Unnoticed by Bob, Ethel had now returned, carrying a tin can belonging

to Ah-Sam filled with water. She said a few words to Mrs. Pottle, and

that lady at once came forward.

"Now, sir, will you allow me to attend to your foot? You cannot go on

like that. Kindly take off your shoe."

Mrs. Pottle's manner was not to be denied. In a few minutes she had

deftly bandaged the wounded foot, winning a very courtly speech of

thanks. Then Kobo was given one of the led horses, and the whole party

moved forward, taking care to avoid the risk of being seen on the

skyline. As they rode, Bob gave Kobo an account of his experiences since

they had parted at the hut some ten days before, and Mrs. Pottle found

an opportunity not only to praise Bob's skill and resourcefulness, but

also to enquire into the circumstances in which Kobo San had met her

late husband, Mr. Isidore G. Pottle.

The course of the party was now due east, parallel with the Yalu.

Sing-Cheng was anxious to strike the river at a ford known to him,

several miles above Wiju. It was not likely to be held in strength by

the Russians unless the Japanese were close up to the river, which

seemed improbable. It might be guarded by a small detachment; in that

case the whole party must be prepared to make a rush and take their

chance. In the evening they met two Manchu peasants, whom they eagerly

questioned in the hope of obtaining definite information; but nothing

could be got from them. Kobo suggested that as a precaution it would be

advisable to keep these peasants with them. Accordingly they were forced

to accompany the party during the rest of their march.

At dark they encamped in the hills within about two miles of the ford.

No fire was lighted, and the utmost silence was enjoined. Bob did what

he could for the comfort of the ladies, who showed wonderful pluck and

spirit under the long strain they were enduring. Double guards were

posted to provide against the chance of surprise during the night. The

repose of the camp was undisturbed. Nevertheless Bob was very anxious.

He walked restlessly around the camp, listening, peering, reflecting.

Kobo insisted on taking his share of duty, allowing Bob to snatch a

little sleep. He too was restless, and appeared frequently to strain

his ears in the attitude of closest attention. Mrs. Pottle and Ethel

slept soundly through the night--for the first time, they said, since

their flight from Mukden. The knowledge that Korea was now so near at

hand had given them renewed hope of at length reaching safety, and,

great as was their confidence in Bob, they seemed to have gained

additional assurance from the presence of Kobo, whom Ethel in particular

looked at with admiration and awe.

During those hours of darkness, in a depression of the hills little more

than a mile away, lay Chang-Wo, with four hundred of his Manchu braves.

Only the accident of a convenient camping-ground had led him to halt

just in time to miss discovering the fugitives' camp. Even now an

incautious shout, a flicker of light, an accidental shot sounding in the

still air of these mountain solitudes, would bring him down upon his

quarry like a beast of prey. Neither Bob nor Kobo so much as suspected

the proximity of this ruthless foe; yet his presence was reflected in

their strange uneasiness.

In the dark hours before dawn, Bob and Kobo discussed the situation with

the brigand chief. All were agreed that if the ford was to be rushed it

must be as soon as day broke. About an hour before sunrise, therefore,

the camp was roused in complete silence, and the party moved cautiously

towards the Yalu. The same order of march was observed as had held

since their departure from the gully, except that Bob and Ah-Sam now

rode in front with Sing-Cheng, leaving the ladies in Kobo's care. For

half an hour they marched on; then Bob, whose anxiety increased as they

drew nearer to the river, suggested that two or three should go forward

on foot in advance of the rest, to make sure that the coast was clear.

On second thoughts he decided to go himself in company with Ah-Sam and

the chief. He informed Kobo of his intention. The Japanese at once

assented, and said that he would halt the party until Bob returned.

The three then stole forward. The sky to their left was just faintly

alit with the dawn when they heard the rush of water before them.

Following the track which the chief knew well, they came at length to

the river, at a point about half a mile below the ford. There was not

yet light enough to reconnoitre farther without danger; they therefore

took shelter behind a clump of bush and waited for a few minutes. Then

they went forward again, with still greater caution, all their faculties

alert.

Almost immediately an alarming surprise broke upon them. A few yards

beneath them they saw a Russian outpost. A little farther on, encamped

near the bank of the river, was a large Russian force, consisting

chiefly of cavalry, but including several infantry regiments, and a

still larger force occupied the farther bank. Nothing but the fact that

the Russians feared no enemy behind them had saved Bob's party from

falling into their hands. Even now it was only too clear that the

fugitives' case was desperate. It was hopeless to attempt the ford.

With some thousands of Russians on each side of the river, scouting

parties would doubtless be out in all directions. The presence of

Russians in such force seemed to indicate that they were being driven

across the Yalu by the advance of the Japanese, so that it would be

impossible to get over the river lower down. On the high road through

Wiju, moreover, the main body of the Russian army was probably in full

retreat. Russians would be swarming in all directions. What was to be

done? The chief looked at Bob with dismay. Had they come so far only

to be captured after all?

"Let us go back to the others," said Bob quietly.

Kobo received the bad news with the calmness that characterized him. He

put a few sharp questions to Sing-Cheng, then turning to Bob said:

"There is another ford, he says, higher up the river. He knows the path

to it. It is difficult, more precipitous even than the one by which we

have come. But we must take the risk. I advise, however, that the

ladies should go forward under escort, and claim the protection of the

Russians. Among so large a force they would enjoy a security that could

not be expected in the case of the small party with Chang-Wo's band."

Bob looked round. The ladies were at a little distance. Both showed

signs of the hardships they had recently endured. Mrs. Pottle was

thinner; her cheeks were lined and careworn; the aggressiveness of her

attitude had quite disappeared. Her niece was not so much altered; but

Bob had noticed with anxiety the growing paleness of her fair cheeks,

the strained look in her eyes. He went up to the two, and in a few

words explained the difficulties of the situation, concluding with the

recommendation that they should follow Kobo's advice. For a few moments

Mrs. Pottle wavered; she looked at Ethel with a tremulousness all the

more pathetic because so foreign to her.

"Auntie," said Ethel, "I think we ought to remain with Mr. Fawcett. I

am sure we shall get through. We are nearly there. What a pity to give

up at the last!"

"Yes," returned the elder lady emphatically, "you are right. It is good

of you, Mr. Fawcett, but we cannot hear of it. We won't be bundled over

to the Russians. We are ready to go with you: when will you start?"

*CHAPTER XIX*

*Sound and Fury*

Across the Yalu--Kobo gives Counsel--A Monastery--A Buddhist

Settlement--Big Bobbely--An Attack at Dusk--A Pyrrhic

Victory--Boanerges--A Despatch--"A Terrible Curse"

In a few minutes the whole party set off to retrace their steps, riding

for a short distance over their tracks, then striking off in a new

direction under the leadership of Sing-Cheng. But the difficulties of

the march were even greater than the man had indicated. At almost every

step the party were confronted by a new danger. The path was so rugged

that riding was impossible. All had to dismount and lead their horses.

A single false step might carry horse and pedestrian over the edge of a

precipice and dash them to pieces hundreds of feet below. Bob thought

his hair would have turned white with the anxiety of watching over the

ladies, guiding them at every turn, diverting their attention whenever

the path led over more than usually dizzy eminences. They struggled on

with heroic determination; and Bob spared them the knowledge that before

the day was out two of the Chunchuses in the long line had missed their

footing and fallen headlong to their death.

Struggling on painfully, the party covered nearly twenty miles that day,

encamping at nightfall on the north bank of the river. The chief was

eager to cross by the ford at once, but Bob was unwilling to risk the

dangers of a crossing in the darkness, and without having assured

himself that the Russians were not here also. Before it was light he

stole down with Sing-Cheng to reconnoitre. There was no sign of the

enemy; and at daybreak the whole party started with unutterable gladness

to complete, as they hoped, the last stage of their journey.

Before they reached the river one of the Manchu peasants who had been

captured, seizing a favourable moment, felled the man in charge of him

and scrambled down an almost perpendicular declivity. A dozen shots

followed him before Bob could interfere to stop the fusillade. The

sound of the shots echoed and re-echoed over the hills; they must be

heard by any Russians who happened to be in the neighbourhood, and if

heard they would certainly bring the enemy upon the track. For several

miles Bob turned at intervals anxiously to look back; there was no sign

of pursuit. But, unknown to him, ten minutes after the unfortunate

incident a Manchu had galloped up to the spot where the firing had taken

place, and there, hidden behind a rock, had watched the disappearing

tail of the procession. His fierce eyes lit up as he looked. In a few

moments he was galloping back. The Manchu was Chang-Wo.

The cavalcade crossed the river. It was a question of the direction

they should take. There were probably Russians between them and the

Japanese lines, it would therefore be well for them to strike south-east

in order to give the enemy as wide a berth as possible. Bob pointed out

that this would probably cause the loss of a day; but Kobo replied that

he would rather lose one day, or even two, than run the risk of his

information never reaching General Kuroki. Bob noticed that the safety

of himself or of the party never entered into Kobo's calculations. With

him it was merely a weighing of advantages, with the sole consideration

how best his news might be delivered.

On the south side of the Yalu the fugitives saw on all hands traces of

the Russian occupation. Almost every village had been sacked and

burned; the country was for the most part deserted; the few Koreans who

were seen wandering in disconsolate helplessness about the sites of

their ruined homes scuttled away in terror when Bob's cavalcade

approached. They were evidently afraid lest the party should be a band

of raiders come to capture and destroy the little that the Russians had

left.

No precaution was neglected to save the party from coming upon the enemy

unawares. Pickets and supports were thrown out in front and rear, and

the pace was regulated by the careful reconnoitring of the advance

guard. The march continued for six or seven hours, and then was

interrupted by a short halt to rest and feed the horses. About one

o'clock, shortly after they had started again, one of the men in advance

galloped back with the news that he had seen a force of Cossacks

crossing the line of march from east to west about a mile ahead. Word

was at once given to halt again, in order to allow this body time to

pass out of sight. Bob, accompanied by Sing-Cheng and Ah-Sam, went

forward, and, taking his stand behind a rock so that he could not be

seen, looked out, and saw the troop of horsemen, plainly Cossacks by

their yellow facings, winding among the hills, apparently striking

across from Chen-seng, as the chief explained, higher up the river, to

Wiju. In a quarter of an hour they would have disappeared, and it would

be safe for the fugitives to continue their advance.

Bob was just returning with this good news to his party, when he was met

by a messenger hastening to tell him that a large force of cavalry had

been seen coming up behind, and were at the present moment no more than

two miles away. He put his horse to a gallop, debating within himself,

as he rode, what to do in face of this new emergency. For a moment he

felt oppressed by a sense of despair. The events of the past fortnight

had put a great strain upon him, and the present dilemma, coming at a

time when he had hoped that all was safe, was almost overmastering. But

collecting his thoughts he tried to look the situation squarely in the

face. If he pressed on, he ran the risk of bringing upon him the

Cossacks whom he had just seen out of harm's way. If he hesitated, he

must assuredly be overtaken by the cavalry behind, which in all

likelihood would turn out to be Chang-Wo's band. There was danger either

way. He had not made up his mind how to choose between the two

alternatives when he reached the rest of his party.

"What are we to do, sir?" he asked Kobo, after telling him of the

direction in which the Cossacks had disappeared.

"I advise an immediate advance," replied the Japanese, whose serenity

always had a bracing effect upon Bob. "If the Cossacks see us, they may

mistake us for Manchu allies of theirs. We shall at any rate be a mile

and a half farther on our way before they discover us; while if we wait

and allow the horsemen behind to overtake us there is bound to be

firing, the shots will bring the Cossacks down upon us, and we shall be

hemmed in between the two bands. In any case we must make up our minds

that both parties may chase us, but the Cossacks at any rate will not

carry the pursuit far, knowing as they must do that our army cannot be

far away."

The soundness of Kobo's advice was self-evident. The word was at once

given, the little party set off at a trot, and in a few minutes had

crossed the path of the Cossacks, easily discovered by the trampled

slush. Some time elapsed before they came in sight of the rear files of

the departing enemy. These had their backs to them, and the horses'

hoofs making little sound in the soft earth, the Cossacks rode on in

ignorance of the riders behind them. It was soon clear that no immediate

danger need be feared ahead. If Bob's party could elude the horsemen in

their rear they might yet make good their escape. Every step increased

their distance from the Cossacks, whose course they had cut at right

angles. As soon as it appeared that there was no risk of being heard,

Bob gave the order to gallop, in the hope that if they had not already

been sighted by the riders behind, they might either escape their notice

altogether or gain a sufficient lead to make pursuit vain.

But it was soon evident that the pursuit had already begun. Riding in

the rear of his party, Bob looked back at a point that promised a good

view of the country, and saw that the horsemen were urging their steeds

at a pace much more rapid than the horses of his own party were capable

of. Half an hour later he judged that they were only a mile away; in

another half-hour they might overtake him. Already some of his party

were beginning to drop behind; he knew what their fate must be if they

were overtaken by the enemy, and he rode up beside Kobo to consult him.

"We cannot go on much longer," he said. "Our horses are almost knocked

up after their hard work. It seems to me that our only chance is to

find some defensible position and make a stand."

"I agree with you, Mr. Fawcett," said Kobo. "To find such a position in

this country will not be easy. There are no gullies or defiles, as you

see. I have already asked the chief if he knows of any spot that we

could hold; he cannot help us. But we won't give up hope."

"No. And look, sir, I believe there is a chance after all."

He pointed eagerly to a rocky spur a little in front of them, somewhat

to the right. Following his outstretched forefinger, Kobo saw four

white-clad figures standing there, apparently watching the approaching

bodies of horse.

"Monks!" he said. "You are right; where there are monks there will

certainly be a monastery. Let us hope it is near at hand."

"There it is!" cried Bob; "farther up the hillside, among the trees. I

see the roof. We had better make for it."

Kobo assented, and Bob instantly swung round to the right, and began to

lead the party down the steep slope which separated the path from the

still steeper slope on which the monastery stood. As soon as the monks

saw his intention, they turned tail and began to scamper up towards the

building. Bob shouted to them, urging his tired horse in advance of his

party, scrambling as rapidly as possible over rocks and tangled shrubs,

and breasting the opposite hill. The more he shouted the faster ran the

monks. If they reached the monastery before him they might shut their

outer gates. Urging his horse still more vehemently with whip and voice

in an oblique direction to the path taken by the monks, he came to a

wall; the gateway was open; he dashed through into the courtyard up to

the main door of the temple enclosure just in time to thrust the handle

of his whip between the post and the door as the monks were shutting it

against him. Bringing his horse sideways to the door, he made the

animal push it open, though the monks did all in their power to keep it

shut. Other monks from within came to the assistance of their fellows,

but by this time Sing-Cheng with some of his men had reached Bob's side;

the monks were overwhelmed; Bob pushed his way in, followed by the rest

of his party, and the last man had only just come within the wall when

the foremost ranks of the enemy came surging up the hillside.

Bob shouted to Ah-Sam to conduct the ladies to a place of safety, then

ordered the men to dismount and line the wall that stretched across the

neck of the crag. Immediately afterwards he gave the command to fire,

and the volley emptied several saddles among the assailants. The

leading files halted indecisively, but the next moment a big Manchu,

whom Bob recognized even in the distance as Chang-Wo, dashed up the

slope on a fine white horse, and with yells of fury called on his men to

follow him. They responded with a shout, and galloped forward,

discharging their rifles. But the wall was too high for them to jump,

approaching, as they did, up a slope, and the movements of their horses

on the rough ground spoilt their aim. Bob saw that if his garrison

behaved with ordinary steadiness he could defeat any attempt at direct

storming, and he knew that since their defence of the gully his men had

lost whatever dread they might formerly have had of Chang-Wo and his

band. They fired again at the word of command; Chang-Wo himself was

powerless to hold his men together; they had all the disadvantages of

the position, and turning their horses' heads the survivors dashed down

the slope at the imminent risk of breaking their necks. Seeing that

nothing could be done, Chang-Wo, raving with baffled rage, followed

them, narrowly escaping a bullet from Kobo's rifle. The Japanese, whose

wounded foot prevented him from standing with the rest, had dragged

himself to the top of the wall when the enemy surged up, and fired at

them as calmly as at target practice. But he was so weak that he could

scarcely hold his rifle steady, and it was to this physical weakness

that Chang-Wo owed his escape.

Two or three minutes had been enough to decide the fight. The bodies of

twenty of Chang-Wo's men and several horses strewed the slope. Except

for two men with slight flesh wounds Bob's party had suffered no hurt.

Looking at the retreating enemy, Bob thought it unlikely that they would

make another attempt on the position for some hours to come. It was now

nearly dusk. He left a portion of his band at the wall to be on the

watch against the Manchus, who had now disappeared round the base of the

hill, then went to assist Kobo into the monastery, and to find out what

manner of place it was into which he and his party had thus

unceremoniously intruded.

It had evidently been at one time a very extensive settlement. Besides

the temple, a large rectangular structure of wood, with a tiled double

roof and curved eaves, there were several smaller buildings, the

dwelling-places of the abbot and monks; but the majority of these were

much dilapidated, only two or three being kept in repair. The temple

itself was richly decorated, with an elaborate altar ornamented with

beautiful carvings and a lavish display of gilt and colour, and several

figures representing various incarnations of Buddha. Everything was

spotlessly clean, showing evidence of reverent care on the part of the

white-robed monks.

Mrs. Pottle and her niece had been taken to the abbot's house, and when

Bob came to them the former was voluble in praise of the tidiness of her

surroundings. To find a roof over her head once more was sufficient

comfort in itself; but the abbot, as soon as he learnt from Kobo that he

had nothing to fear from this strange intrusion, had already shown great

attention to his visitors. Bob learnt that the inmates of the monastery

at present numbered sixteen, six of whom, however, had gone to a distant

town to purchase stores. They had been expected back all day, and it

was for them that the monks had been looking when Bob caught sight of

them so opportunely. If they arrived now they would find themselves shut

out; and the abbot, when he learnt that the leader of the besiegers was

none other than Chang-Wo, wrung his hands at the prospective fate of his

monks, for the Manchu was well known all over the country, and his name

struck terror into all who heard it.

Bob asked to be taken through the settlement. He was anxious to see

what possibilities of defence it afforded. Its size was a serious

consideration. The stone wall that ran for about ninety yards across

the neck of rocks was loose and crumbling, in some places ruinous,

having clearly been used as a passage-way instead of the main gate. The

spot was fortunately inaccessible from the rear, which was protected by

steep rocks; but in front, except for the clear space up which the

Manchus had made their futile charge, the hill-face was on both sides

dotted with chestnuts, pines, and other trees, together with a tangle of

immense ferns and shrubs, affording complete cover to the enemy if they

mustered courage for a planned attack.

In the course of his round, Bob learnt a very disconcerting fact. The

well on the crag from which the monastery had in old days been supplied

with water had failed for several years past. The monks were too poor

to dig a new one; too characteristically indolent also, as Bob surmised.

They were content to fetch their water as it was required from a

mountain stream that ran at the foot of the hill. At present, while

their stock of provisions was fairly large, they had only a few gallons

of water in their tanks. This news reminded Bob of the horses, who in

the excitement of the recent fight had been overlooked. After their

long march they were in urgent need of water, and Bob saw that it was

necessary to get a supply before the investment became stricter.

Questioning the abbot through Ah-Sam, he found that the stream could be

approached under cover of the trees, and there was just a chance, if the

enemy had retired to some distance round the bend of the hill, that a

quiet sortie for water might pass unobserved. He therefore, as a

preliminary precaution, sent three men down as scouts to discover what

the enemy were about.

While they were gone he returned to the abbot's house, and found that

Mrs. Pottle was making merry over the discovery of a gramophone of

immense size in one of the apartments. The abbot explained that the

instrument had been left in his charge some time before by a high Korean

official fleeing southwards before the Russian advance. He knew nothing

about its use; indeed, had left it severely alone; it looked to him a

good deal like an instrument of war, and was entirely out of place among

his peaceful community.

"He tinkum makee velly big bobbely," explained Ah-Sam.

"No doubt," said Bob to Mrs. Pottle with a smile. "He would probably

feel somewhat alarmed if he heard some of our popular music-hall songs

coming from the bell. I think we might respect his feelings, don't

you?"

"Why certainly, Mr. Fawcett. He seems a nice old gentleman, and it

would be a pity to shock him. But, my dear boy, what is to become of

us? Shall we ever get away from those horrid Manchus? I blame myself

now very much for not following your advice and throwing myself on the

mercy of the Russians, for without us women hampering you I am sure you

could have got away in safety."

"Never fear, we shall get through in time," said Bob. "We have Kobo San

with us now, and he is a tower of strength in himself."

"The very look of him gives me courage," added Ethel. "What a brave man

he must be! He has never complained once of his wounded foot, and I am

sure it must hurt him terribly."

"Yes; I am much interested in him," said Mrs. Pottle. "He is so close,

so silent; a strong man, if I am not mistaken. Where did you meet Mr.

Kobo?"

"I will tell you all about it--but here come my scouts," replied Bob.

"What have they discovered?"

He learnt that they had seen nothing of the enemy, save for half a dozen

whom they had noticed riding away to the south-west.

"Possibly to bring assistance," he thought, though on reflection that

seemed hardly the quarter in which help could be obtained. He sought

out Kobo, who was resting in one of the other houses, and asked his

opinion.

"No doubt they have been sent by Chang-Wo to be on the look-out against

the approach of a Japanese force. It is clear to me that Chang-Wo will

not retire without an attempt to reduce the monastery, especially as he

knows that I am here."

"But you think it would be possible to fetch water?"

"Certainly, if it can be done very quietly."

Bob at once went off to make the necessary arrangements. He first sent a

number of the Chunchuses down the hillside to a clump of trees on the

right, some distance below the wall, to cover the water-carriers and

take the Manchus in flank in the event of a sudden assault. Then, under

guidance of one of the monks, he himself with twenty men stole out to

the left. He stationed the men at equal distances apart down the slope,

then started six buckets along the line. As these were filled they were

passed up from hand to hand, and returned in the same way when empty to

be filled again. Within the walls the monks received the full buckets

as they arrived, and emptied them into a large tank behind the temple.

The work was done as quickly and quietly as possible, but every now and

then one of the men as he moved up the slope to the man above him struck

the edge of his bucket against a rock, causing a sound that could hardly

escape attentive ears. Such accidents could not be avoided, but at last

they occurred so frequently as the men grew tired that Bob thought it

time to make good a retreat. Just as he was giving the order, there was

an outburst of yells from lower down the slope, and some hundreds of

Manchus on foot came surging upwards. Seizing the muskets that lay

ready to their hands Bob's men made a break for the wall, the enemy only

a few yards behind them. From the Chunchuses in the clump of trees

there was a sharp discharge of musketry, but it was ineffectual to check

the rush, which had evidently been prepared with some skill, or the

movement could scarcely have been unobserved by Bob's scouts.

It was now nearly dark, and as the men of Bob's party scrambled in hot

haste over the wall they were in imminent danger of being shot down by

the excited garrison in mistake for Manchus. Bob was glad that he had

been able to leave in command so cool and experienced a warrior as Kobo.

As he vaulted over the low wall, pursued by a Manchu, he heard Kobo's

clear voice, incisive amid the tumult, addressing the Chunchuses in

their own tongue. Not a man of them fired his piece: it was clear that

Kobo had ordered them to await his command. At last, just as Bob,

unrecognized in the darkness, had followed the last of his men across

the wall, he heard Kobo give a sharp order. There was a rush of

Chunchuses to the wall; they had stood some paces back in order to allow

their comrades room to get across. Muskets and rifles flashed all along

the line; and the cries of wounded men mingled with shouts of rage and

defiance as the whole mass of the enemy swarmed up to the low

breastwork.

There was no time for the defenders to reload; the fading light barely

allowed man to see man; snatching up their long spears they stood

resolute to meet their foes. Seventeen of the men who went out with Bob

had returned in safety. For a few moments they were too breathless

after their scramble to take a hand in the fight; but with Ah-Sam's help

Bob collected them into a compact body and held them as a reserve. He

succeeded but just in time. Scarcely thirty yards away a mass of

yelling figures, led by a tall man armed with a bayonet, swept through a

gap in the wall. Others followed; the space beyond was choked with

advancing forms. With the instinct of seasoned warriors the Manchus

felt that at this point the defence was weak. Pointing to the furious

crowd, Bob, having learnt the word from Ah-Sam, ordered his men to fire.

There was a burst of flame; every shot told in the dense throng; and

while they were at a momentary recoil Bob led his men headlong into the

thick of the melee. He could never afterwards recall any details of the

ensuing fight. He only remembered Kobo limping at his side, the grunts

of the combatants, the reek of gunpowder, an occasional sigh or groan as

a man dropped to the ground, felled by the stock of a musket or

transfixed by a spear. But it was his charge that turned the scale in

the quarter where the attack was fiercest. Suddenly the pressure

relaxed; a tremor of panic seemed to pulse through the enemy's ranks;

and a moment later the space in front of the wall was clear of the

enemy.

He was almost inclined to rub his eyes, so sudden was the change. He

looked round for Kobo, but could not see him. His first feeling was one

of relief for the sake of the two ladies whose fortunes had been so

strangely linked with his own. But he could scarcely hope even now that

all danger from Chang-Wo and his ruffians was past. The accounts he had

had of that warrior gave him little expectation that even a third or

fourth rebuff would turn him from his purpose of vengeance. In the

silence that followed the repulse--a silence unbroken even by cheers

from the victors, for the men were exhausted--he wondered whether

another attack was immediately to be feared. He looked again for Kobo,

but in vain. Then he called up the chief and Ah-Sam, and told them to

place pickets down the hill to watch the enemy. The rest of the men he

bade to tend the wounded, among whom he feared that Kobo would be found.

It was now quite dark, but he hesitated to use torches, lest they should

draw the fire of the enemy and facilitate another assault. After some

minutes an exclamation from Ah-Sam announced that Kobo was found. He

was pinned to the ground beneath a huge Manchu. Bob had him carefully

lifted and carried to the abbot's house, where the ladies, who had

awaited the issue of the fight in nervous dread, were only too glad to

find relief for their emotions in active tendance. Kobo, unconscious

from a blow on the head, was placed in their hands. Under their care he

soon came round, but found himself unable to rise. The wound in his

foot had reopened through his recent exertions; it was clear that he

suffered great pain, but he was smiling when he said to Mrs. Pottle:

"Thank you, dear madam. I am a battered wreck, I fear, put hopelessly

out of action."

Kobo might still advise, but evidently the whole weight of the active

defence was now to fall on Bob. He went out to take stock of the

situation. He found that twelve of his men had been killed outright,

and twice as many wounded. Doubtless the Manchus had suffered far more

heavily, but their losses were unimportant, so greatly did they

outnumber the garrison. Another assault, pressed with anything like the

determination of the last, must drive the defenders from the wall into

the temple and the dwelling-houses, all flimsy wooden buildings useless

as fortresses against a greatly superior enemy. Yet Bob felt sure that

another attack would be made. Chang-Wo could not afford to wait. The

Japanese advanced-guard must be drawing ever nearer, and might come up

at any moment. The assault might not be made during the night--the

Manchus had painful experience of the perils of darkness--but it must

certainly be expected at dawn. With scarcely more than half his force

left, Bob felt that the wall must be abandoned. Was it possible in

morning light to do anything that would materially strengthen his

position?

Perplexed and almost despondent, he went back to the abbot's house to

consult Kobo. As he entered, it happened that the light from a small

oil-lamp was reflected in his face from the polished brass of the

gramophone. With its wide bell-shaped mouth projecting upwards it bore a

certain resemblance to a mortar. Bob was not surprised that the abbot

had mistaken it for a piece of ordnance, and he caught himself idly

wishing that it were indeed a heavy gun of some kind. Kobo saw his

look, and with a smile gave voice to Bob's unuttered thought.

"Unfortunately, it only discharges words," he said.

Bob stood stock-still. An idea had struck him--an idea that, even as

his intelligence seized on it, amused him by its whimsicality. Why not?

Before now, in the history of the world, a speech had proved more

effective than the heaviest artillery. Kobo and the ladies watched with

curiosity the changing expressions on his face.

"Where is the abbot?" he cried.

"My lun chop-chop find he," said Ah-Sam. It was some time before he

returned; he had found the venerable man prostrate before the high altar

in the temple, intoning with constant genuflection a formula of which

even he had no notion of the meaning--the mystic words Na-mu-Ami Tabul,

handed down through generations from the time when Buddhism was a

spiritual power. Ah-Sam had not dared to interrupt; he knew that the

abbot would not heed an interruption. Only when his prayers were

finished did the old man rise and accompany Ah-Sam, and Bob saw that his

eyes still bore the rapt, far-away look of devotion. A few questions

and answers passed; then Bob sent for Sing-Cheng and several of his men,

and asked them whether they had ever seen an instrument like the one

before them. They looked solemnly at the gramophone. Not one gave an

affirmative answer.

"Do they think Chang-Wo or any of his men has seen such a thing?" he

asked.

"He say no ting likum belongey this-side no tim'," interpreted Ah-Sam.

"Ask him whether one of his men has a fine loud voice and can curse

well."

"He say one piecee man hab got velly big loud sing-song; he one tim'

bonze, hab got sack cos he velly bad bonze, makee plenty too much

bobbely in joss-house. He can do swear first-chop: topside galaw!"

"The very man!" exclaimed Bob, unconscious of the broad smile with which

Kobo was now regarding him, or of the look of mystification on the faces

of the ladies. He got the chief to send for the whilom Buddhist priest

who had been expelled from his monastery. While waiting for the man to

appear he examined the gramophone; saw that it was in order and ready

for use; and found, as the abbot's reply to his questions had led him to

expect, that there were several spare cylinders for taking records. As

he moved about, too intent on his proceedings to notice anything around

him, a light dawned on Mrs. Pottle.

"Well, I never!" she exclaimed in a loud whisper. "The boy's a

right-down genius, Ethel; I told you so."

Ethel put her fingers to her lips, as the messenger returned,

accompanied by a bullet-headed scowling individual whom Bob had already

remarked as one of the most determined of his fighters. The man looked

somewhat suspicious of the company, still more when Ah-Sam explained why

he had been sent for. He had never been asked to curse professionally

before. But he brightened, up when he at last understood that his

powers of denunciation were to be employed against the enemy. He was

touched on a point of personal pride, and declared that his curses had

no match in all Manchuria. Bob invited him to curse the Manchus as

loudly and venomously as he was able, and the bonze was soon launched on

a full tide of invective which, though in a strange tongue, Bob felt to

be quite overpowering. Ah-Sam explained to him afterwards that every

one of the enemy had been signalized by a special curse, embracing not

only himself but his ancestors for a thousand years. The man wound

himself up to such a pitch of frenzy that he was quite oblivious of the

fact that he was yelling, by Bob's careful manipulation, full into the

brazen mouth of the gramophone, whose whirring was wholly smothered by

his virulent bellow. Kobo was silently laughing; the ladies tried not to

look shocked; Ah-Sam nodded his head and beamed approval, though he was

as ignorant as the man himself of the true inwardness of the situation.

The capacity of the cylinder was exhausted long before the unfrocked

bonze; he was streaming with perspiration when he at length drew his

lurid declamation to a close. And he went away a happy man when Bob

thanked him fervently, assuring him that such terrible cursing would no

doubt avail where all else had failed.

After an interval, Bob took the gramophone to the remotest corner of the

settlement, where, shutting himself up in a disused house, he tested the

instrument under a covering of blankets. Satisfying himself that the

latest record was effective, he got Ah-Sam to carry the machine into the

open space in front of the gate. He formed a connection between it and

the abbot's house by leading a thread of strong silk from it beneath

small rocks into the courtyard. Having proved that the connection was

complete, he sat down to wait for the onslaught of the Manchus, which he

expected to take place as soon as morning dawned.

No one thought of going to sleep that night. Mrs. Pottle wrote

diligently in her note-book, and Bob, without neglecting any precautions

for the guarding of the camp, found several opportunities of

conversation with Ethel. In a far corner of the large hall Kobo spent

several hours in writing alone. By and by he folded the paper, and

beckoned Bob to his side.

"I hope much from your device, Mr. Fawcett," he said. "It is a clever

idea of yours--to turn the superstitions of these people to account. I

think you will succeed. But you must use your success without me. I am

so useless that I should only be an encumbrance to you. But my

information must not be lost; I have therefore written it down here, and

I give you this paper, and entreat you, when you get away, to deliver it

as speedily as possible to our general."

"But what will become of you?"

"I shall remain here. Perhaps Chang-Wo will not trouble about me after

you are gone. If he finds me--well, I shall then kill myself, as many

of my ancestors did; but my life belongs to my country, and while there

is any chance of living to do service, I shall not take the extreme

step."

"But the Manchus will torture you if they catch you."

"That is likely enough. It is the fortune of war."

"I cannot agree to it," said Bob flatly. "I will not take your despatch

unless you make an effort to escape with us. In any case I cannot leave

the rest of the wounded to fall into Chang-Wo's hands, and you, Kobo

San--no, I certainly shall not go without you."

Kobo endeavoured to induce Bob to change his mind, but finding him

obdurate, he at length unwillingly consented to share the fortunes of

the rest of the party. As it was now drawing towards dawn, Bob had the

horses saddled in readiness to seize the moment when the gramophone

should have done its work, and one of the animals was specially fitted

up for Kobo, with a rest for the wounded leg. Then he went the round of

the defences, giving the men instructions how they were to act.

At the wall, as dawn stole over the sky, stood Bob anxiously waiting.

It was still half dark when he saw the enemy cautiously approach. They

had conceived too great a respect for the defenders to attempt to take

the position at a rush; for they were unaware how much the garrison had

been reduced in the combat of the previous night. They took every

advantage of cover, flitting in the half light from tree to tree and

clump to clump until they had come within a few yards of the walls.

Then they halted, puzzled apparently by the strange stillness and the

seeming desertion of the position. Bob himself was hidden by an angle

of the wall; not a man of the garrison was to be seen. For all the

Manchus knew, the defenders might be crowding under shelter of the wall.

Bob saw a man climb a tall birch from which the greater part of the

settlement could be seen. Discovering from his perch no sign of the

Chunchuses, the Manchu shouted excitedly to his comrades, and they

rushed forward all along the line. The central body at once came upon

the gramophone, which stood lifting its great brazen mouth towards the

rising sun. From his secret nook Bob saw them recoil; they evidently

took it to be a gun of some kind. Then, finding that nothing happened,

and no doubt reflecting that a gun needs a man to fire it, some of the

bolder among them approached the instrument cautiously and walked round

it, keeping at a safe distance. The rest were now hidden by the wall,

under which they crouched until they should receive the command to burst

into the courtyard.

Bob felt that the moment had come. He pulled the silken cord, and saw

the Manchus nearest the instrument start and look round in apprehension.

They heard the preliminary whirring. Then, though the mouth was

pointing away from him, Bob could hear in the still morning air the

first few words of the bonze's speech. The Manchus stood as if

spellbound; one or two edged towards the trees. What was this

incredible thing? They looked in alarm at one another; no man but

themselves was in sight; it must be from the seeming gun that this voice

proceeded, calling down upon them and their ancestors the most terrible

defilements and atrocities. This strange monster must be in league with

the devils against them. The blatant voice from the gramophone rose

louder and louder; curse rolled upon curse, shaming Ernulfus for ever;

the passionate tones rose higher and higher towards the peroration, till

they became a shriek. The Manchus did not wait for the end. With one

accord they bolted under cover; anathema remorselessly pursued them

through the trees, over the rocks; and before the bell emitted its final

howl the scared enemy had rushed pell-mell down the hill, round the

bend, and out of sight.

*CHAPTER XX*

*Herr Schwab Gomblains*

Heavy Odds--War and Commerce--Dead Sea Fruit--A Handicap--Kuroki--Mrs.

Pottle is Indiscreet--A Parting

The moment the last of the Manchus disappeared round the bend, Bob gave

the order to mount. He knew that though for the moment scared out of

their wits by the mysterious voice, they would soon recover when they

found it was after all a voice and nothing more. Further, he was

disturbed by the absence of Chang-Wo. That redoubtable warrior had not

been among the discomfited throng; he had not come within hearing of the

anathema; it was scarcely likely that he would relinquish his purpose

for an unknown cause. Bob therefore got his little party into order.

Mrs. Pottle with her niece and Ah-Sam led the way down the hill,

accompanied by half a dozen of the best of the Chunchuses, all mounted

on the fastest horses. They went down on the opposite side from that

taken by the Manchus, and Bob gave orders to Ah-Sam to conduct them with

all possible speed in the direction of Ping-yang. Mrs. Pottle pleaded to

be allowed to ride with the main body, but Bob explained that the

presence of ladies would prove a source of weakness to him, and that

they might do good service by pushing on and sending, if possible, a

Japanese force to the relief of the others. Bob had wished also to

entrust Kobo's despatch to Ah-Sam for delivery to the Japanese general,

but Kobo replied that though the Chinaman had proved a loyal and devoted

servant, he preferred that Bob himself should retain the message.

"It is to your courage, presence of mind, and resource that the safety

of the party is due," he said, "and I know that if anyone can carry the

message through, it will be you. One word only: if you should be

wounded, pass the despatch to someone else. If that is not possible,

destroy it, for though I wrote in Japanese characters the Russians would

no doubt get someone to read them, and it is of vital importance that

they should know nothing of what I have written. I still hope to see

the general myself and give him my news; but I am very weak, and I fear

that I may not be able to keep up with you."

Scarcely three minutes after the ladies and their escort had disappeared

down the hill the main body followed. A dozen unwounded men rode in

advance; then came the wounded with Kobo; then a few men bringing up the

rear to give warning of pursuit. Nothing was seen of the enemy as the

band moved downwards and struck off to the south in the track of the

ladies. The necessity of sparing the wounded caused the pace to be very

slow, scarcely more than four miles an hour; but as hour after hour

passed, and still no enemy appeared, Bob began to think that the scare

had been so effectual that the Manchus had utterly lost heart.

Suddenly there reached his ears a shout of alarm, followed by several

rapid shots, and he saw his advanced guard galloping back upon the main

body. A quarter of a mile behind them, round the brow of the hill, came

Chang-Wo dashing along at the head of a hundred yelling Manchus. They

must have made a circuit with the intention of heading off the

fugitives. To evade them was impossible; only one course was open, and

the odds were all in favour of the enemy. Bob had scarcely forty men

left, but spurring his horse towards the Manchus, he waved the spear he

had caught up at the moment of departure, and called on the chief and

all the unwounded men to follow him. So great was the confidence with

which he had inspired them that they obeyed instantly. Uttering strange

guttural cries little resembling a British cheer, they set their horses

to the gallop. There was no attempt to secure a regular formation, but

in this respect the enemy had no advantage; they came, each man for

himself, a scattered group. The ground was rough and strewn with

stones, but the riders on either side gave no heed to the horses'

footsteps; they had eyes only for each other. In a few seconds the two

parties met in the shock of battle. Bob, slightly in advance of his

men, rode straight for Chang-Wo, whose head, he noticed, was bandaged;

he had been wounded in the fight at the monastery. The Manchu carried a

long Chinese sword, with which he parried the thrust of Bob's spear; but

before he in his turn could make an offensive stroke, Bob was past him,

and, shortening his weapon, had driven it through the Manchu immediately

behind. At the same moment he heard a great shouting in front of him,

and even as he wondered whether this portended a reinforcement of the

enemy, he felt a stinging blow upon the head, staggered, lost grip of

the reins, and, falling upon his horse's neck, was thrown violently to

the ground.

"It is an outrage! I, Hildebrand Schwab, say it. It vill be a casus

belli, sure as a gun, between Gairmany and Japan. Vizout doubt I vill

send a telegram to our kaiser, who is in Berlin. I let you know I am a

beaceable Gairman sobjeck; notvithstanding vich I am arrested, my

liberty is in constraint, my dignity--the dignity of a Gairman

sobjeck--is alltopieces. It is, I say it, monstrous; it is onbearable;

it is a zink zat I nefer, nefer oferlook!"

Bob was gradually aroused to full consciousness by Herr Schwab's loud

voice in bitter complaint. A soft, polite, bored Japanese voice

replied:

"The hon'ble correspondent must know that hon'ble correspondents are not

allowed beyond Ping-yang. It is plainly written in the instructions

issued by his excellency the general for the guidance of hon'ble

correspondents, and I regret to say that the hon'ble correspondent has

only himself to blame."

"Instructions! You say instructions! Donnerwetter noch einmal! Vat

are ze instructions? Ze instructions are to do nozink, see nozink, say

nozink. Vat is zat for a kind of var gorresbondence? I rebresent ze

_Duesseldoerfer Tageblatt_. I am instructed to agombany ze Japanese

field-army. Zey are my instructions--nozink else!"

"I regret I cannot allow the hon'ble correspondent to proceed."

"Vell zen, I brotest; I emphatically brotest. All ze same, I ask you to

agombany me backwards to ze next village. Business are business. Zere

I make vun deal viz a nice Korean gentleman vat give me order for

gomblete set _Brockhaus Encyglobaedia_. But zere vas ozer zinks: I ask

you agombany me back till I gomblete my business."

"I regret it is impossible. I must return as rapidly as possible to

Chong-ju. The hon'ble correspondent will kindly excuse me."

The Japanese officer turned away, leaving Schwab to retrace his steps in

sullen and indignant rage. Bob was amused. A moment later the Japanese

came into the hut where he was lying, and finding him awake and

conscious, asked how he felt.

"Pretty shaky. I am glad to find myself in Japanese hands. Tell me,

did Miss Charteris--did the ladies get in safely?"

"Yes. Two ladies rode into my camp this morning with a Chinese

attendant, and told me that an English gentleman was hard pressed by a

gang of Manchus. I sent the ladies on to Chong-ju, and rode out to

assist you. Fortunately I came up at the critical moment. You had

apparently just been knocked off your horse. The Manchus did not wait

to receive us. You have had a very nasty knock, hon'ble sir."

"And Kobo--"

"Kobo San! What do you mean?"

"Did you not find him?" Bob started up anxiously. "He was with us. He

was wounded. Surely you helped him to escape?"

"I am very sorry, sir. I heard that a wounded Chinaman belonging to

your party was missing--presumably captured by the Manchus. I had no

idea that he was a Japanese disguised, still less that he was Kobo San."

"The ladies said nothing of him?"

"Nothing. They were exhausted with hard riding, and much agitated.

They mentioned no name but your own."

Bob lay back in mute hopelessness. Kobo had fallen into the hands of

his enemy! Something must be done to save him. Bob dared not think of

the nameless tortures he might suffer at the cruel hands of Chang-Wo.

"How long ago did this happen?" he asked.

"Six hours ago. It is now five o'clock."

"Can't you do something to help him? You know him--how valuable he is

to your country. Surely something can be done."

"I regret more than I can say. I would do anything possible for Kobo

San, but I must obey orders. I should have pursued the fleeing Manchus

had I not been instructed not to advance beyond a certain line. Kobo

San will know how to die for Japan."

Bob could say no more. At that moment he almost wished that he could

exchange places with Kobo. He knew that Kobo himself would meet his

fate with the serenity that characterized his every thought and action;

but the knowledge that so brave and heroic a man, when safety was in

sight, should have fallen at the eleventh hour into the clutches of his

vindictive and merciless enemy, was a bitter disappointment.

The two companies of Japanese infantry who had rescued Bob and his party

occupied a small adjacent village that night. Herr Schwab had to submit

to the further indignity of being kept under guard. In the morning Bob,

who had recovered somewhat from his blow and subsequent fall, asked to

be taken to see the implacable correspondent. He found Herr Schwab

busily writing.

"No, it is not var gorresbondence," said the German, without looking up,

"it is business; so you, Mr. Japanese, vill besokind as leave me in

beace."

"And how _is_ business, Mr. Schwab?" asked Bob.

"Vat!" said Schwab, turning with a start; "do I see Mr. Fawcett? It is

vonderful, it is incredible! I am glad indeed to meet vat I may viz

bermission call a friend. My heart is fery heafy. It is years since I

make a so disastrous journey. Vat hafe I done? Nozink. My

egsbenses--vere are zey? I do not bay vun shilling in ze bound. My

embloyers--zey regard me as colossal humbug. I write letters--yes, dree

golumns ze day: 'Imbressions of Japan', 'Views in Korea', 'A Gairman at

ze Front'; and zey vire me, four shillings ze vord, 'Gife us var news'.

Var news!"

Herr Schwab laughed bitterly.

"Vat can ve know of var news? Zat is vat I ask. Zere vas myself, Mr.

Morton, and Monsieur Desjardang, viz ozer gorresbondents--var

gorresbondents!"--(Herr Schwab again laughed bitterly)--"at Ping-yang,

sixty miles away from ze var. Ze Japanese declare it is great

concession ve are allowed so glose--so glose! And ze

regulations--potztausend! scarcely dare ve look towards ze nort. It vas

heartbreaking--veek after veek pass by; our egsbenses run on."

Bob looked as sympathetic as possible.

"It must have been very rough. Still, you managed to get away

apparently."

"Yes, sir. I egsblain to my friends it is onbearable. For myself, if I

do not gife ze Japanese ze slip I get ze sack. I offer my friends to

agombany me; ve share egsbenses. But Mr. Morton he say somezink about

'blay ze game'; Monsieur Desjardang he talk about ze vord of a

Frenchman; but I, Hildebrand Schwab, I retort 'business are business'.

So I take off ze vite band vat Japanese red-tape seal on my left arm,

and ze same night I am on my vay to ze Yalu. I suffer much hardship,

but do I murmur? No; I book seferal orders for Schlagintwert Gombany.

But, sir, as you see, I am again in bondage. Vile I am making deal viz

Korean excellency, whom I meet on tour of insbection, lo! ve are

surbrise by Japanese. Ze order for ze _Conversationslexicon_, I hafe it;

but ze order for ze bianola, zat is gombletely gone lost."

Herr Schwab's gloom was depicted in his features, when suddenly an idea

seemed to strike him. Laying his hand confidentially on Bob's arm, he

said:

"Stay, all is not lost. If you, Mr. Fawcett, can conclude ze

transaction, I shall hafe great bleasure to bay you fipercent

commission. Ze gentleman is San-Po of ze Imperial Korean Var-office:

you vill find him vizout difficulty. Fipercent, Mr. Fawcett!"

Bob had started in surprise at hearing the name of his friend Mr.

Helping-to-decide. At the same moment, looking out of the hut, he saw a

cavalcade passing the door. At the head rode a high Korean official--a

well-remembered figure, with the regulation hat, topknot, and white

baggy garments. Mounted on a diminutive pony, his feet almost touched

the ground, and his equilibrium was maintained in the customary Korean

manner by two sturdy attendants, who supported him on either side. No

sooner had Schwab's eyes lighted on this rider than he started forward

with an exclamation, saying to Bob:

"Vizout offence you vill permit me to vizdraw my brobosition: egsguse

me."

He rushed out in unwieldy haste, wresting from his pocket a capacious

note-book as he ran. After him darted a nimble Japanese sentry in full

cry. Bob chuckled as he watched the scene. Mr. Helping-to-decide,

hearing a guttural hail behind him, half turned upon his saddle (on

which Bob recognized the skin of the tiger he had killed), and seeing

that he was pursued did not stay to decide why or by whom, but whipped

up his pony in haste to escape. Swaying from side to side, he was held

up with difficulty by his two supporters, and unsteadily turned a

corner, followed within a couple of yards by the lolloping form of Herr

Schwab, who in his turn was, but a yard or two ahead of the Japanese.

An hour or two later the whole detachment moved out towards Chong-ju.

Bob was provided with a pony, from whose back he saw Schwab trudging

disconsolately along in charge of two little Japanese infantrymen. The

white band, with his name and the name of his paper in red Japanese

characters, was again bound to his left sleeve, labelling him "war

correspondent".

On arriving at Chong-ju, which was crowded with Japanese troops, Bob

enquired first for Mrs. Pottle and her niece, and learnt that they had

already departed under escort for Anju. His next question was for the

headquarters of General Kuroki. Learning that these were at Anju, he

explained to the officer in command that he had important information

for the general, which he had been instructed to deliver personally, and

asked to be allowed to proceed at once. The colonel in charge suggested

that Bob might give him the information, which he would then forward.

He thought Bob looked hardly fit to travel farther on horseback, and

there were no carts to spare. But Bob was determined that he would

confide Kobo's paper to none but General Kuroki himself, hoping to be

able to induce the general to organize a rescue-party on Kobo's behalf.

He accordingly rode on with a small escort, and arrived at Anju on the

Seoul road late at night, and dead beat.

Fatigued as he was, he at once sent a message to the general asking the

favour of an interview. Within half an hour he was in the presence of

the commander-in-chief. He felt a little nervous as he looked at the

great soldier. General Kuroki was somewhat taller than the average

Japanese. His face was deeply bronzed, his hair and moustache gray and

bristly. The sternness of his features was relieved by a humorous

twinkle in his dark eyes as he glanced at Bob, who felt that the

general's undoubted strength of character was combined with tenderness

and humanity. He handed him Kobo's small folded paper, and waited while

he read it.

"I thank you, Mr. Fawcett," he said at length, refolding the paper and

handing it to an aide-de-camp. "Kobo San's intelligence is of the

highest importance, and I am greatly in your debt for having brought it

to me at such risk. Kobo San does not say why he has not returned. Do

you know where he is?"

"I am very sorry to say, sir, that he is a prisoner. He was wounded in

crossing the hills, and I very much fear that he is now in the hands of

Chang-Wo, the Manchu brigand."

"Indeed! That is deplorable. Tell me, please, all you know. You were,

I think, with Lieutenant Yamaguchi in Seoul; I shall be glad to know of

the circumstances which have brought you here. Sit down, you look very

tired. Perhaps, indeed, you would rather wait till the morning?"

"No, sir, I would rather tell you now."

He proceeded to relate as briefly as possible his experiences from the

time he last saw Yamaguchi to the final escape from the Korean

monastery. General Kuroki listened without remark, a faint smile

crossing his face when he heard of the novel use made of the gramophone.

"You have had a desperately hard time," he said at the conclusion of the

story. "I had already heard part of the circumstances from the American

ladies who came in some time ago. I can quite understand their warm

praise of you. And, let me say, you are to be congratulated on your

escape from the Manchu Chang-Wo; he is a desperate villain--an old enemy

of Kobo San, as perhaps you know. But now tell me; you came through the

mountains north of the Yalu; is the road practicable for guns?"

"It might, I think, with some labour be made practicable for guns for

some miles up to the spot where we first struck the Yalu; but I don't

think the path we subsequently followed could be so used."

"That path is marked, I think, tentatively on our maps. Look at this;

that is the path, is it not?"

"Yes," said Bob, after a glance at the map unrolled before him.

"It would be of the greatest importance to us if it were practicable.

Did any of the Chunchuses with whom you have been acting come in with

you?"

"Unfortunately no, sir. I learnt that they slipped away immediately

after we were relieved by your cavalry."

"They are free lances, and probably thought if they came in they would

have to act under our orders, or more probably be disbanded. No doubt

they are making their way back by devious paths to their old haunts in

Manchuria. It is a pity they have gone. I should have liked to employ

some of them as guides."

"May I offer my services, sir?" said Bob instantly. "I couldn't find my

way back from here to the hills, but once there I think I could act as

guide over the path in question."

"Thank you. I accept your offer at once. I must, of course, wire to

Tokio for permission to employ you, as otherwise your duty would be to

rejoin the fleet. I will do that at once, and the answer will no doubt

come early in the morning. Now, Mr. Fawcett, I will not keep you

longer. You need a thorough rest after your trying experiences: that

knock on the head will trouble you for some days, I fear; but I hope a

good rest will set you up again. My aide-de-camp will provide you with

quarters--rough, but the best at my disposal. I shall send for you in

the morning."

Only now that the strain was relaxed did Bob realize how desperately

tired and worn he was. When he reached the lodging allotted to him, he

dropped on to the bed just as he was, and fell fast asleep. It was

nearly noon when he awoke. Ah-Sam came to his side, carrying over his

arm a suit of clothes.

"My hab catchee tings for massa," he said. "Aflaid massa no can get

iniside."

"Well, I can only try," said Bob with a smile. "Get me something to

eat, Ah-Sam. Stay, where are the ladies?"

"He in house topside-pidgin man--velly nice. He go Seoul bimeby."

"Oh! Just run and tell them I'm here--"

"Allo savvy. My tellum allo 'bout massa long tim' ago."

"Ask them not to go until I have seen them, then get my breakfast."

"Allo lightee, massa. Littee missy wantchee look-see what--"

"Don't stand talking. Run at once, or they may gone."

"No fear! My savvy littee missy no can wailo 'cept--"

"Go at once!" shouted Bob, and the Chinaman fled.

About an hour later Bob, clad in a Japanese uniform, which left a good

deal to be desired about the sleeves and the trousers, was conducted by

Ah-Sam to the missionary's house in which the ladies had been hospitably

lodged.

"My dear boy, how glad I am to see you!" exclaimed Mrs. Pottle, coming

forward with outstretched hands. "We were afraid that you had not

escaped from that dreadful brigand. If I had not had Ethel to take care

of, I should certainly have ridden back myself--even with nothing but my

umbrella that you make fun of."

Bob, from his knowledge of Mrs. Pottle, felt that the fair American was

quite equal to that or any other hazardous adventure.

"I am glad indeed there was no occasion," he said. "I wouldn't have you

come within fifty miles of that desperate gang."

"That would have been no worse, not a bit, for I haven't slept a wink

worrying about you, neither has Ethel; indeed, the dear child has lost

all her colour, as you see."

Bob looked at the younger lady, but found that her cheeks were warm with

a charming little blush, which deepened as she avoided his glance.

"Oh, Aunt Jane," she said, "you really shouldn't exaggerate--I--"

"There now! I've done it again. I am always putting my foot in it.

But all's well that ends well. You're here safe--but dear me, poor boy,

you've lost your colour. We shall have to take care of you, I can see

that."

"Oh, it's nothing," said Bob; "a rap over the head, that's all. I shall

be right in a day or two."

"But you will let us do what we can," said Ethel. "We owe you so much,

Mr. Fawcett, and there is so little that we can do."

Bob looked, as he felt, rather uncomfortable. Mrs. Pottle noted the

fact.

"Don't go, Mr. Fawcett," she said with a smile. "There, I promise, you

sha'n't hear another word of thanks. I knew it: you look quite relieved

already."

Bob laughed, and the ladies joined him, while Ah-Sam looked on gravely,

in evident wonder at what had caused the merriment.

"Can I do anything to help you on your way?" asked Bob. "I'm afraid I

shall soon have to say good-bye."

The ladies looked at him in surprise.

"But are you not going to Seoul?" asked Mrs. Pottle.

"Not yet, I'm sorry to say. I have something yet to do."

"We are not in a hurry. We could quite well wait a day or two."

"It is not a matter of days, unfortunately. It may be weeks or even

months."

"You are not going back?" said Ethel, vainly endeavouring to conceal her

anxiety. Bob afterwards remembered that there was a tremor in her

voice.

"Yes," he said, "I am going north again. General Kuroki thinks I can be

of some use to him, and afterwards--well, I have to find my friend

Kobo."

"But, Mr. Fawcett, surely that is quixotic," said Mrs. Pottle. "You

could not hope to find him. Indeed, poor man! if that villain Chang-Wo

has captured him, his life will not be worth a moment's purchase. Think

of the risk you would run: it is terrible."

"Yes, indeed," added Ethel earnestly. "Please do not go. Think of--of

your friends."

"Believe me, I will run no needless risks, but I must do what I can to

find my friend or learn his fate. Remember what I owe to him."

"Yes, we ought not to forget that," said Ethel; "you owe him--what we

owe to you."

She turned away. Mrs. Pottle put her arm about her niece's waist.

"Is it to be good-bye, then?" she asked.

Before Bob could reply, Ah-Sam, who had left the room for a few minutes,

returned hurriedly.

"One piecee Japanee come fetchee ladies Seoulee side. Hab got horses;

wantchee lide wailo chop-chop: topside fightee pidgin."

A few questions asked of Ah-Sam, and Bob explained to Mrs. Pottle that

an officer was about to start on military business for Seoul, and the

occasion had been seized to provide the American ladies with an escort.

He would arrive within a few minutes. Bob despatched Ah-Sam with an

answer, then turned to Mrs. Pottle.

"Yes," he said, "it is good-bye."

"But not for long," she replied with forced cheerfulness. "We shall

stay, anyhow, two months at Yokohama, and you must come right along as

soon as you can."

"Good-bye, Mr. Fawcett," said Ethel, giving him her hand. "We shall

pray for your success. Good-bye!"

*CHAPTER XXI*

*The Battle of the Yalu River*

The Impossible--Stage Properties--Outwitted--The Battle Opens--Russians

at Bay--Yamaguchi's Experiences

"It is clear, Mr. Fawcett, that you have the bump of locality."

"I am not sure of that, sir. What I remember of these hills is due to

the Manchu Chang-Wo. We were continually looking back, expecting to see

him on our track."

"At any rate you seem to have brought away a remarkably vivid impression

of the country--fortunately for us. This path, bad as it is, has saved

us an immensity of labour, and--what is more important--time."

General Inouye pulled up his horse as he spoke, and looked back upon the

long line of troops zigzagging up the face of the mountain. The blue

uniforms of the Japanese soldiers showed up clearly against the bare

ochreous rocks of the hillside, offering a conspicuous mark to the

enemy, had the enemy been there to see. But these rugged, precipitous

hills had always been regarded as impracticable for troops; the Russians

had no fear of attack from this quarter, and had made no attempt to

occupy them.

There was an unusually large prospect from the spur overhanging the deep

gully on which General Inouye and Bob stood side by side. Above them

the road disappeared abruptly round the face of the mountain; below, it

wound erratically down the boulder-strewn slope, here and there plunging

out of sight in a hollow, to emerge again, it might be hundreds of yards

lower down, as a narrow ledge on the face of a perpendicular crag, on

which the Japanese troops seemed in the distance like an army of ants on

the march.

These were the hills through which Bob and his party had made their

perilous journey some weeks earlier. They lay on the left flank of the

Russian army drawn up around Kiu-lien-cheng, and on the banks of the

Yalu, to hurl back the Japanese when they attempted to set foot in

Manchuria. General Sassulitch fondly hoped that these hills would afford

a complete protection to his flank: as the event was ordered, it was

from them that he sustained his most crushing blow. The Twelfth

Division, known to the Japanese as the Sampo Shidan in consequence of

its large equipment of mountain-guns, was chosen to make the hazardous

passage, and to any troops of less endurance than the Japanese, the task

might well have proved impossible; for they were not only required to

cross a series of steep mountain ridges, but to do so within a very

limited time, and to bring their guns with them. Bob watched the steady

progress of the column with many a thrill of admiration, and with pride

that he was privileged to bear a small part in this momentous movement.

Burdened with its artillery, ammunition, and supplies, the column moved

steadily forward; now crawling with infinite pains up almost

perpendicular slopes, the willing little soldiers pushing, hauling, at

times almost carrying the wretched horses and ponies groaning under

guns, gun-carriages, or boxes of shell; then with no less strain

staggering, slipping, sliding down the opposite face of the hill, to

begin another climb in this unending series of bluffs and chasms.

The march had begun early in the day; it was now late in the afternoon,

and Bob more than once saw General Inouye looking anxiously westward.

They rounded the shoulder of a steep hill; half a mile or more ahead a

small body of cavalry thrown out in advance had halted, evidently in

doubt as to their further course.

"To the left," said Bob, answering General Inouye's unspoken question,

"across that small spur, and straight up the farther slope."

The general translated the instructions to an aide-de-camp, who

clattered down the hill at the imminent risk of his neck.

"You say, Mr. Fawcett, that in another hour we should open up the Ai-ho

river?"

"Yes, sir. As far as I remember we sighted the river from the crest of

yonder hill." Bob pointed, as he spoke, to a conical hill about two

miles ahead, behind which the sun was now setting in a blaze of glory.

Within the hour General Inouye and his staff had gained the crest of the

hill, and were looking down on the noisy little river hurrying through a

narrow valley to join the Yalu some miles below. On the far side of the

stream was another range of hills, upon which, as General Inouye was

aware, the main Russian force was concentrated. It was against these

hills that the Twelfth Division would hurl itself at dawn on the

following day.

Approaching the Ai-ho the hills became somewhat less rugged,

facilitating the deployment of General Inouye's force along the left

bank of the river. The Twelfth Division had arrived in good time at the

appointed place; with guns unlimbered for action, it waited only for the

word.

"Good-night, Mr. Fawcett," said General Inouye when they separated;

"good-night, and thank you. You have rendered us a most valuable

service--how valuable the events of to-morrow may show."

Bob spent the night in the bivouac of the staff. Even the prospect of

the coming struggle failed to disturb his sleep. He had gone through

too many experiences of late not to take full advantage of any chance of

rest.

The position of the two armies that lay facing each other through the

long summer night was in many respects an extraordinary one. The river

Yalu is joined nearly opposite Wiju by the Ai-ho; above and below the

confluence its channel is dotted with numerous large islands, between

which the stream threads a tortuous and at times impetuous course. At

the angle formed by the two rivers is Tiger Hill, a steep bluff jutting

far out into the channel. Just below the hill runs the Mandarin road

from Seoul to Pekin, passing from Wiju on the south bank, across two

sandy islands connected by a ferry, and thence to Kiu-lien-cheng, on the

Manchurian side, a short distance to the north of the river.

[Illustration: The Battle of the Yalu River Showing the flanking

movement of the 12th Division]

The Russian front, before the development of General Kuroki's attack,

extended from a point opposite Yongampo at the mouth of the Yalu to

Sukuchin, some thirty miles up the river, and above Wiju. The main body

was massed around Kiu-lien-cheng, the left wing having its outposts on

Tiger Hill and the islands in the river above that point, while the

right had outposts on the larger islands opposite Wiju. A strong force

was held in reserve at Antung.

On his ride up from Wiju Bob had been greatly puzzled by a series of

huge screens of brushwood, matting, and stalks placed along or across

the roadway. What object, he wondered, could they serve? It was not

until he reached the high ground near the Yalu that their purpose became

clear to him. He saw then that the heights on the Russian side of the

river completely overlooked the lower hills on the Korean bank; in

ordinary circumstances every movement could be observed from the Russian

lines; the numbers and dispositions of troops, the construction of

fortifications and batteries, could all be noted with the aid of strong

field-glasses. From the Japanese point of view this was a serious

weakness of the position. Secrecy is so essential a condition of the

Japanese system of conducting warfare that General Kuroki was led to

adopt a novel and somewhat extraordinary method of baffling the

curiosity of the enemy. Looking back from a point of vantage near the

river, Bob saw a force of blue-coated Japanese infantry marching to the

front along the Mandarin road. Suddenly they disappeared behind a leafy

screen, and though he watched carefully, expecting to see them emerge

again farther along the highway, he was unable to detect any further

sign of their presence. The incident recalled a conjuring trick of Mr.

Maskelyne; and to the Russians beyond the river it must have been both

puzzling and irritating. Thanks to this system of screens they could

neither form an estimate of the strength of the Japanese opposed to

them, nor make any likely guess as to the probable point of attack.

Their position was one of extreme strength; but uncertainty regarding

General Kuroki's movements largely discounted the advantages they

enjoyed as a defensive force entrenched among rugged hills. Here and

there, indeed, General Kuroki allowed them to obtain a hint of his

arrangements; they snapped at the bait--with what result is now written

in history.

It was nearly ten years since the Japanese Field-marshal Yamagata had

forced the passage of the Yalu in the face of a Chinese army supposed to

be impregnably entrenched in the positions now held by the Russians. The

main crossing had been made opposite Wiju, but the principal movement

was greatly assisted by the passage of a column higher up the river at

Sukuchin. General Sassulitch must anxiously have asked himself whether

the Japanese would or would not repeat this operation. Patriotic

self-complacency probably suggested the answer. Was it likely that the

Japanese would dare to repeat against a trained and disciplined Russian

army the manoeuvre, necessarily hazardous, which they had risked against

raw Chinese levies? Emphatically no. And in arriving at this conclusion

the Russian general was assisted by an ingenious feint on the part of

his opponent. With an openness that should have inspired distrust,

General Kuroki collected a large amount of bridging material on the

Korean shore at Yongampo and higher up the river opposite Antung, while

a strong naval flotilla, comprising torpedo-boats, destroyers, and

gun-boats, fought its way some distance up-stream, as though in support

of a projected crossing in the lower reaches. To meet the expected

attack in this quarter the Russian general kept a large body of troops

elaborately entrenched in readiness at Antung, and allowed his attention

to be diverted from the point thirty miles higher up, at which the first

crossing had been made ten years earlier.

General Kuroki had completely taken the measure of his adversary.

Having persuaded General Sassulitch to disperse his troops over an

unnecessarily large front, he made careful dispositions to ensure a

successful passage of the river at Sukuchin, and under cover of a flank

attack from this quarter he proposed to pass the main body of his army

across the island-strewn channel opposite Wiju. The Twelfth Division,

entrusted with the flank movement, had easily driven away a small

Russian force stationed on the right bank opposite Sukuchin, thrown a

pontoon bridge across the river, and established itself on the right

bank almost without opposition. The Russians made no attempt to correct

their mistake, so convinced were they that the real danger lay towards

the mouth of the river. Besides, were they not sufficiently protected

by the chain of impassable ridges that stretched far inland between the

Yalu and the Ai-ho? Yet it was across these impassable ridges that the

Twelfth Division had orders to make its way, and establish itself on the

left bank of the tributary stream in readiness for a general attack on

the Russian position. This movement, as we have seen, was duly carried

out. It was the eve of May-day.

A fierce artillery duel had meanwhile been fought between the Japanese

batteries near Wiju and the Russian positions around Kiu-lien-cheng. In

this battle of the giants the Russians were completely

outmatched--another triumph of Japanese secrecy and prevision. Unknown

to the enemy the Japanese had brought by sea to the Yalu a large number

of quick-firers and heavy guns, and, most important of all, several

howitzers. To these the Russians could only oppose a limited number of

field-pieces. A movement of Japanese infantry towards the crest of the

hills on the Korean side drew the fire of the Russian batteries and

disclosed their position. They were at once answered by an appalling

cannonade from the Japanese batteries. From the islands in the river,

from the heights north and south of Wiju, the Japanese rained a

murderous fire of shell and shrapnel upon the luckless Russian gunners.

There was no escape, for they had not reckoned with the howitzers

cunningly placed in pits on the islets beneath, and able to search the

whole Russian position with high-angle fire. The hills seemed to wilt

under the storm; the earth was riddled, the very rocks were rent with

the hail of lead and steel scattered by the bursting charges of the

terrible Shimose powder. A thick pall of poisonous smoke hung over the

devoted Russian batteries; nothing could live under this shattering

bombardment. The Russians stuck to their guns like heroes; never

certainly did soldiers deserve better of their country. But gradually

their fire slackened, then died away: the gunners lay dead at their

posts.

That night the Guards and the Second Division of the Japanese army were

passed by two bridges across the river, and took up a position on the

right bank, sheltered under the bluffs or in the hollows in the sandy

bed of the stream. The Second Division had crossed somewhat below Wiju

to an island on the far side of the channel, the Guards immediately

opposite Tiger Hill. The Russians were now threatened with a frontal

attack by these two divisions--the Second operating direct from the

Yalu, the Guards across the mouth of the Ai-ho--while the Twelfth

Division, higher up the Ai-ho, was ready to attack them in flank.

Bob was tingling with excitement when he awoke on the auspicious morning

of May-day. The air was crisp and keen, but spring had come at last;

spring, and with it the dawn of a new era for Japan. General Inouye's

camp was early astir; the sturdy little soldiers, in their trim blue

uniforms, went about their morning duties with quiet cheerfulness, ready

to launch themselves at the word upon the grim hills opposite, where

death, they knew, awaited some; glory, they hoped, all.

Too late the Russian general had realized his fatal error in allowing

the Twelfth Division to march unopposed across the hills. Too late he

had taken such feverish steps as were now possible in the attempt to

retrieve it. He had withdrawn in haste a considerable force from Antung

to hold the bluffs on the right bank of the Ai-ho, and hurriedly begun

to throw up entrenchments. General Inouye smiled when he learnt of

these tardy efforts to stay him; plans carefully thought out for years

were not likely to be foiled by bustle at the eleventh hour.

Hardly had the sun risen when the battle was begun by a general outburst

of artillery fire along the whole of the Japanese lines. There was no

response from the enemy; it almost seemed as if the position were

already deserted. But soon the order was given to the Japanese infantry

to advance to the assault. The three divisions moved forward

simultaneously. Bob could not see what the other two were doing, but he

watched with tense eagerness as the Twelfth Division dashed down the

hillside to the bank of the Ai-ho. A murderous rifle-fire was opened

upon them from the Russian trenches. But never a man faltered.

Springing on nimbly, some taking what cover the ground afforded, others

disdaining precaution, they reached the stream. They plunged in,

holding their rifles and pouches above their heads, and forcing their

way against the rapid current that swept along breast-high. They had

now entered the zone of fire; the surface of the river boiled under the

hail of Russian bullets; the turbid waters were red with Japan's best

blood; but to Bob, watching intently from the hill above, the sound of

their war-song came floating upon the morning breeze--

"Oh! it is easy to cross the Yalu river!"

and, with sublime and happy indifference, they struggled on.

Look: they are gaining the farther bank. At last--it seems an

eternity!--the river is crossed. Up, up they scramble, scaling the

bluffs in grim silence now. The air rattles with the crack of rifles,

throbs with the thud of heavy guns. Men are falling fast, but the

survivors are still pressing on, up the murderous heights, ever drawing

nearer to the enemy on the crest. Bob, his whole body a-tingle, can

bear his inaction no longer. He turns to a senior officer of the staff:

"May I follow them up, sir? I have nothing to do now."

"You had better stay with us," replied the officer with a smile,

lowering his field-glass; "still, if you wish--"

Bob does not wait for second thoughts. He races down the hill, wades

the river, and springs up the bluff in time to overtake the rear of the

advancing line. What impels him he knows not; all he feels is that he

must be there--there, at the supreme moment of the conflict. He gains

the crest and looks eagerly ahead. Ah! the Russians are falling back,

and back, and back; not in rout, but sullenly retreating to the next

ridge, turning there at bay, occupying every post of vantage, and

pouring thence their terrible fire. They will not wait, then, for push

of pike? No; and when they have discharged their rifles they run again.

Nothing stays the advance. The Japanese swarm up and over every new

position, the enemy scurry like rabbits before them, and now, as the

pace quickens, and the victors drive the fugitives up hill and down dale

across these rugged pathless hills, the retreat becomes a rout, and the

little soldiers raise a great shout of joy.

While the Twelfth Division had thus triumphantly performed the great

operation entrusted to them, their comrades of the Second and Guards

Divisions had pressed home their attacks on the Russian front. The

whole of General Sassulitch's army was in full flight on Homatan and

Feng-huang-cheng. General Kuroki had only a small force of cavalry to

pursue the retreating enemy; he had to rely largely on the speed and

endurance of his infantry, and they pressed on the heels of the Russians

with a relentless activity which, in this mountainous country, no

cavalry could have equalled. The guns, even the mountain batteries,

specially equipped for speedy transit, were left miles behind, and three

of the leading Japanese companies, having outstripped the rest of the

pursuing infantry, found themselves terribly outmatched when the

Russians at last turned at bay on the plateau of Homatan. The three

companies of Japanese were suddenly confronted by a battalion of

infantry and two battalions of artillery, strongly posted on the

plateau; but with magnificent determination they stuck like bull-dogs to

their grip, and engaged the enemy, holding them in fierce fight until

reinforcements should come up. The Japanese had only their rifles to

oppose to the combined artillery and musketry fire of the Russians. In

the company to which Bob had attached himself three out of every four

men were either killed or wounded, yet the gallant survivors stuck to

their posts. Bob marvelled how he came unscathed through the hail of

shot and shell; it seemed that the little force must be annihilated.

Still the gallant remnant held on; and at length, when they were at

their last cartridge, help came. Other companies of Japanese infantry

swarmed up to the plateau. The Russian gunners, seeing that all was

lost, wrenched the breech-blocks from the guns, hammered the sights, and

broke the levers. Then came a terrible three minutes' melee, in which

the bayonet did its murderous work. Most of the Russians died at their

posts; three hundred were captured, together with the guns of the two

batteries. It would be hard to say whether the fight at Homatan was

more glorious to the victors or to the vanquished.

This was the last stand of the Russian army. The pursuit from this

point was taken up by the small force of Japanese cavalry, and the

wearied infantry, after an action almost unparalleled in military

history, bivouacked on the field.

The officers of the company extended to Bob a hearty welcome to their

mess; the menu consisted of the usual rations of the rank and file:

rice, dried fish and pickles, washed down in water from a neighbouring

mountain stream.

Bob was eating as heartily as the rest when he was startled by a

familiar voice behind him.

"How do, Bob?"

He sprang up, and almost choked himself in the eagerness with which he

welcomed no other than his friend Yamaguchi.

"Well--I'm--blowed!" he ejaculated, shaking hands so vigorously that

Yamaguchi at length laughingly protested. "How in the world do you come

here?"

"You don't bear me a grudge, then? I was very sorry; but I had to leave

you with those Cossacks, you know."

"Don't mention it; I'm only too glad you got away safely--though, in

truth, your dastardly desertion of me has landed me in a pretty pickle

of fish. But I'll forgive you; I'd forgive anybody to-day. Isn't this

glorious, old fellow? Did you see the fight?"

"I had a little part in it. We've been working in the lower reaches of

the river. General Kuroki deluded the Russians into the belief that our

main crossing was to be effected there. Sassulitch swallowed it whole.

I had to land some men yesterday on a small island above Yongampo. We

were stormed by the enemy. I withdrew the survivors in boats, and

unluckily my boat sank and I was knocked over by a splinter from a

Russian shell. They picked me up and carried me off to Antung, and then

towards Feng-huang-cheng, but our cavalry came up and released me, and

here I am."

"Got a bad knock?" asked Bob, noticing that his left arm was bound up.

"Oh no! a bit of the muscle torn away, that's all. But come, I'm sure

you've more to tell than I have. I want to know what you've been about

since you deserted the _Kasumi_."

Bob's story necessarily occupied a long time in the telling, but

Yamaguchi listened with growing excitement, never interrupting until Bob

came to the point where Kobo had rescued him from the tower.

"Ah!" said the Japanese. "You came across Kobo? I put you off the

scent, didn't I? Of course it was he I was in communication with on

those night expeditions from the _Kasumi_. But go on; your story's

quite a romance."

Bob proceeded with his narrative. When he told how Kobo had been

captured almost within sight of safety, Yamaguchi looked distressed.

"That's a national loss," he said. "We can't spare a man like Kobo San.

That monster Chang-Wo will torture him--to wrench information out of him

if he can--of course he can't--in sheer devilry at any rate. And the

worst of it is nothing can be done for him--nothing."

"I'm going to try," said Bob quietly.

"You! You've had enough adventure, I should think, to last you a

lifetime. You'll be made mincemeat of yourself if Chang-Wo gets hold of

you."

"Nevertheless, I'm going to try. Kobo saved my life. I should be an

ungrateful beast if--Well, it won't bear discussion. I shall see

General Kuroki as soon as I can, and get his leave."

"You're a good fellow--upon my word, you are. I wish you luck. If

another than Kobo were concerned I'd do my best to hold you back, but

for him--I'd do it myself if I could. He's worth it. But I have to be

off to Antung to-morrow, and then rejoin my ship. Shall we see you on

board again?"

"I don't know. Perhaps--if I find Kobo."

*CHAPTER XXII*

*A Dumb Chinaman*

Sing-Cheng Vows Vengeance--At Head-quarters--Tracking the "Mountain

Tiger"--Deaf and Dumb--A Hill Fastness--Tracked--Strategy--Chang-Wo's

Way

General Kuroki's brilliant victory had been won at great cost. Such

dash, such persistence, such fearless disregard of death had not perhaps

been seen on any battle-field since the days when arms of precision were

unknown, and the rival combatants fought man to man at deadly grips. The

whole day after the battle was occupied in burying the dead and helping

the wounded, and Bob, assisting in the sad work, saw many new signs of

the invincible stoicism of his country's allies. Many a sturdy little

soldier, though maimed beyond repair, accepted his fate and bore his

pain without a murmur, his deepest hurt being in the knowledge that for

the rest of the campaign, perhaps for the rest of his life, he would be

unable to do further service.

Towards evening, as Bob with Ah-Sam passed over an outlying corner of

the position, where there remained a number of prostrate bodies still

uncollected, he fancied he heard a groan. He stopped and listened. In

a moment he heard the sound again, faint, but distinct, less a groan of

pain than the tired gasp of a man utterly spent. Over a comparatively

small area lay some thirty bodies close together, and Bob saw by their

dress that they were not Japanese, but Manchurian natives. Picking his

way carefully through them towards the sound, he at length saw a

white-sleeved arm move, and when he bent down, he found that, pinned

beneath a cold body, lay a man still alive. The wounded man was soon

released, and then Bob saw that it was the chief of the Chunchuses,

Sing-Cheng, the man with whom he had spent his memorable fortnight of

peril and adventure.

He was somewhat seriously wounded. Giving him a drink of water from his

flask, Bob searched carefully the surrounding ground for any other man

in whom life still remained. He found only one; the rest were dead.

With Ah-Sam's assistance he then carried the chief into the Japanese

camp, where his wounds were attended to, afterwards sending a couple of

men to bring in his still more gravely wounded comrade.

Next morning Bob visited the chief, and was glad to see that he was

already giving promise of a quick recovery. With Ah-Sam's aid he

questioned the man, being curious to know what had become of him after

the last desperate brush with Chang-Wo's Manchus. He learnt that the

chief had struck due east with his band, marching through the hills to

avoid both Russians and Japanese, and had forded the Yalu some fifty

miles higher up. They had then made their way towards his village,

intending to recuperate there and await a favourable opportunity for

resuming their usual occupation of brigandage. But on arriving they

found that Chang-Wo had been before them. Furious at his recent rebuff,

he had slain every man, woman, and child in the place, including the

chief's family, not one escaping to tell the tale. Without waiting

longer than to learn from the country-people, who gave him the news, in

what direction the Manchus had gone, the chief started on their trail,

but lost touch, and had not found them until the afternoon of the day on

which Bob discovered him. Chang-Wo had fallen upon him while he lay

there in hiding; his men had been taken by surprise, and, as Bob saw,

the band had been annihilated.

Bob was tempted to ask why the Chunchuses had been in hiding at that

spot---a place obviously of some danger. But he had a shrewd suspicion

of their purpose. He had little doubt that both Sing-Cheng's band and

Chang-Wo's had been hovering like vultures about the field, waiting for

the fall of night to begin their work, when Chang-Wo had discovered his

enemy and swooped down upon him with all the advantage of the first

blow.

The chief's story had been many times interrupted by frenzied outbursts

against his enemy. He himself would recover, he was told; he would live

for nothing but to exact vengeance. His family were killed, the graves

of his ancestors had been defiled, his band was exterminated; he was

alone. But alone he would follow Chang-Wo to the ends of the earth, and

when he found him, he would take such a terrible revenge that all

Manchuria should shake with the horror of it.

Sing-Cheng's threats, made with a set grimness of determination, started

Bob upon a train of thought. He himself had a strong motive for

tracking down the Manchu brigand. It was Chang-Wo who had-captured

Kobo; where he was, there Kobo, if he were still alive, would be found.

To save Kobo was the dearest wish of Bob's heart; could he avail himself

of the chief's thirst for revenge, and enlist his aid?

"Ask him whether he knows where Chang-Wo's haunt is," said Bob to

Ah-Sam.

Years ago, the chief replied, he had himself been a member of the

brigand band, when the stronghold had been in the hands of Chang-Wo's

predecessor--an old wise chief, a man of matchless cunning and resource.

This man had been treacherously assassinated by Chang-Wo, who had made

himself the master of the band. For a time Sing-Cheng served under

Chang-Wo, but he had left him, at the risk of his life, and pointing to

a deep scar upon his neck he mutely indicated the reason of his leaving.

Since then he and Chang-Wo had been bitter enemies, but Chang-Wo had

always commanded the larger band, and Sing-Cheng had been obliged to

keep out of his way. Now, however, come what might, he would soon or

late take his enemy's life, though he lost his own. He knew his

mountain stronghold; he would make his way thither, and wait like a

tiger until the moment came for leaping on his prey.

"Where is this stronghold?" asked Bob.

It was three days' journey among the hills. It lay cunningly concealed

in a wild region, accessible by only one difficult path.

"Then it can be surrounded?"

No, for on the other side it was protected oy a deep rocky gorge,

through which ran a rapid torrent. Ascent from the gorge was

impossible, because a wall of granite rose sheer for several hundred

feet, and at the top indeed overhung the ravine, affording no foothold,

even if it were possible to cut steps in the rock. On that side the

fortress was impregnable; and even on the other, access was so difficult

that any attempt to capture it must be hazardous in the extreme.

Bob left the man and pondered on the information he had obtained.

Valuable as Kobo was, he could not hope that General Kuroki would send a

force into hostile country on the poor chance of saving him. If Kobo

was to be saved, it must be by some private enterprise. Bob wondered

whether he could raise a force of Manchus and storm the place. He

reflected that even if such an expedition proved successful, it might

fail in the very object with which it had been designed; for Chang-Wo,

the moment he felt himself in danger, would assuredly kill Kobo, if till

then he had kept him alive. It was clear, then, that to win success in

its main object, the rescue of Kobo, any expedition must be organized

and carried through with secrecy.

Several days passed before Sing-Cheng had recovered sufficiently to move

about freely. During these days Bob spent many anxious hours in

thinking and thinking again. He consulted nobody. If Yamaguchi had been

at hand, Bob would have discussed every detail of the problem with him;

but he did not care to unbosom himself to strange Japanese officers, and

he hesitated to go to General Kuroki himself until he could put before

him a scheme that was reasonable and likely to command his approval. He

put many questions to Ah-Sam and the chief--questions which sometimes

puzzled them, and to which he obtained sometimes useless answers; but

all the time he was fitting together the bits of information he

obtained, and slowly outlining a plan.

At length one day he went to head-quarters and asked for an interview

with the general.

"Well, Mr. Fawcett," said Kuroki on seeing him, "are you ready to rejoin

the fleet?"

"Are there any orders for me, sir?" asked Bob anxiously. "I hope not."

"At present you remain with me--at my request. But why do you say you

hope not?"

"Because I wished to be still at your orders, sir. I have been thinking

about Kobo San. You remember, sir, he is presumed to have been captured

by the Manchu brigand Chang-Wo; is there any chance of a force being

sent to rescue him?"

"None at all. I answer you quite frankly. Useful as Kobo San has been

and might still be to us, he is now, if Chang-Wo's prisoner, in a part

of the country remote from my line of advance, and an expedition on his

behalf is out of the question. Besides, it would be labour and time

lost. His life would not be worth a moment's purchase if we made an

attack in force on Chang-Wo."

"I had thought of that, sir. But I wondered, that being the case,

whether you would allow me with my Chinese boy and a Chunchuse chief to

go secretly to Chang-Wo's haunt, and discover if we can whether Kobo San

is there and still alive, and communicate with him if possible."

"That would be a dangerous business, Mr. Fawcett."

"Possibly, sir; but I have been over the mountains before, and the

Chunchuse knows the district well, and was in fact at one time a member

of the same gang. I should like to make the attempt, for Kobo San has

been a good friend to me."

General Kuroki smiled.

"Kobo San's public services are likely to weigh more with me, Mr.

Fawcett. Before I say more, have you any definite plan?"

"My idea was for all three of us to go as Chinamen, with a story that

our farm has been burnt down by the Russians, and that we are going to

Gensan to find employment with an uncle of my boy Ah-Sam--a master

stevedore there."

"But you don't speak Chinese?"

"No, sir; but I was a dumb Korean for a day or two, and it won't be any

more difficult to be dumb in Chinese."

"True," said the general, smiling. "Well, you seem to have concocted a

sufficiently plausible scheme. I will not stand in your way. You go at

your own risk. I shall be very glad if you succeed; if you fail--"

General Kuroki gave him an expressive glance, which seemed to say that

sympathy would in any case be vain, for failure would possibly involve

death. Bob thanked the general and withdrew.

A day was spent in making preparations. Bob was carefully disguised as

a Chinaman; the chief altered his dress somewhat, and did what he could

to hide his scar; and both he and Ah-Sam got together a number of small

portable Chinese objects such as might have been saved from the wreck of

a farm. Then early one morning the party of three set off on foot.

They carried no arms, except each a revolver concealed with a supply of

cartridges in a special pocket in their baggy trousers. As Chang-Wo's

haunt did not lie in a straight line between Kiu-lien-cheng, their

starting-place, and Gensan, their ostensible destination, they struck at

first north-eastwards, in order to approach the fortress from a

direction that would lend colour to their story.

For two days they tramped on. Their account of themselves found easy

credence at the hamlets where they stopped for rest and food, and Bob

was secretly amused to watch the cleverness with which Ah-Sam feigned a

sorrowful indignation to match that of the chief. On the evening of the

second day they arrived at a village which, as they entered it,

Sing-Cheng explained was a little more than ten miles from Chang-Wo's

stronghold. They made their way to an inn, and Ah-Sam, who for safety's

sake was allowed to be spokesman on these occasions, once more glibly

repeated the story about the raided farm and the purpose of finding

shelter with his uncle in Gensan. The landlord, an active little

Chinaman, appeared to Bob to give the travellers an anxious warning, and

as they continued in conversation, the other guests in the inn formed a

group and took a voluble part. Bob sat upon the k'ang, wishing with all

his heart that he could understand what was being said, but doing his

best to keep up the semblance of being deaf and dumb by munching away at

the food given him and letting his eyes rove round the room with a

half-vacant stare.

He learnt later from Ah-Sam what the matter of the conversation had

been. The landlord, on hearing of the travellers' destination, had

expressly warned them against approaching too near the fortress of the

Manchu brigand. His guests added their warning to his. They were for

the most part peasants of the neighbourhood, and the manner in which

they spoke of Chang-Wo showed how terribly they were afraid of him.

They did not even name him directly, but referred to him in

circumlocutions, calling him variously the Mountain Tiger, the Wild Man

of the Hills, and the One-eared Devil. For ten miles around his haunt

not a building was left standing. No stranger who penetrated within the

zone came out alive. If an intruder was caught he was killed on the

spot, and his corpse was chained to a post as a warning to others. The

method of execution was the slow torturing penalty common in China; the

victim was crucified.

There was special danger at the present time, for the Mountain Tiger had

returned to his lair a few days ago, laden with booty obtained from the

slain in a great battle that had been fought down the river. The

Russians, the hated barbarians from the west, had been victorious,

largely by the Wild Man's help; and as the landlord repeated this story,

industriously circulated by the brigand's men, a deep groan was uttered

by several of the company. Had he brought back any Japanese prisoners?

asked Ah-Sam. There was none to bring, was the reply; all the Japanese

had been killed save those who fled. But one of the guests mentioned

that nearly a month ago a prisoner had been brought to the fortress--a

small man dressed in Chinese garb, but really a Japanese, an old enemy

of Chang-Wo's, and, it was whispered, a man of consequence. Woe to the

enemy who fell into the One-eared Devil's hands!

Ah-Sam at once asked whether the prisoner was still alive, or had he

suffered the penalty. Only a few days ago, was the reply, a man had

come into the village from the stronghold, released from his duties by

the return of his chief. For a fortnight he had been on constant guard,

scarcely daring to sleep, for nameless tortures would have been his fate

if he had allowed the prisoner to escape, or even if he had been found

absent from his post. He had signalized his release from duty by

getting drunk, and drunk he had remained ever since.

Ah-Sam affected the greatest alarm at hearing all this. With

well-feigned nervousness he asked how the region of danger could be

avoided. Where did it begin? Was it guarded?

Before these questions could be answered a new-comer entered the inn and

demanded food. He was a tall muscular Manchu, of most forbidding

countenance, and as he pushed his way through the group he gave a

lowering suspicious glance around, and allowed his eyes to rest on the

solitary figure seated on the k'ang. The conversation was stilled. The

new guest wore the leggings and carried the fowling-piece of a

Manchurian hunter. Having obtained his supply of food from the landlord

he went to the k'ang, where he arranged a comfortable place for himself,

and, squatting there, began to eat his meal in silence.