaning with
which this tall foreigner who spoke Chinese fingered the
trigger of his revolver.  Crossing the room to the press,
the Chinaman stepped into it, and Jack closed the door.

He wondered if he could slip out of the house before
Sowinski returned.  Before long the Pole must discover
that the bird had flown; he would realize the hopelessness
of searching the whole of Moukden at night for a man
disguised as a Chinaman, and, furious as he might be,
he would doubtless accept the situation for the moment,
and return to his evening meal.  Once more Jack was
making towards the window when he heard footsteps
again, this time approaching from the back of the house;
not the shuffling felt soles of Chinese, but the tramp of
heavy European boots.  At the same moment there came
from the street the clatter of several feet marching in time.
Jack stepped back from the window.  He heard a gruff
voice, the voice of Sowinski, say in Russian:

"Sergeant, there is no more to be done.  The spy has
got away.  Inform the sentinels at the gates.  He cannot
leave the city to-night; we may trap him yet.  Report
to General Bekovitch; I will see him in the morning.
Good-night!"

The sergeant responded, and marched his squad away.

"Where is Ming Fo?" demanded Sowinski of the
servants at the door.  "Why is he not watching with you?"

"He is preparing your supper, master; we are keeping
watch for him."

"You have seen no one pass?"

"No one."

"Very well.  Go and get your supper."

.. _`Sowinski's Visitor`:

.. figure:: images/img-171.jpg
   :align: center
   :alt: Sowinski's Visitor

   Sowinski's Visitor

Then Jack heard Sowinski's footsteps approaching the
room and the two Chinamen shuffling along behind towards
the kitchen.  His chest heaved; the crisis was at hand.





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`A Night with Sowinski`:

.. class:: center large bold

   CHAPTER XIV


.. class:: center large bold

   A Night with Sowinski

.. vspace:: 2

.. class:: noindent small

The Persuasive Pistol—A Pass—Thorough—Captain
Sinetsky—The Eastern Gate—An Empty Pistol

.. vspace:: 2

Jack had intended to deal with the Pole as he had dealt
with his servant; but the fact of the two other Chinamen
passing the door of the room close on his heels had thrown
out his calculations.  He could not afford to run the risk
of the slightest struggle; it would certainly be heard.  He
had but an instant to decide on his course.

Behind the door was a chair.  To this Jack tiptoed,
and he had just seated himself when Sowinski opened
the door.  The Pole flung his hat on a chair, and moved
towards the press, doubtless with the intention of getting
a bottle of wine.  He almost had his hand on the knob
when he became aware, rather by instinct than by
perception, of a movement behind him.  Jack with his foot
had gently swung the door to.  Turning sharply round,
Sowinski saw the red light of the shaded lamp reflected
from the barrel of a pistol in the hand of a young Chinaman
seated composedly within five feet of him.  For a moment
he was motionless; he was too much surprised for speech;
a second glance showed him who his visitor was, and Jack,
watching him keenly, saw his face go pale.  He stood
irresolute; the ominous pistol, not held rigidly, but moving
gently from side to side, seemed to hold him spell-bound,
as the swaying head of a snake fascinates a hare.

"Yes, Mr. Sowinski," said Jack quietly, though his
pulse was galloping; "yes, it is I, Jack Brown.  You
were looking for me?  Speak low, or the pistol may go off."

"You would be arrested at once," said the Pole in a
hard whisper.

"Possibly, but that would not help you.  You would be
dead."

Sowinski ground his teeth.  Rage and fear struggled
for the mastery; but fear, as Jack had calculated, was the
stronger.  The man's eye never left the barrel.

"First, Mr. Sowinski," continued Jack, rising, and now
pointing the revolver steadily at his head; "first, I wish
to know where my father is."

"Your father?  How should I know?  Am I your father's
keeper?  He was deported."

"You lie!" said Jack, his voice vibrant with anger.
"Come, your reply; your life depends on it."

Visibly cowed by Jack's menacing look and tone, the
Pole replied sullenly:

"Well, it is true; he was taken to Harbin, to be
delivered to General Kriloff."

"And where is he now?"

"I do not know.  I swear that is the truth.  General
Bekovitch——"

"Does he know?"

"I cannot say.  I do not know what message he sent to
General Kriloff.  I have heard nothing of your father since
he went away."

"He went in chains; did you know that?"

"Yes," replied the Pole hesitatingly.

"Then where is he?  You know that; you know more;
a man is sent away in chains, herded with foul criminals;
it is your doing; what have you done with him?"

"I don't know; may I never speak again if that is not
true.  He is probably in the mines."

As he said this, even the imminent pistol could not
prevent Sowinski from betraying his rancorous satisfaction in
a mocking curl of the lip and a half-suppressed chuckle.
Yet Jack felt intuitively that in this case the man was
speaking the truth; that he really did not know what had
become of his victim after he had seen him safely wedged
in the cattle-truck.  There was scorn as well as a white
heat of anger in Jack's reply.

"You infamous scoundrel!  You would be justly served
if I shot you where you stand, and for my own part the
satisfaction would be worth the risk.  But I can't kill
even such vermin as you in cold blood; and if I spare
you, be sure the day of reckoning is only deferred.  There
are a thousand Poles waiting to kill the traitor Ladislas
Streleszki at sight."

The amazed and wretched man swayed as he stood; his
hue turned still more ashen than before; his whole body
seemed to shrink together with craven fear.

"Now, choose," continued Jack after a pause.  "The
pistol, or instant compliance with my demands.—Silence!"  He
heard the two Chinamen approach the door, and
noticed a twitching of the Pole's mouth suggesting a cry
for help.  The impulse, if impulse it was, was immediately
checked by Jack's stern command.

"Send them home."

Sowinski called to the men that they might go; he would
require them no more that night.

"Now close the shutters.  Thank you!  I see pen, ink,
and paper on yonder shelf.  Seat yourself at the table and
write in Russian from my dictation."

The Pole moved mechanically, under the spell of the
covering revolver.

"'To Lieutenant-Colonel Gudriloff,'" dictated Jack.
"'Please supply bearer, Chang Sin Foo, with a pass
for the gates, and two good ponies; debit the charge
to my account.'  Now sign your name—your present
name.  That is right.  Now, Mr. Sowinski, you have
been so obliging that I trust you will excuse what must
seem a poor return for your complaisance.  But my
position in your—that is to say, my father's house, being
somewhat delicate, I have no alternative."

The two Chinamen having gone away, Jack no longer
subdued his tone.  He had the whip hand.  Still keeping
the revolver steadily pointed at the scowling Pole's head,
he stepped to the press and, Sowinski looking on in
amazement, called to the Chinese servant to come out.
The man was as pale as his master; he was stricken
with the very ague of fear.

"You have nothing to fear," said Jack, pitying the
fellow.  "Do what I tell you quickly.  Tear up that
cloth."  He pointed to the none too clean cover on the
table.  "Tear it into six strips."

The man tried, but the material was too tough, or his
hands too much enfeebled from fright.

"Take the knife, but remember, at the first movement
in this direction I will shoot you."

With some difficulty the man did as he was bid.

"Now bind your master's legs—first round the ankles.
Quick!"—as the man recoiled before the glare in Sowinski's
eyes.  Jack jerked up his pistol, and the trembling
wretch hastened to obey.  The Pole made no resistance;
but if looks could have slain, both Jack and the Chinaman
would have been killed on the spot.

"Now the arms," said Jack, when, under his supervision,
Sowinski's legs had been securely trussed.  "No,
behind him—not in front: that is right.  Now the knees.
Now tie the wrists to the ankles.  Now a gag; that fur
cap will do.  We are going to place your master in the
press.  You take the head; I will take the feet."

Jack felt that he was giving the Chinaman a bare chance
to close with him; but the man seeming so cowed, he took
the risk, careful, however, to keep the revolver conspicuous.
As they lifted the Pole they saw his face distorted with
rage and hate.  They stood him upright in the press, and
closed the door, leaving sufficient space between it and the
sides to admit air.  Then with a feeling of relief after the
tension of his perilous situation, Jack took up the order
signed by Sowinski, and was wondering how to dispose of
the Chinaman, when there was a loud knock at the outer
door, followed immediately by footsteps in the passage.
Jack's heart beat violently; he caught a malicious look
of triumph in the servant's eyes.  But he recovered his
*sang-froid*, and at the same moment made his decision.
A voice in Russian was calling for Sowinski; just as the
footsteps approached the inner door Jack pushed the
Chinaman in front of him.

"Send him away," he whispered.  "Remember the pistol."

He had no time for more.  The visitor was at the door.
It opened.

"Ha, Sowinski!—" said the new-comer, a captain of
Cossacks.  Then he paused, seeing only two Chinese
servants.

"Where is your master?"

"He is away, Excellency," faltered the man; "not at
home; he will not be back for some hours."  Jack touched
his heel to quicken his invention.  He continued: "He
said he was going first to the Green Dragon, then to the
railway-station.  He expected to meet a friend.  Can I
give him any message?"

"It is very annoying," said the officer.  "I must see
him to-night.  The Green Dragon, you say?  I will see
whether he is there.  If he returns, say that Captain
Sinetsky called, and that he is to come and see me at my
quarters at once."

He turned on his heel and left the house.  The tension
was relaxed.  The immediate danger was past, but Jack
saw that his escape was still to be deferred.  The captain's
look and tone of vexation showed that his business with
Sowinski was important.  Failing to find the Pole at the
hotel he might return himself or send a messenger, and
then, if Jack were absent, the prisoner would be discovered
and released, and the hue and cry after the disguised
Englishman would be hot before he could get his pass and
be clear of the city.  The gates would not be opened before
daybreak.  It would hardly be safe to leave the house
much earlier.  He made up his mind to wait.


Creaking and groaning, the massive gates barring the
eastern entrance to Moukden swung back on their hinges;
the squatting crowd patiently awaiting the opening awoke
to sudden activity; there was a general movement of
foot-passengers, chairs, and carts towards the archway.  In a
moment the rush was checked: a Cossack officer with a
dozen sturdy troopers barred the way—one man only
might pass at a time, and that after careful scrutiny.

When some two or three score had run the gauntlet, the
officer, whose patience seemed to be sorely tried, permitted
himself a hearty Russian oath, and growled to the sergeant
at his side.

"These Chinese are all alike.  What the goodness is
the use of asking us to stop—what is it?"—he glanced at
a paper in his hand—"'a young Englishman, tall, slim,
cleverly disguised as a native'?  It's absurd—it's a job for
a Chinaman, not for us."

"But, little father, it must be quite easy to recognize an
Englishman.  They are all red-faced, with long noses, and
big teeth, and side whiskers—I have seen pictures of them
in the papers in Petersburg.  They are ugly, the English—one
would know them anywhere."

Captain Vassily Nikolaeitch Kargopol, his feelings
relieved by his brief outburst, smiled condescendingly.  He
recognized the sergeant's description of the familiar
continental caricature of John Bull; but as the crowd surged
through he had no time for correcting his subordinate's
impressions.  An old man, riding one pony and leading
another, dismounted at the gate as the crowd thinned, and
with elaborate kowtows presented his pass.  The shadow
of a wide-brimmed hat seemed to deepen the wrinkles of
his parchment skin; but there was an alert look in the
eye, and a nervous energy in the carriage, that told of a
spirit still young.

"Pass the bearer, Chang Sin Foo, and two ponies.
Gudriloff—Lieutenant-Colonel."  The captain read out the
instructions, handed back the document, and signed to
the Chinaman to proceed.  Leading his ponies through
the gate, the old man mounted, and rode slowly on.  A
mile out he quickened his pace, and struck off into a
side track winding towards the hills that bounded the
horizon north, south, and east.  As he left the main
road, the more rapid movement jolted a pistol from the
folds of his voluminous garments.  He glanced back and
saw it lying on the track, but did not check his pace,
though an odd smile disturbed the wrinkles of his mouth.

"It's a good job," he muttered in unmistakable English—"a
jolly good job, Sowinski didn't know it wasn't loaded!"





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`Cossack and Chunchuse`:

.. class:: center large bold

   CHAPTER XV


.. class:: center large bold

   Cossack and Chunchuse

.. vspace:: 2

.. class:: noindent small

The Road in China—A Change of View—Looking Ahead—A
Cold Welcome—Beleaguered—The Part of
Prudence—Smoke—Beaten Back—The Water Supply—An
Inspiration—Ch'hoy!

.. vspace:: 2

At Hsien-chia-kou the strangely young old man with the
two ponies met not only the guide punctually furnished
by Ah Lum's agent, but also Mr. Hi and his son.  The
compradore explained that after what had happened he
no longer felt safe in his little cottage, and had made up
his mind to join his brother in Harbin and do what he
could there to further the enquiries for Mr. Brown.  As
for Hi Lo, the boy had for the first time shown a most
reprehensible and unfilial spirit of disobedience.  He had
declared that the Toitsche genelum's service, now that
Sin Foo had left, had no further attraction for him.  If
he must serve someone, it should be Mr. Chack Blown;
and he would much rather serve Mr. Chack Blown than
accompany his father to Harbin, for he did not like his
Aunt Feng.

Jack laughed.

"Let him come with me, Mr. Hi.  He saved those
papers so cleverly that I think a great deal of him, and
I'll really be glad to have him with me."

The compradore would not oppose his young master's
express wish; accordingly, Jack, when he rode off, had
two companions.

Jack had learnt from his guide that Ah Lum's camp was
situated in the hills south of Kirin, at a point many miles
due north of the spot where he had left the chief.  He had
before him, therefore, a journey of nearly three hundred
miles.  Fortunately the rainy season was past; a few
days of brilliant sunshine and bustling winds had worked
a marvellous transformation.  The road that only recently
had been a pulp of liquid mud was now thick with soft
brown blinding dust, clouds of which were blown by the
north-easter full in the travellers' faces, covering them
from head to foot.  Unpleasant as this was, it was less
troublesome than the continual assaults of midges which
Jack had suffered on his previous journey.  The autumn
air, already nipping out of the sunshine, had annihilated
these pests, and the only trouble of a similar kind that
Jack experienced was from some black ants whose nest
his pony disturbed, and which bit with terrible ferocity.

For more than a week the three riders pursued their
journey almost without incident.  After the first few days
they came into a country of hill and forest, broken by
richly cultivated valleys and large swift streams.  They
had to climb ridges, to cross ravines, to ford rivers,
sometimes fording the same river a score of times, so
serpentine were its windings.  Here and there were
settlers' huts, where they found scanty accommodation,
but a warm welcome; here and there also a hillside inn,
at which they spent the night on the floor of a tiny room,
with perhaps a dozen Chinamen packed like sardines in a
box on the k'ang above them.

During these days and nights Jack had many opportunities
of thinking over his position.  He wondered
sometimes whether the course he had decided on was
the best he could have taken; but his ponderings always
converged to the same point—that his only chance of
obtaining news of his father and procuring his liberation
lay in remaining in Russian or Russo-Chinese territory.
For himself, hunted and outlawed as he was, capture
might well mean death, and nowhere was he so likely to
be safe as among the Chunchuses.  But he saw that in
seeking an asylum among them he was in a sense casting
in his lot with the enemies of Russia and espousing their
quarrel.  That consideration gave him food for thought.
He had no concern with the great struggle then in
progress.  It was nothing to him whether Manchuria became
the spoil of either Russia or Japan.  Up to the time of his
father's arrest, indeed, his sympathies had inclined to the
Russian side.  He had made many friends among the
Russians during his stay in Moukden, especially among
the engineers and officials connected with the railway.
He had found them amiable, courteous, and singularly free
from what, for want of a better word, the Englishman
calls "side".  Of the Japanese, on the other hand, he
knew almost nothing.  His impressions of the few he had
met in the course of business were not wholly favourable,
which was perhaps little to be wondered at, for the trading
classes of Japan, with whom alone Mr. Brown had had
relations, were only just beginning to emerge from the
condition of a despised and, it must be admitted,
despicable caste.  Japanese of the Samurai class looked down
on a merchant with far more disdain than an English
aristocrat shows towards a petty tradesman; and it would
have seemed incredible to them that an English marquis
should become a coal merchant or a dairyman.  It was
natural enough that a class thus despised should not
be greatly hampered with self-respect; and their business
methods did not commend themselves to Mr. Brown, with
whom, as with every British merchant, his word was as
good as his bond.

But the black sheep whom Jack had come across
recently had brought about a change in his feeling
towards the Russians generally.  He saw them now as
grasping adventurers, and the Chunchuses as patriots
waging a lawful warfare against invasion and oppression.
He had no very kindly feeling for the men who were
treating his father with such abominable injustice.  He
did not disguise from himself that in joining the
Chunchuses he could not remain a passive spectator of the
struggle.  He must be prepared to identify himself
completely with the fortunes of Ah Lum's band, and become
to all intents and purposes as lawless a brigand as
themselves, But he hoped it would not be for long.  If the
tide of success upon which the Japanese arms had been
borne from victory to victory did not turn, the Russian
domination must ere long be shattered, and in some vague
undefined way he felt that the fortunes of his quest were
bound up with the discomfiture of the Russians.  But in
thus throwing in his lot with their enemies he reserved one
point: he would steadily refuse to have any part in such
excesses as were from time to time reported of the
Chunchuses.  It was likely enough that as a very unimportant
individual, incurably a "foreign devil", he would be
laughed to scorn for his scruples by Ah Lum.  The
custom of torturing prisoners was so deeply rooted in
Chinese methods of warfare that Ah Lum, even if he so
desired, might be unable to control his followers and
prevent atrocity when they were not under his immediate
observation.  This would make it difficult for Jack to
remain with them; but he put the matter from his
thoughts: he would not meet difficulties half-way.

Now and again, as with his guide and Hi Lo he passed
through isolated villages, he heard of small bodies of
Cossacks having been seen in their vicinity.  From the
general talk at inns and farmhouses he gathered that the
Russians, alarmed for their communications after the
battle of Liao-yang, were about to make a serious
attempt to deal with Ah Lum and one or two other
Chunchuse chiefs who threatened the railway between Harbin
and Vladivostok.  The Cossack parties whose movements
the villagers reported, were presumably scouting
to ascertain the exact position of Ah Lum's band
preparatory to a concerted attempt to entrap him.

One afternoon, as they climbed a rugged slope towards
a village nestling among trees at the top, the travellers
heard the rattle of musketry in the distance, and saw a
couple of Russian horsemen riding away in the direction
whence the sound came.  At first Jack thought of
avoiding the village altogether, and making a detour; but he
had been riding since early morning over difficult country,
the sun had been hot, and he was very hungry; so that
after consulting with his guide he decided to go on, the
man thinking there was as great a risk of encountering
Russians the one way as the other.  They proceeded,
therefore, but cautiously, keeping a sharp look-out.  The
guide knew the headman of the village; if he could get
speech with him they might obtain useful information.

Firing could still be heard fitfully; it was impossible to
tell how far away, but it seemed at a considerable distance
from the village.  When they entered the street, they
came upon a knot of villagers in voluble discussion.
They were instantly the object of a narrow scrutiny; but
the guide had already marked his friend the headman
among the group, and called him by name.  The man
came forward to meet the riders; the guide explained in
a sentence that he wished to have some private talk with
him, and he at once led the way to his house.

Thinking that frankness was here the best policy, Jack
asked his guide to explain briefly who he was and what
had brought him to the village.  The headman was
perturbed, almost incensed, when he heard the story.  He
had suffered already from depredations by the brigands;
if the Russians knew that he had harboured a fugitive, he
could only expect to suffer even more seriously at their
hands.  And there was great danger that they would
discover the new-comers' presence.  A squadron of
Cossacks about two hundred strong was at that moment
besieging some fifty Chunchuses in a farm three miles
away.  The brigands had been shut in for three days,
and it was expected that they must yield shortly, perhaps
before another day was past.  The owner of the farm
had come into the village when the Chunchuses appeared.
He said that there was plenty of grain in his barns; the
brigands could not be starved; but the water supply was
likely to give out.  The farm being situated less than
half a mile from a river, the store of water kept in it
was only sufficient for his family and servants, and could
not meet the requirements of the company of Chunchuses,
to say nothing of their horses.  Behind the walls they
might succeed in keeping the Russians at bay unless
artillery were brought against them; but lack of water
must inevitably cause them to surrender.  They had made
a good fight; the besiegers had lost a good many men;
two Cossacks had come into the village only a short time
before Jack's arrival, with orders to the headman to
prepare quarters for the wounded.  But they so greatly
outnumbered the defenders that they could afford to lose
heavily without seriously reducing the odds in their
favour; and, taught by experience, they would probably
not attempt to storm the place, but would sit down and
leave its reduction to the work of time.

These explanations were given by the headman, who
concluded by earnestly entreating Jack and his
companions to depart.  If the Cossacks suspected that any
of the villagers had been in relations with the brigands
they would certainly burn every house in the place, and in
all likelihood slaughter the inhabitants.  Jack sympathized
with the man in his terror; he said at once that the village
should suffer no harm through him; and after buying a
little food to carry him to the next stage, he rode out with
his two companions.

But the news he had just heard was not of a kind to
pass unconsidered.  He was on his way to join Ah Lum's
band; it was a part of that band that was now in such
desperate straits, and he felt a personal interest in their
fate.  Word had been sent to Ah Lum, as the headman
had informed him; but Ah Lum was at least two days'
march away, and another two days must pass before help
could come from him, even if he found himself in a
position to send assistance.  If this siege of the farm were a
part of an organized movement against the Chunchuses, it
was not unlikely that Ah Lum himself was hard pressed.

Jack was in a quandary.  Prudence bade him press on
without delay; the convoy with the Russian wounded was
no doubt already on the way to the village, and might meet
him or cross his path at any moment.  But he felt an
overpowering curiosity, natural in one of his active spirit, to see
for himself the place where the brigands were so stoutly
keeping up a fight against odds; and his curiosity was
reinforced by another motive: the desire to see whether
there was any possibility of their escaping from their peril.
He felt the natural impulse of youth to "do something",
even though he recognized how hopeless it was to imagine
that he, with but two companions, could intervene between
the Chunchuses and their fate.  Still, the impulse was
overmastering; he must see with his own eyes how they
were situated; and having availed himself of Ah Lum's
protection in placing himself in the hands of his agent, he
thought it his duty not to leave the neighbourhood
without at least assuring himself that rescue was out of the
question.

He announced his intention of riding to the farm.  His
guide vigorously protested; it was absurd, he said, to go
into the very jaws of danger; much better hurry on and
reach safety with the chief.

"And what would Mr. Ah think of you if he heard that?"

"But I don't know the way, master."

"No matter.  The firing was to our right; we saw the
way the Cossacks went; no doubt the wounded will come
the same way, so we must avoid that; but if we work
round gradually under cover of that copse yonder, we
shall be going in the right direction.  They're firing again.
You will come with me," he added sternly, divining an
inclination to bolt, "or you will no longer be Mr. Ah's
man, and you know what that means."

The three turned off to the right, skirting the beech
plantation of which Jack had spoken, the guide resigned
but sullen.  It was now about five o'clock in the
afternoon; in an hour and a half it would be dark.  Riding
cautiously, keeping a keen look-out on all sides for signs
of the Russians, they gradually made their way across
country, guided by the firing that was still heard at
intervals.  They were crossing a hilltop some three
miles from the village they had left behind, when Hi
Lo suddenly declared that he saw smoke in the distance.

"You have sharp eyes," said Jack.  "We had better
dismount.  Being on the sky-line we shall be easily seen
if the Russians look this way.  Let us hope they are
giving their whole attention to the farm."

They tied up their ponies to trees some distance from
the hill-path they had been following.  Jack wished to
leave Hi Lo in charge of the animals, but the boy pleaded
hard to be allowed to accompany his master.

"Masta say-lo my hab plenty good look-see.  My
walkee long-side masta; plaps my can helpum masta."

"Very well.  Now show me where you saw the smoke."

The boy pointed to a hollow nearly a mile away, where
at first Jack could see nothing but fields of hay and
over-ripe kowliang.  The smoke of course had now disappeared;
but, following Hi Lo's finger, Jack presently saw the dull
mud-coloured walls of a farm enclosure, barely distinguishable
from the brownish vegetation around.  A moment
later Hi Lo's keen glance lighted upon the low shelter-tents
of the Russian encampment, some distance to the
left of the farm, apparently situated in a field, recently
cropped, near the bank of the river, of which a few yards
could be seen.  Not a man was in sight; but beyond the
camp was a clump of brushwood, at the edge of which
Jack fancied he saw the black forms of two or three
horses.  Probably the rest were tethered in the copse.

As Jack and his two companions, standing motionless
on the hilltop, looked across the valley they suddenly saw
a score of men rush out from the tall kowliang in which
they had been concealed, and dash forward against the far
corner of the wall surrounding the farm.  At the same
moment, from the fields around puffs of smoke were seen
rising in the air, and a few moments later the sharp rattle
of musketry, like the sudden shooting of pebbles from a
cart, reached their ears.  But the defenders had not been
caught napping.  A withering fire met the Russians as
they charged up the slight slope leading to the farm; only
a few gained the crest, and these fell to the Chunchuses,
who all at once appeared as by magic in the courtyard.
The survivors hesitated for a moment; then they turned
and plunged into cover of the long grass and kowliang.
In a few seconds every man had disappeared from view;
peace reigned over the scene; there was nothing to show
that the farm was the centre of a bitter struggle.

But for the scarcity of water Jack had little doubt from
what he had seen that the Chunchuses would be able to
hold their own indefinitely against the Cossacks, unless
siege operations of a regular kind were adopted.  He
could see no trace of trenches, such as, with their numerical
advantage, the besiegers could easily have constructed if
they had been so minded and possessed the requisite
knowledge.  But they were a mounted force, unused, no doubt,
to any tactics but the simple Cossack evolutions.  The
average Russian soldier has little adaptability.  The
construction of trenches is not a horseman's business; it would
not enter the head of a Cossack captain to employ a device
so far removed from his routine.  Yet with the aid of a
trench the besiegers could make short work of the
Chunchuse defences, which consisted simply of the mud wall
surrounding the farm, and the farm itself—a thatched
cottage with byres and pig-sties adjacent, flimsy structures
at the best.

Under cover of the tall shrubs that crowned the hill, Jack
looked long and searchingly at the beleaguered farm.  He
tried to picture the defenders within the walls, hoping for
relief, watching the inch-fall of their water supply, tantalized
by the sight of the full stream flowing so near, and yet as
distant as though it were in another continent.  To Jack
it appeared that there was no chance whatever of doing
anything to assist the Chunchuses, among whom doubtless
were men whom he had seen in Ah Lum's camp.  He
asked the guide whether he could suggest a way.  The
man replied that the only course was to hurry on and
inform Ah Lum of the desperate position of his men.
Inasmuch as a messenger had gone on the same errand
two days before, the guide's suggestion was not very
helpful.  And Jack was possessed of the feeling that to
act thus would be equivalent to leaving the trapped band
in the lurch, a thing that went very much against the
grain.  Yet what else could he do?  If he could give no
help in the actual, pressing emergency, there was nothing
to gain by remaining on the scene—not only nothing to
gain but everything to lose, for he would run the risk of
being snapped up by the Cossacks.

"There's no help for it, I suppose," he said half-aloud.
Very unwillingly he turned his back on the farm, and
retraced his steps down the hillside towards the copse
where the ponies were tethered.  Just before the farm was
wholly shut from his sight by the crest of the hill, he
turned again and swept the country with his eye, as though
to take a last look at the scene of an approaching tragedy.
It happened that in his movements upon the hill he had
reached a point where a somewhat different view was
obtainable, and he now noticed for the first time, half a
mile away to his left, an open space in which a group of
men, Russians no doubt, were busy around a number of
tripods with big cauldrons suspended.  Smoke was rising
from one or two; the men were evidently lighting fires to
prepare their evening meal.

"Strange," thought Jack, "that the cooking place
should be so far from the shelter-tents and horses.  It
must be nearly half a mile from the farm.  Do the troops
march to the food, I wonder, or is the food carried to the
troops?  Probably the former.  But why so far away?"

Even as the question occurred to him the answer flashed
upon his mind—and not only the answer, but a possible
means of doing what he so much longed to do.  Was it
possible?  He felt his pulse quicken at the mere thought.
The dusk was fast gathering over the scene; the farm and
its surroundings must soon be shut altogether from his
gaze; before that came about, he must take one more
look.  Bidding Hi Lo and the guide remain where they
were, he went back to his former post of observation,
moving very carefully so as not to be seen from the
quarter where he had not previously suspected the
presence of an enemy.  Once more he scanned the landscape;
then he returned to the two Chinese, who looked at him
questioningly, wondering at the change of expression on
his face.

"Back to the ponies!" he said briefly.  As they went
they saw the glow of the Russians' fires in the glooming
sky.  The sight brought a smile to Jack's lips, but he said
nothing to his expectant companions.  They found the
ponies where they had left them; they took from the
saddles the food brought from the village—a little rice,
some bean sprouts, and a small heap of monkey-nuts, all
that they had been able to get at short notice.  As they
munched their frugal meal Jack could not but wish for five
minutes by the steaming cooking-pots on the other side of
the hill.  When their hunger was satisfied, and the dusk
had deepened into night, Jack suddenly looked up from
the brown study in which he had appeared to be absorbed
and said:

"Now, listen to me."

His two companions listened with all their ears; Hi Lo
soon became restless with excitement; the guide, though
his Chinese stolidity was not so easily broken through, at
length gave utterance to the exclamation "Ch'hoy!" which
signifies approbation or disdain, pleasure or misgiving,
according to the inflection of the voice.  What Jack had
to say took some time; it was quite dark when he finished;
then he got up.

"Remember," he said, "not a movement nor a sound.
Do exactly as I have told you; then make for this spot
again."

Then he slipped away into the darkness.

Slowly, with infinite caution, he crossed the brow of the
hill, struck off towards the right, and descended the slope
on the opposite side.  It was so dark that he had no fear
of being seen; but, his view of the camp fires being
intercepted by the hill, he could not make sure of his direction,
and knew that at any moment he might stumble upon a
sentry.  The only chance of escape for the Chunchuses
being to take advantage of the darkness, he had no doubt
that the Russians would keep the strictest watch at night.
He had to guess his way; he was going to the farm.





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`Fire Panic`:

.. class:: center large bold

   CHAPTER XVI


.. class:: center large bold

   Fire Panic

.. vspace:: 2

.. class:: noindent small

Sentry-go—Beneath the Wall—An Old Friend—Thirst—A
Way Out—Three Shots—The Signal—The Reply—A Countryside
in Flames—At Full Gallop—Alarms—Stampede—Chow-chow

.. vspace:: 2

At the most, the distance Jack had to traverse was but a
short mile, yet so slow was his progress that nearly two
hours had elapsed before, from the vantage-ground of a
hillock a few feet above the surrounding fields, he caught
a dim glimpse in the starlight of the farm buildings
looming a short distance in front of him.  His intent ears had
already caught the measured tread of a sentry just
ahead; stealing along for another few yards he could
now see his head and shoulders and the end of a carbine
projecting above the high grass.  Jack stopped and
watched.  The sentry's beat seemed to be about thirty
yards; to his right Jack could hear the hum of several low
voices, no doubt from a picket.  He had taken the precaution
of approaching the farm at the point farthest from the
main gate.  The Chunchuses, if they made a sally, would
not leave their horses behind, for on foot they would be at
the mercy of their enemy.  Since they could not leap their
steeds over the wall, they were bound to issue from the
gate if at all; the exit, therefore, was sure to be closely
guarded, though no doubt there were sentries all round
the farm.

To the left of the sentry Jack had first seen there was
another, whose beat met that of his comrade.  Jack could
barely discern him in the darkness, but he fancied that
the man, on reaching the nearer end of his beat, awaited
the arrival of the other before turning.  That would
evidently be the best point at which to attempt the passage
to the farm; and the best time would be a second or two
after they had turned their backs upon one another, when
any slight noise Jack might make would almost certainly be
attributed by each man to his comrade.  Jack went down
on hands and knees and crawled very slowly to within a
few paces of the meeting-place.  Then he lay still, hoping
that he had not miscalculated and that there was no danger
beyond.  He listened intently; on both sides he heard the
men approaching; to the left the sound was fainter; the
beats were evidently of unequal length.  One man came
to a halt; in a few seconds he was joined by the other;
they exchanged a remark in a low tone, then separated
and tramped in opposite directions.  Instantly Jack glided
across their trail, and, still on hands and knees, crept
towards the farm, which he distinguished as a blacker patch
against the sky perhaps a hundred yards away.

He soon found that between him and the wall lay a
stretch of almost bare ground, no doubt made by the
traffic around the farm.  How was he to cross this?  He
might be seen by both Cossacks and Chunchuses, and if
seen he would be the target for perhaps scores of rifles.

All was still within the farm; from the distance came
faint sounds—voices from the Russian camp; behind he
heard the tramp of sentries.  Flat on the ground, already
cold with the autumn night frost, he eagerly scanned the
prospect for some cover by favour of which he could creep
across to the wall.  His heart gave a jump as he noticed,
a few feet to his right, what appeared to be a ditch
running from the wall across the bare patch and into the
fields.  Crawling noiselessly to it, he found that it was
a shallow cutting, intended, as he judged by the smell, to
carry off the drainage from the courtyard.  There was no
help for it; he sidled into the channel, luckily dry, and
wormed his way along it until he came to within a few
feet of the wall.  As he expected, the drain passed through
a hole in the wall, sufficiently deep for a man to crawl
through.

But the wall gave him pause.  He dared not creep
through; he would be taken for an enemy and shot.
He must seek a means of communicating with the garrison
without drawing their fire.  He crawled to the hole,
hesitated for a moment, then, making a bell of his hands,
sent through the shallow tunnel a low hiss, loud enough
to awaken attention; soft enough, he hoped, not to create
alarm.  Breathlessly he waited; there was no response.
Again he hissed; this time somewhat louder.  There was
a quick footstep within; then silence.  A third time; he
heard a foot strike against the wall, and next moment
became conscious that someone was looking down at him
over the wall.  He lifted his head.

"I am a friend," he said in deliberate clear-cut Chinese.
"I have news for your captain."

The man uttered an exclamation under his breath; then
bade him remain perfectly still or he would shoot him.  In
a low tone he summoned a comrade and sent him for the
commander.  Jack heard a little bustle within, not loud
enough to catch the attention of the sentries.  A few
minutes later a second voice spoke from the top of the
wall.

"Come through."

Jack wriggled through the narrow opening.  Only his
head projected within the wall when he was told to stop.

"Who are you?"

"Mr. Wang, is that you?"

"Ch'hoy!  It is Mr. Chack Blown.  Rise, sir!"

All bemired and dishevelled, Jack sprang to his feet.
The Chinaman kowtowed, uttering an incoherent
welcome; then led the way to the farmhouse.

"That's the most ticklish half-hour I ever spent in my
life," said Jack, when he was seated opposite to Wang
Shih on the k'ang in the living-room.  "And I'm pretty
hungry.  I've had nothing but rice-cakes and monkey-nuts
since morning.  Have you got anything to eat?"

"Plenty, sir; it is water we are in straits for.  I will
get you something."

In a few minutes a hot dish of boiled chicken and rice,
with a couple of clean chop-sticks, lay before Jack.  He ate
the meal with keen relish, while Wang Shih at his request
gave a rapid narrative of the events that had led to his
present predicament.  With a small force he was beating
up recruits in the district when he suddenly came upon
a troop of Cossacks outnumbering him by two to one.
Knowing the country so well, he could easily have got
away, but unluckily he was sighted by a second troop,
which cut across his line of retreat so rapidly that he
had only time to throw himself and his handful of men
into the farm before the two hostile bands united and
closed upon him.  He had kept them off for three days;
there was food enough to last another week, but his
ammunition was running short, and, worst of all, the
water supply had almost given out.  His men had been
put upon the smallest possible allowance, but in spite of
their care and self-denial there was barely enough left to
last for another twenty-four hours, and the horses were
already suffering terribly.  He had been hoping that Ah
Lum would send a force to relieve him; but the chief was
moving northward when he last saw him, and he doubted
whether the man he had sent could reach him in time.  In
default of relief, his only course when the water failed
would be to make a sortie by night; but the odds against
him were so heavy that very few of his men could possibly
escape.

"That is why I am here," said Jack.  "I was on my
way to join Mr. Ah—the reason I will tell you presently—when
I heard of your plight, in the village yonder.  I
came to see for myself how you were placed; your danger
had not been exaggerated; and I was on the point of
going off in despair when I had a sudden idea; it was
suggested by something I saw in the enemy's camp.  I
think there is a bare chance of escape if you will act on
my plan."

There was a look of mingled eagerness and anxiety on
Wang Shih's face as he begged Jack to tell him what he
had in mind.

"I am not alone," continued Jack.  "I came up with a
guide given me by Mr. Ah's agent Me Hong in Moukden,
and Hi Lo, our compradore's son, you remember.  They
are waiting on the hill less than a mile away.  When I
was looking out over the country I saw the Russians light
fires for cooking their supper, and at first wondered why
their kitchen was so far away from the farm.  But I saw
the reason.  As you know, there's a strong north-easter
blowing; the smoke from their fires floated this way,
towards the farm.  They had been prudent in selecting a
spot away from the fields, for a spark in the long grass
might start a blaze, and, spreading through the kowliang,
it would destroy their cover and make them easy targets
for your marksmen.  What would happen if the grass
chanced to burn in the night, eh?"

The Chinaman's expression changed; his chest heaved.

"We have tried to fire the grass more than once, but
they always stamped it out.  Go on, sir," he said.

"Well, you see, if a match were put to the grass to
windward of the farm, in several places, and if the wind
held, the flames would sweep upon the Russians in a
very few minutes.  Their horses would stampede; the
men would be so startled that probably they would be
quite unable to think of anything but their own safety;
and while they were scattered and disorganized, you could
sally out of the gate and get so good a start that, even if
they caught their horses, you would be out of harm's way
before they could pursue."

"But the flames would set fire to the farm.  We should
be burnt alive; our horses would be frightened too, and
we could never get them to face the fire and smoke."

"I had thought of that.  The thatch will probably catch
fire; but the open space outside the wall will prevent the
flames from actually touching the wall, and that will serve
as a partial protection.  Then you can blindfold the horses
so that they don't see the glare; they'll have to risk
suffocation by the smoke, but the men can avoid that by lying
flat on their faces and holding wet rags to their mouths.
If I'm right, the crops will burn very quickly and not
smoulder; you must, of course, wait until the fire has swept
by the farm; but then dash out without losing a minute.
I think you can rely on the Russians getting a terrible
fright, and that will be your opportunity."

"But how is the fire to be lighted at the right place,
and how are we to know when it will be done?"

"I left instructions with my guide.  If he hears three
rifle-shots in succession at noon to-morrow he is to creep
down with Hi Lo at dusk and choose two spots about half
a mile apart, just beyond where the Cossacks' horses are
picketed.  They will set fire to the grass where it is
thickest, then run towards each other and fire it in two
other places, and make their way as rapidly as possible
back to the copse where our ponies are.  The only risk
is that they may be discovered before they can complete
their work; but it's to their own interest to be careful,
and I think I can trust Hi Lo, at any rate, to outwit any
Russian."

Wang Shih was convinced.  Greatly impressed by the
care with which Jack had thought out the details of the
stratagem, he smiled and rubbed his hands together with
gleeful satisfaction.  Suddenly he checked these signs of
pleasure; he rose from the seat, pressed his closed fists to
his breast, and bent over until his brow all but touched the
ground.

"I thank you, sir," he said.  "I am grateful; Mr. Ah
will be grateful; you have risked your life for us, and we
Chinamen never forget a benefit."

"You saved me from death, Mr. Wang; look at it as an
acknowledgment if you like.  Besides, we are not out of
the wood yet; the farm may be stormed to-morrow before
the time for trying our little plan."

The Chinaman scoffed; he had held the Russians off for
three days, and it was not to be supposed that, with an
additional motive for a stout resistance, his men would fail
at the last.

"But what if the wind drops?  We require the wind to
make the blaze a short and merry one."

"No, no, sir.  At this time of year the wind when it
sets from the north-east blows for weeks at a time——"

"Bringing snow as often as not.  A snow-storm would
spoil it all."

Wang Shih's face fell; he looked so much distressed
that Jack laughed.

"I was only imagining the worst, Mr. Wang.  The
sky is clear and the air as dry as a bone.  Barring an
accident, or some very sudden and unlikely change in the
weather, there will be a pretty bonfire to-morrow night."

"Shall I tell the men to-night, sir?"

"On no account.  Let them sleep.  The place is
carefully watched, of course?"

"Yes.  Six men are on duty for two hours at a time;
the watches are carefully arranged."

"That's all right, then.  Now I'm pretty tired; this
k'ang is very warm and cosy, and if you don't mind I'll
coil myself up on it and go to sleep.  Don't wake me unless
anything happens."

Jack slept like a top till ten next morning.  It was bright
and clear, and he was delighted to find that the wind had
increased in force.  Wang Shih had been self-restrained
enough to withhold the details of Jack's plan from his
men, curious as they were to learn what had brought
the Englishman into their midst at such risk to himself.
They had merely been told that there was a prospect of
escape.  At noon the three shots arranged as a signal
were fired by Wang Shih himself.  The Russians took
no notice of them.  Hidden by the kowliang they were
content to wait, knowing that the water supply must ere
long fail.  In the afternoon the men were informed of the
scheme and given their instructions.  They became voluble
as they discussed the plan among themselves.  There is
a bed-rock of stoicism in the Chinese character; these
brigands were not given to a facile display of emotion;
they showed little surprise, little pleasure, but talked over
the approaching event almost dispassionately, as if it had
been an academic problem.  They prepared material for
blindfolding the horses, and rags to steep in the last inch
of turbid water in the tank; then the most of them settled
down to beguile the remaining hours with fan-tan.

Jack could not achieve such composure of mind.  He
gave no outward sign of his feelings; but as the hours
passed and the time drew near for the execution of his
plan he began to feel restless and impatient.  He was
amused at himself, remembering how his father had been
wont to poke fun at him for this very characteristic.  "It's
only in the Arabian Nights that an acorn becomes an oak
in a moment," Mr. Brown once said.  But though he
could smile at himself he did not become less impatient
as the day wore on.  As the sun crept round towards
the west, and sank over the purple hills, he looked
anxiously from a secure corner of the wall towards the
spot whence he expected the flames to spring.  The
twilight thickened; there was no sign.  All at once he
thought he saw an object moving down the opposite
hillside.  Surely the guide could not be so arrantly stupid
as to approach in full view of the camp!  In a few
moments Jack's anxiety was relieved, and at the same time
increased, when he found that the moving object was a
Cossack slowly riding towards the farm.  He was a
messenger, perhaps; probably his approach had delayed
the execution of the scheme; Jack could only hope that
this would not be frustrated entirely.  The rider came
nearer and nearer; he might discover the man and the
boy lurking in the long grass, for he was approaching
the very spot that Jack had pointed out as an excellent
place for the first match to be struck.  An intervening
hillock now hid the Cossack from view; Jack waited; it
was growing darker; would the expected flame never
spring up?  The minutes passed, lingeringly; all was
quiet; nothing could be heard but the rustle and clash
of the grass and stalks as the wind struck their tops
together.

Suddenly, from a spot somewhat to the right of the place
where the Cossack had disappeared, a thin spiral of smoke
shot up into the indigo sky.  Almost simultaneously another
appeared, far to the left; in the dark they could scarcely
be detected except by eyes so intently looking for them as
Jack's.  They grew in volume; other spirals rose between
them; fanned by the steady wind they swelled into a bank
of smoke, through which Jack's anxious gaze now
discerned tongues of flame.

"Now!" he cried to Wang Shih at his elbow.

The word was given to the men; in a few seconds the
horses were blindfolded; and by the time the rags were
steeped a vast blaze illuminated the sky; the four fires,
spreading with amazing rapidity, were sweeping
towards the farm at the rate of a trotting horse.  Shouts
broke the stillness; amid the crackling of the flames the
clatter of metal, the shrill whinnies of terrified horses, then
the thunder of hoofs.  From the fields men ran helter-skelter,
some attempting to catch their horses, others in
their confusion rushing towards the open space before the
farm, careless whether the rifles of the Chunchuses marked
them down.  Onward came the dense volume of smoke
bellying towards the farm.  Jack already felt the heat;
above his head red wisps of grass were streaking the sky;
one fell upon the thatch, extinct; another followed, dying
before it could kindle the straw; the next was larger,
burned more brightly; it held; the thatch was alight.

The men were prone upon the ground, pressing wet rags
to their mouths.  Their horses were snorting, whinnying,
straining on their halters; one had broken loose, and was
madly dashing round the courtyard when Jack seized it
by the broken halter and endeavoured to soothe it.  The
mud wall beat off the flames; but the smoke enveloped
the whole farm in a dense cloud, pungent, spark-laden,
becoming every moment more stifling.  Jack was forced
to earth; he could not breathe; still clutching the halter
he crept under the lee of the wall, and there lay fighting
for breath.  The thatched roof was now ablaze; the fields
were a mass of fire; would the smoke never pass and leave
a passage for the almost suffocated men?

A red glare lit up the farmyard.  The flames had
devoured the thatch, and were licking the joists.  Jack
glanced round the scene, his eyes smarting so keenly that
he could scarcely see.  The horses were shivering with
terror; two or three of the men, braving the smoke, were
endeavouring to calm them; the rest of the Chunchuses
were still flat on the ground.  But to the north-east the
smoke was thinning.  Jack rose to his feet and looked
over the wall.  The fields between the farm and the river
were black, with here and there a smouldering stalk.  On
the other side the flames were still raging; there was
nothing to check their fury.  The passage from the
gateway was now open; the ground indeed was very hot; but
it would be folly to wait for it to cool.  Jack called for
Wang Shih.

"Now is the time," he said.

Wang Shih gave the word; the men sprang to their feet
and vaulted into the saddle; the bar across the gate was
let down; and then, tearing the bandages from their
horses' eyes, the men dashed out at a furious gallop across
the still scorching soil.  Jack, mounted on a spare horse,
led the way towards the river, making for the bridle path
which must have been followed by the Cossack just
before the match was struck.  For the first half-mile it
was a terrible race; sparks and smoke flew up as the
horses stirred the smouldering embers; the poor beasts
screamed with pain as their unshod hoofs felt the heat;
the men breathed stertorously, half-choked by the acrid
fumes.  Then, in an instant as it seemed, they passed
from an inferno into the elysian fields.  They had reached
the limit of the burnt grass, the keen cold wind struck
their faces; men and animals took deep breaths; they
were free, and in the pure air again.  Floundering through
the fresh-ploughed field where the Russians had left their
cooking-pots, they came to the river.  For one moment
they halted to allow men and horses to slake their thirst;
then they pushed on, up the northern slope, in the
direction of the place where Jack hoped to find Hi Lo and the
guide.

On the crest of the slope he reined up for a moment
and looked to the left.  The sheet of fire was still
sweeping on towards a plantation on the south-west side.  It
seemed that the whole country in that direction must be
devastated; nothing could stop the flames but the bare
rocky ridge a mile or more away.  Faint shouts came
from the distance; then a fitful succession of shots
scarcely audible through the crackle and roar.  Who
could be firing?  Jack was puzzled to account for the
sounds until he guessed that the Cossacks in their
headlong flight had flung away their loaded carbines, and that,
as the fire swept over them, these were exploded by the
heat.

With a glow of content at the success of his scheme,
Jack hastened on after the brigands, now walking their
horses towards the uplands.  There was no fear of
pursuit; the Russians were far too much demoralized, and
their horses were gone, none knew whither.  When Jack
overtook the band, Wang Shih suggested that they should
follow up their advantage and destroy the enemy.  But
from this Jack dissuaded him; there were probably other
detachments of Cossacks in the neighbourhood; it was
best to let well alone, and rejoin his chief as soon as
possible.  Ah Lum might himself be hard pressed by the
encircling movement which the Russians had apparently
begun.  The Chunchuses therefore rode on, still at a
walking pace.

The moon was rising, throwing her silvery mantle over
the quiet country.  Skirting a black clump of trees the
riders were startled to hear the distant clatter of a large
body of horses galloping towards them.  Moment by
moment the sound grew louder.  Had another troop of the
enemy learnt of what had happened and started on their
tracks?  Wang Shih looked anxiously around; nothing
could be seen, but the sound appeared to come from
beyond a stretch of rolling country to the left of their line
of march.  Giving a brief word of command, Wang Shih
wheeled his horse towards the copse; and his band following
him at a quick trot, they were soon in the cover of the
leafless trees, waiting in anxious silence for the appearance
of the enemy.

Nearer and nearer came the thud of hundreds of hoofs.
Wang Shih ordered his men to maintain absolute silence;
he hoped that the enemy, unaware of his proximity, would
pass by and give him the opportunity to slip away
undetected.  A few minutes passed; Jack was wondering
why he could not hear the rattle of sword-cases on the
horses' flanks, when on the crest of the low ridge opposite
appeared the head of the column, and the earth seemed to
shake as score after score of dark forms swept forward
towards the path the Chunchuses had so lately left.  The
brigands had much ado to quiet their ponies, which were
pricking their ears and snuffing with distended nostrils in
restless excitement.  Then, as the moonlight fell upon the
advancing mass, every man in the copse heaved a sigh
of relief—and something more.  Their pursuers were not
horsemen, but horses, every one of them riderless—clearly
the stampeded horses of the enemy, rushing blindly into
the night, the fire panic at their heels.

"We ought to catch them," said Jack to Wang Shih as
they thundered past.

The Chinaman smacked his lips with approval.  Such a
capture would be a turning of the tables indeed.  But how
was it to be done?  One of his men, knowing in the ways
of horses, proposed a plan.  The principal thing was to
prevent the fugitives from heading back towards the
Cossacks.  Let the brigands then extend on a wide front and
follow; the runagates would keep together, and by and by,
when their flight was past, come to a halt.  Adopting the
suggestion, Wang Shih led his men at a smart trot up the
slope.  For a long time the beat of the runaways' hoofs
could be heard in the night air—the more clearly because
they were to windward.  Then the sound gradually died
away.  Wang Shih was anxious not to outrun them in
the darkness; the country was uneven, with patches of
timber here and there, and the animals if they stopped
in the shelter of the hills might easily be passed.  But
with the number of men at his command it would not be
difficult to find the most of them, at any rate, with the
morning light.  He pushed on, therefore, until he reached
the spot where Hi Lo and the guide were eagerly awaiting
Jack's arrival.  There the band off-saddled, and, worn out
with fatigue and excitement, the men flung themselves
down on the leaf-strewn ground and sought their
much-needed rest.

Jack did not fail to bestow warm praise upon the man
and the boy who had so faithfully and cleverly carried out
their part of the scheme.  Hi Lo had been just on the
point of striking his match when the Cossack messenger
whom Jack had seen came riding behind him.  The boy
had barely time to slip into the tall kowliang, whence he
had watched the unsuspecting horseman ride past.

"You did very well," said Jack.  "Your father will be
pleased when I tell him."

Hi Lo beamed with delight.

"My hab makee velly big fire; my look-see allo-piecee
Lusski man belongey velly muchee 'flaid; my walkee
long-side chow-chow pots; catchee plenty muchee bellyful,
that-time lun wailo."

Jack laughed, and bade the boy make a pillow of his
pony's saddle and go to sleep.

Next morning the stampeded horses were discovered
peacefully cropping the grass in a narrow valley about a
mile from the Chunchuses' bivouac.  They allowed themselves
to be caught easily; and with the booty of nearly
two hundred Transbaikal ponies in excellent condition
Wang Shih pursued his march.





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`The War Game`:

.. class:: center large bold

   CHAPTER XVII


.. class:: center large bold

   The War Game

.. vspace:: 2

.. class:: noindent small

An Offer—Conditions—The Sweep of the Net—Military
Instructor—The Spur of Competition—Birds of a
Feather—Short Commons—A Trap—More Cossacks—Ah Lum
in Danger—Initiative—A Race for Position—Sword
and Pistol—Driven Off

.. vspace:: 2

For four days Wang Shih and his band marched through
the hills without hearing anything of Ah Lum.  Their
progress was somewhat hampered by the additional horses,
and Wang Shih chose devious and difficult paths in order
to evade scouting parties of Cossacks; for he had little
doubt that when the news of the recent incident reached
the Russian general in charge of the lines of communication,
he would issue orders to his lieutenants to hasten
their movements against their daring and elusive enemy.
On the fifth day it was reported by a peasant that Ah
Lum, after a continuous march northward, was now turning
south before formidable Russian forces that were
threatening to enclose him.  He had felt their strength
in one or two slight engagements, and found that they
greatly outnumbered him; but, owing to his superior
mobility and his knowledge of the country, he had been
able to escape without serious loss.

Next day, as the band was threading a defile leading to
a well-watered valley, there was a sudden stoppage of the
column.  It turned out that the advanced patrol had been
halted by Ah Lum's scouts, who, however, as soon as they
learned the identity of the new-comers, allowed them to
pass.  The Chunchuse chief was found to have encamped
by the river-side, in the valley, the three exits to it being
carefully guarded.  When he learnt that Wang Shih had
returned, with a welcome supply of remounts, he rode
forward to meet his lieutenant.  Great was his amazement
to find among the band the young Englishman who had
served as unpaid tutor to his son.  His surprise was
greater still when Wang Shih recounted the part Jack
had played; and the narrative did not minimize his
achievement; Wang Shih declared plainly that but for
Jack's timely arrival, quick wit, and fearlessness of
character, the band must inevitably have been wiped out.  Ah
Lum made no effort to conceal his pleasure.  He had the
soldier's delight in a brilliant feat; the brigand's delight in
a good haul; and the mere man's delight in the chance of
again securing tutorial services for nothing.  He warmly
congratulated Jack, and insisted on knowing all the
circumstances that had led up to the great event.  When
the story was fully told, his little black eyes gleamed
through his goggles with undisguised satisfaction.

"Irresistible destiny has fulfilled her own decree," he
said.  "All events are separately fated before they
happen.  I repeat the offer I made to you on the eve of your
departure.  If there be no faith in our words, of what use
are they?  I will give you a command in my army; you
will come next to my trusty lieutenant, Mr. Wang; he
has muscle, you have mind: both inestimable qualities in
a warrior.  Did not the poet Wang Wei write in his *Essay
on Military Matters*:

   |  "'Know then the Proof: that Leader is most fit
   |  Who Thought to Valour joins, and Strength to Wit'?"
   |

"Thank you!" said Jack gravely; "I accept your kind
offer; but, to be frank, there are one or two points I think
I ought to mention.  As I said, our compradore has gone
to Harbin to make enquiries for my father; if I hear from
him, I may have to leave at any moment."

"That is understood.  The son that forgetteth his
father, shall he not die childless?"

"And there is another point.  As you know, Mr. Ah,
it is not the English custom—nor indeed the custom of
any western nation—to torture prisoners.  I have heard
that the ways of Chinese warriors are not like ours in that
respect.  You will pardon me if I say that it will be difficult
for me to take service in a force to whom such excesses
are permitted."

Somewhat to Jack's surprise the chief did not take offence.

"In that also," he said, "my mind is equally yoked
with yours.  As Confucius says, 'The intelligence of the
superior man is deep'; the wise man is he that is ever
learning.  I have watched this war; I see that the Japanese
have won their successes by adopting the red man's
methods.  I will make a decree that no prisoner shall
suffer inordinate correction.  But I must beg you to be
patient.  When water has once flowed over, it cannot
easily be restored; when the passions have once been
indulged, they cannot easily be restrained.  Water must
be kept in by dykes, the passions must be regulated by
the laws of propriety.  I will impress these laws on my
men; they shall know what is right; and I will make
them understand that knowing what is right without
practising it denotes a want of proper resolution."

"Thank you, Mr. Ah! that is a relief.  For myself, I
can only say that I will do my best to be worthy of your
confidence."

"Now, is it not written, 'He that gives willingly is
himself worthy of gifts'?  I beg of you a favour in return; it
is that you will continue to give my son lessons in your
honourable language.  And, further, I shall be grateful
if you will deign to teach me something of the barbarian's
art of war, the learning of which has made the Japanese
so victorious."

"I will go on with Ah Fu with pleasure," said Jack,
adding with a smile: "but I'm afraid I can't do anything
in the other line.  I have made no study of warfare; my
father has trained me to a commercial career."

"But you have seen the barbarian armies at their exercise?"

"I admit that."

"Well, I am sure you can be of great service to me if
it is your august pleasure."

"I will do what I can, Mr. Ah,—if your men will carry
out instructions.  I'm a 'foreign devil', after all."

"'In the world there are many men, but few heroes',
as the proverb says.  I know your worth; do I not
remember the boar, and the saving of my son's life? surely it
would ill become me to forget; and this late employment of
fire against our enemies?  Modesty is attended with profit;
whereas arrogance courts destruction.  My men, those
that I place under you, will obey you.  I will see to that."

Jack thus found himself lieutenant in a regiment of some
twelve hundred men, armed for the most part with Mausers,
and well mounted.  Except for a wholesome dread of their
chief, however, they had very little discipline, and but scant
military cohesion.  Although there was no lack of arms
and ammunition, Ah Lum was not too well provisioned.
He had been driven by the encircling Russian movement
into a somewhat poor district, the hills being more fruitful
in forest trees than in grain.  The valley of his encampment
was fertile enough, but its products would soon be
exhausted, and it was separated from the grain-bearing
plains to the west by a chain of barren heights.  The
bandits were being driven farther and farther into the
mountainous regions, where it would become increasingly
difficult to feed so large a force.  Messengers had recently
come in, reporting that Russian troops operating on the
northern frontier of Korea were pushing reconnoitring
parties into the hills in their rear with the object of
locating them.  There were many smaller parties of Chunchuses
scattered over the country, but Ah Lum's was the only
considerable band left in the angle between the two railway
lines connecting Harbin with Kirin and Vladivostok
respectively.  The lull after the battle of Liao-yang had
enabled the Russians to devote more attention than
heretofore to clearing their flanks of these troublesome
irregulars.  Ah Lum was well served by scouts, the country
people being anxious to purchase immunity by giving such
information as they could without risk; and from them
the chief had learnt that the largest force opposed to him
was at this time about two marches away.  Some days
would probably pass before they came on his trail.  It had
been throughout the war the Russians' experience that the
Chinese were very reluctant to give them news of any kind,
and this reluctance had been still more marked since the
unbroken success of the Japanese had become common
knowledge through the country.

Day after day passed, and the bandits were still left
unmolested.  Jack, settling down to his new position,
had his hands fully occupied.  He gave Ah Fu lessons
in English daily, to his father's great delight.  But he had
wider scope for his tutorial faculty.  He had felt a little
natural amusement at the idea of being placed—he, a
civilian, with just as much military experience as his
school drill-ground and some practice at the butts
afforded—in command of a troop of warriors—a motley horde,
indeed, but all seasoned, determined, fearless fellows.
But, as was inevitable in a force indiscriminately recruited
and entirely lacking in regular training, the men had much
to learn; and Jack had not made a whole-hearted study of
the Boer war without feeling that, civilian though he was,
he was better acquainted with the general principles of
warfare than possibly any other member of the band.  The
Chunchuses were little accustomed to organized
movements on any considerable scale; they were most adept
in sniping at single travellers or small bodies whom they
could attack unawares from the vantage of cover.  Something
more was required if they were to defeat the serious
attempts now being made to crush them, and Jack was
determined to show himself worthy of Ah Lum's confidence
by his manner of handling his own division of two
hundred and fifty men.

Marksmanship and cover: these he took to be the
principal factors in modern warfare.  So far as the use of
cover was concerned, he found that his men had little
to learn; several months of hard fighting against troops
carrying arms of precision had enforced the value of
cover in the most practical way.  In each engagement
the Russians had taken toll of those who failed to
recognize its importance: their bodies lay among the
hills from the Yalu to the Sungari.  But in marksmanship
the Chunchuses were not so efficient.  A large
proportion of them had never handled, perhaps never even
seen, a rifle until they joined the band.  Without definite
instruction they were apt to blaze away at their own will
and pleasure, absolutely reckless of the wastage of
ammunition, which had hitherto, owing to one or two lucky
raids, been plentiful.  Jack suspected that the proportion
of hits to misses was woefully small.  He therefore
set earnestly to work to effect an improvement in this
respect.  He rigged up butts, put every man in his
command through a course, and, taking advantage of the
Chinaman's love of competitive examination, started a
shooting competition, with badges of different form and
colour for the prizes.  This especially pleased Ah Lum;
it aroused a keen spirit among his men; the example of
Jack's division was soon followed by the rest, and the
general proficiency was very largely increased.

Among Jack's men were the greater part of the
company he had rescued.  One of them was Hu Hang, the
ex-constable.  This man showed extraordinary skill with
the rifle.  As Hi Lo said:

"Policeyman he can shootee allo plopa first-chop
what-time no piecee man he shootee back."

This was a somewhat caustic remark; but Hi Lo had
no love for the constable, who indeed was not popular
among the band.  His comrades would have been hardly
human if they had not made the most of their opportunities
of paying off against Hu Hang the scores that many
of them owed to members of his hated class.  He kept
a good deal apart, finding a congenial soul only in C'hu
Tan, the former second in command, who had been
deposed for grave neglect of duty, and replaced by Wang
Shih.  The two malcontents were often together,
condoling with each other on their wrongs; and their animus
against Wang Shih extended to Jack, who struck them
as an additional supplanter, the more hateful from being
a foreigner.  Jack knew nothing of this himself; but it
did not escape the shrewd eyes of Hi Lo, who kept quiet
and unobtrusive watch upon C'hu Tan, dogging him at
every turn.

After a fortnight's steady practice Jack felt that the
fighting value of his little force was well-nigh doubled.
But at the end of that time Ah Lum suddenly ordered
the rifle practice to be stopped.  A scout had reported
that the Russians had approached within striking
distance, and the chief feared lest the sound of the firing
should betray his whereabouts.

At last one morning, after hearing a messenger who
came in faint and gasping after a long night's ride, Ah
Lum felt that the coil was being drawn too tightly around
him.  He gave a sudden order to decamp; the band quitted
the valley that had sheltered them so long, and set off into
the hills.  Lack of provisions was beginning to be felt.
The ponies, hardy little animals, were able to pick up a
subsistence on the hillsides, sparse though the grazing
was at this time of year; and for them stalks of kowliang
could always be obtained as a last resource.  But the
supply of rice and buckwheat, on which the men depended,
was running short.  Ah Lum somewhat dismally told Jack
that it would now be necessary to reduce the rations.  He
confessed that he was in a tighter place than ever before.
At no time previously had the Russians made such
determined efforts to crush him.  In addition to the Korean
frontier force far to his rear, which for the present need
not be reckoned with, there were, as he had learnt, three
large forces of Cossacks, each stronger than his own band,
converging upon him from north, east, and west.  General
Kuropatkin had hitherto been able to make little use of
these characteristic cavalry of the Russian army, so that
they were available for the less dignified but very
necessary work of bandit-hunting.  The three forces directed
against Ah Lum were still a considerable distance apart
from one another, but it was clear to him that in a few
days he would have to try conclusions with one of them
before they got into touch.  He had only escaped this
necessity so long because the Cossacks were unaccustomed
to hill work.  Matchless in rapid furious charges
on the plain, they had shown little capacity for mountain
fighting or even for scouting; and, as Jack learnt
afterwards, they were desperately chagrined at their hard luck
in having so few chances of the kind of work that suited
them.

The Chunchuses marched for several days into the hills,
their condition going from bad to worse.  The rations
were verging on exhaustion.  The Cossacks were no
doubt well supplied, and Ah Lum felt that the moment
had come for an attack on one of their forces.  The
nearest was only a long march distant.  Breaking up
his camp early one morning, when the night's frost lay
white on the ground, he led his men across the hills
northward, and, proceeding with great caution, located the
enemy late in the afternoon.  Throwing out scouts in
advance—men intimately acquainted with the country—he
sighted the Cossacks before they sighted him, and at
once fell back behind a forest-clad ridge so that his
presence might not be discovered that day.  During the night
his scouts reported, apparently by a calculation from the
enemy's watch-fires, that the Cossacks were at least a
thousand strong, and thus about equal numerically to
Ah Lum's effective force, with the advantage of better
discipline and training.  But the chief, in common with
all his countrymen, had shrewdly studied the invaders;
he had not been blind to the Cossacks' failure in the war,
and he was hardly the kind of man to allow himself to be
terrorized by the mere name of Cossack, the effect of
which was due merely to the memory of past exploits
when the conditions of warfare were different.

An hour or two before they sighted the Russians, the
bandits had advanced through a narrow pass, enclosed
between steep and rugged bluffs.  Upon this pass Ah
Lum decided to fall back; it offered every advantage for
an ambuscade.  Withdrawing thither during the hours of
darkness, he allowed his men a brief spell of sleep; then,
while the dawn was yet but a glimmer, he set them to
fell trees in the copses that crowned the hills, and to
pile them across the pathway at the far end.  It was still
early when he placed half his men in cover upon the
heights overlooking the track; the rest, consisting of the
divisions of Wang Shih and Jack, were sent to threaten
the Russian rear.  A mist hung over the hills; it was
bitterly cold, and the ponies often slipped on the frosty
ground.  Luckily Wang Shih had with him a peasant
of the neighbourhood who acted as guide.  But for him
the Chunchuses could hardly have found their way.

It was but an hour after daybreak when they found
themselves on the right rear of the Russians about two
miles from the latter's camp.  Wang Shih's orders were
to wait until the Cossacks had advanced to the end of the
pass and been checked by the ambuscade there.  Then,
before the enemy could recover from the confusion into
which they would be thrown, he was to follow up rapidly
in the hope that a movement seeming to threaten their
line of retreat might complete their disorder.  He therefore
waited until, from a secure hiding-place, he saw them
quit their camp and march out.  Then he moved his men
with Jack's down the hill somewhat closer to the enemy's
line of march, and awaited the sound of firing in the
distance that would announce the beginning of the fight
at the ambuscade.

Meanwhile Jack narrowly scanned the surrounding
country.  The mist had cleared away, and a bright cold
October sun was painting the distant hills with various
charming tints.  Suddenly Jack's attention was attracted
by a dark, narrow, tape-like something moving down a
slope far to the north-west.  Before many seconds were past
he was convinced that it was a body of horsemen.  The
question was, what horsemen?  In the distance their
character could not be distinguished; the one thing certain
was that they were not Japanese, for their clothes were
very dark; the Japanese were wearing khaki.  They were
scarcely likely to be Chunchuses; from their regular even
progress Jack concluded that they could not be native
carriers; surely they must be a second body of Cossacks
who had advanced by forced marches to co-operate with
those now approaching the ambush.

Jack had moved some little distance in advance of his
troop.  What he had seen sent him in haste to rejoin
Wang Shih.

"We must get our men under cover," he said.  "There
are Cossacks, I believe, descending the opposite hills.
They may not have seen us yet."

The Chunchuses moved within cover of the nearest
trees, and Wang Shih sent forward his keenest scout
on foot to ascertain whether the new-comers were enemies
or friends.  He returned in a few minutes declaring that
even at this distance he had distinguished the characteristic
head-dress of the Cossacks.  Wang Shih was disposed to
remain in cover until the time came for him to carry out
Ah Lum's orders.  In his present position he ran little risk
of being seen by the oncoming party, and being entirely
without imagination it did not occur to him that the
situation was now perhaps radically altered.  But to Jack the
discovery seemed to be serious.  The line of advance taken by
the second body of Cossacks would bring them within an
hour across Ah Lum's rear.  The position had been strangely
reversed.  While Ah Lum believed that Wang Shih was
cutting off the retreat of the first body, his own rear was
in process of being threatened by a force twice as numerous
as the one he could dispose of.  He was probably in
ignorance of the danger, for the advancing Cossacks were
shut from his view by the contours of the hills, and there
was little likelihood now of a warning being conveyed
to him by a Chinese villager.  It was impossible for a
messenger to reach him from Wang Shih, for the first
Russian force lay between.

Jack pointed out to Wang Shih the peril in which
his chief lay.  The Chunchuse admitted it, but asked
what he could do.  With his assistance Ah Lum might
beat the first body of the enemy before the second could
arrive, and then could turn his attention to it in its
turn.

"But suppose the fight takes a long time?  And suppose
we do not succeed in beating the first Russian force?  If
they hold us until the second arrives, Mr. Ah's men will be
attacked from the rear, and they will certainly be crushed
between the two."

"It is as you say.  But the chief has given me orders;
he will be angry if I disobey.  It is better to carry out
orders."

It was evident that Wang Shih was disinclined to assume
any responsibility.  Jack was by no means satisfied that
things must be allowed to take their course.  It appeared
to him of the utmost importance that the second Russian
force should be held in check until the first had been
disposed of.  He went through the clump of bare trees until
he reached the summit of the crest, and looked anxiously
towards the advancing band.

About a mile away the hill path it was following disappeared
in a cleft in the hills, reappearing a quarter of a
mile farther on.  It seemed to Jack that at this spot,
resembling somewhat the position Ah Lum had taken up,
it was possible to hold the Russians in check.  So far as
he could see, there was no better place along their route
for such an attempt, and he instantly made up his mind
that the attempt must be made.  It was doubtful whether
the Chunchuses could reach the cleft in time to occupy it
before the Cossacks arrived, but there was a bare chance,
and he resolved to take it.

Hastening back to Wang Shih he explained that he
proposed with his own division of men to make for the
cleft, leaving the rest to carry out Ah Lum's instructions.
Wang Shih raised no objection; he merely stipulated that
Jack should accept the full responsibility for his action.
In a few minutes, therefore, Jack rode off at the head of
his band; almost immediately after starting he heard the
dull sound of firing in Ah Lum's direction; the fight in the
pass had begun.  Clearly there was no time to lose, for
the same sound would certainly quicken the approach of
the second body of Russians.

Keeping down the hill in order to screen his movements
as long as possible from the enemy, Jack led the way at as
rapid a trot as the rugged ground allowed.  Only a few
minutes had passed when the little force rode out on to
the open hillside, where they must be seen by the Russians.
Jack fancied that the enemy was at this time nearer to the
cleft than his own men; but the Chunchuses were riding
downhill, the Russians up, which gave room for hope that
he might reach the position first.  He was helped also by
the more open character of the ground on his side, and by
the fact that for some time the Russians failed to recognize
the object of the horsemen riding at full speed towards
them.  During these precious moments Jack's party gained
several hundred yards.  Keeping one eye on the rough
ground and the other on the enemy, Jack noticed that the
leading files broke from a walk into a trot and then into a
headlong scramble.  It was now neck or nothing.  Throwing
caution to the winds, he dug his spurs into his pony,
and clattered at breakneck speed down the slope, the
Chunchuses hard at his heels.  Several ponies stumbled
and came to their knees, flinging their riders; but the rest,
intoxicated with the excitement of the race, rode unheeding
after their leader.  A dip in the ground now hid the two
forces from one another; they would not again come in
sight until the cleft was reached.  Between the Chunchuses
and the point they aimed at lay a comparatively clear space,
dotted by a few single boulders without any of the smaller
stones that for most of their ride had impeded their
progress.  Now Jack urged his panting steed to a mad gallop;
the quarter-mile was covered in a few seconds; he dashed
into the cleft, the foremost of his men but a length behind.

.. _`At full Tilt`:

.. figure:: images/img-217.jpg
   :align: center
   :alt: At full Tilt

   At full Tilt

Eagerly he peered ahead through the narrow tortuous
passage.  None of the Cossacks was in sight.  He
galloped on, hoping to reach the other end before they
arrived; it would be easy to hold the entrance against
them.  He had almost reached the farther opening when
he came full tilt on the leading Russian horseman, a
Transbaikal Cossack riding with loose rein, pistol in hand.
He was some twenty yards in advance of the troop.  In
the heat of the race Jack had not anticipated the chance
of a fight on horseback.  Before he could draw his pistol
the Russian had fired: the bullet whizzed harmlessly past
Jack's head.  With astonishing dexterity the Russian
whipped his sword from the scabbard; by the time Jack
had his pistol ready only a few yards separated the two.
Then Jack fired; the Russian's uplifted sword dropped
from his hand, and the ponies came together with a thud.
Both riders fell to the ground, Jack being thrown lightly
on the slope to the right, thus fortunately escaping the
hoofs of the ponies following.  He arose dazed, saw a
confused mass of men in front of him, heard shouts and
the crack of pistols.  Pulling himself together, he ordered
his men to dismount and line the sides of the gully.  In
an instant some scores of them were scrambling up the
bluffs on both sides, leaving their ponies to be gradually
passed to the rear by their comrades.

The men in front, finding themselves unsupported,
began to give way, but slowly and stubbornly.  As the
Russians could only advance two abreast, and that with
difficulty, two or three precious minutes were gained,
during which the crests of the slopes on either side were
manned by the Chunchuses.  Now Jack gave the word
to open fire.  His men were breathless; their limbs were
quivering; and their hasty ill-directed shots did little
execution.  But several horses and men fell in the
Russian van; the pressure on the mounted Chunchuses who
were stemming the Russian advance was reduced; and
then, as the marksmen steadied and took deliberate aim,
a hot and deadly fire was poured into the enemy's ranks.
The Russians made an attempt to reply, taking advantage
of cover where they could, some of them sheltering
themselves behind the ponies that had fallen.  But the bandits
had all the advantage of position; the Cossacks, after a
gallant stand, were forced to give way; and leaving more
than thirty of their number on the ground they galloped
back a half-mile to a shoulder of the hill, where they found
protection from the rifle-fire of the Chunchuses.





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`A Fight in the Hills`:

.. class:: center large bold

   CHAPTER XVIII


.. class:: center large bold

   A Fight in the Hills

.. vspace:: 2

.. class:: noindent small

Playing the Game—A Sprint—Hit—Waiting—Across the
Open—Hard Beset—Between two Fires—The Raising of the
Siege—The Spoils—The Rear-Guard—The Outlook

.. vspace:: 2

The onfall had been so violent and the fight so brisk and
rapid that Jack had had no time to form any plans or
give any but the most obvious orders demanded by the
exigency of the moment.  He was exceedingly glad of the
breathing space afforded by the withdrawal of the enemy.
If he had checked them, it was only because he was able
to forestall them in the cleft; the real struggle was to come.

He utilized the pause to make good his position in the
pass.  The narrow path was strewn with boulders.  With
these each bandit made his own little fort, so arranging
them, when they were not too heavy to be moved, as to
give the maximum of cover against the enemy's fire.
Jack wondered what form the Russian attack would take.
The pass was so narrow, its course so uneven, that direct
fire from the farther end would not, he thought, be very
effective.  That he was right was soon proved.  In about
a quarter of an hour the Cossacks opened a spasmodic
rifle-fire from the rough ground about three-quarters of a
mile away.  It made no impression on the Chunchuses,
except that one man was shot dead by a ricochet.

Apparently convinced of the hopelessness of loosening
the bandits' hold upon the pass, the Russians ceased
firing.  As the minutes passed in silence, Jack wondered
what their next move was to be.  Faint sounds of shots
came from the distance; Ah Lum's band was evidently
still engaged; surely the commander of the men opposed
to Jack must know that he was losing precious time, and
would make some real effort to join hands with the other
force.  Jack could not but suspect that some movement
was being developed quietly and out of sight, a suspicion
strengthened when firing again broke out, intermittent,
absolutely ineffective, probably designed to withdraw his
attention from anything beyond his immediate front.
From his position in the pass he could see nothing of the
surrounding country; but about a hundred yards nearer
the Russians there was a point from which he thought a
good view might be obtained.  To reach it, however, he
would have to run the gauntlet of the Russian fire; for at
least thirty yards he would be fully exposed without
possibility of taking cover.  Should he risk it?

For a time he hesitated.  The weighty reasons against
endangering his life flocked one after another through his
mind; uppermost of all, the thought of his father, and of
his friends at home so anxiously waiting for news of him.
But he felt that having brought his men into their present
hot corner it was his duty, at whatever personal risk, to get
them out of it; and only by ascertaining the Russian plan
of attack, if they had one, could he hope with his mere
handful of men to hold his own.  He hesitated no longer.
Not that he was disposed to forget prudence and play
the dare-devil.  He would not throw away any chance.
Shouting to the men nearest to him he told them what he
proposed to do, and arranged that when he reached the
limits of cover three of the bandits should draw the
Russian fire by the old Indian trick of displaying the corner
of a garment above their lurking place, as if they were
exposing themselves to take aim.  The trick when tried
for the first time was almost certain to provoke a fusillade
from the enemy, and Jack could then seize the opportunity
to make a dash across the open ground.  The same device
could be employed again when he signalled his desire to
return; but it was less likely to prove successful then, for
the Russians would be on the watch, and the more
intelligent of them would have seen through the ruse.  Still,
it would be worth the trial even in the second case.
Accordingly, having arranged for the signal which should
announce his return, he started to worm his way to the
limit of cover.

When he arrived there he halted, turned round, and,
lifting his hand to show that he was ready, braced himself
for the sprint across the open.  The appearance of a hat
and portion of a coat above the rocks behind was followed
instantly by the rattle of musketry from the Russian
position.  Setting his teeth, Jack sprang from cover and
raced at full speed up the hill to a little knot of boulders
above him.  Before he had gone half the distance there
was a second crash of volleying rifles; but the Russians
had clearly taken very flurried aim; Jack heard the hissing
flight of the bullets, but reached the shelter of the rock
without a scratch.

As soon as he had taken breath, he set himself to make
a careful survey of the scene beneath him.  There was a
party of Cossacks, whose numbers it was impossible to
estimate, more or less hidden in the rough ground
immediately in front of the pass.  Half a mile in their rear was
another body, apparently in reserve, numbering, as he
guessed, about 300.  But the force he had seen an hour
before, winding its way down the hillside, had consisted
of more than 1000 men.  Where, then, were the rest?
Jack's eye travelled from the lower to the upper slopes
of the hill.  For a few moments he could distinguish
nothing resembling a body of men; then—yes, about a
mile and a half away was a dark object moving diagonally
across the field of view, and this soon resolved itself into
a column of horsemen.  The remnant of the Cossack force,
about a third of its strength, had presumably returned
some distance along the path of their advance, then swept
round to the right.  In a few minutes they disappeared
from view; Jack could hardly doubt that they intended to
turn his position by following a bridle path that would
probably bring them out upon his rear.  He must go back
and question the guide.  He made the signal to his men;
again they raised the garments; there was a scathing
volley from the Russians, but some, not to be caught
napping a second time, held their fire, and as Jack
bounded forth he heard the flying bullets whistling
unpleasantly around him.  One tore the felt from his
Chinese shoe; another stung him like a whip in the
forearm; but, owing, doubtless, to the fact that he was racing
downhill, and that in consequence both the range and the
elevation were rapidly changing, he reached cover in safety
except for these slight mishaps.

While his wound was being bound up, he questioned
the man who had guided the bandits to the district.  The
Chinaman, on Jack explaining what he had seen, agreed
that there was a path through the hills in the direction
indicated.  It led to a ledge of rock jutting out from a
shoulder of the hill about half a mile in the rear of Jack's
position.  An enemy holding that narrow platform could
command the southern outlet of the pass, and completely
cut off the Chunchuse force.  For a moment Jack thought
of stealing a march on the Cossacks and occupying the
ledge, but a little reflection showed how useless this
would be.  Not only would he weaken the body holding
the pass, every man of whom would be required when the
serious attack was delivered, but the ledge itself and the
path in its neighbourhood were scarcely tenable against
a force so largely outnumbering his own.

Another move that suggested itself was to abandon the
pass and fight a rearguard action as he retraced his steps
towards Ah Lum's position.  But to do this would be, he
felt, to abandon his whole object, which was to relieve
Ah Lum as long as possible of pressure from the second
Russian force.  After taking anxious thought, he decided
that he must stick to the pass if the chief was to have any
chance of escaping the net now closing around him.  So
long as there was a fighting force in the pass the Russians
would not venture to attack Ah Lum, for they could not
spare enough men to bottle up Jack's division and at the
same time strike an effective blow at the chief so strongly
placed.  Accordingly Jack withdrew his men from the
section of the pass likely to be covered by the flanking
force, and settled down to await developments.  Sounds
of firing still came across the hills in the rear, showing
that Ah Lum, and possibly by this time Wang Shih also,
were at grips with the first Russian column.

Fronting the southern end of the pass was a small clump
of trees that would give the Russians ample cover if they
could reach it.  But in order to reach it they would have
to cross a quarter of a mile of comparatively level ground,
affording little cover, and exposed to the direct fire of the
defenders.  For a moment Jack was tempted to occupy
the clump; but that would involve the splitting of his force,
and any detachment he might send to hold the position
would be completely cut off from support except by rifle-fire.
Fortunately the clump was not approachable from the
rear; the attempt would involve a laborious climb uphill,
the climbers all the time exposed to fire from the mouth
of the pass.  This end being less defensible than the
northern, Jack had already placed the greater number of
his men in cover here in anticipation of the arrival of the
Russian turning column.

Some twenty minutes passed, during which Jack
impressed upon his men the necessity of husbanding their
ammunition.  They had but a small supply, with no
reserve to draw upon; it was imperative that they should
not reply to the Russian fire until they could see their
enemy distinctly.  The near approach of the Cossacks
was heralded by a sudden hail of bullets falling upon the
rocks on either side of the pass.  This was the signal for
a warm fusillade from the original point of attack.  To
neither was any reply made by the Chunchuses, among
whom not a man was touched.  After a few minutes there
was a sudden lull in the firing; it had become evident to
the Russians that unless they rushed the clump of trees
they could make no impression on an enemy so well
protected.  Intuitively Jack knew what was impending; he
called to his men to be on the alert; and scarcely had he
spoken when forty or fifty big horsemen, in open order,
dashed across the open space towards the trees.  Then
Jack gave the word.  The Cossacks had covered but a
few yards when a terrible fire was poured upon them from
the pass.  Here a man dropped from his saddle; there
a horse rolled over; but with the fine courage that had
distinguished the Russian soldier throughout the war, the
others held on in their terrible race with death.  As they
galloped forward man after man fell; only a gallant
remnant reached the clump, and with it comparative safety.
Scarcely a third of the troop gained the shelter of the
trees, but tactically the movement was worth the sacrifice.
There was silence for a brief space; then the men in the
clump opened fire.  From their new position they were
able to enfilade a considerable section of the pass.  One
by one Jack's men began to fall; then there was a second
rush from the Cossack main body to reinforce the men in
the copse; and the defenders of the pass, enfiladed as they
were, were unable to stop it.  Most of the Russians got
across; and with the reinforcements they had received, the
men in the clump poured a still more damaging fire into
the Chunchuses, only half-concealed now by rocks and
boulders, and hampered by the necessity of sparing their
ammunition.  The Russians, feeling that they had the
upper hand, began to expose themselves both in the copse
and on the rough ground whence their rushes had been
made; and the bandits, with the fear of their cartridges
running short, durst not take full advantage of their
opportunities of picking off incautious individuals among the
enemy; they had to content themselves with firing whenever
a group of two or more presented a broad target, and
directing occasional close volleys into the copse.  Still, the
distance separating the combatants was so short—barely
three hundred yards—that even in the comparative shelter
of the trees the Russians suffered heavily; every now and
then their fire slackened, and it was necessary to reinforce
them by further detachments from the main column.

While the battle was thus waged at the south of the
pass, there had been constant firing at the other end.  Hi
Lo went backwards and forwards between the two divisions
of Jack's band, with news of the enemy's movements
and the progress of the fight—a duty involving considerable
risk; but the boy could make use of rocks and
inequalities of the ground that would not have sheltered a
grown man, and he was indeed exceedingly proud of being
selected to assist in this way.

He reported now that the enfilading fire of the Russians
in the copse at the south had driven the Chunchuses from
the western face of the pass at the north end, allowing the
Cossacks to creep round the hillside on the north-east of
the entrance, and gain a position from which they were
able to inflict serious loss on the defenders.  Jack felt that
the coils were gradually being drawn around him; and when
a number of men, covered by a brisk rifle-fire, dashed from
the copse towards the steep hillside overlooking the pass,
and in spite of the loss of several of their number began
laboriously to climb the slope, he could not but recognize
that the game was well-nigh up.  The fight had lasted
three hours.  His men were worn; the strain had been
very great; and they were reduced to half a dozen rounds
a rifle.  But they were still steady and undismayed; how
much their tenacity owed to Jack's training and how
much to their native courage it would be difficult to say;
but two things were certain: their marksmanship was
distinctly superior to that of the Cossacks, and the temptation
of undisciplined troops to blaze away at random had been
quite heroically resisted.

The men climbing the face of the hill soon passed out
of sight; but in about ten minutes they opened fire from a
ridge high up the slope.  In excellent cover themselves,
they had many of the Chunchuses in full view; and the
Chinamen could not move into shelter without exposing
themselves to the fire of the Cossacks in the copse.
Nevertheless the bandits, with the characteristic doggedness of
the Chinese in face of peril, clung to their positions,
flattening themselves against the rocks and boulders, which
gave them less and less protection, attacked as they now
were from several sides.  More than once Jack made a
hazardous trip to the northern end of the pass, encouraging
his men; each time he noticed with a sinking heart that
the number of still and prostrate forms was greater.  What
caused the keenest pang, it was impossible to bring the
wounded to a place of safety.  As soon as a man fell, he
almost inevitably lost the complete protection of his boulder;
a portion of his body lay outside the zone of safety, and
the poor wretch thus became the mark for a score of
bullets.  His heart torn with pity for the men, Jack at
one time thought of surrender.  But then he recollected
that they would merely exchange the bullet for the noose;
and there was always a bare chance of relief.  He himself
was wounded in the shoulder; at least half his men were
out of action; the Russians were gradually closing in
towards both entrances of the pass; and a simultaneous
rush at each end must finish the struggle.  Jack wondered
why such an assault had not already been made.  It would
entail a certain loss of life; but perhaps less in the end
than would result from prolonging the struggle.  Even as
the thought struck him, he saw signs of the movement he
so much dreaded, and hurrying back to the southern end,
where the worst of the fighting must take place, he was
about to urge his men to sell their lives dearly, when from
the steep pathway beyond the rocky platform previously
pointed out by his guide there came the discharge of half
a hundred rifles.  The combat in the pass ceased instantly;
both sides were startled and amazed—Jack wondering
whether the first Russian force had disposed of Ah Lum,
and was now returning to complete the destruction of
his followers; the Cossacks apparently uncertain whether
the shots came from friend or foe.  Another volley flashed
from the height; immediately afterwards a swarm of
horsemen was seen to descend.  By the manner of their
riding it was plain they were not Cossacks.  They were
making direct for the rear of the Russian force, threatening
to cut off its retreat.  The Cossacks beyond the copse
waited no longer.  In one wild rush, some throwing away
their rifles in their haste, they fled towards the pathway
by which they had come, hoping to reach the ponies
tethered beyond the zone of fire.  The men in the copse,
less fortunately placed than their comrades, offered a
desperate resistance to the Chunchuses now enveloping
them—Jack leading some of his men in a charge from the pass,
the new-comers sweeping round at headlong speed to
intercept the fugitives.  A few of the Cossacks, seeing their
flight hopeless, surrendered; the rest died fighting; while
those on the hillside, taken in reverse, were shot down
almost to a man.

Thus reinforced, Jack sent a detachment round towards
the northern end of the pass, and led a strong body to
make a frontal attack on the Cossacks there.  But they
did not await the assault.  Perceiving their danger, they
withdrew towards their reserve; and becoming aware
within a few minutes of the Chunchuses rapidly
approaching on their flank, they abandoned their position
and galloped swiftly away, many of them falling to the
rifles of the bandits.

The detachment which had come so providentially to
Jack's relief proved to be Wang Shih's force.  By the time
they returned from pursuing the fleeing Russians, Ah Lum
himself arrived at the pass.  Jack then learnt what had
happened.  The first Russian force had been completely
routed.  They had lost heavily in the ambuscade, but had
rallied and attempted to rush Ah Lum's position.  Then,
however, Wang Shih had come down upon their flank,
and, discouraged by their heavy losses at the ambuscade,
they had retreated.  Closely followed up by Ah Lum, they
were taken between two fires, and their retirement, at first
orderly, soon became a headlong flight.

Ah Lum made the handsomest acknowledgments to
Jack for the part he had played.  And his was indeed a
notable achievement.  Though threatened by nearly thrice
their numbers, his men by their gallant fight had
prevented the junction of the two Cossack forces, and thus
enabled Ah Lum to secure his object, and win the victory
on which so much had depended.  His combined force was
not strong enough to follow up the advantage gained; for
among the hills the Cossacks would easily find a defensible
position, and if they once succeeded in checking the
pursuit, the Chunchuses would soon be opposed by
overwhelming numbers.  But in the hastily evacuated position
the victors discovered a considerable supply of food, fodder,
and ammunition abandoned by the Cossacks, and this
proved a welcome addition to their depleted stores.

Ah Lum had now to consider his future movements.
He had learnt from a scout, who had overtaken him as he
rode towards the pass, that a strong Cossack force was
pushing northwards from the Korean frontier.  To escape
the ring-fence in which the Russians were evidently
determined to enclose him, it seemed best to strike
north-east, and endeavour to gain a position that had more than
once been occupied by Chunchuses in their conflicts with
Chinese troops.  Arrangements were hastily made for the
transport of the wounded, on both sides unfortunately
very numerous.  Mindful of his engagement with Jack,
Ah Lum would not allow his men to despatch the wounded
Russians, as was their wont.  Forming a long column,
he started on his march, leaving Jack with 300 men to
watch the Cossacks and hold them at bay, should they
return, until the main body had got a good start.  Jack
held the pass for the remainder of the day; he was glad
of the rest, for it enabled him to have his injured arm
bathed and dressed.  Fortunately the wounds were slight.
No sign of further attack being seen, he thought it safe
to follow up his chief.  They joined forces within
twenty-four hours of Jack's leaving the pass.  Ah Lum's march
had been delayed by the wounded, whom, however, he left
in groups at friendly villages en route.  All the wounded
having been thus disposed of, the combined Chunchuse
column regained its former mobility, and, marching
rapidly, in three days reached the hill fastness where Ah
Lum hoped to enjoy a breathing-space to rest and recruit.

In the course of the march he gathered up ample food
supplies for man and beast, but was still beset by the
scarcity of ammunition.  A great deal had been expended in
the recent fight, and the wastage was by no means made
up by what had been captured from the Russians.  The
band, too, was constantly being recruited, mainly from men
who had been wounded and left behind in the villages after
previous engagements; and in spite of its recent losses it
was now again fully twelve hundred strong.  But when
the stock of ammunition came to be examined, it was
found that there scarcely remained a dozen rounds a man.
Unless, therefore, a fresh supply could in some way be
procured, it would be necessary to disband the force.  The
dilemma gave Ah Lum serious concern.





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`Captain Kargopol finds the Chunchuses`:

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   CHAPTER XIX


.. class:: center large bold

   Captain Kargopol finds the Chunchuses

.. vspace:: 2

.. class:: noindent small

Grumbles—Pai-chi-kou—The Masterful Muscovite—A
Midnight Council—The Inn—A
Summons—Betrayal—Confirmation—Miss-fire—The
Rounds—Ivan Ivanovitch

.. vspace:: 2

Captain Vassily Nikolaeitch Kargopol was not in the
best of tempers.  His pony, which had carried him all day
over some of the worst mountain tracks in Manchuria,
slipped at the frozen edge of a rut, and nearly rolled over.
The rider, as a captain of Transbaikal Cossacks, was too
good a horseman to be thrown; but he was severely
jolted, and he brought the poor jaded beast up with a
smart lash of his whip.  This seemed to relieve his
feelings; and further consideration, together with a comically
reproachful look on the face of his companion, brought
repentance.  Leaning forward he patted the animal's neck.

"You needn't look at me like that, Borisoff," he said.
"I know it's too bad of me to visit the sins of this accursed
country on the beast.  Never mind; he shall have an extra
feed of buckwheat to-night, and I'll see that he gets it."

"That's more like you, Kargopol," returned Lieutenant
Casimir Andreitch Borisoff.  The cloud had indeed cleared
like magic from the captain's round, jovial, somewhat
rubicund face; evidently he was not a man on whom
ill-temper sat long or heavily.

"The truth is, I am becoming a little uneasy.  Isn't
there something in the Scriptures about hunting after a
dead dog, after a flea?  I confess I'd rather stick to our
proper work, and smash Oyama instead of running after
this Ah Lum and his Chunchuses."

"Yes, confound the fellow!  He's as agile as the little
unmentionable fellow you were beguiled into naming,
though by all accounts he's more like a live lion than a
dead dog.  That fight of his was a masterly piece of work."

"I only wish we could get to grips with him.  Here
have I been for weeks—months—on the hunt, and haven't
so much as sighted a bandit.  Hi there!  Ivan Samsonitch,
ask the Chinaman how far it is to this precious village."

The trooper addressed, riding beside a burly Chinaman
twenty paces ahead, translated the question into a
barbarous mixture of Chinese and pidgin Russian.  The
Chinaman, whose legs as he bestrode his little pony almost
touched the ground, bowed humbly upon the animal's
neck, and barked a reply.

"He says, little father," said the sergeant, translating,
"that Pai-chi-kou is about seven li farther; that is four
versts; but there is a river to be forded."

"Another river!  That makes a round dozen since we
started.  And the water's icy cold, confound it!"

The captain had drawn up to the sergeant; only to him
and the Chinaman was his mild grumble audible.  The
sergeant was a man of responsibility with whom he could
to a certain extent unbend; the men must hear no
complaints.  For nine hours the detachment of 150 Cossacks
had marched up hill and down dale over tracks slippery
with frost, wading streams that in another month would be
deeply coated with ice.  Their progress was hampered by
the necessity of watching and assisting the heavily-laden
pack-mules that formed the major part of the column.
Their destination was the village of Pai-chi-kou, where
they were to be joined by the larger force for which they
were carrying ammunition and supplies.  As verst
succeeded verst, the captain thought, and said to Lieutenant
Borisoff, hard things of the transport officer who had
drawn out the itinerary.  The want of good service maps
was a terrible disadvantage.  Once the detachment had
lost its way altogether; and only after an hour had been
spent in futile search was a countryman opportunely
discovered and pressed into the service as guide.  The man
was very unwilling to act; he protested his wish to go in
an entirely different direction, to a village where his
grandfather awaited burial rites.  But Captain Kargopol had had
enough dealings with Chinamen to regard this grandfather
as an oriental Mrs. Harris; he turned a deaf ear to the
man's protests, and was unmelted by his facile tears.
Under his guidance the troops had trudged along, the men
bearing the fatigues of the march with the fine cheerfulness
of the Russian soldier, breaking out every now and then
into song, their rich voices ringing out gloriously in the
clear, frosty air.

The twelfth river was waded, only one of the mules
losing its footing and submerging its load.  Shortly
afterwards, just as dusk was falling, the column arrived at a
long, straggling village.

"This is Pai-chi-kou?" said the captain.

"Yes, little father," replied the sergeant, after
questioning the guide.

"H'm!  It seems very populous.  Where do they stow
all the people?  And what is the noise about?"

The street was crowded with Chinese men, women, and
children, making a terrible din with gongs, drums, and
crackers.  The guide explained that a great number of
people had come into the village to keep the annual
Dragon-boat Festival; if the Russians had arrived a
little earlier they would have seen the river covered with
long, narrow, gaily-painted boats paddled by crews of
twenty in fantastic costumes, the banks thronged with
onlookers.

"A pity we missed it, Borisoff," said the captain.
"However, I'm glad we have arrived safely at last."

If Captain Kargopol had known a little more about
Chinese customs, he would certainly have asked why in
this village the Festival—a summer festival held on the
fifth day of the fifth moon—was being celebrated four
months after the proper time.  Moreover, it is only
celebrated where the rivers are broad; on a hill stream
the procession of boats must be a mere travesty.  But
the captain could hardly be expected to know that.

The captain rode up to the only inn, where the one
habitable room was crammed with Chinamen.  After a
short colloquy with the innkeeper these natives were
unceremoniously bundled out into the courtyard; the captain
had declared his intention of occupying the room with
Lieutenant Borisoff for the night.  He then sent his
sergeant to find quarters for the troopers in the village.  The
man reported that every house was full up.

"Then we must empty them," said the captain, who
was tired and grumpy.  "Make the Chinese turn out.
The men have more need of rest than they."

This was unanswerable, if illogical.  The sergeant went
to do his bidding, and soon the street was noisier than
ever, the dispossessed Chinamen in scattered knots
cackling away in their high-pitched voices, some of them
weeping, and crowding to suffocation the few houses that were
not required by these masterful foreign devils.

With military punctiliousness Captain Kargopol set a
strong guard at each end of the village, arranged for the
single street to be patrolled, and the inn to be watched by
a sentry; then threw himself on the k'ang with a weary
sigh, and prepared to eat, if not digest, the meal which
the innkeeper soon had ready for his guests.  It was quite
clear that, though the Chinamen had all been turned out,
some had ventured to creep back into the passage and a
sort of shanty adjoining the room.  The innkeeper
kow-towed and apologized; he hoped the honourable officer
would not object to the men occupying this shelter for
the night; they had paid their scot in advance, and if he
did not give them house-room he would have to refund
the money and pay compensation in addition.

"Poor wretches!" said the captain to Borisoff.  "We're
pretty hard on them at the best.  They won't interfere
with us, I suppose, unless they snore; and even then, I
fancy I'm so dead beat I could sleep through anything."

When the officers had finished their supper, they
wrapped themselves in their cloaks, and lay, Captain
Kargopol on the k'ang, the lieutenant on the floor.
Though the inn was now quiet, and the troopers were
no doubt sleeping as soundly as their superiors, it was
evident from the sounds proceeding from the houses that
the Chinese were wakeful, possibly through the excitement
of their festival.

Towards midnight, under the shelter of a low shed not
far from the inn, where they crouched for protection from
a biting north wind, two Chinamen were talking in low
tones.  One was the guide who had so reluctantly
accompanied the Russians; the other a much younger man.  All
at once, out of the darkness crept a short Chinese boy,
looking fatter than he was by reason of his thickly wadded
clothes.  He came to the younger of the two men, and
addressed him in an excited whisper.  To anyone who
overheard him it would have been clear that he had been
hiding, according to instructions, in the inn.  He said
that he had overheard a conversation between Hu Hang
and C'hu Tan, who were among the Chinamen in the
shanty.  He had seemingly heard more than was
expected.  The ex-constable and Ah Lum's ex-lieutenant
were going to seize and gag the innkeeper, and then to
waken the Russian officers and give them an important
piece of information.  The howl of a dog outside the
village was to be the signal for carrying this plan into
effect.  They had said that between the first howl and
the second there would be plenty of time for what they
meant to do.

"Hai-yah!" growled the larger of the two listeners,
following up the exclamation with an oath.  The other
made no comment on the news he had just heard, but,
turning to the boy, he said rapidly:

"Run and tell Pai Ting there are to be two howls, not
three.  What was to have been the first will now be the
second.  The signal will be given as soon as the moon
goes down behind yonder clump of trees.  You understand?"

The boy nodded, and without a word crept away,
wriggling down a narrow passage between the shed and
the next house towards the outskirts of the village.

As soon as he had gone, the two men rose quietly and
went into the street.  Dodging the patrol, they hurried to
the inn, passed to the rear, and cautiously made their way
into the shanty or lean-to.  There were several Chinamen
in the stuffy den, to all seeming fast asleep; but a close
observer might have noticed that the entrance of the
new-comers was at once remarked, and that, as they passed by
or actually stepped over the recumbent forms, they were
the object of a keen scrutiny.  The inspection appeared to
satisfy the men, for they at once resumed their attitude of
complete repose.

To any but ears keenly alert the progress of the two
men would have been inaudible; for there was a constant
noise from the courtyard and a large open space behind
the inn, where the greater number of the ponies of the
convoy were picketed under a Cossack guard.  A Cossack
was also doing sentry-go in front of the inn, but
approaching from the back the two Chinamen had avoided him.

When they came in sight of the main room they
exercised the extremest caution.  The door was but
half-closed, and through the opening came the faint yellow
light of a small oil-lamp.  Coming to a spot whence they
could see the greater part of the interior, they halted, and
peeped within.  Near the door they could just make out
the forms of three Chinamen huddled on the floor—doubtless
the innkeeper, and the two men whose little plot the
boy had overheard and reported.  The Russian officers had
apparently been too much fatigued to resent this invasion
of their privacy.

Waiting merely to get a mental photograph of the
position in the room, the younger of the two Chinamen moved
gently backward, and, touching one of the dormant figures
on the shoulder, beckoned him towards the back door.
Then he whispered an instruction.  The man was to enter
the room, boldly but not aggressively, and summon the
innkeeper to join Wang Shih at the house of the village
headman.  This was but a move in the game shortly to
be played out.  The two conspirators would doubtless be
relieved to find themselves—by a lucky accident, they
would suppose—free from the presence of the innkeeper;
it would no longer be necessary to dispose of him; at the
same time they would be reassured as to the whereabouts
of Wang Shih.  The man crept in as directed.  His entrance
caused the captain to stir.

"What is it?" he growled.

The innkeeper explained as well as he could that he was
called away.

"Out with you, then, and tell the sentry to allow no one
else in.  I want to sleep."

He then turned over, and was instantly oblivious.  The
innkeeper, coming out, was surprised to find Wang Shih
at the door, but was warned by that burly man's younger
companion not to open his lips.

He had scarcely left the room before one of the two
Chinamen lying within the room began to wriggle
towards the officers.  The other man, none other than Hu
Hang, once a constable, now a disappointed Chunchuse,
bent forward, intent upon his companion's progress.  At
a hint from the younger of the two watchers, the elder,
Wang Shih himself, slipped into the room and stood silent
and unnoticed behind Hu Hang.

The creeping Chinaman came first to Lieutenant Borisoff,
stretched on the floor.  He nudged him; the Russian
grunted.  A second gentle nudge provoked another grunt.
Then the officer awoke with a start, and seeing by the
dim light a Chinaman bending over him, he instinctively
felt for and grasped the revolver beneath the cloak that
formed his pillow.  The Chinaman held up his hands to
show that he wras unarmed.

"What do you want, confound you?" asked Borisoff in
pidgin Russian.

"Ss-s-h!" was the answer.  "Listen quietly, honourable
nobility.  There is danger."

"What is it?" asked the lieutenant, raising himself on
his elbow.  "Tell me quickly, and be sure you tell me the
truth, or——"

There was an ominous movement of the revolver.  He
touched Captain Kargopol's foot, and that officer, awake
in an instant, sat up on the k'ang and looked about him.

"This village is not Pai-chi-kou, honourable nobility.
It is Ta-kang-tzü.  The Chinamen here are all Chunchuses.
Very soon honourable master will hear the howl of a dog.
It will not be the voice of a dog, but of a man.  It is a
signal.  Ah Lum's men are outside.  At the signal they
will surround the village."

Both officers were now on their feet, gripping their
revolvers.

"Afterwards another howl," continued the informer.
"The Chunchuses in the village will seize rifles and
pistols hidden in the gardens and pig-sties.  Afterwards
a third signal; every house with Russians in it will be
attacked, every honourable soldier captured or killed."

The captain rapped out an oath.  The Chinaman, still
on his knees, lifted up his hands and spoke earnestly.

"I can show the honourable nobility how to cheat them;
honourable master will reward his humble slave.  Is it not so?"

The captain, none too quick-witted, nodded to the man
to proceed.  The Chinaman stood erect.

"At the first howl, master will cut a hole in the
window—quickly, so that the men in the passage hear nothing;
they are all Chunchuses.  He will whisper to the sentry
outside; the soldier will warn the patrol, and they will in
haste make the round of the houses where soldiers are.
Before the second signal is given, honourable master's
men will be ready; they can shoot down the Chunchuses
in the village, and Ah Lum will have to retreat, for
honourable nobility's countrymen are only ten miles away."

For a moment the captain gazed doubtfully at the man.

"Do you think it a trap?" he asked Borisoff.

The long-drawn howl of a dog as if baying the moon
rose and died away at some distance from the village.
The officers started.

"Trap or not, we can't go far wrong in doing what he
says.  Even if he is lying we are no worse off."

"Honourable nobility's servant asks fifty ounces of silver
for——"

"By and by, by and by.  Your story must be proved.
It sounds likely enough——"

"You are quite right, your nobility," said another voice
in good Russian.  "It is more than likely; it is literally
true."

As the figure of a young Chinaman advanced from a
dark part of the room, the startled officers backed and
cocked their revolvers; the informer, turning a sickly
green under his yellow skin, stared mouth agape at the
speaker; while, from the corner where the man's
fellow-conspirator had been waiting, the sound of a choking
gurgle showed that Wang Shih was busy with his old
friend the constable.

The scene in the dimly-lit room was one not likely to be
soon forgotten by the actors in the drama.

While the two officers stood fingering their weapons in
amazed irresolution, and the wretched traitor leant for
support against the k'ang, the new-comer continued:

"What this man says, gentlemen, is perfectly true, so
far as he knows.  But he doesn't know all.  Before you
do anything rash allow me to explain.  The howl you
have just heard was the second, not the first signal.  Ah
Lum's men have already surrounded the village, and
eighty men inside are prepared to rush the quarters
occupied by your troops.  The inn is watched; the slightest
commotion here will be the third signal."

The news was in itself sufficient to provoke the deepest
wrath, but the coolness with which the explanation was
given enraged the captain beyond all bounds.  Springing
forward with an oath he cried, "I will risk it!" and
snapped his revolver within a foot of the Chinaman's
head.

There was no report.

"It is fortunate for you, sir, that we drew the charges
while you slept.  But for that, your fate and that of your
men would have been sealed.  If you will give me your
word of honour not to make a sound, I will give you
ocular proof of what I have said.  Believe me, it is only
to save your detachment from annihilation.  But you shall
judge."

The officer, pale and quivering with rage and chagrin
rather than fear, threw a glance at Lieutenant Borisoff,
who nodded.

"Agreed," said Kargopol fiercely.

Going to the door, the Chinaman said a few words to
those outside.  They rose and stood, fully armed, in the
passage.

"They are Chunchuses, you observe, sir; not peaceful
countrymen, as you believed, but the men you are hunting.
We will pass outside.  Be careful not to alarm your
Cossacks."

They passed by the row of silent Chinamen out into the
street.  The officers were saluted by the sentry, who
supposed them to be making the rounds.  They came to the
largest house in the village.  In front, on the street,
nothing was to be seen.  But at the back, and in a dark
passage-way at the side, were at least twenty dim figures,
armed at all points with rifle, pistol, and dagger.  The
silent group passed to another house, and to yet another;
at each, cunningly placed out of sight of the patrol,
Chunchuses lurked, awaiting the signal for the terrible work of
the night.

"We have but a few minutes, gentlemen, before the
signal.  Are you satisfied?  Nothing stands between your
men and extermination, save yourselves.  What is your
decision?"

The captain bit his moustache.

"Let things take their course," said Borisoff quietly.
"We had better die fighting than be tortured to death
after surrender."

"I can promise you and your men good treatment as
prisoners of war—always supposing your general is willing
to exchange you for our men, and does not hang any more
of ours in the meantime.  You need not fear torture."

The Russians laughed grimly.

"What are your assurances worth—you, a Chunchuse?"

"A Chunchuse—yes, Captain, but in this case also an
Englishman."

"An Englishman!" cried Kargopol with a start of
surprise.  Borisoff stepped nearer to Jack and peered
into his face.

"An Englishman, sir."

"And a Chunchuse?"

"A Chunchuse, by compulsion of your countrymen.
But, gentlemen, we waste precious time.  In a few
seconds the matter will be beyond your discretion—or
mine."

The captain stopped and faced the speaker.  Borisoff's
face wore a look of perplexity.

"You give me your word?" said Kargopol after a moment.

"Yes."

"As an Englishman?"

"As an Englishman."

"Then I surrender."

"Believe me, sir, it is the wisest, the most humane
course."

"Your name is Brown?" said Borisoff suddenly.

"Ivan Ivanovitch Brown, Lieutenant Borisoff."

"Batiushki!  I was puzzled by something familiar in
your voice.  What in the world——"

"Pardon me, the situation is still full of danger, a spark
may fire the train.  I will explain everything afterwards."

Peering into the dark, Jack in a moment beckoned to a
small figure crouching under the shelter of a wall.  Hi Lo
came bounding up, and to him Jack gave a rapid order.
The boy sped away at full speed.

"I have told him that the third signal is not to be given.
I hope he may be in time."





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`The Battle of Moukden`:

.. class:: center large bold

   CHAPTER XX


.. class:: center large bold

   The Battle of Moukden

.. vspace:: 2

.. class:: noindent small

Reservations—The Cupboard—Perfidious—"The Little
More"—Winter Quarters—More Perfidy—Russians
Concentrating—Captured Maxims—A Missing
Messenger—The Battle Ground—Nogi dashes North—Hemmed
In—Nogi cuts the Railway—The North Road—A Carnival
of Blood

.. vspace:: 2

"You have sold us completely, Ivan Ivanovitch," said
Borisoff as they walked back towards the inn.  "I
suppose that rascally guide of ours led us into this trap."

"All's fair in war, you know.  He is Wang Shih, Ah
Lum's principal lieutenant."

"He deserves to be hanged!" growled the captain.
"So do you, Mr. Brown."

"We seldom get our deserts, Captain.  But I think
Lieutenant Borisoff had better make a round of the houses
and tell your men of the surrender.  I will send word to
our man outside bidding him keep his Chunchuses in hand
for the present.  In a few minutes I will rejoin you at the
inn."

As the lieutenant visited house after house he recognized
how hopeless resistance would have been.  At the given
signal every dwelling would have been rushed, and before
the Cossacks could have realized what was happening they
must have fallen to a man.  The crestfallen troops were
paraded and disarmed in the street; then by the light of
flares the convoy was got ready, and an hour and a half
later it set off from the village up the hillside, escorted by
the Chunchuses, to join Ah Lum some fifteen miles away.
Jack stood at the door of the inn beside Captain Kargopol
as the convoy and prisoners filed past.  Nearly a hundred
pack-mules heavily laden with ammunition, winter
clothing, and provisions, and a hundred and fifty Cossacks,
formed the prize of his ingenuity.

Several mules and their loads were left behind for the
benefit of the villagers who had assisted in the plot.

"You had better hide them," said Jack to the headman.
"There is a large Cossack force only ten miles away:
they may be down upon you at any moment."

He learnt later that hardly were the last of the ponies
and their loads secured in caves and hollows among the
hills when, shortly after dawn, a squadron of Cossacks
galloped up—the advance guard of the twelve hundred
men whom Captain Kargopol was to have joined with
his convoy.  The commander was furious when he heard
the news, told him with much sympathy by the headman,
who reserved none of the details save only the participation
of the villagers.  Finding the track followed by the
Chunchuses, the commander sent a galloper back with the
news and himself pushed on in pursuit.  But after three
hours' hard riding his squadron was effectually checked
by a handful of men in a defile, and by the time he had
received sufficient support to force the pass the convoy
had reached Ah Lum's encampment, and nothing but a
battle could recover it.

During the northward march Jack rode between Captain
Kargopol and Lieutenant Borisoff.  They were eager for
the promised explanation of his partnership with brigands.
Jack had already made up his mind to be chary of details.
He would give no hostages to fortune in the shape of
information that might be used against him later; nor
would he say anything about the friends whose assistance
had been so valuable to him.  Of Gabriele Walewska
and the missionary, of Herr Schwab and the compradore's
brother, he therefore said never a word.  The gist of his
explanation was that, being uncertain and suspicious in
regard to his father's fate, he had resolved to stay in the
country, and found that he could only do so safely in
disguise.  This being penetrated by Sowinski's acuteness,
he had perforce taken refuge with Ah Lum, one of whose
lieutenants was an old friend of his.

"That rascally guide of ours, I suppose," said Borisoff.
"Well, it happens that I can give you a little
information——"

"About my father?'

"No, I know nothing about him.  A few weeks ago
a curious thing happened to that fellow Sowinski, a man
I loathe.  Kuropatkin received a telegram from Petersburg
asking for particulars of the charges brought against
your father, and for information as to his whereabouts.
Your Foreign Office had apparently been making enquiries.
Kuropatkin knew nothing about it, of course; after some
delay he discovered that Bekovitch had dealt with the
matter.  Bekovitch produced a number of letters found
in your father's office conclusively showing that he had
been in treasonable correspondence with the Japanese——"

"That's a lie!" said Jack.

"Well, there were the letters," said Borisoff with a
shrug.  "Kuropatkin asked if there was any independent
evidence.  Bekovitch at once sent Sinetsky for Sowinski.
He couldn't find the man, and though he left an urgent
message he didn't turn up.  So he went to his house again
early next morning.  There was nobody about, the door
was wide open, and he walked in.  The house was empty,
but he thought he heard a strange rustling in a big press
in the dining-room; Sowinski had appropriated your house,
by the way.  He opened the door, and there was the Pole,
gagged, tied hand and foot, and nearly dead from
exhaustion.  Sinetsky cut him loose; the poor wretch couldn't
speak for half an hour, his tongue was so much swollen.
He'd been tied up by a Chinese servant, it appeared,
though the job must have taken more than one man."

"Yes—I was the other."

"You!"  The officers laughed heartily.  "You're a
perfect demon of ingenuity, Ivan Ivanovitch.  Why didn't
he say it was you?"

"He had his reasons, I suppose.  What happened
then?"

"He went to Kuropatkin and swore to all manner of
things against your father.  The information was
telegraphed to Petersburg, and that's all I know about it."

"But where is my father?"

"I don't know.  Bekovitch didn't know, or professed
he didn't.  I fancy he had taken care not to know, in
case any unpleasant questions were asked."

"But someone must know.  Confound it, Lieutenant, is
the whole Staft a conspiracy of silence?"

"It appears that Bekovitch sent your father to Kriloff,
and Kriloff is dead.  I suppose enquiries were made, but
so far as I know nothing has come to light."

"I never heard of such villainy!" said Jack, his indignation
getting the better of him.  "I had always believed
the Russian officer was a gentleman."

"Oh, come now!" said Captain Kargopol, "you English
haven't a monopoly of the virtues.  You can't throw stones,
after the dirty trick your government has played us."

"What do you mean?"

"You haven't heard?  I forgot: I suppose your Ah Lum
doesn't subscribe to the *Manchurian Army Gazette*.  The
Baltic Fleet was attacked by British torpedo-boats in the
North Sea; Admiral Rozhdestvenski very properly fired and
sank one or two.  Some trawlers got in the way and were
rather knocked about: unfortunately a few men were
killed, and your canting press of course set up a howl and
clamoured for war.  But it's we who are the injured party:
you may be the ally of Japan, but that's no excuse for an
unprovoked attack on our fleet."

"Really, Captain, pardon me, but the story's absurd.
When did this torpedo attack take place?"

"At night, of course; you don't suppose they'd dare
to attack battleships in broad daylight."

"Then depend upon it there was a mistake.  Someone
was scared by the sight of a trawler.  It's ridiculous to
suppose that our government sent torpedo-boats on such
a silly errand as that."

"Well, they might have hired Scandinavian boats, to
save their face."

Jack repressed a smile.  It was evidently of no use to
argue with the captain.

"Time will show," he said.  "By the way, Mr. Wang,"
he added, seeing the Chunchuse a few paces
away, "what did you do with Hu Hang?"

"I am very sorry, sir," said Wang Shih with a look of
sincere penitence.  "It was quite a mistake—I was
excited, and I squeezed too hard."

"You strangled him?"

"Yes.  It is a pity—a great waste.  I fear the chief
will be angry.  Hu was a strong man—he would have
lasted for days."

"Oh!"

Understanding what he meant, Jack thought it just as
well.  He doubted whether his influence with Ah Lum
and the band would have been enough to preserve the
informer from the most gruesome and lingering tortures
Chinese inventiveness could devise.

"And what became of Ch'u Tan?"

"He stabbed himself."

"Anticipating a worse fate," Jack explained to the officers.

"We are aware of our good fortune in falling into your
hands, Ivan Ivanovitch," said Borisoff gravely; "and if,
when we are rescued, I can do anything——"

"Thanks, Lieutenant!  I don't owe much to the Russians,"
he added bitterly, "my father less.  When he is
righted I shall hope perhaps to pick up my old friendships
again."

Towards the close of the day the convoy reached Ah
Lum's mountain fastness.  The chief's little eyes gleamed
when he saw the great haul made by his son's tutor.

"You are bold enough to stroke a tiger's beard," he
said.  "Where there is musk, there will of course be
perfume."

The supplies captured were very welcome.  Ah Lum
had found it necessary to lie low, to avoid the forces on
the hunt for him.  But after a few days he learnt that the
troops from the Korean frontier had been recalled, and the
only Russian column now in the mountains was nearly a
hundred miles away.  He could therefore afford to live on
his gains for a time.

The band settled down to a period of quiet camp life.
The Cossacks were distributed over the settlement and
carefully guarded.  Jack proceeded with the education of
Ah Fu, and the further training of his men.  There was
considerable competition among the Chunchuses for
enrolment in his corps; he was looked upon as lucky, a
special favourite of heaven.  For himself, he regarded
his position differently.  Harassed with anxiety as to his
father's fate; among uncongenial surroundings; an exile,
without anyone to confide in as a friend; he felt anything
but lucky.  As week after week passed he grew terribly
weary of his life; winter had settled down upon the hills;
the snow lay inches thick, and even the warm clothing
captured from the Cossacks—the fur caps, thick gray
overcoats, felt-lined boots, ear gloves, and what not—proved
but insufficient protection against the intense cold.
He volunteered for what active work was going; but
there was little, and he did not covet the command of any
of the parties that went out from time to time to replenish
the larder.  Ah Lum was punctilious in giving receipts for
the supplies he requisitioned from the country people, but
Jack felt that they were little likely to be paid for: it was
a mere form at the best.  And the villagers could ill afford
the contributions demanded, though after all they were
better off than their countrymen living in the main current
of the war.  To all except the few merchants and
contractors, who made huge profits by supplying the rival
armies, the war had brought blank ruin.

Occasionally news of the progress of the war filtered
through the country.  Jack learnt that Admiral Alexeieff,
after continual wrangling with Kuropatkin, had been
recalled; that the combatants had gone into winter
quarters on opposite sides of the Sha-ho, both Russians
and Japanese living in dug-outs, called by the Russians
*zemliankas*; that Port Arthur was still holding out, though
from Chinese reports it seemed inevitable that the end
must soon come; that fresh troops were continually
arriving from Europe.  One day a dirty copy of the *Manchurian
Army Gazette* was brought into the camp; the Chinese are
always loth to destroy anything written or printed.  The
most interesting item of news it held for Jack, and one on
which he had a battle-royal of argument with the Russian
officers, was the statement that the *Ocean*, a British
battleship on the China station, had been sold to the Japanese,
and would appear in the next naval fight as the *Yushima*,
which the Russians declared had been sunk by a mine
while blockading Port Arthur.  Captain Kargopol stoutly
maintained that this was another instance of British
perfidy, and came very near to losing his temper when Jack
refused to take the report seriously, and bantered him on
his anti-British prejudice.

At last, one bright cold January day a Chinaman came
in with the news that Port Arthur had fallen.  Jack could
not but sympathize with the captive officers.  Personally
they were the best of comrades; their distrust of England
did not alloy the cordiality of their relations with Jack; and
their air of hopeless dejection was distressing to one who
bore neither to them nor to their nation any enduring ill-will.

A few days afterwards Ah Lum learnt that the Russian
column which had been watching him had suddenly
decamped.  The inference was obvious.  The fall of the
great fortress had released a large number of Japanese
troops, and Kuropatkin was concentrating against the
forward movement now to be expected.  This information
had considerable importance for Ah Lum.  He had been
canvassing the desirability of moving towards Kirin,
leaving only a small force in the hills to watch the
Russians.  Their sudden retreat, however, caused him to
change his plan.  He resolved to follow them.  There
was more chance of safety for him if he kept to the hills
within a few marches of the combatant armies than if he
was completely isolated and likely to be cut off by several
mobile columns operating against him.  It was hardly
likely that the Russians would now spare any troops from
the fighting line to interfere with him.  He was only a
mosquito after all, though his sting had more than once
proved extremely irritating.  His only concern was to be
near enough without being too near.  In the last resort
he could go over to the Japanese; but he disliked the
Japanese only less than the Russians, and preferred to
keep aloof.  It would be time enough to approach the
Japanese when they were well on the road to Harbin and
the area of his possible operations became more restricted.

The camp was therefore struck.  By easy marches the
band came to within eighty miles of Moukden.  Then,
having made complete arrangements for the approach of
any Russian force to be signalled to him from point to
point, Ah Lum encamped and awaited a favourable opportunity
of cutting across the Russian line of communications.

To none was the change of scene more welcome than to
Jack.  He had been worrying for some time past at the
absence of news from the compradore; that he had sent
no message made Jack fear that the man had returned to
Moukden and been made to suffer by Sowinski or General
Bekovitch for his young master's escape.  Growing more
and more restless, disappointed also that no news of his
father had been gleaned by any of Ah Lum's agents in
different parts of the country, he at last made up his mind
to venture once more into Moukden.  It was necessary to
ask leave of Ah Lum; and Jack, in his present state of
mind, was not disposed to be fobbed off with maxims and
proverbs.

As he expected, the chief looked very solemn and
endeavoured to dissuade him from his purpose.

"It is like a blind fowl picking at random after worms,"
he said.  "It is like attempting to carry an olive on the
pate of a priest.  You have already had a very narrow
escape.  You may not be so fortunate next time."

"I must insist, Mr. Ah," said Jack.  "Anything is
better than suspense."

"I will send a man for you.  A wise man never does
himself what he can employ another to do for him."

"Yes; but if one will not enter a tiger's lair, how can
he obtain her whelps?"

He cited the proverb with the utmost gravity.  Ah Lum
was taken aback.  Were his own maxims to be turned
against him?  He pondered for a moment.

"All things are according to heaven," he said with a
resigned air.  "Still, I will send a man with you; let him
go before you into Moukden; then you must act as you
think best on receipt of information.  To die or to live
is according to fate."

When it became known in the camp that Jack, or Sin
Foo as he was there known, was about to leave, many of
the Chunchuses were eager to accompany him.  He found
his popularity, and the extraordinary belief in his luck,
rather embarrassing.  He thanked these willing
volunteers, but declined their company: Hi Lo and the man
selected by Ah Lum were to be his only attendants.

Soon after dark on a bitter February night Jack, with
his two companions, rode up to the farm of Wang Shih's
people, some fifteen miles from Moukden.  They were
overjoyed to see him, and to hear news of their son and
brother.  Old Mr. Wang, when he learnt that his son was
now Ah Lum's chief lieutenant, rubbed his hands with
delight and foretold that he would die a mandarin.  It
would not be the first time in the history of China that
a successful brigand had been bought back to the cause
of law and order by the bribe of high official rank.
Mrs. Wang was garrulous about a second visit paid them about
Christmas-time by Monsieur Brin, who had consoled himself
for his failures as a war correspondent by studying
Chinese social arrangements at first hand.  The simple
folk readily agreed to put Jack up for a few days; it would
have been impossible to find more comfortable quarters
during his period of waiting.

Next morning Ah Lum's man went into Moukden.  By
mid-day he had returned.  The compradore had never been
seen in the city since he left for Harbin on the morning of
Jack's departure.  But the Chunchuse agent Me Hong had
learnt one trifling fact about Mr. Brown; he was surprised
that his chief was still in ignorance of it.  The English
merchant had been seen and recognized among a gang
of convicts at Kuan-cheng-tzü.  Me Hong had sent off the
news at once by a messenger to Ah Lum; the runner had
vanished.  He had not returned to Moukden; certainly he
had never reached the Chunchuse camp.  Sowinski was
still in the city; so, the messenger believed, was the
"Toitsche war-look-see man"; but there were so many
of the fraternity living in Moukden that he was not sure
that his information on that point was correct.

He brought other news.  Another great battle was
evidently impending.  The Japanese had for weeks been
steadily pushing forward.  They had cut the railway-line
south of Moukden; two regiments of their cavalry had
crept round the Russian left, and had been seen within
a few miles of Harbin; and it was reported among the
Chinese that Generals Nogi and Oku were preparing a
great turning movement on the right.  The city was full
to overflowing with refugees; many were streaming
northward; the Russo-Chinese bank had packed up its chests
and decamped; and the Chinese viceroy was in a terrible
state of anxiety for the safety of the palace and the ancient
tombs of the Manchu emperors.

This news almost tempted Jack to venture again within
the city.  But on second thoughts he decided to run no
risks of meeting Sowinski.  The imminence of another
great battle, however, perhaps to prove the decisive battle
of the war, created a keen longing to witness the scene;
and next day, taking leave of his kind hosts, he set off
with Hi Lo for a little village lying between the Moukden
railway-station and Sin-min-ting.  Hi Lo had relatives
there with whom they could safely stay.

The battle-ground was in essentials a repetition of that
of Liao-yang, though on a much larger scale.  The
Russians had thrown up an immense line of entrenchments
extending in a rough semicircle from Sin-min-ting on the
north-west of the city to Ping-ling on the east, with
Moukden as the centre.  Comprising a range of low hills
for the greater part of its course, the position was
naturally strong, and it had been fortified for months with all
the devices known to the military engineer—pits, abattis,
barbed-wire entanglements, forts of solid masonry bristling
with huge guns.  Snow lay upon the ground, frozen so
hard that the passage of cavalry across it raised clouds
of white dust.  The plain to the west and south of the
city was one vast whiteness: yet that peaceful scene was
the arena on which three-quarters of a million of men were
preparing to spill their blood in blind obedience to duty—to
contend with desperate earnestness in one of the decisive
battles of the world.

The Russian right wing was composed of the Second
Manchurian Army under General Kaulbars, resting on an
arc between Sin-min-ting and Moukden.  The centre, south
of the city, was held by General Bilderling with the Third
Army; the left, thrown out as far south-east as Tsin-khe-chen,
was entrusted to General Linievitch and the First
Army.  It was here that the first attack was made.  On
February 19 General Kawawura threw his right flank
detachment against the Russian works, and, after a fight
prolonged over five days, drove the Russians back towards
Fa-ling.  Meanwhile General Kuroki moved forward upon
Kao-tu-ling, and succeeded in forcing his way northward,
and General Nodzu, from his position on the Sha-ho,
opened a furious bombardment on the exact centre of the
Russian lines.  By these movements General Kuropatkin
was led to expect that the brunt of the fighting would fall
upon his centre and left; in reality they were designed to
hold his attention while more formidable operations were
developed on his right.

It was on the last day of February that General Oku's
army deployed between the Sha-ho and the Hun-ho, and
General Nogi started with incredible rapidity on his
northward march.  By the time General Kuropatkin became
aware of the danger threatening his communications on
the right, Nogi had made such progress and so skilfully
disposed his forces that to crush him was out of the
question; all that Kaulbars could do was to fall back
towards Moukden and oppose as stubborn a resistance
as possible.  The assaults of Kuroki and Nodzu on the
centre were so fierce and persistent that Kuropatkin had
no troops to spare for the reinforcement of his jeopardized
right flank.  Doggedly, intrepidly, the indomitable
Japanese pressed home their attack.  The Russians clung
heroically to their positions, and rolled back charge after
charge; but still the enemy returned, seeming to gain in
vigour and enthusiasm after each repulse.  They charged
with bayonets, with grenades, with shovels and picks;
sometimes, when they penetrated the Russian entrenchments,
flinging down their weapons and going to it with
their fists.  The trenches were filled with corpses; the
frozen ground all around was dyed red with blood; there
was no respite day or night; men fell, their places were
filled, and foe met foe over the bodies of the slain.

For ten days the issue was in doubt.  Then, on March 5,
Kuroki was across the Sha-ho; Nogi had swept through
Sin-min-ting towards the railway; Marshal Oyama's huge
army was flinging its octopus tentacles around the Russian
position, vast as it was.  Kuropatkin, most unfortunate of
generals, on March 8 found it necessary to withdraw his
centre and left behind the line of the Hun-ho, and collect
every unit that could be spared by Kaulbars and Bilderling
to stem the advance of Oku and Nogi.

Meanwhile the Russian left had opposed a bold front to
Kuroki and Kawawura.  Unable to make a successful
offensive movement, Linievitch stubbornly retreated in
good order beyond the Hun-ho, and entrenched himself
in a new position there.  But around Moukden the plight
of the Russian army was becoming desperate.  As the
terrible enemy crept on towards the city from all sides
save the north-east, the Russian troops, packed into a
constantly diminishing space, and exposed to a converging
fire, fell in thousands.  More than once the Russians
attempted to break through.  The gallant Kuropatkin in
person led a terrific attack on Oku at the head of sixty-five
battalions, and his splendid men fought with such courage
and determination that for a while it seemed the Japanese
advance must be checked.  But at this critical moment,
when the Russians were at least holding their own on the
right centre and left, and Oyama was concentrating to hurl
them back, an event had taken place at the left centre that
proved to be Fortune's cast of the die.  Early on the
morning of March 9, Kuropatkin received the news that
Kuroki had driven a wedge between Bilderling and
Linievitch.  Those generals in falling back on the Hun-ho had
temporarily lost touch: and the Japanese general, who
had never made a mistake throughout the war, was quick
to seize this opportunity of breaking the enemy's line.
On the same day Nogi got across the railway between
Moukden and Tieling; nothing but instant retreat could
save the Second and Third Russian armies from annihilation
or capture; and at nightfall on that fifteenth day of
the battle the order to retreat was given.

Next day at ten in the morning the Japanese entered the
city, and with their entrance burst the bubble of Russian
domination in Manchuria.  Scattered parties of Russians
fought on for several days in the neighbouring villages;
but with Nogi astride of the main line of retreat and every
northern road, the Russians were forced to abandon
everything and take to the hills.  Two days afterwards the
Japanese had chased their enemy full thirty miles to the
north; Kuropatkin's great army, broken, routed, had
well-nigh ceased to be.

Jack is never likely to forget that terrible fortnight.
During the first few days he witnessed nothing of the
fighting; he heard the reverberations of the guns, and
saw crowds of natives hastening from the villages in the
line of the Japanese advance, bearing with them everything
portable that could be saved from the impending
ruin.  At night, standing on the broken mud wall, he
beheld in the far distance a dull glow in the sky that
told of houses burning, and thought of the untold misery
inflicted upon a peaceable and industrious people by the
greed of rival governments.  But as the tide of battle
rolled northward, and the roar of the guns grew louder,
other evidences of the terrific struggle came within his
ken.  Ever and anon a train would rumble northward
along the line, with wagon-loads of wounded.  The
darkness of the nights was now illuminated with bursting
star-shells, and the red flare of burning villages nearer at hand.
One morning, in the twilight before dawn, he saw an
immense column of smoke rise over the Russian settlement
by the station.  It was in flames.  Venturing out with Hi
Lo, he soon came upon stragglers from the army, and by
and by upon a huge block of horse and foot and artillery,
field-telegraph wagons, mess carts, ambulances—all in
inextricable confusion, jammed in their frantic efforts to
escape.  Trains rolled along, crowded to the roofs of the
carriages, even to the engine itself, with soldiers; carts
lay overturned, broken, wheelless, on the roads and fields;
the air was loaded with the acrid fumes from piles of
blazing goods, clothing, and forage, burnt to prevent
their falling into the hands of the conquerors.

The retreat from Liao-yang had been orderly and not
uncheerful; the retreat from Moukden was an orgy of riot
and misery.  There was no order in the ranks: the officers
made no efforts—made, they would have been in vain—to
check the insubordination of their men.  Some as they
fled had looted the sutlers' carts and roamed at large,
defenceless, intoxicated, singing wild songs, dropping to
the ground, to be frozen stiff in a few minutes.  Others
tramped along, moody, taciturn, mad, going blindly they
knew not whither, they knew not why.  Here a horse's
head could be seen above the crowd, its eyes bloodshot
and haggard, its nostrils dilated.  There a horse fell; the
throng thickened around it; harsh voices were raised in
imprecation; then the movement recommenced, and nothing
was heard but the tramping of feet and the crunching of
wheels.  Wounded men dropped and froze in their blood;
others staggered this way and that, having lost all power
to govern their limbs; and still in the distance artillery
boomed, flames crackled, and the smoke of burning
homesteads rose into the sky.

Sick at heart, Jack returned to the village.  That
evening the Japanese entered it, bringing with them a number
of Russian prisoners and wounded, these having been
carefully tended by the Japanese ambulance corps.  Jack lent
what assistance he could in finding cottages where the
more seriously injured could remain.  "Strange," he
thought, "that war, which brings out the worst in men,
should bring out also all that is best."





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`Ah Lum at Bay`:

.. class:: center large bold

   CHAPTER XXI


.. class:: center large bold

   Ah Lum at Bay

.. vspace:: 2

.. class:: noindent small

Schwab again Retreats—A Business Friend—Reinstated—A
Little Light—Ah Lum Threatened—A Thousand Roubles
Reward—The Lessening Circle—A Mountain Tiger—Mirage—Ah
Lum's Lament—A Cossack Cloak

.. vspace:: 2

It was not merely curiosity that had held Jack within the
area of fighting.  He clung with a sort of superstition to
the belief that his father's fate was inwoven with the fate
of the Russian army.  He had a conviction, perfectly
illogical, that a victory for Japan would favour his quest.
There was so much truth in this idea as that amid the
disorders of a Russian retreat he might hope to pass
undetected in his disguise.  The Russians would be too
busy to look closely into the bona-fides of a mere
Chinaman, one of thousands who would be swept northwards
on the tide.  He could easily keep out of sight of the few
who might recognize him.

He thus had a purely personal interest in the result of
the battle.  Convinced that the compradore must have
remained with his brother in Harbin, he had resolved to
go north and learn from the man's own lips the issue of
his enquiries.  When the victorious army had rolled by,
he set off with Hi Lo in its wake.

One day, a few miles north of Tieling, he was riding
slowly along, contrasting his present position with the
different circumstances under which he had made the
retreat from Liao-yang, with Mr. Schwab's precious tripod
in his care, when, a little ahead of him, he caught sight of
a solitary figure trudging wearily along.  It needed but
one glance at the broad back.  The tired pedestrian was
Schwab himself—and he was carrying the camera.

Jack's lips twitched.  To this had come the descendant
of the great Hildebrand Suobensius, the itinerant
representative of Germany's imperial might!  There was matter
for amusement in the reflection, and for sympathy too:
Schwab's patriotism was genuine; his little vanities were
harmless enough; and whatever else might be said of him,
he was devoted to the interests of the Schlagintwert
company.  Jack resolved to make himself known to the
correspondent, who could have no interest in betraying him to
the Russians.  Cantering up behind, he heard Schwab
sighing and muttering under his breath.

"Excellenz," he said, "my Sin Foo——"

At the first word Schwab swung round with an alacrity
that betokened as much pleasure as surprise.

"Ach!" he said, "I know you; you are imbostor.  I am
delighted.  I abologize."

"That's very good of you, Herr Schwab, but I don't
know why."

"Vy!  Vy, for my vant of gombrehension, my zickness
of shkull.  But you did bretend; zat you muss gonfess;
and I did bay you your vages, so!"

Jack smiled.

"I've nothing to complain of," he said.  "To you I was
a Chinese servant, and I never want a better master."

"Say you so?  I vill shake hands viz you.  Zere vas
talk about you in Moukden; vy truly, zey gratulate me
for because I haf, zey say, a so clever servant.  Ach, mein
freund!  you see me; I am sad, I am broken; no longer
am I vat I haf been."

Schwab proceeded to tell a pitiful story.  He had started
on the retreat in company with Sowinski, with whom he
had arranged a great deal of business against the
termination of the war.  One night they had taken refuge in a
Chinese hovel.  Schwab had carefully put the satchel
containing his papers and money under his head.  In the
night he had heard and felt a movement, and, springing
up in the dark, seized and held an arm.  The arm was
wrenched away, then Sowinski's voice asked whether he
had heard anything.

"'Yes, certainly,' I said, 'I zink zere is a zief.
'Shtrike a light!' I cry.  Zere shtrikes a light; I look
for my zinks; siehe da! eferyzink is gone.  Against ze
door had I blaced a big kettle, for to gif notice if anyvun
intrude.  Zere it is, in ze same sbot.  I say: 'Sowinski,
you are vun big scoundrel; gif me my money!'  Zen he
burst into fearful bassion; he bresent me a bistol and
demand instant abology.  For myself, I am berfeckly cool.
I egsblain I am business man; certainly it is not my business
to fight, ven ze ozer man hold a revolver.  I abologize;
Sowinski say he is satisfied; but zen he say I had cast
asbersion on his honour; no longer could he travel in my
gompany; he demand me to get out.  Vat could I?  Ze
bistol muzzle vas at my head.  It is gombulsion.  I vat
you call clear out, viz my photographabbaratus.  But my
trouble only begins.  My mafoo, vere is he?  Vizout doubt
he has abbrobriated my bony.  Zere am I, zen, viz no
babers, no money, no bony, nozink in ze vide vorld but my
camera.  I cannot send a message to ze *Illustrirte Vaterland
und Colonien*: vere is ze money to gome from?  Ze
Kaiser,—alas! he is in Berlin.  I zink vat is var
gorresbondence for a kind of business?  I try to sell my camera;
no vun buys.  Ze Russian soldier is good comrade, ver'
fine fellow; for zree days I eat nozink but vat he gif me.
But ze officers—ach! ven I egsblain to zem, zey are all too
busy to listen; zey tell me, abbly Colonel Egoroff.  But
Colonel Egoroff, vere is he?  Nobody know.  Nobody
know vere nobody is.  All is gonfusion and upside-down.
I never see nozink so unbusinesslike novere."

As he told his story Schwab trudged along beside Jack's
pony.  Jack did not interrupt him; the man's relief in
finding someone to lend him a sympathizing ear was so
obvious.

"You have had an uncommonly hard time," he said.
"I'm very sorry.  What do you think of doing?"

"Zink!  I zink nozink.  My brain is no more vat it vas.
All I can do, you see it; I valk and valk; I beg my bread,
vich is Russian biscuit.  Nefer shall I see ze Vaterland no
more.  Hildebrand Schwab is gome to an end."

"Cheer up!  What do you say to taking me on as your
servant again?"

"Zat is unkind, to mock at me."

"Believe me, nothing is further from my thoughts.  I
mean it.  There will be some risk for you and for me, but
it's worth chancing.  Let me explain my plan."

Jack saw in Schwab's plight a means of advancing his
own quest, and at the same time doing a good turn to the
unfortunate representative of the *Illustrirte Vaterland*, for
whom, in spite of certain unlovely characteristics, he had
a real liking.  As servant of a European, far from any place
where he was likely to be recognized, Jack thought he
would probably reach Harbin more quickly than as a
masterless Chinese fugitive.  He proposed that they
should make for the railway.  The nearest point was
Erh-shih-li-pu, the junction of the Kirin branch with the
main line.  It was not unlikely that if Schwab told his
story there the officials would give him a passage to
Harbin.  The German eagerly accepted the proposal.
Jack insisted on his mounting the pony; it was necessary,
he explained, to keep up appearances, but his firmness on
the point was really due to the quite obvious fact that
Schwab was completely worn out.  At the first village
both Jack and Hi Lo made a few alterations in their
dress, so as to look as little like Schwab's former
servants as possible; and without more than the expected
difficulties and delays, the three at length reached
Erh-shih-li-pu.  Luckily at the station Schwab was recognized
by a Russian officer, a member of Stackelberg's staff, who
had once dined with the foreign correspondents at the
Green Dragon in Moukden.  On hearing the German's
troubles he readily agreed to give him a pass to Harbin
for himself and his servants, and would not allow the
fares to be paid; Jack had previously pressed upon
Schwab some of his rouble notes.  Thus on a bright
March day, when the frozen ground was sparkling in
the sunshine, the three travellers arrived in Harbin.
Schwab was lucky in obtaining quarters in the Oriental
Hotel; Jack made his way at once with Hi Lo to the
house of his uncle, the grain merchant, and there, as he
had expected, found Hi An.  The two brothers were
delighted to see their visitors, and there was a touching
scene of welcome between Hi Lo and his father.

For Jack there was but one crumb of information.
Hi Feng, as he had promised, had set on foot such
enquiries as seemed safe, especially along the railway line.
About a fortnight after Jack left Harbin in the horse-box,
a customer of Hi Feng came in with the news that he had
seen a man answering to the description of Mr. Brown
among a batch of prisoners at Imien-po on the
Harbin-Vladivostok section.  The train was apparently bound for
Vladivostok, but it had remained for twenty-four hours
on a siding, and the man's business had not allowed him
to wait to see what became of it.  Hi Feng had himself
travelled to the place; the train had of course by that time
departed; and the Chinese of the neighbourhood could give
him no information about it; one train was to them like
another, and delays at this siding were of constant occurrence.

Jack shuddered to think what his father's sufferings
must have been during the protracted journey.  His blood
boiled when he saw Russian officers in the streets; his
rage against Bekovitch poisoned his former good-will
towards them.  He fumed under his utter helplessness;
he could do nothing.  To some extent the information
received narrowed the area of search.  The fact of the
train having been seen at Imien-po showed that the
prisoners had been taken either to Eastern Siberia or to
Sakhalin.  Whichever it might be, Mr. Brown would be
equally unable to communicate with his son, and his
removal from Manchuria seemed to destroy all chance of
help from the Chinese.  To them Siberia and Sakhalin are
foreign lands; and if Siberia was remote, Sakhalin was
inaccessible.  Being wholly a penal settlement, there was
little chance of getting into or out of its ports undetected.

Jack remained for several weeks with Hi Feng, hoping
against hope.  Herr Schwab was still at the Oriental
Hotel.  Exposure to cold, lack of sufficient food, and his
mental anxieties had broken down the German's robust
health, and for a fortnight he lay at death's door.
Monsieur Brin happened to be at the same hotel; he had
missed every fight, solely through his own restlessness,
which sent him backwards and forwards from place to
place—never the time and the place and the correspondent
together.  He was a good-hearted fellow, and, finding a
German lying ill and not too carefully tended, he
constituted himself sick nurse, and devoted himself to his
self-imposed duties with unusual constancy.  He had his
reward in the patient's convalescence.  As soon as
Schwab was able to sit up and take a little nourishment,
Brin undertook to prove to him that the Kaiser in Berlin
was the Man of Sin, and for a good fortnight he had much
the better of the argument.

One day Hi Feng learnt that a great effort was at last
being made against Ah Lum.  He had already been
defeated by a large force of Cossacks, and driven from
the neighbourhood of Kirin north-eastwards towards the
Harbin-Vladivostok railway.  Strong columns were hard
upon his heels in pursuit.  Through his position as forage
contractor to the Russians, Hi Feng already knew that a
large body of Cossacks was shortly to leave Harbin for
a place half-way between that town and Vladivostok.
Putting the two pieces of news together, and making
discreet enquiries, he found that it was intended to make
a sudden dash upon Ah Lum's line of retreat and dispose
of him once for all.  The evacuation of Moukden and the
narrowing of the area of country open to the Russians in
Manchuria had made the presence of a strong guerrilla
force within their lines insupportable.  Ah Lum must be
rooted out.

Hi Feng was to deliver a large quantity of forage within
ten days; it was pretty safe to infer that the expedition
would start from Harbin soon afterwards.  Jack felt that
Ah Lum must be warned at once.  Furthermore, he was
much disposed to rejoin the Chunchuses.  Without
overrating his abilities, he knew that he had been able to do
something for them, and what he had learnt about his
father's treatment did not make him more friendly to the
Russians or less inclined to do what he could to thwart
them.  If he had seen any chance of reaching or
communicating with his father he might have taken a different
view: having left Ah Lum with that purpose there would
be no call for him to abandon his quest.  But it was now
clear that his enquiries must be pursued through Russian
agents.  He therefore decided to rejoin Ah Lum.  At the
same time he would let it be known that a reward of 1000
roubles should be paid to anyone giving him certain
information of his father's whereabouts.  This offer, judiciously
circulated through Chinese channels among the officials
of the railway, might bring definite news.

There was another consideration.  Among the Chunchuses,
so long as Ah Lum held his own, Jack would be
out of reach of the Russian authorities.  If he remained
in Harbin, or any other Russian centre, the news of his
offer would at once put his enemies on his track.  While
he was in Ah Lum's camp Hi Feng or his brother the
compradore could easily communicate with him if they
received any information.

Once more, then, he set out to join Ah Lum, Hi Lo
accompanying him.  He travelled in the guise of a Chinese
farmer.  Each took two ponies, and they pushed on with
great rapidity, riding the animals alternately.  By means
of the secret signs used by Ah Lum, Jack soon got upon
the chief's track.  Making a wide detour to avoid the
Russian columns now steadily driving Ah Lum towards
the point whence the Harbin force was to complete his
encirclement, he came upon the Chunchuses from the
east, and early one morning rode into the brigand camp.

His arrival was regarded as a favourable omen.  It was
likened by Ah Lum to the delightfulness of rain after long
drought.  Sin Foo was lucky; Fortune would now surely
smile.  The Chunchuses were, in fact, in a somewhat critical
position.  The camp, only one day old, was pitched in a
valley of the Chang-ling hills some twenty miles above the
Kan-hu lake—an extensive sheet of water nearly thirty
miles long and of varying breadth.  Fifty miles to the north
lay the nearest point on the railway, about 150 miles from
Harbin and twice as far from Vladivostok, the line threading
a tortuous path among the hills.  A considerable
Russian force sent out from Kirin was known to be at
Wo-ke-chan to the south-west; from this place a winter
track led over the hills to the head of the La-lin-ho
valley, within striking distance of Ah Lum's camp.
Another column, at O-mu-so to the south, commanded the
upper valley of the Mu-tan-chiang, and while cutting off
access to Ah Lum's old quarters on the upper Sungari,
threatened his left flank by the high-road to Ninguta.  At
that place, some eighty miles from O-mu-so, a third column
covered the passes into the Lao-ling mountains on the east.
The bandits were thus in a ring-fence.  Only the north
was open, and Jack's news confirmed the wary chief's
suspicions that the apparent gap in the north had been left
with the sole object of tempting him into the neighbourhood
of the railway, on which an overwhelming force was
held in readiness.

The confirmation of his suspicions roused the chief from
the dejection into which the gradual tightening of the coils
had thrown him.  From an attitude almost of despair he
now rose to a spirit of sullen determination.  The Russians
were gradually closing around him; they would drive him
to bay.

"The tiger comes to eat the fly," he said.  "Wah! he
may prove a wooden tiger.  The Russians shall see what
it is to draw a badger.  I own, honoured sir, I thought
once of disbanding my force.  But on reflection I have come
to another mind.  The very villagers who have been most
willing to help me would probably turn against me
retreating, and sell me to the Russians.  He who advances
may fight, but he who retreats must take care of himself.
It is better to die fighting.  Adversity is necessary to
the development of men's virtues.  I will choose a strong
position and await the flood.  It will not be long in
coming.  The Russians, I doubt not, when their arrangements
along the railway are complete, will advance at
the same time from east, west, and south, driving me
against the spears of the Cossacks hiding behind the
railway to the north.  I have only 600 men left.  There has been
much fighting since you left, honoured sir; my men are
exhausted with constant marching and insufficient food.
It is not easy to stop the fire when water is at a distance."

Jack found that the Russian prisoners were no longer
with the Chunchuses.  Ah Lum had been glad to exchange
them against as many of his band captured during the
recent fight.  But for this exchange his force would have
been even smaller than it was.  He was hopelessly
outnumbered by the Russians, each of whose columns was
about 1200 strong.  Their horses were in good condition;
and the work of chasing the Chunchuses having devolved
on one only of the columns at a time, the Cossacks were
not so much worn out as their quarry, who had been kept
moving constantly.

Ah Lum and Jack discussed the situation in great detail.
There seemed indeed no way out.  To fight or to disband:
those were the alternatives, each fraught with peril if not
disaster.  Another fight would probably be the last, for
the Russians would hardly make a serious attack until
they had the wily brigand who had given them so much
trouble completely surrounded.  With perhaps 5000 men
engaged on one side and only 600 on the other there was
but one result to be expected.

If the gap to the north had really been a gap—if the
Russians had been as stupid as they wished Ah Lum to
believe—there would still have been a chance.  The chief
explained that far to the north, in the high hills above the
lower valley of the Mu-tan-chiang, he might hope to elude
pursuit for an indefinite period.  It was a wild, mountainous,
almost uninhabited country, in which the only difficulty
would be that of subsistence, not of hiding.  But a
Chunchuse can live on much less than a Cossack, little though
the latter requires.  If only Ah Lum could have gained
those hills, he could have shown a clean pair of heels to
his pursuers.

Regrets, however, were useless.  "It is no good climbing
a tree to hunt for fish."  The appearance of the
Chunchuses within twenty miles of the railway would be the
signal for a simultaneous movement of squadron upon
squadron of Cossacks from east and west, while the three
columns now closing upon them would seize the opportunity
of occupying the passes in their rear, hemming them within
a small circle where they would soon be annihilated.

"No," said Ah Lum, "I can only eat my three meals
in the day and look forward to sleeping at night.  It is
impossible to stand on two ships at once.  I shall stay
here, occupy the approaches on each side, and fight to the
last gasp.  Death has no terror for me.  I can eat my rice
looking towards heaven.  My only trouble is my son, my
only son Ah Fu.  If I die, he will die; who then will do
honour to my bones?  True, I shall be remembered; as
the scream of the eagle is heard when she has passed over,
so a man's name remains after his death.  But my
cooking-range will go to a stranger; the ancestral tablets of my
family will be broken; there will be none to sacrifice to
my manes.  And the boy: why should he be cut off?  The
growth of a mulberry-tree corresponds with its early bent.
Ah Fu is a good boy, as you know, honoured sir.  He is
brave; I love him, and have been liberal in punishment,
as the sage advises; his intelligence, though but a grain
of millet, will in due time grow green to the height of a
horse's head.  I looked for him to endure the nine days'
examination and write verses worthy of high office.  Ai! ai!"

Through the scholar's pedantries Jack saw the man's
heart throbbing.  He expressed his sympathy.

"Wah!" returned Ah Lum.  "Calamity comes from
heaven.  After the pig has been killed it is useless to
speak of the price.  I have done all I can.  The one
thing remaining is to meet the inevitable end with dignity.
But as for you, honoured sir, you have done enough.  I
do not ask you to stay.  You have your own quest to
follow.  Let every man sweep the snow from before his
own doors, and not heed the frost on his neighbour's tiles."

"You are right, chief," said Jack.  "But it has not
come to that yet.  There may be a way out even yet,
and you have been so kind to me that I should not think
of leaving you while there is any hope at all."

Ah Lum's remark about the possibility of evading
pursuit if he could reach the farther side of the railway had
set Jack thinking.  Was there no way out of his strait?
Could the Russians, he wondered, be led off the scent,
thus gaining time for the band to make a dash across
the line?  In the privacy of his little hut of kowliang
stalks Jack pondered the problem long.  But the more
he thought, the less feasible the thing appeared.  The
railway gave the Russians so great a mobility: they could
move troops so quickly up and down it, and now that
the main armies were for the time quiescent, they had
so many men available, that with only 600 Chunchuses
there seemed no hope of such a dash being successful.
He racked his brains far into the night.  As the
hours drew on, it became very cold; the north wind struck
keenly.  Looking around for an additional garment, Jack
saw a military cloak, part of the stock of clothing captured
from the Cossacks.  He put it on, and tramped up and
down, thinking and thinking again.  The fur-lined cloak
warmed him, by and by he became hot with the excitement
of an idea.  He rolled himself up in the cloak and
tried to sleep, but his eyes were still unclosed when the
chill dawn stole over the mountains.  With racking head
he sought an interview with the chief.  For some hours
they remained in earnest consultation.  When the talk
was ended Ah Lum rubbed his hands together and said:

"If you succeed, honoured friend, we shall certainly
escape the net.  The task you have set yourself is difficult.
It is like feeling after a pin on the bottom of the ocean.
But whether you succeed or not, we shall owe you an
unfathomable debt of gratitude.  Choose what men you
need; all will be proud to serve under you."

Then, weary but light of heart, Jack returned to his
hut and slept.





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`Capturing a Locomotive`:

.. class:: center large bold

   CHAPTER XXII


.. class:: center large bold

   Capturing a Locomotive

.. vspace:: 2

.. class:: noindent small

Overdue—A Special—The Vladivostok Train—The Sound
of a Whistle—An Interrupted Message—A Correction—Bound East

.. vspace:: 2

"The fair at Wu-chi-mi will be well attended this month.
I have not had so many bookings for a long time."

The station-master at Mao-shan looked appreciatively
at the motley gathering.  With true oriental patience they
had come at least an hour before the train was due, and
in Manchuria that was probably two hours before it would
arrive.  Flanked by the enormous bundles and parcels
that in the East represent personal luggage, they were
squatting on rugs and mats under the station shed,
waiting for the gates leading on to the platform to be opened.

"I only hope there'll be room for them all.  But it's
wonderful how tight these Chinamen can pack.  And they
haven't far to go.  The long-distance passengers will
grumble."

The waiting crowd was not really large, but the station
was small.  There might be seventy or eighty in all—men,
women, and children.  Some of them were chattering
volubly in their high-pitched voices; others were stolidly
smoking or doing nothing at all.  One big, burly fellow
was joining in a game of knuckle-stones with a bright-looking
boy, the man playing with the deepest solemnity,
the child bubbling with merriment as he got the better of
his elder.  All were protected from the cold by garments
so thickly wadded that the heads of the people looked
entirely out of proportion to their bulk of body.

"It's extraordinary," continued the station-master, who
was doing the most of the talking, his companion, a tall
captain of Cossacks wearing long felt boots, a large fur
hat, and a fur-lined cloak up to his ears, interjecting only
an occasional brief word—"it's extraordinary, your nobility,
how the Chinese have taken to the railway.  When I
came here four years ago, the most of them looked on
it with suspicion, even dread; now they use it as freely
as the folk in Moscow or Petersburg.  But this is a poor
district hereabouts, and they can't afford to travel much,
though it's cheap enough, goodness knows."

"She's late, is she not?" enquired the captain, breaking
into the official's monologue.  "It's past eight"—glancing
at the station clock.

"True, little father.  Half an hour late at Hsiao-ten-shan-ling,
and that's less than usual.  She may make up
five or ten minutes; it is downhill on the whole.  But the
government is keeping a sharp eye on the fuel.  They
won't burn extra to make up lost time; and for the matter
of that, there's no need.  The only train that mattered ran
through two hours ago."

"Ah! a special?"

The station-master dropped his voice, as if fearful of
being heard by the Chinese outside the barrier.

"Yes, a special.  We were warned by telegraph not to
let the news spread among the natives.  But seeing you
are an officer, there's no harm in mentioning there were
three hundred of your own men—Cossacks, and a sprinkling
of Siberian Rifles.  I suppose you are going on the
same errand?"

.. _`The Siberian Railway from Mao-shan to Han-ta-ho-tzü`:

.. figure:: images/img-273.jpg
   :align: center
   :alt: Map of the Siberian Railway from Mao-shan to Han-ta-ho-tzü.

   Map of the Siberian Railway from Mao-shan to Han-ta-ho-tzü.

There was much curiosity in the station-master's voice.
He was himself a soldier, and keenly interested in military
matters, in which, indeed, he was more at home than in the
routine of railway work.  A green-coated railway sentinel
passed and saluted.  The captain, who was unknown to
the station-master, had ridden in from Ho-ni-ho-tzü an
hour before, and purchased a ticket for Hai-lin, the station
for Ninguta.  He had been anything but communicative,
much to the chagrin of the official, to whom a gossip was
the sole distraction in a very monotonous existence, exiled
as he was in this out-of-the-way station.  His curiosity
had been aroused by the fact that the captain was leaving
his horse in his charge.  It was to be put on board the
Harbin train when that officer returned.

"Yes," the captain replied, "the same errand."

"Ah Lum?"

"Da, da!  Ah Lum.  There will soon be a strong force
at Ninguta."

"There must be nearly a thousand there now, to say
nothing of the three hundred that passed through this
morning, and as many yesterday morning.  They are
running them very quickly, for the empty train passed
here on the way back to Harbin on the afternoon of the
same day.  We don't often make such running on this
railway.  It's more like old days on the Warsaw section.
I was there before I came here.  The Paris express—that
is a train if you like.  Although they do say that they run
even faster in England.  Of course that's a lie; they are
all liars, the English.  That's well known, is it not, little
father?"

"What's that yonder?" said the officer instead of replying.

The station-master looked in the direction indicated.
Nearly a mile away a cart, drawn by mules and ponies,
was hurrying from the neighbourhood of Ho-ni-ho-tzü
towards the station.

"Another passenger, I suspect," said the station-master.
"And he'd better hurry, for there's the train at last."

A thin white riband of vapour was just visible against
the blue sky, floating above the hills to the west.

"He won't catch it," said the officer.

"I sha'n't keep it for him," returned the official.  "But
he may just do it.  He's cut it rather fine for a Chinaman.
The train's late as it is; should have been half-way to
Wu-chi-mi by this time."

As he spoke, the engine came in sight round a curve of
the hilly track.  The Chinamen in waiting rose to their
feet, grasped their bundles, and closed up against the
barrier.  Three riflemen emerged from their little
blockhouse and began to patrol the platform; two or three
station attendants appeared.  A few seconds later the
huge train, looking far too large for the station, rumbled
in and came to a stop.  It consisted of several old and
shaky carriages already well filled with passengers, and
one saloon in the centre.  The few passengers for Mao-shan
alighted and passed through the barrier; then the waiting
crowd surged through and hurried along the platform in
search of vacant places, which seemed hard to find.

A train attendant handed an official-looking paper to the
station-master, who passed with it into his office; there
was a signature to affix.  Two of the Chinese passengers
followed him as he left the platform; two others halted
near the attendant.  There were cries from the officials
to the Chinamen to take their seats.  Meanwhile the
Cossack captain had sauntered into the room of the
telegraph operator, and half a dozen Chinamen, having,
it seemed, failed to discover vacant places in the forward
carriages, were moving on towards the engine, followed
by the voluble protest of one of the riflemen, who hurried
after them to bring them back.  Two or three, among
them the big man and the boy who had been playing
knuckle-stones, were peering in at the windows of the
saloon carriage, apparently in great curiosity to see the
occupants.

By this time the rest of the passengers had squeezed
themselves into the already crowded compartments.  Faces
were pressed against all the windows; there was much
speculation as to the chance of the belated passenger in
the cart catching the train, its progress being eagerly
watched, and the Chinamen in the carriages betting freely
on the event.

Suddenly a shrill whistle rang out from the room of the
telegraph operator.  There was an instant change of
scene.  Here and there along the platform, groups of
Chinamen, who a moment before had all the guise of
peaceable passengers, threw themselves with startling
rapidity upon the officials and the riflemen.  There was
a series of brief swift struggles; a revolver shot was
heard; but that was all.  Inside and outside of the train
the guard and attendants were in a few seconds bound
and helpless; the men who had gone forward to the
engine grappled with the driver and fireman; the
station-master was tied up in his own office.  The passengers,
alarmed and apprehensive, were staring open-mouthed at
the proceedings.  The door of the saloon carriage was
thrown open, and there appeared at it two men, one a
tall long-bearded Russian officer, whose uniform
betokened high rank, the other a fair hook-nosed civilian,
who stared round the other's shoulder.

"What is this, what is this?" cried the officer, stepping
out of the train revolver in hand.

The last word was hardly out of his mouth when the
burly Chinaman hurled himself at the Russian's knees
from behind; he fell backwards; the revolver was wrenched
from his hand, and the Chinaman held him pinned to the
platform.  His companion meanwhile had run back into
the saloon; before he could slam the door the Chinese boy
interposed, flinging himself flat on the floor of the
doorway.  Two Chinamen forced their way in, and did not
reappear.

The prostrate officer was now trussed up.  His captor
had given a brief order to the rest of the assailants, now
ranged along the platform awaiting instructions.  At once
they boarded the train, and peremptorily ordered the
passengers to alight.  Then the Chinamen found their
tongues; there was a great hubbub and commotion among
them; their first hesitation was quickly overcome by the
pistol butts of the bandits, who hastened their exit by
ruthless and well-directed kicks and buffets.  One of the
passengers, a heavy man, roared an imprecation and
showed fight; but he was matched in size by the big
fellow who had tackled the officer, and who now, his
work with him being finished, seized the protester and
flung him out on to the platform.  Bruised and shaken,
he rolled over and squatted on his hams; there was no
more fight in him.

As soon as the train came to a standstill the Cossack
officer had entered the little room of the telegraphist, and
at a sign from him the Chinaman close behind him blew
the shrill blast on a whistle that had been the signal for
the attack.

"Excuse me," said the captain, "I have a message to send."

The operator, interrupted in the midst of a message,
was startled by the abrupt entrance of the soldier, the
sudden whistle, and the sharp crack of a revolver
immediately following.  He looked round, half-rising from his
chair, his hand still on the key of the instrument.

"Finish your message," said the officer quietly.  His
uniform, his calm air of authority, impressed the man.
Dropping back into his seat he ticked off the remainder
of his message: it was merely a service intimation of
the arrival of the train.  The sounds of commotion on
the platform were increasing; when the operator had
finished he said:

"Is there a fight, your nobility?  Perhaps I ought to
assist.  We are a small staff."

"No.  Stay where you are.  It is all over.  Now please,
my message.  To Wu-chi-mi——"

"But, your nobility, if you will write the despatch
out—we are not allowed——"

"There is no time for that.  At once, if you please."

The man still hesitated: the officer sternly continued:

"My business will not admit of a moment's delay.  You
can attend to formalities afterwards."

"Well, your nobility, if you insist——  But you will
take the responsibility?"

"Certainly.  Call up Wu-chi-mi, if you please."

The man ticked off the call.  There was an immediate reply.

"Say this: 'Station on fire'——"

The operator almost sprang from his stool; his eyes
were wide with alarm.

"But——"

"You heard what I said.  'Station on fire!'"

A pistol's cold muzzle at the man's ear sent him
cowering to his post.  Pale to the lips, with trembling
fingers he ticked off the words.  It was clear that the
officer could follow his rapid movements, for he suddenly
pointed the pistol full at his brow, saying:

"That is enough: recall your last word; another
mistake of the kind may cost you your life."

.. _`"Recall your last word!"`:

.. figure:: images/img-278.jpg
   :align: center
   :alt: "Recall your last word!"

   "Recall your last word!"

Seeing that his attempt to warn the operator at the
other end had been detected, the man corrected the word.

"Now add: 'Vladivostok train can get through;
expect temporary cessation of messages: will try to save
instruments'.  That will do."

The man sank back, and wiped his clammy brow.  The
officer turned to the Chinaman, beckoning him forward.
In his arms he bore a bulky parcel.  At a sign from
the captain he placed the bundle beneath the operator's
desk; opening it, he disclosed a heap of greasy shavings.
He struck a match and set light to the pile; the man
sprang from his chair and made for the door, but was
caught and held by the Chinaman.  Dismantling the
apparatus, the officer gave it into the free hand of his
follower; then, the room being full of smoke, he hurried
out to the platform, the cowed and bewildered official
being pushed along in front.

Only a few minutes had elapsed since the train came
to a stop at the platform.  As the captain emerged, the
cart which had been sighted in the distance had just
arrived.  While twenty men stood with levelled revolvers
overawing the crowd, a dozen muscular bandits hauled
crowbars, spades, and long spanners from the cart across
the platform into the brake-van, and the noticeably big
man carefully carried a small box to the saloon carriage.
At a sign from the captain, a gang of the Chinamen had
hurried up the line some distance from the station and
were now cutting the wires in two places a hundred yards
apart.  Breaking open the store-room, yet another group
found what they were evidently in search of: a reserve
instrument and a heavy coil of wire.  These, with the wire
cut from the line, with which the other men came hastening
up, were bundled into the train; and within a quarter
of an hour from the beginning of the attack the brigands
were aboard, the Cossack captain was in the cab of the
locomotive, and, watched by the ejected passengers in
silent amazement, the train rumbled slowly out of the
station.





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`From Mao-shan to Imien-po`:

.. class:: center large bold

   CHAPTER XXIII


.. class:: center large bold

   From Mao-shan to Imien-po

.. vspace:: 2

.. class:: noindent small

Wrecking a Bridge—Through Wu-chi-mi—More Dynamite—At
Imien-po—Clearing the Line—Pelion upon Ossa—A Puff
of Smoke—Two Minutes' Grace

.. vspace:: 2

Jack felt an extraordinary sense of exhilaration as the
train, gathering speed, rolled eastward over the single
track towards Wu-chi-mi.  The country was hilly.  The
line at this point is some 900 feet above sea-level, but
although there are steep gradients the main altitude for
a considerable distance varies little.  Jack was satisfied
at first with a speed of about thirty miles an hour—a
speed indeed rarely exceeded on the railway—for the
curves are at times very sharp, and not knowing the line
he felt that there was some risk of running the train off
the metals.  More than once, keeping a sharp look-out,
he had to shut off steam and apply the brakes at a
particularly ugly corner.  His hobnobbing with railwaymen
during the construction of the line was now bearing fruit;
and he remembered with a curious pleasure, even while
he kept his hand on the regulator handle and his eye on
the gauges, a saying of his father's: "Never lose a chance
of picking up odd bits of information: you never know
when they may come in handy".  He had not actually
driven a locomotive before, but he had often ridden in the
cab, and watched the driver, so that he felt no nervousness
at having the Alexander the Second under his control.

As the train rattled past the block-houses of the railway
guard, placed at every tenth verst along the line, the men
stared to see it make such unusual speed; but no doubts
troubled their sluggish minds, for they caught sight of
the well-known caftan and head-dress of the Cossacks
at every window.  In their innocent-looking bundles the
Chunchuses had carried the uniforms captured with
Captain Kargopol's convoy, and they had donned them as
soon as the train started.

Though he gave close attention to the engine, and saw
that from time to time the furnace and boiler were
replenished with fuel and water, Jack was keeping a sharp
look-out for a spot at which he could do sufficient damage
to the line to check a pursuing train.  That he would be
pursued he had no doubt; he only wondered how long it
would be before news of his escapade reached the nearest
point whence a train could be despatched after him.  Mile
after mile was passed, without his seeing works of any
importance.  The culverts were small, the water-courses
only a few feet broad, until, about twelve miles out, the
train approached a stream of some size spanned by a small
bridge.  At this point a special guard of three riflemen
was stationed.  The train slowed down, ran a few yards
past the bridge, and came to a stand.  At a word from
Jack a dozen men leapt from the carriages on to the track,
and before the astonished guards, deceived by the Cossack
uniform, knew what was happening, they were seized,
disarmed, and stretched bound upon the embankment.

The bridge was of brick, and consisted of two small
arches, the central buttress sunk in the stream, which
here ran only a few feet deep.  Jack sent three men into
the water above and below the bridge, each party armed
with a large hand drill.  The water was bitterly cold, but
the men set to work quickly, both parties simultaneously
attacking the buttress near the water-line.  Fortunately
the brickwork was soft; Jack was glad that his father had
not had the contract for it, for then their labours might
have been indefinitely prolonged.  By a system of relief
gangs a fair-sized hole was drilled at each end of the
buttress in the course of twenty minutes.  Then Wang
Shih brought from the saloon two articles from the box
he had so carefully carried from the cart.  They were
dynamite cartridges, part of the spoil of a Russian convoy.
One was placed in each aperture, and in a few seconds
two muffled explosions sent rumbling reverberations as of
distant thunder among the hills.  Jack hoped the noise
would not be heard at Wu-chi-mi, about six miles off; it
could not escape the ears of the guards in the intervening
block-houses, and it would probably carry much farther.
But the true explanation was not likely to occur to the
staff at Wu-chi-mi, who in any case would be quite unable
to verify any suspicions they might have.

The result of the explosions was the collapse of the middle
portion of the bridge, only the jagged foundations of the
central buttress appearing above the water.  Followed by
his men, Jack ran at once to the train, which had been
taken two hundred yards away, out of reach of harm,
and started the engine full speed ahead.  Although twenty
minutes had been spent at the bridge, the rate of progress
from Mao-shan had been so much above the average that
the lost time might almost be made up before the train
arrived at Wu-chi-mi.

The general trend of the line from this point was downhill,
and the train tore along at furious speed over the six
or seven miles into Wu-chi-mi.  Slackening speed slightly
during the last mile, it rattled at about forty miles an hour
through the station.  Jack noticed that the staff was
collected on the platform, excited probably by the noise of
the explosions, and by the reported fire at Mao-shan.
They evidently expected the train to stop.  But any hopes
they may have formed of authentic information were
disappointed.  Sounding the whistle, Jack ran the train
through the station, and it was soon lost to sight.  But
he could not afford to take any risks.  If the suspicions
of the Wu-chi-mi men were aroused, it was certain that
they would warn Imien-po, the next station, some twenty
miles distant.  In that case he would probably be stopped
at the points and questioned.  About a mile beyond
Wu-chi-mi, therefore, he stopped the train and sent half a
dozen men to cut the telegraph wire, hoping that the
officials at the station behind would be still discussing
the unexpected passing of the train instead of instantly
sending a message ahead of him.

The bare hills had now given place to wooded slopes,
the trees standing gaunt and brown, awaiting the touch
of spring.  The line crossed several small water-courses
and irrigation ditches.  Though he grudged the loss of
time Jack decided to pull up at one of the smaller culverts
and expend his last two dynamite cartridges in completing
the work of destruction begun at the bridge beyond
Wu-chi-mi.  Although the explosions raised a huge
cloud of dust the actual damage was not great.  But as
he was about to start the train, Jack hit upon an idea for
supplementing the work done by the cartridges and at the
same time lightening the load upon his engine.  Quickly
uncoupling the third carriage from the rear, he sprang
into the cab and threw over the reversing lever, setting
the train in motion backwards.  When it had gained
sufficient momentum, he brought the engine to a stop;
the three rear carriages rushed down the incline and
dashed with tremendous force into the wreckage.  Then,
relieved of nearly half its load, the engine again started
eastward.  The cutting ran parallel with the Ma-en-ho,
a wide stream flowing northwards into the Sungari.
Glancing at the map of the railway which had been found
in the saloon carriage, he saw that within a few miles he
would come to a short stretch of line branching off on the
right, but apparently leading to no village, and having no
station at its end.  It seemed probable that it was a light
line connected with a mine.  At first he thought that the
junction would be a good place to lift a few rails.  But
seeing at a second glance that the station of Imien-po
was not far beyond, he dared not run the double risk of
another delay.  On went the train, then, past the junction,
where the single pointsman looked amazed at the speed
with which it thundered by.  Passing a brief instruction
along the train, Jack shut off steam and drew up sharply at
the Imien-po station.  It was time, he thought, to reassure
the railway officials ahead.

On entering the station he noticed that an empty goods
train bound west stood on a siding waiting for the
passenger train to pass.  Obviously he must not leave this
intact behind him.  Imien-po was a place of some size; for
all he knew, it might contain Russian troops sufficient in
number to deal with his handful of Chunchuses; and the
goods train, being empty, could soon be manned and sent
after him in hot pursuit.  But what could he do with it?
At first sight only two courses seemed open to him: either
to take the engine with him, or to destroy some of its
working parts.  Coupled to his own train, the engine
would probably be only an encumbrance, and he had
almost decided to adopt the second alternative, when,
just as he drew up at the platform, a third course
suggested itself.  Bidding Wang Shih take half a dozen men
and secure the personnel of the goods train, he leapt on
to the platform and accosted the station-master.

"You will please give orders to preserve quietness.
General Bekovitch, who is in the saloon, is indisposed."  The
general was in fact lying bound hand and foot on
one of the luxurious divans, just able to see Sowinski in a
similar plight at the opposite side.  "Be so good as to
wire down the line to shunt all traffic.  We are already
late; the train has been shortened to lighten us; and it is
imperative that the lost time be made up.  The service,
you understand.  The general"—here he became confidential—"is
in charge of the operations against the brigand Ah Lum."

The station-master looked duly interested and impressed,
and was about to speak when Jack moved towards the
telegraph office, saying:

"Follow me, if you please."

Wondering what this young Cossack officer of the authoritative
manner wished to do, the station-master, a burly
little man, toddled at Jack's heels.  The other officials had
watched the short colloquy, and were now approaching the
carriages, surprised that none of the train attendants had
yet appeared.  Meanwhile the station-master had himself
ticked off the brief message to the next station.  The
instant it was complete Jack stepped to the door of the
office and held up his hand.  A dozen men in Cossack
uniform sprang from the nearest carriage.

"Now, sir, you have been very obliging, and I am
sorry that you and your clerk must consider yourselves
my prisoners."

The station-master stared in stupefaction.  Before his
slow tongue could find words two of the bandits ran into
the room, and while their comrades outside were dealing
with the other officials, the poor man and his equally
amazed clerk were securely tied up.  At the same time
Wang Shih and his men, slipping out of the opposite
side of the train, had swarmed on to the goods train and
surprised the driver and fireman, the only men to be found
on it, relieving them of their coats and caps, and tying the
men up.  The garments were afterwards donned by two
of the bandits who rode beside Jack on the engine.  Leaving
his men to destroy the telegraphic fittings, Jack hurried
to the newly-captured engine.  He released the brakes,
then opened the regulator valve to its full extent.  The
train began to move westwards; Jack jumped to the
ground, and a few seconds brought him to his own train.
Glancing down the platform to see that all his men were
on board, he started the engine, and it snorted out of the
station just as one or two railway officials and the guard
of the goods train came running up from an outbuilding
where it is to be supposed they had been beguiling the
time with vodka.

There was a grim smile on Jack's face as, leaning from
the cab, he watched the tail of the empty goods train
rapidly dwindling as it raced away on its uncontrolled
journey westward.  In a few minutes it would crash into
the ruins of the bridge and the wreckage of the carriages
already cut off from his own train.  The resultant block
would tax all the ingenuity of the railwaymen to clear
away in time to get on Ah Lum's track, if the chief
succeeded in reaching the appointed spot at the appointed
time.

Jack examined his stock of fuel and the water in the
tender tank.  There was enough wood to serve for an
hour's run, he thought; but he would require to water in
half that time at the most.  This was a necessity he had
foreseen: how to surmount it must perforce be left to the
chances of the journey.  He could only face each difficulty
as it arose.  The pressing matter at present was to guard
against an attempt to stop him at Pei-su-ho.  Two miles
from the station he had just left he stopped the train at a
bridge.  The half-dozen watchmen at this point were easily
overpowered, though not before one of Jack's men was
wounded; the telegraph wire was cut, and the rifles of
the Russians were added to the stock.  With those already
captured the little party of Chunchuses had now some
twenty Mausers and a fair supply of ammunition.

The pause offered another opportunity for bridge
destruction, but the supply of dynamite cartridges was
exhausted, and after what had been done it was not worth
while to expend precious time; there was still ample work
to do in providing against a dash of the Russians from the
neighbourhood of Ninguta.  The train once again started
on its adventures, the line still clinging to the valley of the
Ma-en-ho; a gradual ascent of some thirty miles, up which
the engine snorted furiously, leading to one of the highest
points touched by the railway in this district—a spur of
the Chang-ling hills some 1200 feet above the sea.

Five minutes after the journey was resumed, Hi Lo, who
was on the railed-in space on the right of the engine, drew
Jack's attention to a small white puff of smoke in the
direction of Imien-po, apparently no more than two or
three miles behind, and easily visible from the higher
position now attained.  Jack started, swung out on the
foot-board, and gazed intently down the hill.

"They are after us!" he ejaculated.  "But how in the
world did they manage it?  They can never have got over
the wreckage."

He looked long and earnestly.  Then he turned to Hi Lo.

"What is it, boy?"

"Tlain, masta, no-fea'," he replied without hesitation.

There was no room for doubt.  The Russians were on
his track.  Springing back into the cab, Jack ordered the
man acting as fireman to put more fuel into the furnace,
and opened the regulator valve to its full extent.  Dense
spark-laden smoke poured from the wide funnel; the
pistons flew backward and forward; the great locomotive
seemed to leap over the line, and Jack wondered whether
the roughly-laid track would hold together.  But, looking
anxiously back, he found in a few moments that the
pursuing train had appreciably gained.  It must be either
lighter or better engined, or had still the advantage of the
momentum acquired before it had been discovered.

Danger acted on Jack like a tonic.  He instantly grasped
the situation and braced himself to cope with the peril.
Shouting to Wang Shih to tear up the rails behind the
train as soon as it came to a stop, he shut off steam
and applied the brakes hard, bringing the engine with a
jolt and a screech to a stand-still.  Instantly the men told
off leapt on to the line; with feverish energy they loosened
the fish-plates, forced up with crowbars the spikes holding
the rails to the sleepers, and threw the lifted rails over the
embankment.  Glancing anxiously back along the track
Jack, though the pursuing train was as yet invisible, saw
its smoke growing larger and larger in volume over the
hills.  At last the train itself came into view.  Jack saw
with surprise that the engine was at the other end of it;
could the goods train, he wondered, have been stopped in
some inexplicable way and started back after him?  In
two minutes it would be upon him.  He waited for one
minute; then, seeing that a gap of some fifteen or twenty
yards had been made in the track, he summoned his men
back to the train and pressed the regulator handle.  To
his eager impatience it seemed that the engine would
never get under way.  The wheels slipped on the rails;
he had pushed the regulator too far; he drew it back, the
wheels held, and, gathering speed every moment, the
locomotive raced on once more.

The thunder of the pursuing train was roaring in Jack's
ears.  It seemed to him, looking back, that the foremost
carriage was charging at the gap.  He hoped the work
of destruction had not been perceived; but in this he was
disappointed, for when the rear of his own train was barely
two hundred yards from the break, steam was shut off
on the engine of the pursuer, and, helped by the rising
gradient, it succeeded in coming to a stand-still just as
the buffers of the foremost carriage were within half a
dozen yards of the gap.





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`Lieutenant Potugin in Pursuit`:

.. class:: center large bold

   CHAPTER XXIV


.. class:: center large bold

   Lieutenant Potugin in Pursuit

.. vspace:: 2

.. class:: noindent small

From a Hilltop—Mystified—In Full Chase—A Runaway—In
Sight—A Railway Duel

.. vspace:: 2

"Those Cossacks are taking their time, Akim Akimitch."

"Yes, little father; 'tis to be hoped Ah Lum has not
swallowed them."

Lieutenant Potugin smiled.

"Ah Lum has been a bogey to them, truly, ever since
Captain Kargopol walked into his trap.  But I think we'll
run the fox to earth this time.  General Bekovitch will
soon start the rounding up; and 'tis high time."

A half-company of Siberian infantry, including a few
engineers, were seated on the rocks in the hills above
the Ma-en-ho, engaged in a meagre luncheon of black
bread and vodka.  They had arrived early that morning
by special troop train, in company with a sotnia of
Cossacks, from Harbin.  Their errand was to establish a
temporary signal-station on a convenient hilltop.  The hole
for the signal-pole had been dug, not without difficulty, in
the hard and frozen soil, and before the completion of the
job was taken in hand, Lieutenant Potugin, in command
of the working party, was allowing his men a short respite
for rest and food.  The Cossacks meanwhile were scouting
in the hills beyond—a task they were by no means fond
of,—and seeking a suitable place for the erection of a
corresponding signal some miles distant, whence communication
could be established with the height now occupied by
the infantry.

Lieutenant Potugin was very popular with his men,
largely because he never overworked them and was quite
content when on duty to share their humble rations.  He
was seated now beside the sergeant, in the midst of the
circle, munching his bread, and every now and then raising
his field-glass to scan the surrounding heights.  It was a
fine morning; a breath of spring was already in the air,
even in these heights; the atmosphere was clear, and the
outlines of the country were sharply defined against the
unclouded sky.

Over the shoulder of a low hill beneath him he could
just see a stretch of the main railway line, some three
miles away.  The little branch line along which his train
had come that morning was out of sight immediately
below; but he expected every moment to see the empty
train reappear on the main line.  It was to return to
Harbin; rolling stock was urgently needed on all parts
of the system; and when his work was done Lieutenant
Potugin was to report himself to General Bekovitch and
join that officer's carefully-planned expedition against the
Chunchuses.  The branch line ended at a disused quarry
which had been largely drawn upon when the main railway
was under construction; and there was no telegraphic
communication between the main line and the terminus
of the branch—if, indeed, the latter could be said to have
a terminus: it simply left off.  The empty troop train
would doubtless remain at the junction until it was
signalled by trolley-car from Imien-po to proceed.

The sergeant, a famous raconteur, was telling a story,
long-winded, not at all humorous, yet received by the men
with shouts of laughter.  Lieutenant Potugin smiled
good-humouredly at the naïve amusement of the honest fellows,
and once more idly scanned the panorama beneath him.
In the far distance he saw a dense line of smoke lying flat
in the still air, betokening a train travelling eastward at
a high speed.  He watched it with languid curiosity as it
appeared in the open and vanished into cuttings in the
winding valley of the river.  It passed the junction,
slackening speed, and then, to his surprise, pulled up.  Distant
though it was, he could distinctly see through his powerful
glass a little knot of men hurrying from the train up the
line.  They disappeared for a time, apparently beneath a
culvert.  The circumstance awakened Lieutenant Potugin's
curiosity; he watched with a certain eagerness for the men
to reappear; one or two small groups could be seen against
the snow, but a considerable time elapsed before the most
of the men joined them and the whole party ran back to
the train.  Scarcely had they reached it when a cloud of
dust rose high into the air above the bridge, and a few
seconds later the sound of two dull explosions reached
the lieutenant's ear, followed by miniature echoes from
the rocks.

The lieutenant sprang up and gazed intently through his
glass.  The sounds had been heard by the men also; they
turned their heads for a moment, but, seeing nothing,
resumed their conversation.  But Potugin stood as if
stupefied.  An attempt had been made to wreck the culvert;
that was clear.  But who were the wreckers?  Were they
Russians, cutting the railway to check pursuit by the
Japanese?  Surely the enemy was not already at Harbin?
Accustomed as he was in this terrible war to sudden and
startling movements, the lieutenant could not believe that
the Japanese had made such strides.  No, he thought; it
was more likely to be a party of Japanese who had
captured the train and were engaged on a wrecking foray.
Such things had happened south of Moukden; a flying
squadron might have evaded the Cossacks and made a
daring attack on some inadequately protected train.

The train was moving forward.  But what is that?  It
has stopped again; it is running back towards the stream.
The madmen!  Are they going to hurl themselves to
destruction on the ruins of the culvert?  Potugin's gaze is
fascinated.  Ah! he sees through it now; three carriages
have left the rest of the train, which is again at a
standstill; they are rushing down the gradient, faster, faster.
Good heavens! they have crashed into the culvert, piling
themselves one above another, and the sound comes to
him like the breaking of some giant's crockery afar.

Then Potugin found his wits.  Nothing in the whole
course of the war had given the Russians so much anxiety
as their railway.  Depending on it for the rapid transit of
reinforcements and munitions of war, they were constantly
in nervous dread of this their sole communication with
St. Petersburg being cut by Japanese or Chunchuses.
The dreaded thing had happened.  Fully realizing the
situation, Lieutenant Potugin was prompt to act.

"Fall in!" he shouted.

The men sprang from their seats and were aligned in a
twinkling.

"Sergeant, signal the Cossacks that a train is in the
hands of the enemy, and going eastward.  Men, follow me."

He led the way at a breakneck pace down the hill
towards the spot where they had left the empty troop
train.  Three minutes brought them within sight of the
train; at that moment the engine whistled and began to
puff along.  The officer shouted, waving his hand; the
engine-driver saw his urgent gesture, and shut off steam.
In another ten minutes sixty breathless men, heated with
their headlong scamper, were on board the train; the
lieutenant was beside the driver; and the engine was
steaming as rapidly as the crazy irregular track permitted
towards the main line.

Arrived at the junction, Lieutenant Potugin himself leapt
down and switched the points close.  The pointsman had
apparently been startled by the crash and run off to inform
the guardsmen at the nearest block-house.  The troop
in was just moving forward to cross the points when
a tremendous rumbling was heard from the direction of
Imien-po, moment by moment increasing.  The engine of
the troop train was already on the main line.  But the
lieutenant, standing with his hand on the switch and
looking down the track, was horrified at what he saw
rapidly approaching.

"Reverse the engine!" he shouted; "for God's sake
reverse the engine!"

The driver with frenzied haste threw over his reversing
lever and put on more steam; the engine stopped, moved
slowly backward; it had reached safety by only a few
inches when a goods train came thundering past at furious
speed, and disappeared in the direction of the bridge.  As
it flashed by, Lieutenant Potugin was almost sure that the
engine had neither driver nor fireman.  Startled though
he was by the hair's-breadth escape from destruction, he
immediately recovered his presence of mind.  Setting the
points, he ran to his retreating train, clambered into the
cab, and before the driver had pulled himself together the
lieutenant seized the lever, reversed the engine, and drove
the train on to the main line, then sprang down, unlocked
the points, and in two minutes was running the train
backward towards Imien-po.

The engine was a powerful Baldwin; the train though
long was nearly empty; it gathered way, and with the
regulator fully open had soon attained a high speed.
But the engine was at the wrong end; it was difficult to
see ahead.  The lieutenant was now outside the engine,
hanging on to the rail, and bending outwards in order to
get a clear view down the line.  Half-way to Imien-po he
caught sight of a trolley approaching.  He called to the
driver to shut off steam and apply the brakes.  The man
working the trolley stopped the moment he caught sight
of the train, and seemed in doubt whether to go back or to
remain.  The train had almost come to rest; the officer
bellowed a few words to the trolley-man; he sprang to
the ground, promptly tipped the trolley off the track and
over the embankment, and, running to the engine, climbed
up beside Potugin, the train still moving.  Again the
brakes were released and the regulator opened, and as
the train forged ahead the trolley-man explained in a few
words to the lieutenant what had occurred.

At Imien-po a few minutes' stop was made while appliances
for repairing the line were hastily brought on board
and a number of skilled platelayers taken up.  The
opportunity was taken to shunt several of the carriages on to a
siding.  The engine could not be transferred to the front
of the train without a serious waste of time, and every
second was precious.  A fresh start was made; greatly
lightened, the train made fine running for some miles.
Then the lieutenant, using his glass, saw the smoke of a
train about five miles down the line.  As he watched it,
the smoke ceased; the train must have stopped, for the
gradient was rising.  A few minutes more and the runaway
came in sight.  But the fireman, stooping from his side of
the engine, observed with his trained eyes that a portion of
the track had been torn up, and steam was shut off and the
brakes applied only just in time to avert a disaster.
Jumping from the train, half a dozen platelayers hurried with
their tools behind the engine, and, spurred by the voice of
the officer and helped by his men, in an incredibly short
space of time they had wrenched up some rails from the
track already covered, and bridged the gap at the other end.

Slowly and carefully the train was run over the shaky
metals only half-secured to the sleepers.  When the
danger point was passed, the driver opened the valve and
the engine pushed along at full speed.  It was to be a
trial, not only of speed between the two magnificent
engines, but of wits between the two leaders: between
the ingenuity of the pursued in obstructing the progress
of the pursuer, and of the pursuer in overcoming the
obstacles raised by the pursued.  It was more; it was
a competition in daring and the readiness to take risks.
The track was hilly, winding, roughly laid; not intended
for, wholly unsuited to, great speed; with steep gradients
and sharp curves never rounded by the regular drivers
of the line but with caution.  Over this track the two
trains were leaping at a pace unknown on the Siberian
railway—a pace that would have turned the chief engineer's
hair white with dismay.  On the one train Jack Brown,
on the other Lieutenant Potugin, had to think out their
decisions, or rather to flash them unthought, clinging
to the outer rail of a rattling, swaying, jolting, throbbing
engine threatening at any moment to jump the rails, with
the noise of escaping steam, the roaring of the furnace
heaped to the mouth with fuel, the whistle constantly
sounding to warn off any obstruction ahead, small though
the chances were that the signal, if needed, could be heard
and acted on in time.  Accident apart, the race would be
to the coolest head and the quickest wit.  On the one
side the stake was life or death.  Into whose hand would
fortune give it?





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.. _`The Pressure-Gauge`:

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   CHAPTER XXV


.. class:: center large bold

   The Pressure-Gauge

.. vspace:: 2

.. class:: noindent small

Timber on the Track—Fuel and Water—The Station House—A
Trap—Neck or Nothing—Screwing down the Valve—A Slip
Carriage—Nearing the End—Kao-ling-tzü—Indiscreet
Zeal—A Lady Passenger—Traffic Suspended

.. vspace:: 2

Jack glanced anxiously back along the line; his engine
was jolting, bumping, up the incline at the rate of forty
miles an hour; steam was escaping from the safety-valves;
the gauge registered over 10 atmospheres, considerably
above working pressure; yet to his impatience it seemed
to be moving with exasperating slowness.  Dust was
whirling behind; through the cloud, five minutes after he
started, he saw a puff of steam in the distance; the
pursuing train was again under way.  Turning to see if he
could put on more steam, he was dismayed to find that
the water was just disappearing in the gauge glass.  In
a few minutes—he could not tell how few—the water
would be below the level of his fire-box crown, the fusible
plug would drop, and the fire would be put out by the
escaping steam.  This was ominous indeed.

There were, he saw, two conditions in his favour: he
had a start of nearly five minutes; and he could choose
his own place to obstruct the pursuer.  But the other
conditions were all against him.  He must needs stop for
water, and at the present rate of consumption for fuel
also; and whenever he passed a station it would be
necessary to cut the telegraph wires.  Moreover, on board
the pursuing train there must be men skilled in repairing
the line, or the chase could not have been resumed so
promptly; and Jack could not expect to do more damage
in a given time than could be remedied by expert hands in
the same period.  Worst of all, the pursuing engine was
evidently more powerful than his; and though it was
somewhat handicapped by its position at the wrong end of the
train, yet an experienced driver can always get more work
out of his engine than a tyro,—and Jack was making his
trial trip!

He cudgelled his brains for some means of checking the
pursuit without bringing his own train to a stand-still.
He wished that he had thought to instruct his men when
tearing up the rails to lift some of the sleepers into the train;
these placed on the line would prove serious obstacles.  It
was too late to repine; he made up his mind not to lose
the chance if it should occur again.  While his thoughts
were still on the matter, his eye caught the balks of timber
used for fuel on this part of the line.  The stock in the
tender was much diminished; more fuel must soon be
obtained; but surely one or two might be spared for the
experiment.  Without delay he sent Hi Lo to the back of
the tender with an order to Wang Shih to carry two of
the balks through the train and to drop them on the line
from the communication door at the rear of the last
carriage.  In a few moments the command was carried
out, but Wang Shih reported that owing to the high
speed he had found it difficult to see what happened to
the logs when they reached the ground.  One, he thought,
had remained on the inside rail; the other appeared to
jump off.  Narrowly watching the riband of steam from
the pursuing train, Jack believed he detected a momentary
diminution about the time when it should have reached
the spot where the logs had been thrown out; but if
there was a delay it was very brief, and a few minutes
later the tail of the advancing train came into full view,
the growing size of the carriage-end showing that it was
making up on him.

Looking ahead with greater anxiety, Jack saw a station
within a mile.  This must be Pei-su-ho.  He had already
decided that to stop there would be absolutely necessary,
and in a short colloquy with Wang Shih when he returned
from throwing the logs on the track he had arranged what
should be done.  Immediately on the stoppage of the train
twelve men were to engage the station staff and destroy
the telegraphic instruments; ten were to tear up the rails
behind the train, and, if possible, bring some sleepers on
board; four were to cut the telegraph wire, and twenty to
load wood from the station stock on to the nearest carriage.
In the meanwhile he himself, with the assistance of the
man acting as fireman and others riding on the engine,
would take in a supply of water from the tank.

The train rattled into the station.  In his anxiety Jack
found that he had shut off steam too late; the engine
ran some yards beyond the water-tower.  As he had
already found at Imien-po, it was not easy to the amateur
to bring a train to a stand-still at a given spot.  But
although the greater part of the train had run beyond
the platform, the Chunchuses, who were standing ready
with the doors open, swung themselves out, and before the
gaping officials were aware of what was happening they
were disarmed and helpless.  Not for the first time had
Jack reason to be glad that his men were the pick of
Ah Lum's band, and a standing proof of the efficacy of
discipline with the Chinese.

While Jack was backing the engine to the tank the
work of ripping up the track and demolishing the wire
had already been begun, and a string of men were hauling
timber into the nearest carriage.  But before the supply of
water was fully replenished Jack had to blow his whistle to
recall the various parties; the pursuer was drawing perilously
near.  The train moved off before all the men were in
their places; the last of them running along the platform
and being helped in by his comrades.  Up came the
second train; again it had to halt before the gap, and
the driver, being at the other end, was compelled for
safety's sake to reduce speed earlier than he would have
done had he been able to judge the distance more exactly.
But this time the gap was shorter; the time required to
restore the line would be correspondingly less.  Yet Jack
had gained one advantage; knowing that the enemy's
water supply, like his own, must have run low, he had
brought the station hose away with him, and he looked at
it with grim satisfaction, lying coiled at the rear of the
tender.

As Jack's engine, Alexander the Second, gained impetus
and charged up the gradient towards the hills looming in
the distance, it was followed by a dropping fire from the
pursuing train: some of Lieutenant Potugin's men had
climbed to the roof of the stationary carriages.  Whether
any of the bullets struck the train was doubtful; no harm
was done; and in the excitement of the moment the idea
of firing rifles seemed almost as childish as shooting at
the moon.  Nothing less than a siege-gun would have
appeared formidable in the circumstances.

The brigands' last cutting of the line and the removal
of the hose had evidently gained several minutes for the
fugitive, for many miles had been covered before the
smoke of the pursuer was again seen.  With so considerable
a start Jack felt it safe to pull up once more and try a
device that had occurred to him.  His engine was at the
summit of a long descent where the line curved.  Hitherto
his track-breakers had forced up both the rails, but the
curve was here so sharp that he thought he might save
time by having only one rail lifted, hoping that the partial
gap might not be seen by the enemy until it was too late
to do more than check the train, which would in all
probability be derailed.  An alternative plan suggested
itself, only to be dismissed.  It was to remove the rail,
and then replace it without the bolts.  The pursuer would
then rush on at full speed expecting no danger; the train
would be hurled from the track, and probably all on
board would be killed or injured.  But even in the heat
of the moment, and with the knowledge that if he were
caught he could expect no mercy from the Russians, Jack
could not bring himself to compass such wholesale
destruction.  "Play the game": the phrase of the school
song stuck to him.  His purpose would be amply served
by the mere derailment of the train, the speed of which
would no doubt be sufficiently checked, when the gap was
descried, to avert fatal consequences.

So confident was he of the success of his scheme that
when, after the single rail was removed and flung over the
embankment, he again crowded on steam, his mind was
occupied rather with the question of what should be done
at the next station than with the prospect of further
difficulties with his dogged pursuer.  He was now approaching
the place in the hills to which Ah Lum was to advance
by forced marches, and whence he was to be prepared to
dash across the line on receiving a message that the
scheme had succeeded.  Jack had already selected his
messenger; the man was clinging to the rail of the
engine, and only awaited the word to spring during a
temporary slackening of speed and plunge into the hills.

The chosen spot lay between Pei-su-ho and Kao-ling-tzü,
and had been minutely described by Ah Lum.  Jack
was glad that his anxieties appeared to be over, for the
country flashed by so rapidly that he ran the risk of
over-shooting the mark unless he could keep a good look-out.
He was narrowly watching for the opening on his right
when Hi Lo suddenly drew his attention westward.  With
greater alarm than he had yet felt, even when he first
caught sight of the pursuer, he saw, scarcely a mile and
a half behind him, the relentless enemy leaping along in
his wake.  He was half-way up a steep incline; the second
train was rushing with wholly reckless speed down a steep
straight gradient on which Jack, no longer fearing pursuit,
had thought it desirable to clap on the brakes.  All notion
of going cautiously must now be abandoned.  Amazed at
the failure of his last effort to delay the pursuer, Jack set
his men with desperate energy to pile up the furnace to
its utmost capacity; and when he topped the hill, and the
enemy was just beginning the ascent, he let the engine go
at its own pace down the opposite side.  He and his men
had to hold on with both hands as they rounded another
sharp curve; the wheels on the inside seemed to be raised
from the track, the train keeping the rails only by the grip
of the outside wheels.  Jack held his breath as the panting
engine plunged along; would it come safely on to the
straight?  Even in the excitement of the moment he
solved as in a flash the mystery of the pursuers' escape
from derailment, and he could have beaten his head for
his thoughtlessness.  The rail that had been lifted was an
inside rail; rounding a curve the weight of a train going
at speed is always thrown on the outer rail, which is
raised above the level of the other.  Either designedly or
by accident the pursuing train had passed at full speed
over the gap, its very speed proving its salvation.

Although there were many ups and downs, the general
trend of the line was still chiefly on the up grade, and
Jack found that while the enemy made as good timing as
himself down the slopes, their more powerful engine gained
rapidly wherever the track began to rise.  As mile after
mile was passed, the huts of the line guards at intervals
of ten versts seeming like the milestones on an ordinary
journey, the space between the two trains steadily
diminished.  Every now and again the pursuer was lost
to view; but whenever it next came in sight it was
always perceptibly nearer.  The noble Alexander the
Second rattled and groaned like a creature in pain; the
working parts were smoking; some of the bearings were
melting, and Jack dared not risk the perils of oiling.  He
knew that he was getting out of it every ounce of which
it was capable, unless indeed he adopted the desperate
expedient of screwing down the safety-valve, from which
a dense cloud of steam was escaping.  He glanced at the
gauge—13 atmospheres; then his eye went backwards
along the track—the pursuer was still gaining; he turned
to look ahead, there was a long steep ascent to be climbed.
The pace lessened to an alarming extent: puffing, panting,
creaking, the engine toiled up a hillside on which the
track could be seen rising for at least two miles.  He
must risk it.

Three minutes later, the valve now screwed down, he
again glanced at the gauge—14 atmospheres.  Bursting
pressure, Jack knew, was calculated at five or six times the
working pressure; but the Alexander the Second was an
old engine, he doubted whether her boilers would stand
anything like this strain.

For a time Jack's train drew away; but the gain was
only temporary; the pursuers, he guessed, must have
adopted the same desperate expedient.  Gradually they
crept up, while Jack alternately watched them and the
track ahead, and the gauge, which now registered 15
atmospheres—the limit which it was constructed to indicate.
Beyond this point he had no means of knowing how the
pressure was increasing.  The rapidity of his thoughts
seemed to keep pace with the tremendous speed at which
he was travelling.  His mind worked with marvellous
clearness; the minutes seemed like hours; he even found
himself speculating which of the three risks was the
greatest—derailment, capture by the Russians, or the
imminent explosion of the boiler.

To look for the spot chosen for the despatch of his
messenger was out of the question; it had probably been
already passed.  Jack felt that he had no longer any
alternative; he must play what seemed his last card.
The pursuing train was only half a mile behind on the
steep upward track when at his order Wang Shih, at the
risk of his life, uncoupled the rearmost of the three
carriages.  For a short distance it followed the rest; then it
stopped, and began to run back at a pace that threatened
to telescope at least one carriage of the oncoming train.
A turn in the track hid both the detached carriage and the
pursuer from sight; Jack listened with a beating heart for
the sound of the collision, which he felt would be audible
even above the thundering roar of his own train.

Lightened of part of its load, his engine was forging its
way uphill at considerably higher speed.  At one moment
he thought he heard the expected crash, and it seemed
that the move had been successful, for when next he
obtained a fair view of the line behind, the enemy was not in
sight.  Alternating between compunction and elation, he
ventured, the line being more level, to reduce speed until
it was safe to drop his messenger, who must perforce find
his way to Ah Lum.  But the man had barely left the track
when, to Jack's amazement, the indomitable pursuer
reappeared.  A glance showed him that it was pushing the
discarded carriage before it.  His move had been detected,
probably before the cast-off carriage began its backward
journey; the pursuing engine had been able to reverse in
time; chased and overtaken by the runaway carriage, the
train had no doubt been badly bumped, but not with force
enough to cause any serious damage.  Now, to all appearance,
it was following the quarry at the same breakneck
pace as before.  Jack felt a glow of admiration for the
wary Russians, who showed themselves so intent to mark
his every move, so quick to take measures to defeat it.

His mouth hardened as he watched the pursuer gaining
upon him yard by yard.  He knew that the pressure must
now be enormous; would the boilers stand the strain?
Yet in spite of all he was steadily being overhauled.  Yard
by yard the gap lessened.  Nothing but an accident could
now prevent him from being overtaken; his only course
seemed to be to stop before the enemy was too close,
reverse his engine, and with his men take to the hills.
But then he reflected with a kind of agony that the task
he had set himself was even yet only half done.  There
was no longer, indeed, any chance of Ah Lum's retreat
being cut from the west; but the Russians could still
despatch a force from Ninguta in ample time to check the
Chunchuses before they got across the railway; and if they
were once checked, the forces behind would at once close
in and crush them.  While, therefore, the slightest hope
remained, Jack resolved to cling to his train; but he gave
his men orders to jump clear at a moment's notice.  They
must now be very near to Kao-ling-tzü: if they failed to
cut the line there the race was clearly run, for a warning
would certainly be flashed over the wire to the next station
at Han-ta-ho-tzü, giving ample time for preparations to be
made to meet him.  He was in a bath of sweat; his throat
was parched; his limbs were trembling; but collecting all
his forces, he watched the gauge and grasped the lever.

There remained, he clearly saw, one small chance, and
only one.  If there happened to be a train at Kao-ling-tzü
side-tracked in obedience to his instructions, it might
be possible—how long would it take?—to interpose it
between himself and his pursuers.  There would be a minute,
nay, less than a minute, to gain possession of it and set
it in motion.  Could he increase the margin?  Yes; by
detaching the saloon, now the rearmost carriage, and
crowding the whole of his men and the two prisoners
into the single carriage in front.  The enemy had all
along shown himself so alert that he would doubtless be
on the look-out for such a move; there was no longer
any likelihood that it would end the chase; but at least
it would check the pursuer's progress, forcing him to stop
or reverse.  Even if it caused the delay of only a few
seconds, it was worth attempting; a few seconds might
make all the difference.

The station was already in sight when, the transference
of men having been quickly effected, Wang Shih broke
the couplings and left the saloon solitary upon the line.
Looking with blood-shot eyes ahead, Jack saw—and his
labouring heart leapt at the sight—not one, as he had
hoped, but two trains, one behind the other, completely
filling a siding, where they were halted to allow General
Bekovitch's expected train to pass.

But the same glance that gave Jack such elation showed
him that he had to deal with perhaps the greatest danger
he had yet encountered.  He had intended to follow the
same plan that had proved successful at the other stations:
dispose of the officials, cut the wires, and block the line.
But he saw almost with dismay that the platform here was
thronged.  Drawn, no doubt, by curiosity to see the train
of General Bekovitch, and excited by the urgent messages
received along the wire, not only the station officials were
waiting, but a considerable number of workers on the
railway, Russian riflemen, and Chinese passengers.  These,
together with the attendants of the standing passenger
train, were massed upon the platform.  They formed so
numerous a crowd that it would tax all the energies of
the Chunchuses to deal with them; there might be a
prolonged fight, and, even if it ended in a victory for the
brigands, so much time would have been consumed that
the pursuers must arrive before anything could be done to
stop their progress.  It was a moment when many a man
might have despaired.  But Jack was not made of the
stuff that yields.  As his engine plunged along towards
the station he conceived an alternative plan; it would test
his nerve and self-command to the uttermost; but it might
succeed by its very audacity.

Passing the word to his men that they were to remain
in the carriage and hold their revolvers ready in case an
attack was made, he halted the engine with a jerk a yard
beyond the spot where the station-master was standing.
He sprang to the platform, clutched the astonished official
by the arm, and dragged him along, speaking in low, rapid,
urgent tones.

"Come with me.  There is not a moment to lose.  We
are pursued by a train in the possession of the enemy.
General Bekovitch is laid up.  We have done our best to
check the pursuit, but they'll be upon us in a few minutes.
Only one thing can be done: uncouple the engine on the
siding, and start it up the line.  Quick! our lives depend
on it.  I will take the responsibility."

As Jack had hoped, the suddenness and unexpectedness
of the news, and the urgency of his manner, bereft the
station-master of all power of independent thought.  He
hurried along the platform, shoving aside all who stood in
his path, every man in the crowd looking on with wonderment.
He sprang on to the line, with his own hands uncoupled
the engine, signalled for the points to be closed,
and ordered the driver to send it ahead at full speed.

"Two minutes saved!" thought Jack, as the engine
started.  But he could not afford to let the flurried official
regain his self-command.

"That is not enough," he said.  "They will see the
engine, reverse, couple it on, and come at greater speed.
I've tried it already.  You must empty the passenger train,
and then push it along with the goods engine.  It would
be well to throw a carriage or two off the rails at the points.
Anything to block the line."

"Certainly, your nobility," said the station-master.  "It
is the only way."

They were now on the track between the waiting train
and Jack's.  Many of the passengers had their heads out
of the windows, wondering what was going on.  Waving
his arms, the station-master summoned them in urgent
tones to alight.

"I'll now push on," said Jack.  "Do your best,
nichalnik; remember how much depends on you."

He walked rapidly along between the trains to reach his
engine.  Passengers, anxious, wonder-struck, were already
leaving the train.  One of them, a Russian army doctor,
stopped Jack and asked what was the matter.

"Train behind in possession of the enemy," returned
Jack laconically.

"Bozhe moï!" ejaculated the doctor, drawing his
revolver and making for the platform.

Jack passed on, not venturing to delay even long
enough to assist a lady, for whom the jump from carriage
to track was somewhat difficult.  She sprang down
unassisted.

"Monsieur Brown, Monsieur Brown!"

Jack shivered from top to toe, and never in his life felt
so much inclined to take to his heels as then.  He could
hardly believe he had heard aright; yet amid the bustle
now filling the station he had caught the whisper of his
name.  On a sudden impulse he swung round.

"Monsieur Brown," said Gabriele Walewska, running
up to him, "I have news for you: I have something to
show you."

"Come with me, Mademoiselle," said Jack instantly.
"I haven't a minute to lose."

"But Masha is here; I cannot leave her."

"For heaven's sake, Mademoiselle, climb up into this
carriage.  I will fetch Masha."

With anxiety tearing at his heart Jack hurried back
down the train.  He saw Gabriele's old nurse at the door
of a carriage; she was almost the only passenger who had
not yet alighted.

"Spring into my arms," he said, forgetting that she knew
no tongue but Polish.  But his outstretched arms spoke for
him.  The woman jumped clumsily; but Jack kept his feet,
and, straining his muscles, he carried the burden, as rapidly
as he could stagger, to his own train.  Gabriele's hands
were ready to help the woman; with an unceremonious
heave Jack pushed her into the carriage.  Then he ran
to his engine, swung himself up, and pressed the lever
just as the empty passenger train moved off in the other
direction.  Before he had run a hundred yards he heard
a crash behind.  Glancing back, he saw that the first
carriage had jumped the points, ploughed up the
permanent way, and overturned.  One after another the other
carriages followed; and in a brief minute there was a pile
of wrecked trucks and coaches in inextricable confusion
across the rails.

Jack had not time to give a second thought to Gabriele.
He was again urging Alexander the Second along at full
speed.  He must run to within a few miles of the next
station, and lift enough rails to delay for some hours any
train despatched from the direction of Ninguta.  Twenty
minutes brought him to a likely spot—a high culvert over
a brawling hill stream.  Employing the whole strength of
his detachment in the work, he lifted fifty yards of the
track and flung the rails and sleepers into the stream's
rocky bed.

"At last!" he exclaimed.  The load of anxiety he had
borne for over two hours was gone.  From the place where
he had wrecked the bridge nearly a hundred miles westward
to the spot where he now stood, traffic on the Siberian
railway was hopelessly blocked.





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.. _`A Double Quest`:

.. class:: center large bold

   CHAPTER XXVI


.. class:: center large bold

   A Double Quest

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Gabriele's Story—A Hasty Word—Lex Talionis—Bribery
and Corruption—Cause and Effect—The Natural Man—The
Filial Obligation—The Choice of Routes—A Fair
Pleader—In the Circumstances—Improving the Occasion

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Jack's part was done.  The way had been cleared for the
passage of the Chunchuses across the railway, and
knowing Ah Lum's rapidity of movement he felt tolerably sure
that the crossing might easily be made.  He could now
afford to think of his own safety.  He determined to run
the train back as near as he dared to Pei-su-ho, then to
leave it standing on the line and make off in a northerly
or north-westerly direction, trusting to join hands with
Ah Lum at some distance north of the line.  The railway
guards were amazed to see the train running swiftly
backwards; but, whatever their suspicions, they were powerless.
Jack came to a stop between two of the block-houses; in a
few minutes his men alighted with Bekovitch and Sowinski,
Gabriele, and her nurse; and then Jack abandoned the
noble Alexander the Second that had served him so well,
and started on his northward march.  Some distance above
the line he instinctively turned for a last look.  There was
the short train, motionless on the rails, a derelict in a vast
solitude.  But it represented activities that had disorganized
the whole traffic of the line for a hundred miles, nullified
a military scheme, and saved hundreds of lives.  It was
not without a certain grim amusement Jack remembered
that the final card in that game had been played by the
Russians themselves.  "I only hope the station-master
won't be cashiered," he thought, as he turned his back
upon the scene.

Not till now had he an opportunity of learning what
strange fate had entrusted Gabriele to his care.  Some
time after he had left the missionary's house the girl,
unable to endure the separation from her father, again
ventured into Vladivostok.  Acting on the knowledge
that Jack had bribed a Russian official, she succeeded in
persuading a colonist about to re-embark for Sakhalin to
carry a letter from her to Count Walewski.  She told him
of her intentions, assuring him that in spite of her failure
to gain permission to enter the island, she still meant to
persevere.  Several weeks later she received a reply,
brought by the same man, who had crossed the sea in
probably the last boat before the ports became ice-bound.
It was addressed in a strange handwriting, and as she
tore it open she was oppressed by the fear that her father
was dead.  But the first line of the letter, written in
French, dispelled her anxiety.  The count was ill in
hospital, unable to write; but he had availed himself of
the ready help of a fellow-prisoner—a political prisoner
who had recently arrived in the island.  He thanked his
daughter for her affectionate solicitude, but pled with her
to abandon her purpose: Sakhalin was no place for a
woman; she would only suffer without alleviating his lot.
As for himself, until the arrival of his new friend he had
despaired of ever regaining his liberty.  But the surprising
news that the Japanese were winning victory after victory
had sown a seed of hope.  The prisoners on the island
had been fed with lies by the officials, who reported
constant victories for Russia.  But the new-comer had thrown
a fresh light on the war; he could not foresee its end: the
Russians had still enormous powers of resistance; it was
possible that the great fleet on its way eastward might
break through to Vladivostok and change the aspect of
things.  Yet, if it should be defeated, the Japanese might
capture Sakhalin; possibly the political prisoners would
then be released if they had not been previously removed
to the mainland.  It was only a possibility, but sufficient
to give new courage to a sorely-tried man.

Jack read all this himself, for Gabriele, immediately
after explaining how the letter came into her possession,
handed it to him.  The writing was his father's.  At the
first moment he felt unutterable relief in finding that his
father was alive; then rage burned within him as he saw
before him, marching at some distance apart, each manacled
to a Chunchuse, the two men whose villainy had sent
Mr. Brown to the bleak "island of the dead".  Gabriele
noticed his look.

"I understand," she said.  "But if your anger is great,
how much greater is mine!  Your father's persecutor is
a Russian, a foreigner; my father was betrayed by one of
his own countrymen,—one of his own house.  The traitor
there recognized me as I entered the saloon carriage;
bound as he was, he shrank from me as though expecting
that I would kill him."

"But he did not recognize you when he saw you at
Father Mayenobe's?"

"No.  But something must have put him on my track,
for it is through him that I was a passenger on the train.
I was arrested in Vladivostok and ordered to go back to
Europe.  He was with the soldiers who arrested me: in
fact, he pointed me out to them.  I do not know how he
came to recognize me after all."

At the moment no explanation occurred to Jack, who
indeed did not give a thought to it.  But later he
remembered that, on the well-remembered evening in Moukden
when he had got the better of Sowinski, he had mentioned
the man's true name, Streleszki.  This had no doubt set
the Pole wondering how Jack could have learnt his name;
and the chain of incidents had led him to connect the
disclosure with the European girl he had met at the missionary's.
So that Jack's almost inadvertent explanation had
ultimately led to this meeting with Gabriele at the
station, and to the end of his long search for his father's
whereabouts.

The party marched as rapidly as possible, rising gradually
towards the barren hills.  After two hours they stopped
for a brief rest, and for the first time since his capture at
Mao-shan General Bekovitch was within arm's-length of
the Chunchuse leader.  Jack wondered whether he would
be recognized; but the change of costume, the hardening of
his features and the development of his physique due to his
active rigorous life, made him a different being from the lad
whom Bekovitch had seen for five minutes at the Moukden
railway-station.  And the general was certainly not in such
a calm and collected mood as might quicken his memory.
He was indeed in a condition of boiling rage and indignation.

"Here, you—" he cried, seeing Jack so near to him.
"Do you understand Russian?"

"Moderately well, sir."

His very voice had become more manly; its deeper tones
did not awaken recollection.

"Then what do you mean, confound you! by treating a
Russian general officer thus?  What do you mean, I say?
Do you know what you are doing?  Made to tramp over
these hills—fettered to a filthy Chinaman—why—why——"

The general could find no further words to express his
indignation.

"Is it not the Russian custom to manacle prisoners?"
asked Jack quietly.

The Russian's cheeks took a purple hue.

"An officer—a general!  Do you know who I am,
you—you——"

"You are General Bekovitch."

"Well—well—loose me at once, then; I insist on this
indignity being removed; it is monstrous!"

"Possibly; but quite Russian.  You are no worse treated
than you treat your prisoners.  If a Chunchuse, myself for
instance, had fallen into your hands, what would have been
his fate?"

The mild reasonableness of the Chunchuse's reply,
together with his firm attitude, seemed to suggest to the
general that he should try another tack.

"Come," he said, with sudden suavity, "I know you
gentlemen; I suppose it is a matter of dollars.  How
much will you take to let me go?"

Jack looked at him.

"Say a thousand dollars—that's a very fair sum, more
than you'd get in the ordinary way of your—business.  Eh?"

"Yes: our business, as you call it, is certainly not
profitable, but we do make a haul at times."

The general looked furious.  Jack quietly continued:

"But you are making a mistake—you are treating me
as you would a Russian and an official.  I am merely a
brigand—but we Chunchuses have our code.  Dirty
though he is, General Bekovitch, the man you are bound
to has cleaner hands than you: he at least is an honest
man according to his lights.  It is he who should
complain of contamination."

Bekovitch quivered with rage, but gulping down the
indiscreet words his anger prompted he returned to the
point.

"I could make you a rich man.  I said a thousand
dollars; come, I will make it two thousand.  It will buy
you a pardon, and an official post as well.  Batiushki! no
brigand ever had such a chance."

Jack laughed.

"We have our code, General Bekovitch, I repeat.  There
are some things bribery cannot effect.  Your release just
now is one of them.  But for bribery you would not be
here."

The general stared.

"What do you mean?"

"It is all very simple.  If the Pole Sowinski yonder had
not bribed you, General Bekovitch, you would not have
conspired against Mr. Brown at Moukden, and you would
not have needed to deport his son.  If you had not deported
his son, his son would not still be in Manchuria; and if he
had not been in Manchuria he could not have captured
you, General Bekovitch, and you need not have attempted
to bribe him."

The general stared incredulously at the speaker.  Then
it was as though the Cossack uniform dropped away; as
though the young man before him became again the lad he
had been nine months before.  The Russian recognized him
at last, and his jaw fell.

"You see now," pursued Jack, "the double uselessness
of offering bribes to me—as the son of Mr. Brown, and as
an Englishman."

"What are you going to do with me?"

All the bluster, all the silkiness, was now gone; the
general was anxious, almost suppliant.

"That I cannot say.  You will be delivered to my chief,
Mr. Ah.  It is likely that you will be detained until my
father is released.  But I cannot answer for Mr. Ah.  He
is a Chinaman, with Chinese ideas.  Much may depend on
how my father has been treated."

Bekovitch became pale; his eyes looked anxiously around.
Jack left him to his meditation.  Passing the spot where
Sowinski sat, manacled like Bekovitch, Jack noticed that
the Pole's eyes met his with a hunted, terrified look.  He
had recognized his captor at once, and having also seen
Gabriele he felt that he had to reckon with her as well;
and his imagination of what he himself might do, were he
in their place, shook him like the ague.

The march was resumed, and late in the day the party
came in touch with Ah Lum's scouts.  The meeting
between Ah Lum and Jack was very warm.

"Never was captain so nobly served," said the grateful
chief.  "I was at my wits' end to escape the meshes of
the net; and now not only have I escaped, but I hold in
my power the man who was to ensnare me.  Truly the
poet Li T'ai-poh was right when he said, in his *Apology for
Friendship*—

   |  "'Never despair: the darkest Lot may mend;
   |  Call no Man lost that hath one faithful Friend'.

You will find the works of Li T'ai-poh worthy of perusal,
my honoured friend.  They have been to me as a bright
star to a wanderer in a dark night."

Jack thanked him for the recommendation; then changed
the topic, and asked how the crossing of the line had been
effected.  He learnt that a slight skirmish had taken place
at the line between the Chunchuses and the energetic
pursuers of the train; but the Russians, being hopelessly
outnumbered, had been compelled to retire with loss.  Ah Lum
in his turn was informed of the discovery of Mr. Brown's
whereabouts.

"Nothing proceeds from the machinations of men,"
he said, "but the whole of our lives is planned by
destiny."

"Yes, Mr. Ah, and destiny has willed that my father's
persecutor and your hunter are the same man—the Russian
general there."

"Ch'hoy!  May his posterity be cut off!  May the five
thunders strike him dead!  May the village constable
attend to his remains!  May he be born again as a hog!
When we pitch our camp, I will cut out his tongue, fry
him in a caldron of oil, rip——"

"Stay, stay, Mr. Ah!" cried Jack, aghast at this
unwonted fury in his scholarly friend.  "You forget that he
is a European, and I am an Englishman; we don't do such
things in my country."

"But it is an imperative duty.  Your duty to your father
demands that you should heap on the villain the direst
curses, and inflict on him the most terrible torture."

"No, Mr. Ah, the books of our sages teach us differently.
Besides, my father would not approve: he would
most strongly disapprove."

This was a new aspect, and one that Ah Lum took time
to consider.

"That alters the case," he at length reluctantly admitted.
"A son may not act contrary to his father's wishes.  What
does the poet Tu Fu so beautifully say?—

   |  "'Happy the Father, yea, and doubly blest,
   |  Whose Son, though absent, doeth his Behest'.

Yes, it is a pity; but when inclination and the counsel of
sages agree, there is but one course."

Considering that there would be plenty of time to levy
a contribution on the settlement at Shih-tou-ho-tzü, Ah
Lum sent back 200 men for the purpose of collecting
supplies, and pushed on with the main body.  A few
hours later the detachment rejoined, with a number of
carts containing useful stores of all kinds, and the march
northward was resumed with all speed.  One of the carts
was appropriated to the use of Gabriele and her servant;
but the former soon declared that she preferred to walk;
the springless cart made riding anything but comfortable.
The march was continued throughout the day.  In the
evening Ah Lum reached a spot far in the hills, where he
might safely encamp.

Next morning Jack took the earliest opportunity of
holding a consultation with the chief.  It was his fixed
intention to get if possible to Sakhalin; he knew his
father was there: to rescue him ought not to be difficult.
As a Chinaman Ah Lum confessed that he could not
oppose an enterprise of such piety; but as a practical
man he thought it his duty to mention the objections.
He had never been to Sakhalin, but he understood that it
was a terrible place, visited by fierce storms, buried for the
greater part of the year under snow and ice, covered with
thick forests, infested by wild beasts, wilder men, and
even hideous dragons.  By the many forms of exorcism
employed for generations past in China, dragons had been
driven out of the Celestial Kingdom; but they had crossed
the sea and taken refuge, so Ah Lum had been informed,
in the dreary wastes of Sakhalin.

Jack brushed all these objections aside.  Seeing that he
was firm, the chief carefully considered the best means of
helping him.  The strait between Siberia and Sakhalin was
at this time of the year frozen over; the ice would not
begin to break up for several weeks.  The nearest point at
which it could be crossed was at least 1500 li from the
Chunchuses' present encampment, and not only would so
long a journey be attended by many hardships, but Jack
would be liable to arrest as soon as he came to any
considerable Russian settlement.  Jack at once said that he
did not propose to make the long overland journey; his
best plan would be to sail by junk from one of the
Manchurian ports as soon as the coast was clear of ice.  To
go to Vladivostok was too risky; Possiet Bay was the
nearest point, and the most promising in all respects.  It
was some hundreds of li distant, and there were high hills
to be crossed; but Ah Lum offered to send with Jack a
man who knew the country, and to issue orders to the
headman of every important village, instructing him under
pain of his severest displeasure and drastic penalties to do
all in his power to forward the journey.

This having been settled, the question of the disposal of
the prisoners arose.

"I am not one to mistake a village headman for the
emperor," said the chief; "but fishes, though deep in the
water, may be hooked, and I know I have a valuable fish
in the Russian general.  How many men think you a
general is worth in exchanges?"

"That's a hard question, Mr. Ah.  Some less than
nothing: others an infinite amount."

"Then it will be a matter of long bargaining.  As for
the other man, he is of little account.  The mule is always
attended by a flea.  The two men are companions: what
does that prove?  When the rat and the cat sleep together,
be sure that the larder will be empty in the morning.  As
the fishmonger throws a sprat into the scale to make the
salmon appear cheap, so will I deal with the Pole when I
dispose of the Russian.  But there is another point, my
honoured friend; what is to become of these women whom
Destiny has sent to trouble me?"

"Yes, that has troubled me, too.  I must go and hear
what they say."

Jack found Gabriele listening gravely to Ah Fu's
recitation of the "May Queen".

"Mademoiselle, may I have a little serious talk with you?
The chief is sadly perturbed about your presence here."

"Well, Monsieur Brown, it was your train that brought
me.  Seriously, I suppose I must go back to Father
Mayenobe *en route* to Sakhalin, for sooner or later I will
get there—on that I am determined.  They may deport
me, but I shall always return.—What will you do
yourself?—not remain a Chunchuse?"

"No, indeed.  I am going to find my father."

"To Sakhalin?"

"Yes."

"Oh!  Monsieur Brown, cannot I come too?  I may
never get such a chance again.  My poor father! he has
been there six years.  Take me with you."

"But, Mademoiselle——"

"I am very strong, really I am.  Did I not walk for six
hours yesterday?  I will not delay your march."

"But think of the difficulties—a long mountain journey
to begin with, a voyage in a junk at one of the worst
seasons of the year, the danger of being discovered and
arrested at any moment, exposure, perhaps hunger——"

"I am not afraid.  And surely it will be better for me to
face these hardships in your company than alone!"

"Alone?"

"Yes, alone!  I have as strong a motive as you; my
father—oh!  I cannot bear to think of him ill and
wretched.  I shall go to Sakhalin.  If you will not take
me, and do not give me up to the Russians, I shall tramp
to the coast and cross on the ice—alone."

Jack hardly knew whether to be amused at the absurdity
of such a venture, or to be impressed with the girl's
determination.  That she meant what she said he had not the
slightest doubt.

"But what about Masha?"

"Poor old thing!  She declares she will never leave me.
And she is quite strong—stronger than I am, though she is
getting on in years.  We shall get through somehow; the
Lord God will protect us."

In face of this spirit Jack felt helpless.  It was arranged
that Gabriele and the nurse should accompany him.
Their destination was kept secret from the band, lest by
any mischance it should leak out.  A week afterwards,
Jack took a cordial farewell of Ah Lum, asking him, if he
had any news to communicate, to write to him at the care
of the Hong-Kong and Shanghai Bank at Shanghai.  The
leave-taking was conducted with due solemnity.  There
was no question as to Ah Lum's sincerity of feeling.  He
was unfeignedly sorry to lose the lieutenant who had
done him such yeoman service.  When he had exhausted
the resources of his language to express his gratitude, he
spent a few minutes in bestowing fatherly counsel on Jack,
drawing lavishly from his well of proverbial wisdom.  Jack
found the draught a trifle turgid, but otherwise the quality
was excellent.

"Difficulty and danger," began the chief, folding his
hands and looking benignly over the rims of his
spectacles—"difficulty and danger teach us to know the value of
friendship; at the same time they winnow the true from the
false, even as a husbandman winnows the grain from the
chaff.  I may never see you again; take from me a few
words of counsel, learnt as well from life as from the works
of the poets and sages.  What says Li T'ai-poh?—'A
good rule of conduct is better than stout armour or a sharp
sword'.  When you are most happy, you should be most
ready to meet misfortune.  Extreme joy is but a sign of
grief to come.  In security, do not forget danger.  Do not
consider any vice as trivial, and therefore practise it; nor
any virtue as unimportant, and therefore neglect it.  Let
your words be few, and your companions select.  Inattention
to minute actions will ultimately be prejudicial to a
man's virtue.  Past events are as clear as a mirror; the
future as obscure as lacquer; yet, gazing into that mirror,
I seem to see reflected a future of great prosperity, high
office, and a numerous progeny.  Heaviness and care
will come upon you, as upon all men; at such periods the
works of Li T'ai-poh will prove a well of refreshment, a
mine of solace.  I have no fears for you.  As the sun's
rays first gild the highest mountains, so the blessings of
Heaven fall in richest measure upon the upright.  You
have shown yourself to be an excellent son: what says the
poet Wang Wei in his *Address to Posterity*?—

   |  "'To him who faithfully his Father's Will obeys,
   |  Heaven in its Bounty grants great Wealth and Length of Days'."





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.. _`Sakhalin`:

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   CHAPTER XXVII


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   Sakhalin

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Abundant Profits—A Hut in Sakhalin—Sowinski and
Another—Sympathy—Coincidence—Blood Money—Downhill

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One brilliant April morning Jack set out towards Ninguta,
accompanied by Gabriele and the servant, Hi Lo, and two
trusty Chunchuses.  They were all dressed in Chinese
garb, and since Manchurian women do not deform their
feet there was no difficulty for Gabriele on that score.
But they carried Russian dresses and uniforms for use if
necessary.  They crossed the railway safely at night
half-way between two of the block-houses; and, striking into
the hills, followed a path that would take them a considerable
distance south of Ninguta.  Their great danger lay
in the chance of meeting one of the Russian columns
which had been engaged in rounding up Ah Lum; but the
two bandits believed that they would hear of the proximity
of any such troops in good time to avoid them.

Jack had discussed with Gabriele whether they should
take Father Mayenobe's mission station in passing.  On
all grounds they decided that it would be best to leave
the good priest undisturbed.  No doubt he believed that
Gabriele was well on the way to Europe; it would be a
pity to renew his anxieties, and possibly involve him in
trouble with the Russians.

While they were laboriously making their way over the
hills, another member of Ah Lum's band, posing as a
lumberman, travelled by the railway, newly restored and
more strictly guarded than ever, to Vladivostok.  He bore
a letter from Gabriele to the man by whose aid she had
communicated with her father in Sakhalin.  The letter
stated that the receiver might earn 500 roubles if he would
accompany the bearer to Possiet Bay, and there meet the
writer, who would then give him further instructions.
Jack had little doubt that when they arrived they would
find the man waiting.  To an ex-convict of Sakhalin 500
roubles is a fortune.

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The Chinese shipping interest at Possiet Bay was
scandalized when it heard that Too Chin-seng was contemplating
a voyage to Chifu at least three weeks before the
usual season.  The ice, it was true, was breaking in the
harbour; but the weather was tempestuous outside; and
large quantities of loose floe rendered navigation difficult
and dangerous.  There was much shaking of the head
over the temerity of the ship-owner who was thus
imperilling not only the lives of the crew but the safety of
the vessel.  He could easily get another crew; a vessel
like the *Yu-ye* ("Abundant Profits") was more difficult
to replace.  She was a stout junk some sixty feet in
length and fifteen in beam, built of thick wood to
withstand the heavy seas of those northern latitudes, and
from the Chinese point of view well found in all respects.
That for the sake of a few weeks' gain in time a man
should risk so valuable a craft seemed to the shipping
world at Possiet Bay a wilful flying in the face of fortune,
almost an insult to Ma Chu, the goddess who watched
over good sailors.

Too Chin-seng went quietly about his preparations, not
even swerving when his neighbours protested that by the
time he returned from Chifu he would be too late for the
early herring fishing off Sakhalin.  One day the vessel,
loaded with a cargo of rice, made her way with much
creaking and groaning out of the harbour, her sides
bumped and scratched by heavy ice floes.  Before sailing
she had undergone the usual inspection; the officials
sniffed and pried, as though the dissatisfaction of the
native community had infected them also; but everything
was in order.  The day was fine, the sea exceptionally
smooth for the time of year; and when once free from the
floating ice, the *Yu-ye* ran merrily before a light
north-easter down the coast.

But towards evening, when off Cape Lesura, she hauled
her wind and beat about as if in expectation of something.
She had not long to wait.  Half a dozen figures appeared
on the shore; a sampan was launched from the edge of
the ice and laboriously punted its way out to the junk.
The passengers were got aboard with some difficulty, for
the wind was rising and the sea beginning to be choppy.
But, all being at length embarked, the junk clumsily beat
out to sea, heading towards the coast of Yesso to the
north-east.

"He can makee chop-chop sailo pidgin, lowdah?" asked
Jack of Too Chin-seng at the tiller.

"My belongey numpa one junk, masta.  Ping-ch'wahn
no can catchee he, galaw!"

.. vspace:: 2

In a rough wooden hut on a hill-slope above a small
lumber settlement on the south-east coast of Sakhalin
two men were talking.  It was nearly dark; a sputtering
tallow candle threw a murky light over the room, showing
up its bareness.  A rickety table was the only article of
furniture; a raised portion of the rugged wooden floor,
covered with one or two frowsy blankets, served both for
chairs and bed.  On these blankets the two men were now
seated.

One of them was a big, heavy-browed, uncouth fellow—a
posselentsy; that is, one who having served his time
in the convicts' prison, was now liberated, though not
free.  He could not leave the island, nor could he choose
his place of residence; he was bound to live where the
governor bade him live.  On leaving the prison he had
been furnished with implements and ordered to go and
build himself a hut at the spot prescribed, and till the soil
around it.  For two years he had been provided with food
enough to keep him from starving; after that he must
keep himself by the labour of his hands—cutting wood,
loading coal, mending bridges.  His hut became the
nucleus of a village, other convicts being sent to do as
he had done.  After fourteen years he might hope to be
permitted to return to Siberia or Russia.

The posselentsy was sitting with his back against the
log wall, taking frequent pulls at a bottle of vodka, which,
though forbidden to the colonists except at the two great
Russian festivals in October and January, is secretly
manufactured in stills deep in the woods, and stealthily
bought and sold.  But this bottle was a present.

"Yes," he was saying in answer to a question; "he
checks the logs loaded into store by the foremen of our
artels."

"An easy job, no doubt," suggested the other man—the
Pole Anton Sowinski.

"Easy!  It's child's play.  All he has to do is to count
the logs and write the numbers in a book.  Then the dirty
Pole—I beg pardon; I forgot he was a countryman of
yours—gives out the vouchers, and the work—work!—is
done.  I had the Englishman's job myself—until I made
a mistake in the figures."

"A mistake!"

"Well, they said it was intended.  At any rate they
sent me back to the woods."

"And while this Englishman—this spy—and the other
sit at their ease, you poor Russians have to do all the hard
work.  I suppose it *is* hard?"

"Hard!  Try it, barin.  Felling trees and splitting logs
all day is not exactly a soft job.  And to make matters
worse, since this war has been going on they've set a lot
of us fellows to deal with the fish—make the stinking fish
manure that the Japanese used to make.  The herring season
is just beginning; that'll be my pleasant occupation next
week."

"And that is the life you lead while the Englishman—the
spy—and the other live like barins, eh?  It is shameful."

The Russian took a long pull at the bottle.  It was not
often he got a chance of airing his grievances and drinking
vodka from the continent—a great deal more to his taste
than the crude poison of local manufacture.

"You are right; it is shameful."

"I wonder you don't do something."

"Do something!  What can we do?  We rob them
when we get the chance, but that doesn't make things
easier.  Besides, they are not so bad after all—the Pole
and the Englishman.  The Englishman taught my boy
to cast accounts; he's now a clerk in the superintendent's
office.  And the Pole taught my girl to speak French; she's
now maid to the governor's lady.  It didn't cost me a
kopeck: no, they're not a bad sort."

"Still, think of the injustice."

"Yes, the injustice; that's what makes my blood boil.
I was a robber; I tell you straight what I was; and I killed
a gorodovoi who interfered with me: that's what brought
me here.  But what's that to being a spy, and plotting
against the Little Father's life?  No, and if I had my
rights——"

The drink was beginning to take effect; the posselentsy
was becoming noisy.

"Yes, yes," interrupted Sowinski; "and I suppose if
the Englishman were out of the way you would stand a
chance of getting your old job—his job—again?"

"Perhaps—if I could bribe the governor's secretary.
But what chance is there of that?  His price is too high
for me.  And besides, the Englishman is not out of the
way, nor likely to be."

"And yet it might be managed too.  A determined man
like you, with say a couple of hundred roubles to back you,
might go far."

The Russian was not so much fuddled that he failed to
understand the drift of the other's words.

"What do you mean?" he asked suspiciously.  "Speak
plainly," he added, bringing his huge fist down upon the
table with a bang that made the Pole wince.  "What
is your game?—that's what I put to you.  You haven't
come here—a barin like you—just to see me, and listen
to my grumbles; I know that.  No, nor yet for love of
anybody else; I'm an old bird, I am, and I see what I
see, I do.  If you want anything out of me, I won't say
I sha'n't meet you if you make it worth my while; but
you'll have to speak out, man to man, you know; beating
about the bush is no good with an old bird like me,
not a bit of it."

"Quite so, my friend, quite so.  Indeed, that is my
way: a clear understanding—nothing kept back on either
side."

"Well then, speak out, can't you?  What is it?  What
do you want me to do, and what will you pay me for it?"

"That's what I like—plain speaking.  Well, it seems
that the matter stands thus: here are two men between
your present hard life—an atrocious life, an unendurable
life, a life worse than a dog's—and an easy life, a life with
little to do and any amount of time to do it.  It's a strange
thing, but these very two men are hated by the government.
The officials don't want to do anything openly:
you know their way; but if the two men were suddenly to
disappear——you understand?—well, the government at
Alexandrovsk wouldn't take it amiss.  Of course, there
would be a kind of enquiry—a formal matter; and that
would be all.  But the officials must not appear in it.
There are reasons.  That is why, as I was coming here
to see about a contract for railway sleepers, the matter
was mentioned to me—by a high personage, you understand.
I have with me——" he corrected himself hastily—"that
is to say, not here, but at the superintendent's, two
hundred roubles—fifty for an immediate present when an
understanding is come to, another fifty when the disappearance
takes place; the rest if the disappearance is so
complete that no traces of the two are found—say within
a month.  But of course I must know what becomes of them."

"Ah!  That's the game, is it?  And what's to be the
story for Petersburg, eh?"

"That's an easy matter.  We'll say they bought false
passports—there's a manufactory of those useful documents
not a hundred miles from Nikolaievsk—and smuggled
themselves away in a herring boat.  That'll wash, don't
you think?"

"If it goes down as easy as this vodka it'll go down
uncommon easy," said the man with a chuckle.

"And there's plenty more where that came from.  Well,
what do you say?"

"I can't do it alone.  I shall want some one to help.
You—" he looked critically at the Pole—"you ain't the
man for such a job.  I'll have to get a pal.  Ten roubles,
now—I suppose you won't object to pay that, supposing
you don't want to lend a hand yourself?"

"That shall not stand in the way.  I shall have to pay
the money out of my own pocket," he added as by an
artistic inspiration.

The man flashed a shrewd glance at his visitor; but
though he said nothing on the point, he was apparently
making a note of something in his mind.

"Well, you leave it to me, barm," he said.  "When I
take a job in hand, my motto's 'thorough', it is.  And mind
you: when I see you next, another bottle of this vodka:
that won't ruin a barin with two hundred roubles at the
superintendent's office and ten in his own pocket, eh?"

A few minutes later Sowinski left the hut and stumbled
out into the darkness—down the hill, dotted with rude
huts dimly discernible in the gloom, towards the little
bay where half a dozen junks engaged in the herring
fishery lay at anchor.  The road was broken by ruts and
pitfalls; unconsciously the Pole groped his way over or
past them, busy with his thoughts, which were blacker
than the night, hurrying him to a deeper pitfall dug by
himself for his own undoing.





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.. _`The Empty Hut`:

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   CHAPTER XXVIII


.. class:: center large bold

   The Empty Hut

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.. class:: noindent small

My Son—Liberty in Sight—Au Revoir!—Suspense—The
Open Door—A Footprint—The Trail

.. vspace:: 2

While Sowinski was making his way down the hill, a
sampan with two passengers put off in dead silence from
one of the junks in the roadstead.  The vessel had arrived
that afternoon with a small cargo of rice; she was to ship
a consignment of dried fish for Chifu.  The loading was
to be commenced at dawn on the following day; she was
not to carry a full cargo, having to fill up with coal at
Alexandrovsk; by the evening it was expected that her
consignment would be on board, and she would sail again
next morning.

The sampan moved without a splash towards the
northern end of the bay, where there were no huts.  The
fishing settlement extended half round the southern end,
and the lumber yards occupied the rest of the southern
quarter and part of the northern.  It was a very solitary
spot at which the passengers landed, and the sampan-man—who
happened also to be the owner of the junk—steering
his little craft between two rocks, where he was secure
from observation, squatted motionless, apparently awaiting
the return of the two men whom he had just put ashore.

Making a circuit round the lumber settlement—a somewhat
difficult matter in the dark—the two passengers, one
of whom evidently knew the way and walked a pace or
two in advance, stopped at a hut a little larger than the
majority of those they had passed, and gently tapped at
the door.  No light was visible; the taller of the two
men cleared his throat as in nervous impatience.  A step
was heard within; the door was opened, and a voice asked
in Russian:

"Who is there?"

"It is I, gráf," said the man who had led the way.  "I
have a friend with me."

"Come in, then."

The two entered; the door was gently closed behind
them.  The outer room was in complete darkness; but,
leading the way through that, Count Walewski opened a
farther door, which led into a second room, dimly lighted
by a couple of candles.  A man was seated at a table,
reading.

"Here is our friend Godunof, comrade," said the count
in French.

Mr. Brown looked up—looked again, stared, then sprang
to his feet.

"Jack!"

The taller of the two visitors brushed past Godunof, and
father and son clasped hands.  For a few moments not a
word was spoken by either of them; a stranger might not
perhaps have guessed from their manner that they had
been parted for nearly a year—the father a victim of foul
wrong, the son ignorant of the father's whereabouts and
burning to avenge the wrong.  But beneath his iron-gray
moustache and beard Mr. Brown's lips were quivering,
and Jack had a lump in his throat which made him
incapable of speech when his father turned to the count
and, keeping Jack's hand in his, said simply:

"My son, Count."

Count Walewski was deep in conversation with the
other man.  He seemed scarcely to comprehend what
Brown had said.

"Your son!  But—my daughter—you remember her
letter; she is here, now, in a junk at the shore; Godunof
says so; it bewilders me; am I dreaming?  Your son!—they
came together; Godunof tells me they have come
to take us away.  After all these years!—Brown, this
will kill me!"

The count, trembling like a leaf, leant for support
against the crazy table.

"Sit down, my friend," said Brown.  "We must keep
our heads.  Jack has come on a desperate adventure;
it takes my breath away; he must tell us what it means."

A long conversation ensued—not long in point of time,
but in the amount of matter compressed into it.  The
difficulty of arranging the escape lay in the impossibility
of knowing from what quarter the wind would be
blowing at any hour that might be determined.  Without a
favourable wind the *Yu-ye* could not get out to sea;
and it would be madness for Mr. Brown and the count
to go aboard until there was a practical certainty of
the junk being able to slip away.  As soon as they were
missed, every boat in the roadstead would be searched.
And even if the vessel cleared the bay, there was always
a risk of its being followed by the government launch
engaged to patrol the fishing settlements along the coast,
perhaps by a gunboat sent from Korsakovsk in response
to a telegram.  The launch at this moment lay at anchor
in the bay, and unless the *Yu-ye* got a good start and a
fair wind, it must inevitably be overhauled, though the
government boat was an old and crazy vessel whose best
work was long since done.

Granted a favourable wind, then, it was arranged that
the two, the following midnight, should make their way
down to the point at which Jack had landed.  If the wind
proved unfavourable, the departure must be postponed.
The junk would slip her moorings at the first glint of
dawn, and before the escape was discovered Jack hoped
they would be hull down on the horizon.

"But what speed can you make?" asked Mr. Brown.
"You can't outrun a steamer."

"I doubt whether the launch would venture far into the
open," said Godunof, the colonist who had carried the
letters between Gabriele and her father.  "She can't
stand heavy weather, and a gale may spring up at any
moment in these seas.  Besides, she'd be chary of
meeting Japanese cruisers in the Strait of La Perouse.  I
wonder, indeed, she ventured into this bay—no better
than an open roadstead, and exposed to attack."

"She only arrived two days ago from Korsakovsk," said
Mr. Brown.  "She came on a matter of revenue; nothing
else brings her here."

"Well, we must chance it, Father," said Jack.  "We've
got here safely, and please God we shall get away safely
too.  We can run for the nearest Japanese port, and
there we'll be as safe as—as in Portsmouth Harbour, by
Jove!"

The plan having been discussed rapidly, yet with anxious
care, Jack took leave of the two gentlemen—all three with
full hearts wondering whether they would ever meet
again—and returned by the way he had come.

His return was eagerly expected on board the junk.  He
had scarcely clambered over the side when a figure closely
enwrapped in Chinese dress moved towards him.

"Did you see him?"

"Yes, Mademoiselle.  He was overcome at the news
that you were here."

"And is he well?  And your father—both well?  Oh,
Monsieur Jack, I pray that nothing, nothing, may happen!
Nobody knows of your visit?—you are quite sure?  You
made them understand?—the time, the place, the wind?
To think that we have to wait a whole night and day!  I
can hardly endure it!"

"I am just as bad, really, Mademoiselle.  Lucky for me
we have to load up to-morrow; that will give me something
to do.  By this time to-morrow——"

The next day was a time of dreary waiting.  It was a
bright morning, the sky clear, the sea smooth—too smooth,
thought Jack, anxiously whistling for a wind.  The cargo
was taken on board—smelling horribly, but Gabriele
waived Jack's condolences: what was such an unpleasantness
beside the larger matter of her father's safety?  As
the day wore on, black clouds came scudding out of the
north; the wind freshened minute by minute, and the junk
began to roll.

"The wind serves!" cried Gabriele joyfully.  "Oh for
the dark!"

Some time before the hour agreed upon, the sampan was
punted to the appointed spot.  In it were Jack, Hi Lo, and
the owner of the *Yu-ye*.  The wind was roaring, the sky
was black, the tide full, and the Chinaman had much ado
to prevent his craft from being dashed against the rocks.
Time passed; nobody appeared.  Jack looked at his
watch; it was twenty minutes after midnight.  What had
delayed the prisoners?  Another twenty minutes; he was
becoming uneasy.  What could have happened?  Godunof
could not have played him false; the colonist had not
returned to the junk with him the night before, but since he
had received only a portion of the reward promised him,
it was unlikely that he had betrayed the secret.  Had the
prisoners been delayed by an unexpected visitor?  Had
they started and been caught?  All kinds of possibilities
occurred to him.

At last, when the two were fully an hour and a half late,
he could endure the anxiety and suspense no longer.  He
resolved to go up to the hut, and alone.  But when he
told the Chinaman what he intended, and asked him to
put him ashore, Hi Lo spoke:

"My go long-side masta."

"No, no; you must stay and look after Mademoiselle."

"My no wantchee stay-lo; my no can do.  Masta
wantchee some piecee man allo-time long-side; ch'hoy!
what-fo' Hi Lo no belongey that-side?"

The boy was already slipping over the side of the sampan.

"Very well then," said Jack reluctantly.

Then, turning to the Chinaman, he bade him remain at
the same spot until near dawn.  If by that time Jack had
not returned, the man was to go back to the junk and
come again when darkness fell on the following night.  He
must find some excuse for not putting to sea, and not let
it be known that anyone connected with the junk was
ashore.  Above all, he was to watch over the women.

With great caution Jack and the boy stole round the
settlement towards Mr. Brown's hut.  Unfortunately, as
Jack thought, a bright moon was shining fitfully through
gaps in the scudding cloud; and having to take advantage
of every patch of shadow when it appeared, their progress
was slow.  The wind was bitter cold; the spring-like
promise of the earlier part of the day had been succeeded by
a sharp frost, which had already hardened the slush and
mud except in places sheltered from the blast.  The thin
ice on standing pools broke under their tread, with a crackle
that gave Jack a tremor lest it should have been heard.
But there was not a light or a movement in the settlement,
nor any sound save the whistling of the wind and
the booming of the surf on the shore.

Stealthily they made their way up the hillside.  They
arrived at the hut.  The door was closed, the window
dark.  Jack tried to peer through interstices between the
rough logs of the wall; he put his ear against the wood;
he heard nothing, saw no glimmer of light.  With a sinking
heart he pushed gently at the door.  It yielded to his
touch.  He entered, groping in the dark; and bidding
Hi Lo close the door, he struck a match and held it above
his head.  Feeble as the light was, it showed enough to
strike him cold with despair.  The hut was empty, and in
disorder.  A chair was overturned; a half-burnt candle
lay on the floor; the table was pushed into a corner, and
a book had fallen beneath it and stood on its bent leaves.
Jack picked up the candle and lit it.  The clean boards
of the floor were marked with many muddy stains as of
scuffling feet.  Dreading to search, Jack yet looked for
traces of blood; there were none.  But among the marks
one struck him particularly—a huge footprint, too large to
have been made by either Count Walewski or his father.
Someone had entered before the ground outside had frozen.
But the struggle—everything in the bare hut spoke of a
struggle—must have taken place after the fall of dusk,
for with a pair of old perspective glasses found in the junk
Jack had kept a close watch on the hut, and had seen his
father enter, late in the afternoon, with another
figure—presumably the count.

Dazed with this sudden set-back to his hopes, Jack sat
down on one of the chairs, resting his throbbing head upon
his hands.  A feeling of utter helplessness paralysed him.
Hi Lo stood watching him, the boy's whole attitude one of
mute sympathy.  Had the authorities got wind of the plot,
thought Jack, and again spirited his father away?  Had
Godunof, the ex-convict, betrayed him?  Scarcely, or a
police visit would have been made to the junk, and he
himself arrested.  He tried to pull himself together; he
must do something, and at once; but what?  He could
not tell; he was in the dark; and Gabriele in the junk was
waiting, listening, wondering why ere this she was not in
her father's arms.

Bending forward in his misery, suddenly his eye fell on
the huge footmark made with a clay-clogged boot on the
white floor.  The boot must have been of quite unusual size;
what could have been the stature of the man who owned
it?  Jack suddenly sprang up; if there was such a
footmark within, would there not be others, similar, without?
By them could not the assailants be traced?  He was
convinced that his father and the count had been attacked:
should he rouse the settlement?  Their lives might be in
danger; in warning the authorities he would at the worst
only risk his own liberty.  But supposing the authorities
themselves should be concerned in the matter!  To appeal
to them would then be worse than useless; he would
merely sacrifice his own freedom, and with it all possibility
of serving his father.

Still the footmark stared at him.  An idea suggested
itself.  Could he trace the man himself?  He had never
followed any trail but that of a paper-chase; but what of
that?  It was worth a trial.  In a rapid whisper he told his
thoughts to Hi Lo.  The boy nodded with full comprehension.
Jack blew out the light, and pocketed the candle;
then the two groped their way to the door and issued forth
into the moonlit night.





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.. _`The Heart of the Hill`:

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   CHAPTER XXIX


.. class:: center large bold

   The Heart of the Hill

.. vspace:: 2

.. class:: noindent small

Trackers—Voices—Into the Open—Waiting for
Dawn—Demons—Greater Love—Choke Damp—Found—A
Rusty Chain—From the Depths—Explanations

.. vspace:: 2

The moonlight and the frost, which Jack had been
disposed to regard as hindrances, were now all in his favour.
The moon threw just sufficient light to enable him to avoid
obstacles and to see the impressions of footsteps in the mud,
which the frost had suddenly hardened.  Bending low, he
was at first unable to distinguish, among the many
footprints in front of the hut, the large one for which he was
so intently looking; but a little distance away he had no
difficulty in picking out two separate trails of the enormous
foot, one approaching the hut, the other receding from it.
It was the latter that must be followed, and with Hi Lo
at his side Jack walked as quickly as possible over the
glistening track.

Every now and then the traces disappeared, for whenever
the moonlight was obstructed by a cloud, a hut, or a tree,
it was impossible to see clearly enough to distinguish
them.  Then it was that Hi Lo proved himself invaluable,
and made Jack thankful he had not refused the boy's
request.  It was he, as a rule, who succeeded in finding
the lost trail; scouting ahead like a sleuth-hound, he
seemed to be able to see in the dark.

The way led steeply uphill.  It was hard and rough
going, following a narrow road probably used for the
haulage of timber.  Under the thin coating of ice the
mud was deep, and at times their feet sank up to the
ankle.  The little hamlet of log huts was soon left behind;
they came into a clearing dotted with the low stumps of
trees; here, evidently, had been felled the timber of which
the huts were built.  Then they passed into a densely
wooded clump, through which in the darkness they had to
grope their way.  Once or twice Jack ventured to light a
match; this being the sheltered side of the hill, there was
no wind, and during the few moments of feeble light Hi
Lo could assure himself that they had not lost the trail.
Crossing more rapidly another open stretch, they entered a
still thicker and darker patch of wood.  When, after going
some distance into this, Jack again struck a match, the
boy, peering on hands and knees, declared that the
footprints were no longer visible.  They must needs go back
to pick up the trail, far more difficult to distinguish in these
forest depths than in the open.  The search took time;
anxiety was all the while tearing at Jack's heart-strings,
but he schooled himself to patience.  At last they came
again upon the huge footprint with which they had now
grown familiar.  Lighting the candle-end, Jack traced the
mark for a few yards on the upward path; then, together
with the other footprints, it suddenly disappeared.

"What in the world are we to do?" whispered Jack.

The forest was dense on each side of the path.  At
the few points in the course of their journey where a gap
let through the moonlight, they had seen extraordinary
effects, the trees seeming to have been tossed about by
giants, lying at all angles against the trunks that had
arrested their fall.  But the path had been cleared of these
obstructions, for if not removed, the waleshnik, as the
fallen timber is called, would soon block up any forest
road in Sakhalin.

Groping about, Hi Lo at length discovered, to the right
of the main path, a fallen tree that concealed a narrower
track, made by men, but apparently no longer in use, and
partially overgrown.  For some time the keen little fellow's
search failed to find the footprint, but at last, at a break
in the undergrowth, he pounced upon it.  The man with
the big feet had evidently passed this way.  Jack struck
up the path; it was steeper now, and blocked at many
points by trees that had been allowed to remain where
they fell; but it was fairly broad, and at one time must
have been as important and as frequently used as the path
they had just left.  Here and there they came to a
clearing—the work of fire; blackened stumps standing grim and
gaunt in the moonlight.  Then on into the forest beyond,
picking their way by touch rather than sight, barking their
shins and rasping their elbows against obstacles they were
unable to avoid.

The air was pervaded by the musty smell of decayed
vegetation.  It was silent as the grave save when a quick
rustle told of some wild beast scurrying away into the
thicket.  Suddenly Hi Lo stopped, putting his hand on
Jack's arm.

"What is it?" murmured Jack.

The boy instantly clapped his hand upon his master's
mouth, and pulled him from the path through a mass
of tangled undergrowth.  They were at the edge of a
small clearing.  Through the still air Jack could now hear
voices ahead; then came the faint glimmer of a light; and
soon, as they crouched breathless behind a friendly trunk,
two figures appeared on the farther side of the clearing,
coming towards them, one carrying a lantern.  The men's
voices were low; even in this remote spot they were doubtless
mindful that it is illegal to be abroad after dark.  Jack
held his breath as they passed within two yards of him.
He caught a few words in Russian.

"How long do you think?"

"About three or four days—unless they can eat coal!"

Then a hoarse chuckle.

The voices receded; the light died away; the men were
gone.  One of them was tall and broad, a son of Anak:
clearly the owner of the giant foot.

His heart thumping against his ribs, Jack waited until
he thought all was safe; then with Hi Lo he recommenced
his climb up the wooded hill.  He had no doubt that these
men, whose voices the boy had fortunately heard in time,
were concerned in the disappearance of his father and the
count.  But what had been done with them?  Were it not
for the evidences of the struggle Jack would have been
tempted to suppose that the men were in league with the
two prisoners, conniving at or assisting their escape.  But
the state of the hut belied any such thought.

It was some time before he ventured to strike another
match in order to make sure that he was still on the track;
the merest glimmer seen from below might lead to disaster.
When at last he thought it safe to do so, he saw
clear indications of the recent passage of several feet.
He hurried on at the greatest speed the difficult path and
the darkness allowed, and after some twenty minutes
emerged upon a kind of table-land above the bay.  He
remembered seeing it from the junk—a huge terrace in
the hills, sloping gradually upward, and after about a mile
ending in another steep incline.  The road was here more
easy to follow; there were no fallen trees; it was the
so-called tundra of Sakhalin.  The trees were not so thick:
through gaps in them he caught glimpses of the sea, silvery
in the moonlight; and he thought of the fair girl waiting
in the junk, now doubtless in an agony of apprehension
regarding her father's fate.

The two pressed on.  By and by they came to the
steeper ascent.  It was necessary once more to verify
the trail.  Fearful lest a gleam should give the alarm
below, Jack took off his hat and struck a match within it.
There were the footsteps, going up and down the hill,
which was not, like the slope below, covered with trees.
Indeed, during the last few hundred yards the two
searchers had stumbled over sleepers, rails, and other
things indicating a railroad either abandoned or in course
of construction.  Once they came full upon an upturned
truck; a little beyond, upon a coil of wire rope.  Jack
stopped more than once to examine these impediments,
always careful to conceal his light; and he concluded that
they were rather the relics of a railway than material for
a new line.  He was still wondering what had tempted
Russian enterprise to construct and then to abandon a
railway in this spot, so remote and difficult of access,
when the explanation came suddenly.  He found himself
among the outworks of a deserted coal-mine.  The ground
was littered with timber, dross, rusty tools; the path had
come to an end; and Jack stopped abruptly, at a loss what
to do.

It was hopeless in the darkness to attempt to explore
the workings, for he had no doubt now that his father
and Count Walewski had been brought here and left in
some remote part of the mine, to perish of starvation.  He
saw through the villainous scheme.  "About three or four
days—unless they can eat coal!"—the words were now
explained.  What the motive was he could not guess.
The conspirators had shrunk from murdering their victims
outright; but when starvation had done its work they
would no doubt come upon the scene, discover the dead
bodies, and claim the reward which the governor would
probably have offered for news of the fugitives.

The matches were used up; it would be dangerous
to attempt to trace out a route in thick darkness.  All
that could be done was to wait for the dawn.  What
that might bring forth who could tell?  With morning
light the prisoners would certainly be missed, and a hue
and cry would be raised.  Even if the plot were the
work of officials, still a search would be made.  In that
case it would be perfunctory; while if they were innocent
undoubtedly they would scour the country all round the
settlement.  There would be little to guide them.  The
main path from the hut was largely used; many tracks
crossed and recrossed on it; and if the night's frost was
succeeded by a thaw, as was almost certain, the footprints
would become mere puddles and give no clue.

Jack and the boy made themselves as comfortable as
possible in the shelter of an overhanging cliff; but the
hours till dawn seemed to creep along.  Jack's thoughts
dwelt in turn on the prisoners and their fate, and on
Gabriele waiting in the junk.  She was dressed in Chinese
clothes, but would she escape undetected when the vessels
in the bay were searched in the morning?  Jack was
tempted to send Hi Lo back, so that she might be warned;
but second thoughts counselled him to wait until daylight.
He might then at least let her know whether the count
was alive or dead.

There was no sleep that night for either Jack or Hi Lo.
As soon as it was light enough to see the ground they
resumed their search.  Almost immediately Jack understood
why they had failed to pick up the trail the night
before.  The party had climbed on to a ledge of bare rock
a few feet above the ground, and on this their boots had
left no mark.  But a little farther up the hill the track
could be distinguished.  It led directly towards a dark
opening in the cliff—one of the galleries of the deserted
mine.

As they approached the opening, Hi Lo began to shake
with fear.  A mine to an unsophisticated Chinaman is a
terrible thing.  He believes that the delving of the earth
lets loose innumerable demons, enraged at the disturbance
of their homes.  So strong is this belief that mining is
actually forbidden by law, though the law is now fast
becoming a dead letter.  Hi Lo knew nothing of western
progress, and he implored Jack to turn aside from this
black tunnel into the earth.  Jack did not laugh at the
boy's fears; he told him to remain at the entrance and
give warning if anyone approached.  Then he stepped
into the mouth of the gallery.

He had already concluded that the mine consisted of
galleries, not of shafts.  The outcrop of coal was visible
in the side of the hill.  He therefore had no fear of coming
unexpectedly upon a pit.  But he groped his way along
with great caution; the truck rails had not been removed
from the floor of the gallery.  The air was pure; he felt
indeed a slight draught, which pointed to the existence of
an outlet of some kind in the direction in which he was
going.  After proceeding for a few minutes he was brought
to an abrupt halt by a solid wall of rock in front.  Feeling
each side of the gallery, he found that the passage branched
off to right and left.  Which turning should he take?  He
stood in indecision; in the darkness there was nothing to
guide his choice.  Then it occurred to him to shout.  If
his father and the count were in the mine, they were
doubtless alone: they would hear his call, though it were
inaudible outside.  He gave a halloo, and listened; he
heard nothing but the sound rumbling along the passages.
He shouted again; there was an answering cry behind him;
then the patter of footsteps hurrying, stumbling along
towards him.  Facing round, he raised his fist to fell an
enemy; but a small form cannoned against him, and a
boy's voice uttered a gasping yell.  It was Hi Lo.
Hearing the shout, he had unhesitatingly plunged into the
blackness.  Anxious as the moment was, Jack admired
the spirit of the little fellow, who, to come to his
assistance, had braved dangers none the less terrifying because
so purely imaginary.

"Well done!" said Jack, patting his arm.  "Now run
back and wait for me.  I'm all right here."

"My no can do," said Hi Lo decisively.  "My stay-lo
long-side masta.  Big piecee debbils this-side; my helpum
masta fightey; my no can lun wailo."

"Very well.  Keep close."

Again and again he shouted, always without response.
Then at a venture he turned into the right-hand passage.
After a few yards he felt Hi Lo's hold on his tunic relax.
The boy had fallen to the ground.  Hastily stooping he
picked him up, almost falling as he breathed the lower
stratum of air, and staggered with his burden to the main
gallery.  He had but just reached it when he himself was
overcome and sank to the floor.  He did not lose
consciousness, but his head buzzed and swam, and he felt a
horrid nausea.  When he was somewhat recovered, he
carried Hi Lo back to the entrance, and was relieved to
find that in the open air the boy quickly regained
consciousness.  But he could not expose the little fellow
again to such peril; bidding him remain at the spot, and
on no account to follow, he plunged once more into the
darkness.

This time he turned into the left-hand passage, and
found that it sloped rapidly upward.  Before long he was
brought up by a similar obstacle; the gallery again divided.
He felt a slight current of air strike against him from the
left-hand side; in that direction he continued to grope along.
If the words he had overheard meant anything, they meant
that the prisoners might be expected to survive for a
few days.  As that would be impossible in the foul air
of the unventilated passages, he could not be wrong in
pressing forward wherever he could breathe.  Again he
shouted; again there was no reply but a series of echoes.
But moving on again, and listening intently, he fancied
he heard a low continuous rumbling ahead; this could not
be an echo.  The sound grew stronger as he advanced;
in a few moments he understood its cause; it was
unmistakably the sound of falling water.  Stepping now with
still greater caution, he soon became aware that he was
within a few yards of the waterfall; the sound seemed to
rise from beneath his feet.  He threw himself on his face
and crawled forward—and the floor ended; he was on the
verge of a precipice.

With a shudder and a long breath he drew back.  For
some distance he had noticed that the walls of the passage
suggested to the touch stone rather than coal.  They were
hard as flint, and the roof was so low that he had to bend
almost double.  Apparently it was a prospector's gallery,
not a real working.  He wished he had a match; in the
current of air that he now clearly felt, there was little risk
of explosion from fire-damp.  But his box was empty.
He understood that the sound of the waterfall must hitherto
have smothered his shouts; but if he hallooed now he
might be heard, if there was anyone within hearing.
Making a bell of his hands he uttered a shrill coo-ee.  It
gave him a kind of shock when, apparently from only a
few feet below him, there came an answering call.

"Is that you, Father?"

"Yes.  For heaven's sake be careful, Jack.  It is a
sheer drop.  Wait a moment."

Mr. Brown struck a match.  Jack peered over the edge.
There, some fifteen feet below, on a broad ledge of rock
sprayed by the waterfall that plunged past it into a dark
abyss, stood his father and Count Walewski.  The rock
above them was perpendicular and smooth; on either
side of them the ledge rounded inwards; in front of them
yawned the unfathomable gulf.  As he looked, the match
went out, and with the return of complete darkness a
feeling of terror seized upon him; his limbs shook, his
skin broke into a cold sweat.

"Are you there, old boy?"

"Yes."

"You've no matches, I suppose?"

"No, but—of course, I've a candle-end."  Jack was
pulling himself together.  "Do you think you could pitch
up your box, Father?"

"I can try.  I'll strike a match; the count will hold it
so that I can get an aim."

Both spoke in a loud tone, to be heard above the splash
and roar of the fall.  Count Walewski held the lighted
match aloft; Jack stretched himself to the edge of the
precipice; his father, retreating a few feet along the ledge,
took careful aim, and tossed the box of matches gently
into Jack's outstretched hands.  In a moment the scene
was faintly illumined.

"You see how we stand, Jack; can you get us up?"

"You were let down by a rope?"

"Yes; they took it away with them."

Jack remembered the coil of wire-rope he had noticed
at the entrance to the mine.  It had no doubt been formerly
used for hauling the trucks.

"Wait a few minutes, Father.  I'm going to see what
I can do."

"Blow the candle out; there isn't much of it left."

Again the scene was in darkness.  Jack hurried back
along the passage, and found Hi Lo at the entrance.
Together they retraced their steps to the spot where the
coil of wire lay.  As Jack feared, it was too heavy to
carry; it proved too thick to break.  Wasting no time
here, he sent Hi Lo in one direction while he went in
another to search for any stray rope that would be long
enough for his purpose.  He came to a tumble-down hut
which from its contents he guessed had been the
foreman's tool-house.  Rummaging about among its rubbish,
he found a chain some ten yards long, rusty, but quite
strong enough to bear a man's weight.  In a corner stood
a broken sledge-hammer; and among a heap of bolts,
clamps, and miscellaneous old iron he came upon several
iron wedges such as are used for breaking hard ground
and rock.  With these they hurried back to the waterfall.
Lighting the candle again, Jack, now in complete
possession of his faculties, saw that the ledge on which his
father and Count Walewski stood was at the base of a
cavern.  By the feeble glimmer he drove two of the
wedges into the floor of the passage.  Then he quickly
attached one end of the chain to them and lowered the
other end.  In this Mr. Brown made a loop, which he
tested.

"The Count first," he shouted.

The poor old nobleman, who was ten years his elder,
and older than his years through the sufferings he had
endured, sat in the loop and clung to the chain with his
thin feeble hands.  Hi Lo coiled the chain round the
wedges to prevent an accident, and Jack, steadily hauling
on the chain, brought the Count—a very light weight—to
the edge of the precipice.  Then he firmly secured the
chain to the wedges, and, his hands being now free, lifted
the Pole over the brink.  The old man, broken down by
his terrible experiences and exhausted from lack of food,
was at first helpless; but when he had recovered from the
terror of his ascent, all three hauled on the chain, and
succeeded in drawing Mr. Brown up.

"Thank God!" he said, as he gripped Jack's hand.

The Count murmured a feeble but heartfelt "Amen!"

"Let us get away from the noise of the waterfall," said
Jack.  "Then we can talk over the next step.  Please
God, we'll get you clear away yet, Father."

They withdrew for some distance into the passage, and
sat down.  In a few words Mr. Brown explained what
had happened: how on the previous evening, when they
had been reading in their hut, they had been surprised and
overpowered by two ruffianly posselentsys and forced to
accompany their captors up the hill path.  The men were
unknown to Mr. Brown; he could only explain their action
by supposing that the plot to rescue him and Count
Walewski had been discovered.

"How did you find us out, Jack?"

"We tracked the fellows by the footprint of one of
them; or rather Hi Lo did; he has done me many a good
turn since you disappeared, Father; I'll tell you the whole
story when you are safe."

"What are we to do, Jack?"

"It won't be safe to leave here before night.  If we did,
we should be sure to run up against one of the search
parties that are probably out by this time."

"You're right.  I can manage to hold out, I think; but
I'm afraid for Count Walewski.  He's not so strong as
I am; we've both been without food for more than twelve
hours."

"My go fetchee chow-chow," said Hi Lo instantly.

Jack looked dubiously at the boy.  Was it safe?  he
wondered.  Hi Lo pleaded so earnestly to be allowed to
go that Jack at last consented.

"Be very careful," he said.  "When you get out of the
mine, go a roundabout way to the shore.  If you get there
safely you'll be able to reach the junk.  Tell Mademoiselle
that we hope to see her to-night, and bring just enough
food to keep us going until then.  Be as quick as you can,
boy, and hide if you see anybody on the way."

"Allo lightee, masta; my lun chop-chop; no piecee
Lusski catchee Hi Lo, no fea'!"

And he slipped away.





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`Crowded Moments`:

.. class:: center large bold

   CHAPTER XXX


.. class:: center large bold

   Crowded Moments

.. vspace:: 2

.. class:: noindent small

A Search Party—Touch and Go—Food—Sowinski
Reappears—Trackers Tracked—Recrimination—De
Profundis—After Long Years

.. vspace:: 2

"Now, Jack," said Mr. Brown when Hi Lo was gone,
"do you think it safer to stay here, or to leave the mine
and hide in the woods till the evening?"

"Here certainly, Father.  If we go away we stand a
chance of running up against a search party.  They are
bound to search the workings."

"Yes, if they remember the mine," said the Count.
"It has not been worked for several years.  And suppose
they come into it.  How can we escape them?"

"Hi Lo and I nearly came to grief in one of the
galleries.  The air was very foul.  We might hide there,
going as far in as is safe.  We could keep wet
handkerchiefs about our mouths and hold out longer than the
pursuers.  They wouldn't dare to strike a light for fear
of an explosion."

"What is the height of the gallery?" asked Mr. Brown.

"From five to eight feet, I should say.  It varies.  The
other galleries seem to be regular."

"Well, whatever the height, the purer air will be at the
top.  If in one of the higher parts we could raise a
platform and mount it we might venture farther in than if we
remained on the floor.  Can we do that?"

"Yes, there are some logs just at the entrance.  It's
worth risking, and the sooner the better."

Hurrying to the entrance, Mr. Brown and Jack carried
in as many balks of timber as they could find, dropping
them at the turning of the gallery.  Then, holding their
breath, they rushed one of the logs into the gallery as far
as they dared, and ran back to the open passage.  They
repeated this operation until a small platform was raised
some two feet above the floor; then, bidding Jack remain
in safety, Mr. Brown mounted to test the result.  He
found that the air, though foul, was not bad enough to
be dangerous.  The position would be endurable for a
few minutes.  He hoped that it would not be necessary
to have recourse to this unpleasant place of refuge, but it
was well to know that it existed in case of need.  Then,
somewhat sickened by the foul air they had swallowed,
they went to find the Count, who had volunteered to keep
watch at the entrance to the mine.

He reported that he had seen, far off on the hillside, two
parties of men moving in different directions, in a manner
that suggested a search.  But they had now disappeared.
For some time nothing further was seen, and Jack and his
father took the opportunity to exchange confidences about
all that had happened since that June day when they had
parted at the door of their house in Moukden.

Suddenly the Count, who had remained constantly on
the watch, considerately leaving father and son to
themselves, touched Mr. Brown on the arm and pointed.  The
heads of half a dozen men could be seen topping the brow
of a slope about 300 yards below them.  Instantly the
three withdrew into the first gallery, taking the precaution
to remove their boots, so that they would not be heard if
they had to retreat to the platform.  In a few minutes
they heard the echoing voices of the men as they left the
open and entered the mine.  It was impossible to see who
they were, but the Count recognized the voice of one of
the prison warders, and Mr. Brown that of a prisoner
who had occupied the next bed when he was for a week
in hospital.  It was soon apparent what the prisoner had
been brought for.  The party halted within a few yards
of the fugitives, and their words were now distinctly
audible.

"Now, Scuratoff, you know the galleries?" said the warder.

"Yes; I worked here seven years ago."

"Then lead the way.  Is it safe to light a lantern?"

"Maybe; I cannot say.  It used to be safe enough in
the main gallery, but in my time there was foul air in the
side galleries.  We had safety-lamps."

"Yes, confound it!  I looked for a safety-lamp, but
there wasn't one to be found in the place.  We must do
the best we can with the ordinary lantern; and to make
sure, we'll only use it in the main gallery.  If the air in the
others is too foul for a light, it will be too foul for life."

The waiting fugitives heard the click of the lantern as
the warder opened it, and silently retreated into the side
gallery, raising their make-shift respirators to their
mouths.  They saw a feeble light at the junction of the
two passages.  The search party continued their progress
and halted where the galleries branched, being now in full
view of the three within.

"This is the dangerous passage—this one to the right,"
said the prisoner.  "Better take the light away."

The warder retreated some paces with the lantern.

"Go in, Scuratoff, as far as you can.  Foul air be
hanged!  You'll be well rewarded, remember, if you find
the runaways—a year off your sentence, at any rate."

The man groped his way in, while Jack and the others
quietly drew back to the little platform, where they took
their stand.  Nearer and nearer drew the Russian; it
seemed as though he must discover them, and Jack's hand
instinctively went to one of the two pistols he had had the
forethought to bring from the junk.  Then the voice of
the warder, sounding hollow in the vaulted passage, was
heard calling.

"Do you find anything?"

"Neither man nor beast," replied the prisoner in a
shout.  Hitherto he had held his breath, but after
speaking he took a mouthful of the foul air.  Instantly he
turned, rushed down the passage, and stumbled gasping
at the opening into the main gallery.

His companions dragged him out into the purer air, and
the warder retreated still farther with the lantern.  Jack
and the others stepped down from the platform, and
hurried towards the main gallery, to get the much-needed
air while the man was being revived.

"That's enough for that one," they heard the warder
say.  "We'll push on."

When the searchers passed the entrance of the gallery,
the fugitives had again retreated, but were within two
yards of them.

It was long before the Russians returned, and meanwhile
the fugitives ventured into the main gallery, to enjoy
the comparatively pure air as long as they could before
they had again to seek shelter.  At last the search party,
baffled, passed by towards the entrance.  Jack heard the
warder commenting on the chain they had seen hanging
over the edge of the precipice.  Somebody at some time
must have descended by its means to the ledge; but if the
fugitives, they had paid the penalty, for there was no sign
of them.

They left the mine.  Ten minutes afterwards Jack
ventured as far as the entrance.  They had disappeared.

By and by Hi Lo returned with a small supply of food,
which the three ate ravenously.  He reported that every
junk in the bay had been searched; and that the "missy"
had hardly been prevailed upon not to return with him,
so anxious was she to see her father.  The condition of
Count Walewski was pitiful to behold.  Privation and
anxiety were telling upon his already broken constitution,
and Jack feared lest under the terrible suspense his heart
strings should snap.

"Keep a good heart, my friend," said Mr. Brown.  "In
a few hours all will be well."

The day wore away, all too slowly, and evening settled
down over the hillside.  Jack, looking out, saw a slight
mist rising from the sea, and welcomed it as favouring
their dash to the bay, where the vessels at anchor were
already raising their riding-lights.  So intent was he upon
the scene seawards that he had not noticed two men, who
were coming up from the woods, furtively, as if fearful of
being observed.  When he did see them, he shrank back
in momentary alarm, remembering immediately that as he
had not left the shade of the dark entrance he could not
have been seen.  He watched their approach.  One of the
two was of huge stature; the other!——Jack felt his heart
leap, for the other, whom in the distance he recognized
rather by his gait than his features, was Anton Sowinski,
the man whom he believed to be hundreds of miles away in
Manchuria, in the safe hands of Ah Lum.

"Look-see, masta!" whispered Hi Lo at his elbow.
"Polo man, galaw!"

Once more his father's enemy was upon his track.  The
Pole's presence was of evil import.  What was he doing
here?  Was he merely a searcher, like the rest?  He halted
near the entrance, and the taller man, who overtopped him
by at least six inches, stooped and drew from behind a
broken truck a coil of rope.  Then both came into the
gallery.

Jack slipped back to the others.

"Sowinski!" he said in a whisper.  During their
conversation earlier in the day he had told his father of his
dealings with the Pole, and of the man's identity with
Ladislas Streleszki, the traitorous steward of the Count.
This news Mr. Brown had kept from the old man, who
had been all along in absolute ignorance that he owed
his exile and imprisonment to a member of his own household.

Once more the fugitives shrank back into the foul
passage.  As the two men passed the entrance Jack
heard Sowinski say:

"I cannot understand it.  Are you sure they searched
the cavern?  There are not two caverns?"

"No, barin.  There is only one.  Scuratoff guided
them; there is no mistake."

They turned into the left-hand passage.  Jack instantly
resolved to follow them.  Without his boots he would be
inaudible, and they carried no light.  Accustomed as he
now was to the darkness of the mine, he could move
about it more rapidly than the Pole and his companion.
He whispered his intention to his father.

"Better not."

"I don't think there's any danger.  We three should be
able to deal with the men, big as the Russian is.  I'll give
you one of my pistols.  Hi Lo can fetch an iron rail from
the workings for the Count to use."

"Very well, but be careful, my boy."

Jack slipped away in the wake of the two conspirators.
In a few moments he heard the Russian apparently hailing
someone in a low voice.  Approaching within a few yards
of them he heard the man still hailing.  There was no
reply.  Then there was the chink of a boot against a chain.

"What's that?" cried Sowinski in his harsh voice.
"Light your candle."

The posselentsy lit his candle.  The two saw the chain
wound about the wedges, and hanging over the brink.
Jack wished he had removed it.

"Scuratoff had no rope," said the Russian.  "He must
have gone down to the ledge with this.  Now tell me if
I was right, barin."

"Hold your tongue, fool!  The candle throws no light
downward.  Let it down over the edge."

Fastening it to the rope, the posselentsy paid the latter
slowly out.  A dash of spray from the waterfall extinguished
the flame.

"Pull it up again!" cried Sowinski with a curse.  Jack
felt instinctively that the man was at a white heat of baffled
rage.

Once more the candle, lighted after some trouble, was
lowered.  This time it escaped a wetting.  The Russian
stretched himself on his face and peered over.

"I can see nothing.  Bozhe moï!  They are not there."

He rose slowly and clumsily, pulling up the rope with
the candle at the end.  Then he turned and faced the Pole,
and by the sputtering light Jack saw the look of silly
amazement on his face.

"What did I tell you, you clumsy, hulking fool!" cried
Sowinski through set teeth.  "You've bungled it; idiot
that you are.  Why, why, I repeat, didn't you take my
hint and do for them outright?"

"If it comes to that," replied the man, red with sullen
anger, "why didn't you do it yourself?  You wanted to
run no risks; you wanted it done cheap; did you think I'd
chance another twenty years in the prison yonder for two
hundred roubles?  No, I wouldn't do it.  This was your
plan; your plan, to save a few paltry roubles.  I'd have
cracked their heads if you'd made it worth my while;
you've only yourself to blame."

"Yes, I was a fool to trust the thing to a sheep-headed
lout like you."

"Sheep-headed!  Look you, I stand no abuse.  I've
done your job; two hundred roubles is little enough for it;
and I'll trouble you to hand over the balance."

"The balance!" snarled Sowinski.  "Eka!  You may
think yourself lucky to have got what you have.  You get
no more from me."

"We'll see about that, you white-livered little rat!"

The man made a sudden step forward and shot out his
free hand to grip the Pole by the throat.  But Sowinski,
instinctively aware of what was coming, drew back quickly,
his right hand seeking his pocket.  The Russian saw the
movement, flung himself forward,—dropping the candle,
which sputtered on the floor of the passage—seized the
Pole with his right hand, and with the left clutched at the
other's right arm.  But he was a second too late.  He
missed his grasp, and even as he swung his opponent
round with the intention of hurling him into the abyss,
there was a flash and a report that startled a hundred
echoes from the cavern and the galleries.  The Russian
gave a quick grunt; then all was in darkness; they had
trodden out the light.  Into the next moments so much
was crowded that Jack could never disentangle the separate
events in his mind.  His father's voice; a cry from Hi Lo;
an appalling scream from Sowinski; a dull thud, followed
by a brief silence save for the splash and rumble of the
cataract.  Then, through the sound of the waters, came
a second and heavier thud that turned Jack's blood cold.
At his side his father struck a match.

"They're gone!" gasped Jack, white to the lips.

"Your pistol?"

"No."

"Thank God!"

Tempter and tempted had struck the ledge in their fall,
rebounded, and gone headlong to the rocks a hundred feet
below.

.. vspace:: 2

Some few minutes after midnight, a sampan put off
silently from a solitary angle of the bay.  Creeping through
the white mist, slowly, to avoid the intervening junks, it
skirted the anchored vessels and quietly ran alongside of
the *Yu-ye*.  A hooded figure leant over the bulwarks,
watching with straining eyes as five dark figures climbed
up the side.

Count Walewski tottered into his daughter's arms.

Jack turned away and spoke to the skipper.  An order
was given in a low voice.  The junk, riding on a single
anchor, slipped the cable and ran up her enormous
foresail.  Spars and cordage creaked; but all was silent
around; and the sail filling to the strong north-easter,
the junk began to make way towards the open sea.





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`Entente Cordiale`:

.. class:: center large bold

   CHAPTER XXXI


.. class:: center large bold

   Entente Cordiale

.. vspace:: 2

.. class:: noindent small

Censored—A Letter—An Oxford Version—Last Words
from Ah Lum—A Rencontre—Debit and Credit—Schwab
Sympathizes—Business—Partnership—Light in the East

.. vspace:: 2

"My word!  And then—and then?"

"That's all, Monsieur Brin.  The old junk sailed
magnificently; with morning light we found ourselves off the
Japanese coast, and three days later ran safe into the
harbour of Hakodate.  There's nothing more to tell.
We spent several weeks in Japan among the plum-blossoms,
and—here we are, in time to see this great
meeting of the fleets."

Monsieur Brin and Jack Brown were among a party
seated at dinner in the George Hotel, Portsmouth.  The
Browns had landed at Southampton two days before
with Count Walewski and his daughter.  They had been
met by Mrs. Brown and her two other children, and had
now come to Portsmouth to witness the festivities in
connection with the visit of the French fleet.  Monsieur Brin
was at the same hotel, in the capacity of special reporter
for the *Soleil*.

"But now, Monsieur," continued Jack, "I've told you
all our adventures.  What about yourself?  What have
you been doing since I saw you last at Harbin?"

"Ah!  You ask!  My friend, my history is in sum one
word—Kaiser!  You left me in Harbin: well, I devote care
to Hildebrand Schwab; he recovers; we are both recalled,
he because his negatives are all lost, I because when I
describe the only battle I saw, my despatch is blacked out
by the censor.  Naturally my redacteur open his eyes
when he must pay my bills for such as this.  Look!
Here is a leaf of my copy; that is what the Russian
censor has done—and Russia, par exemple! is the ally
of France.  Behold!"

He took a leaf from his pocket-book, and laid it on the
table.  It appeared as follows:—

.. vspace:: 2

::

   "Les Russes ont commencé aujourd'hui un ------------------
   ------------------------------------ j'ai vu le général
   Kouropatkin qui buvait --------------------------------
   -------------- 'Doucement bercé sur ma mule fringante,'
   je chevauchais à côté du général ----------------------
   ----------------------------------------------------------
   ----------------------------------------------------------
   ----------------------------------------------------------
   -------------------------- au même moment, psst! j'entends
   le sifflement d'un obus qui me va au----dessus de la tête
   éclater dans ------------------------------------------
   ----------------------------------------------------------
   ----------------------------------------------------------
   ----------------------------------------------------------
   -------------------------------------------- des jambes,
   des bras, *disjecta membra*, comme dit le ----------------
   ------------ plus loin, un médecin qui plonge ------------
   -------------------------- et ----------------------------
   -------------- la bataille."

.. vspace:: 2

"That is my account of a most dramatic episode of the
battle of the Sha-ho.  What is left?  Nothing!  It
provoke curiosity, it tantalise, but does it satisfy, does it
excite, hein?"

"The censor has certainly made a terrible hash of it,"
said Mr. Brown, passing the paper round the table.  It
created much amusement, and seemed to fascinate Jack's
fifteen-year-old brother Humphrey, who gazed at it with
a sort of awful admiration.

"But you spoke of Herr Schwab," said Jack.  "What
became of him?"

"He came——"

"By gum!" interrupted Humphrey, "don't I wish old
Cæsar's despatches had been blacked out like this!"

Brin glanced at the boy over his glasses and resumed:

"Schwab came with me from Harbin by the same train.
My word! it is Kaiser, Kaiser all the way.  'Our Kaiser
who is in Berlin': I begin to think that is the German
paternoster.  I left Schwab at Vienna; he was going to
sell his camera.  He has a great admiration for you,
Mr. Jack, but he is filled with regret that he never had an
opportunity of doing business for Schlagintwert with that
chief of brigands—how did he call himself?"

"Ah Lum.  By the way, I forgot to tell you that when
we landed at Southampton I found a letter awaiting me
from him; it had been forwarded from Shanghai, and got
here first owing to our little tour in Japan.  It explains
how Sowinski was able to reach Sakhalin."

He handed Ah Lum's letter to the Frenchman.  Brin
read it carefully, and with much gravity.  It was as
follows:—

.. vspace:: 2

.. class:: noindent white-space-pre-line

From my camp above Tu-men-tzü,
    First Sunday after Trinity.

.. vspace:: 1

Honoured Sir,

.. vspace:: 1

A man's manners, says the Sage T'ai Ping-fu, are to be
measured by his intentions.  If therefore your servant, greatly
deploring his ignorance of your honourable language, write
through another hand, I pray you will not charge him with
want of courtesy; does not the poet say "Respect is the
corner-stone of friendship"?  Nor will you, honoured sir, be
other than indulgent if this letter should seem to have been
unduly delayed in the writing.  Even as a pearl is not to be
found in every oyster, so is it rare among our literati to meet
a scholar learned in the barbaric tongues.  Such a one I have
now discovered in the writer of this letter, Mr. Chang Fu-sing,
whose late return from the august University at Oxford was
duly reported by my agents at Ma-en-ho-kai.  [*Lincoln College:
3rd class Mods., aegrotat Mod. Hist.  Chang Fu-sing, B.A. Oxon.*]
Him I secured by night for the trifling loss of five men.  [*My
nose abraded; one eye bunged up.  Ch. F.-s., B.A.Oxon.*]
Trifling, for rarity—and the need of the purchaser—are the true
measures of value.  To the starving man a crust outweighs
a viceroy's ransom.

Since the auspicious day when your honour's never-to-be-forgotten
assistance enabled our troops to reach the shelter of
these mountains, the insolent Russians—may their graves be
defiled!—[*Idiom="Ruin seize thee!"  Cf. Gray, "The Bard",
i. 1. Ch. F.-s., B.A. Oxon.*]—have not dared to molest your
unworthy servant.  For, as the ineffable T'ai Ping-fu says, the
bird that has once escaped the net is hard indeed to snare.  But,
again, as Wang Wei reminds us to our profit in his *Essay on
Military Matters*, small reverses, by inspiring caution, may
benefit an army, even as small successes may lead through
saucy confidence to humiliation.  After a little affair
otherwise unworthy of your august attention, the two prisoners,
Bekovitch and Sowinski, were found to have absented
themselves from our custody.  As the proverb goes, Only a fool
expects courtesy from a hog.

Yet, as Li T'ai-poh harmoniously says:

   |  When stings the Bee, and Pain is keen, then shouldst thou
   |      think of Honey;
   |  Wise Men seek Good in every Ill, yea, e'en in Loss of Money.

[*The versification is mine.  Competitor: Newdigate Verse.
Ch. F.-s., B.A. Oxon.*]  After consulting the works of Tu Fu, I
found that, the sunshine of your honour's presence being
withdrawn, it was allowable to return to our ancestral usages in
matters relating to the treatment of prisoners and criminals.  If
in this my judgment was in error, I must beg your honour's
clemency; for are we not taught by P'an T'ang-shên that in
defending a friend from calumny all measures are laudable?  It
may suffice to say that some days before his escape, the Pole,
kneeling on hot chains, was induced to confess his crimes; these
were duly inscribed by him in the Russian tongue and signed.
Thereafter his partner in guilt, who had shown more obduracy,
even resisting our most approved means of persuasion,
acknowledged his many wickednesses, among them the preparation of
forged papers secretly introduced by a menial into the writing-cabinet
of your honour's august father.  True is it, as the Sage
says, "Fear rather a faithless servant within the gates than a
hundred enemies without", or, as the more homely proverb
warns us, A worm at the root will bring the noblest oak to
earth.

But calamity treads hard upon the heels of the wicked.  Witness
the fate of the Russian—may his posterity be cut off!  [*Idiom="A
murrain on thee!"  Cf. Shakespeare, "The Tempest",
iii. 2. 88. Ch. F.-s., B.A. Oxon.*]  By sure hands your unworthy servant
brought his confession beneath the eyes of the barbarian
commander-in-chief.  He is blind indeed who cannot see the length
of his nose.  My agents now inform me that the evil-doer is
stripped of his offices, and of the emoluments thereto
pertaining; as our saying goes, he has lost his buttons.  His
fellow-criminal has evaded my most diligent enquiries.  But him
also Justice pursues with sharpened sword, resting not by night
neither by day.

Quantum suff.  Though our lives be henceforth as two rivers
flowing east and west, the recollection of past favours will be
with me, honoured sir, as a plant in perennial bloom.  What
says P'an T'ang-shên?—"A man should find as much joy in the
remembrance of a friend as though his worst enemy were to boil
in oil."

My son, who is now under the tutorial charge of Mr. Chang
Fu-sing—[*purely honorary—no pay.  Ch. F.-s., B.A. Oxon.*]—adds,
as in duty bound, his humble respects.

Permit me, honoured sir, to subscribe myself

.. vspace:: 1

.. class:: noindent white-space-pre-line

Your most grateful obedient Servant,
    AH LUM.

P.S.—May I venture once more to commend the works of Li
T'ai-poh to your august attention?

.. vspace:: 2

"Thanks!" said Brin, handing the letter back.  "I am
ver' much interested.  The English is good, hein?  In the
idiom of Oxford?  Permit me to make a copy for my book
that will appear at early date, *L'Ascension de la Chine*."

Meanwhile Humphrey Brown had gone to the window,
and stood with his hands in his pockets looking into the
crowded street.  A cab rattled up to the door of the hotel.

"I say," said Humphrey, "here's a funny old guy.
Come and look, Agnes."

"I prefer to listen to the conversation," said Agnes, a
self-possessed girl of thirteen.

"All right, grumps!  But it would make you laugh.
He's coming into the hotel.  My eye!"

Not two minutes later the door opened, and there
entered a portly figure in light-striped flannels; a pink
cummerbund showing beneath the vest; gold-rimmed
eyeglasses fixed somewhat awry on his broad nose.  He
stood at the door for a moment to choose his table.

"By George!" exclaimed Jack, springing up; "it's
Schwab himself."

He went towards the door.

"Good-evening, Herr Schwab!" he said, holding out his hand.

The German turned and stared.

"Ach!  I haf not ze honour, unless—who do you
rebresent, sir?"

Jack smiled.  Schwab instantly seized him by the hand.

"Du meine Güte!  I abologize.  I know you now.
Nefer before did I see you in ze evenink dress.  How are
you, how are you, how are you?"

"Jolly glad to see you," said Jack.  "Come and be
introduced to my father, and mother, and the rest.  You
know Brin.  We were talking of you only a minute ago."

The introductions were made.  Humphrey turned away
to hide his laughter at the German's elephantine bows.

"I abologize to ze ladies for my so unbecoming
addire, but ven I egsblain zat I haf shust gome from ze
station——"

"Say no more," said Mr. Brown.  "Very unfortunate
I couldn't meet you in Moukden, Mr. Schwab."

"Ach ja!  Bermit me to ask, haf you seen ze evenink baber?"

"Not yet."

"Vell, I haf vun.  I bought it at ze station; ze baber
boys zey should be made to keep change.  I haf only a
benny, ze boy he haf no ha'bny—I muss vait five minutes
till anozer gustomer arrive.  Zat is not business.  Ven I
read ze baber, I see a baragraph vat I zink interess you.
I read to you.  'It is announced from St. Betersburg
zat ze rebresentations of ze British ambassador in regard
to ze extraordinary case of Mr. Brown of Moukden haf at
last been crowned viz success, and orders haf been issued
for Mr. Brown's immediate release.'  Zere is somezink I
do not understan', since already Mr. Brown is here."

"Ah!  You're not a diplomat, Mr. Schwab," said Mr. Brown,
laughing.  "It is a little funny to know that three
months after my escape, and when Sakhalin is in possession
of the Japanese, I am graciously permitted to regain my
liberty."

Jack gave Herr Schwab a brief account of the final
scenes of his quest.

"Zen for how much is your claim?" asked Schwab of
Mr. Brown at the conclusion of the story.

"What claim?"

"Vy, your claim for gombensation—for intellectual and
moral damage.  Business are business.  As business man,
I advise downright zumping big claim."

"Well, Mr. Schwab, I've been turning over the matter,
and really I think I'll let things alone.  You see, Sowinski
is dead, poor wretch! and Bekovitch is degraded, and if
the account were properly adjusted, and Jack's damage to
the Siberian railway put on the debit side, the balance
might turn out against us after all."

"Ach! zat is anozer matter—ja! you muss gonsider ze
balance-sheet.  Zat is business."

"You are still in business?" said Jack.

"I am in business forever.  It is ze bress of my nostrils.
Vargorresbondencephotography, zat is not business; it
do not bay egsbenses.  I am now in beacephotography.
I gome here, rebresentative of Schlagintwert, to make
bicturebostcardphotographs of ze French and English
entente.  And zen I return to ze Baltic to make
photograph of our Kaiser ven he velgome ze British fleet."

"Hé!" cried Brin with a chuckle.  "Welcome!  It
must be snap-shot—prestissimo!  When your Kaiser
welcome the British fleet there will need a good camera,
and exposure—one-millionth second.  Ho! ho!"

Later in the evening Schwab took Jack confidentially aside.

"Mr. Brown, my frient, I have somezink to say.  It
has been gonfided to me zat you gondemblate a gondract."

"A contract, Herr Schwab?"

Schwab guffawed.

"Zat is my shoke—a madrimonial gondract."

"Who has been telling you that?"

"Ah, I haf it in gonfidence from your sister.  Already
is she a frient.  She tell everybody in gonfidence."

"Then you can contradict it in confidence, Herr Schwab.
There is no foundation—that is to say, nothing is settled."

Schwab looked sly.

"No, not settled, of course—but gondemblated."

"Really, Herr Schwab!——"

"Yes, yes, I understan'.  Shust so.  I also have affair
of ze heart."  He sighed deeply.  "I can symbazise.  But
viz me it is different.  You are lucky dog—ze Fräulein
Walewska is kind; vile I am in ze depss of desbair:
Madame Bottle—ach, she is gruel.  I sigh, she smile;
I groan, she laugh; I even make bresentation, she decline
vizout zanks.  Ah!  Mr. Brown, you do not know vat it is
to be gross in lov."

Jack looked as sympathetic as he could, while Herr
Schwab, laying his hand lightly on his waistcoat-buttons,
continued lugubriously:

"Ach, truly it is a terrible zink to lov vizout return.  It
break ze heart; it shpoil ze digestion;—it is bad for
business.  No longer can I gif sole attention to ze interest of
Schlagintwert.  Vy, it is only a few days since I take order
from Robinson & Robinson in London; yesterday Schlagintwert
return ze order.  Vat haf I written?—'Subbly Mrs. Bottle,
68 Crutched Friars, London, 50 casks botato
shbirit, last quotation, f.o.b. Hamburg.'  Zere is fipence
vaste in bostages.  Zat show you!"

"Yes, very amusing," said Jack absently.  Gabriele had
just come in with Mrs. Brown, and Jack was on thorns
lest the German's by no means gentle voice should reach
the ladies.

"Amusink!" cried Schwab.  "Schlagintwert do not see
ze shoke.  Vy——"

"Of course, I meant annoying.  But, Herr Schwab, if
you will——"

"Yes, yes," said Schwab, noticing how Jack's eyes
strayed to the other end of the room, and how he
fidgeted with his watch-chain.  "Yes, I see.  Only vun
moment, Mr. Brown.  Ze business I shboke of.  Already
I mention it to ze young lady——"

"Upon my word, Herr Schwab!—

"Vait, I egsblain.  Zere is nozink fix—not nozink at
all.  Ze Fräulein vill say nozink.  She blush; zen she ask
me to tell her about my ancestor, Hildebrand Suobensius.
But zis is business."

"Well, what is it, Herr Schwab?"

"It is an obbortunity—an obbortunity for Schlagintwert
and for yourself.  Our firma establish a new branch—bon-bons,
gonfectionery.  Zey vish to open accounts in zis
gountry: you understan'?"

"Understand?—what?"

"Vy, zis—here is ze obbortunity.  Schlagintwert zey
require advertisement: zey shall make you ze
vedding-gake—*costprice*!"

.. vspace:: 2

About six weeks later, Mr. Brown was looking over his
copy of the *Shanghai Mercury* which had come by the
morning post.

"Here, Jack," he said, "this paragraph will interest you."

Jack took the paper, and read:

.. vspace:: 2

"One of the results of the treaty of peace recently signed
between Russia and Japan is that the famous brigand, Ah
Lum, has been summoned to Pekin.  The military ability he
displayed in his operations in northern Manchuria has been
recognized by his appointment to a high post in the Board of
Civil Office."

.. vspace:: 2

There is shortly to be started, in Hong-Kong, a new
firm of produce brokers under the style of Brown, Son, &
Co.  Brown we know; Son we know; Co. at present
consists of Mr. Hi An-tzu.  Whether it will by and by include
Mr. Hi Lo-ch'u depends on that young man's business
aptitude: Son thinks it very probable.  Brown is to be
the sleeping, or as he prefers to put it, the consulting
partner.  Son will manage the London house; while
Mr. Hi in Hong-Kong will open accounts with respectable
Manchurian farmers, of whom one will undoubtedly be
Mr. Wang.

Some of Brown's friends took him to task for lifting his
former compradore from his lowly station to the equality
of partnership.  To their remonstrance Brown replied with
a morsel of political philosophy.

"It's all very well," he said, "to sneer at the 'heathen
Chinee', and look upon him as fit for nothing better than
to smoke your opium and do your work in South African
mines.  Believe me, John Chinaman is not so very heathen;
and he is waking up: and when he does move he will
hustle.  For myself, I prefer a colleague to a competitor."

What Brown thinks to-day his business friends generally
think to-morrow.





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`*Glossary*`:

.. class:: center large bold

   Glossary

.. vspace:: 2

C=Chinese, P=Pidgin-English, R=Russian.  The Chinese
substitute *l* for *r*, and add the terminations *-ee*, *-um*, and
*-lo* to many words.

.. vspace:: 2

*ach* (R), oh, ah.

.. vspace:: 1

*allo* (P), all, every.

.. vspace:: 1

*artel* (R), a society of workers formed on co-operative principles.

.. vspace:: 1

*barin* (R), lord, gentleman.

.. vspace:: 1

*batiushki* (R) = By Jove!

.. vspace:: 1

*belongey* (P), often equivalent simply to the verb to be.

.. vspace:: 1

*bimeby* (P), by and by, afterwards.

.. vspace:: 1

*bobbely* (P), noise, uproar.

.. vspace:: 1

*bottom-side* (P), down, below.

.. vspace:: 1

*bozhe moï* (R), good heavens!

.. vspace:: 1

*cash* (C), small copper coins carried on strings.

.. vspace:: 1

*catchee* (P), to get, have.

.. vspace:: 1

*ch'hoy* (P), an exclamation.

.. vspace:: 1

*chop-chop* (P), quickly.

.. vspace:: 1

*chow-chow* (P), food.

.. vspace:: 1

*Chunchuse* (more strictly *Hunhutze*: C), literally red-beard:
the name given to the organized bandits of Manchuria.

.. vspace:: 1

*compradore* (Portuguese), superintendent of a European's
native staff.

.. vspace:: 1

*da* (R), an exclamation; literally "yes!"

.. vspace:: 1

*droshky* (R), single-horse carriage.

.. vspace:: 1

*dushenka* (R), little soul: a term of endearment.

.. vspace:: 1

*-ee*, a pidgin-English termination.

.. vspace:: 1

*eka* (R), an exclamation: "there now!"

.. vspace:: 1

*Fa-lan-sai* (P), French.

.. vspace:: 1

*fangtse* (C), cottage.

.. vspace:: 1

*fan-kwei* (C), foreign devil.

.. vspace:: 1

*fan-tan* (C), a game: the players stake on the remainder when
an unknown number of cash is divided by 4.

.. vspace:: 1

*fan-yun* (C), foreigner.

.. vspace:: 1

*feng-shui* (C), the geomantic influences of the earth,
determining the luckiness or unluckiness of places.

.. vspace:: 1

*first-chop* (P), best, excellently.

.. vspace:: 1

*flend* (P), friend.

.. vspace:: 1

*fo'* (P), four, for.

.. vspace:: 1

*folin* (P), foreign.

.. vspace:: 1

*galaw* (P), a common exclamation.

.. vspace:: 1

*gorodovoi* (R), policeman.

.. vspace:: 1

*gospodin* (R), sir.

.. vspace:: 1

*gráf* (R), count

.. vspace:: 1

*he* (P), he, she, it, they, him, her.

.. vspace:: 1

*Ingoua* (C), English.

.. vspace:: 1

*kopeck* (R), silver or copper coin: 100 kopecks make 1 rouble.

.. vspace:: 1

*kow-tow* (P), to bow humbly.

.. vspace:: 1

*li* (C), a Chinese mile: about one-third of an English mile.

.. vspace:: 1

*ling-ch'ih* (C), capital punishment by slicing.

.. vspace:: 1

*littee* (P), little.

.. vspace:: 1

*look-see* (P), look, examine.

.. vspace:: 1

*lowdah* (P), captain of a junk.

.. vspace:: 1

*Lusski* (P), Russian.

.. vspace:: 1

*mafoo* (C), groom.

.. vspace:: 1

*makee* (P), make, do.

.. vspace:: 1

*Melican* (P), American.

.. vspace:: 1

*moujik* (R), peasant.

.. vspace:: 1

*muchee* (P), very.

.. vspace:: 1

*my* (P), I, me, my, mine.

.. vspace:: 1

*nichalnik* (R), station-master.

.. vspace:: 1

*no can do* (P), cannot.

.. vspace:: 1

*nu* (R), well!

.. vspace:: 1

*numpa* (P), number: numpa one, first-rate.

.. vspace:: 1

*och* (R), oh!

.. vspace:: 1

*one-tim'* (P), once.

.. vspace:: 1

*ph'ho* (C), an exclamation.

.. vspace:: 1

*pidgin* (P), business: pidgin-English, English as spoken
by Chinese at the ports.

.. vspace:: 1

*piecee* (P), used with numerals: *one piecee man*\=a or one man.

.. vspace:: 1

*ping-ch'wahn* (C), gunboat.

.. vspace:: 1

*plopa* (P), proper: allo plopa, all right.

.. vspace:: 1

*rouble* (R), the standard money (paper) of Russia: ten
roubles=a British sovereign.

.. vspace:: 1

*samovar* (R), tea-urn.

.. vspace:: 1

*sampan* (C), a Chinese punt.

.. vspace:: 1

*savvy* (P), know, understand.

.. vspace:: 1

*side* (P), place, direction: this-side, here; that-side, there;
what-side, where.

.. vspace:: 1

*so-fashion* (P), in that way.

.. vspace:: 1

*suttingly* (P), certainly.

.. vspace:: 1

*tael* (C), a coin (rarely seen) worth 6s. 6d.

.. vspace:: 1

*that-side* (P), there.

.. vspace:: 1

*that-tim'* (P), then.

.. vspace:: 1

*this-side* (P), here, hither.

.. vspace:: 1

*tim'* (P), time.

.. vspace:: 1

*tinkee* (P), think.

.. vspace:: 1

*Toitsche* (P), *i.e.* Deutsche, German.

.. vspace:: 1

*too* (P), very.

.. vspace:: 1

*topside* (P), above, superior; in the head.

.. vspace:: 1

*troika* (R), three-horsed vehicle.

.. vspace:: 1

*verst* (R), two-thirds of English mile.

.. vspace:: 1

*vodka* (R), brandy made of barley.

.. vspace:: 1

*wailo* (P), away, to go away, run away.

.. vspace:: 1

*wantchee* (P), to want.

.. vspace:: 1

*what-for* (P), why.

.. vspace:: 1

*what-side* (P), where.

.. vspace:: 1

*what-tim'* (P), when.

.. vspace:: 1

*yamen* (C), mandarin's residence and office: yamen-runners,
equivalent to English bailiffs, but a very inferior class.

.. vspace:: 1

*yinkelis* (P), English.

.. vspace:: 4

.. class:: center white-space-pre-line

   \*      \*      \*      \*      \*      \*      \*      \*

.. vspace:: 4

.. class:: center x-large bold white-space-pre-line

   The Light Brigade
   in Spain

.. class:: center medium

   or

.. class:: center large bold

   The Last Fight of Sir John Moore

.. class:: center large bold

   By Herbert Strang

.. class:: center small

   Author of "Tom Burnaby," etc.

.. class:: center medium

   With a Preface by Lieut.-Col. WILLOUGHBY VERNER.

.. class:: center medium

*Illustrated by William Rainey, R.I.  12mo.  $1.50*

.. vspace:: 2

"In 'Boys of the Light Brigade' Mr. Strang draws upon the
resources of the Peninsular War, and succeeds in extracting much
freshness from well-worn themes, as Moore's retreat to Corunna and
the heroic defence of Saragossa.  The personal interest of the story
is kept at a high tension....  It is a book which no boy will
be able to put down when once started.  The volume is provided
with excellent maps and plans of the scenes in which the incidents
take place."—*The Standard*.

"This author has fairly earned the right to be accepted as the
legitimate successor of the late George A. Henty in furnishing
entertainment for youth.  Like Henty, Strang manages to galvanize
the dry bones of history into a close semblance of glorious life....
The present volume contains vivid and spirited descriptions
of campaign life in Spain ... with many rare and
interesting episodes....  This is good reading for young and
old."—*Chicago Post*.

"The author describes graphically with truth to history the last
fight of the British commander, Sir John Moore.  It is a stirring
military story in the manner of those written by the late George
A. Henty, but really with more authenticity."—*Philadelphia Press*.

"An interesting story, with extra good measure in its incidents
and character ... and with some pretty little love
passages."—*Cleveland Leader*.

.. vspace:: 3

.. class:: center bold x-large

KOBO

.. class:: center bold large

Story of the Russo-Japanese War

.. class:: center bold large

By HERBERT STRANG

.. class:: center medium

Author of "The Light Brigade in Spain," etc.

.. class:: center medium

*Illustrated by William Rainey, R.I.  12mo, $1.50*

.. vspace:: 2

"It is a dashing romance for boys, founded on the Russo-Japanese
War and worthy of the late Mr. Henty at his best.  A
story that every schoolboy will enjoy and one that will be read
with much pleasure and profit by many older readers as
well."—*Cleveland Leader*.

"The story throughout bristles with adventures, it is well
written and the author shows intimate knowledge of Japanese
character and customs."—*San Francisco Bulletin*.

"In one respect Mr. Strang's tale is even better than many
of the late G. A. Henty's.  It has more dash and dialogue.
These are strong points in the work of this writer, who is
destined to fill the place vacated by the lamented author of
'Under Drake's Flag,' and 'With Clive in India.'"—*The
Dundee Advertiser*.

"For vibrant actuality there is nothing to come up to
Mr. Strang's 'Kobo.'"—*The Academy*.

"A great amount of actual military history is incorporated
with an exciting and romantic plot."—*The Westminster
Gazette*.

.. vspace:: 3

.. class:: center bold x-large

   The Adventures

.. class:: center bold medium

   of

.. class:: center bold x-large

   Harry Rochester

.. class:: center bold large white-space-pre-line

   A Tale of the Days of
   Marlborough and Eugene

.. class:: center bold medium

   By

.. class:: center bold large

   HERBERT STRANG

.. class:: center medium

   Author of "Kobo," "Light Brigade in Spain," etc.

.. class:: center medium

   *Illustrated by William Rainey, R.I.  12mo.  $1.50*

.. vspace:: 2

"A story full of thrilling adventure."—*Newark Advertiser*.

"Mr. Strang is a follower of Henty in writing adventurous
historical romances for boys, and does his work with even more
spirit and vim.  This tale gives a good picture of the wars of
Marlborough and William of Holland against the French, with a
clever and courageous boy hero."—*Congregationalist and Christian
World*.

"Three such successes as Mr. Strang has now achieved definitely
establish his position and should fully reassure those who
despondingly wondered when and where a worthy successor to Mr. Henty
would appear."—*Glasgow Herald*.

"Mr. Henty's mantle may worthily be worn by Mr. Herbert
Strang."—*Truth*.

"Told with a dash and vigor which mark him as Henty's natural
successor."—*Notts Guardian*.

.. vspace:: 3

.. class:: center bold

   By ELBRIDGE S. BROOKS

.. vspace:: 2

Historic Boys.  Their Endeavors, Their Achievements and
Their Times.  With 29 full-page illustrations.
8vo, pp. viii + 259.

.. vspace:: 2

Historic Girls.  Stories of Girls Who Have Influenced the
History of Their Times.  8vo, illustrated, pp. viii + 225.


.. vspace:: 2

Chivalric Days and Youthful Deeds.  Stirring Stories,
presenting faithful pictures of historic times.  Illustrated,
8vo.  $1.25


.. vspace:: 2

Heroic Happenings.  Told in Verse and Story.
Illustrated, 8vo.  $1.25


.. vspace:: 2

Great Men's Sons.  Stories of the Sons of Great Men from
Socrates to Napoleon.  Fully illustrated, 8vo.  $1.25

.. vspace:: 1

Including the Sons of Socrates, Alexander, Cicero, Marcus
Aurelius, Mahomet, Charlemagne, Alfred, William the
Conqueror, Saladin, Dante, Tamerlane, Columbus, Luther,
Shakespeare, Cromwell, Peter the Great, Napoleon.


.. vspace:: 2

The Long Walls.  An American Boy's Adventures in Greece.
A Story of Digging and Discovery, Temples and Treasures.
By E. S. Brooks and John Alden.  Illustrated by George
Foster Barnes.  8vo.   $1.25

.. vspace:: 3

.. class:: center large bold

New York—G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS—London

.. vspace:: 4

.. class:: center large bold

   By HERBERT STRANG

.. vspace:: 2

.. class:: noindent

The Adventures of Harry Rochester: A
Tale of the Days of Marlborough and Eugene.

.. vspace:: 1

.. class:: noindent

The Light Brigade in Spain; or, The Last
Fight of Sir John Moore.

.. vspace:: 1

.. class:: noindent

Kobo.  A Story of the Russo-Japanese War.

.. vspace:: 1

.. class:: noindent

Brown of Moukden.  A Story of the Russo-Japanese War.

.. vspace:: 6

.. pgfooter::
