For a few moments the rest of the company conversed in subdued tones,

making no reference to the topic that had engaged them when the

new-comer entered. Once or twice this latter glanced round at Bob, who

was within a yard of him, still looking listlessly about, and idly

fingering a small metal image which was among the native objects he had

brought with him. At length the man addressed a few words to him. Bob

did not turn his head or alter his movements. The Manchu spoke to him

again in still louder tones. Again Bob paid no heed; he felt the

necessity of being doubly on his guard; the man for all he knew might be

a spy in Chang-Wo's pay. A third time he was addressed, in still louder

and more impatient tones. This time the landlord cried out that the

young man was deaf and dumb, and half an idiot to boot. The Manchu gave

a grunt, and shoved a huge mass of rice into his mouth, emptying the

copper vessel in which it had been contained. Feeling that the man's

eyes were off him, Bob watched him narrowly, wondering whether he would

be satisfied with the explanation, and keeping a firm hold upon himself

in case the man should suddenly put him to a test. His precaution was

justified, for with a sudden movement the Manchu tossed the pan upon the

floor, where it fell with a resounding clang, and at the same time swung

round and fixed his evil eyes on the squatting figure not two yards

away. Bob did not even start; he ceased fingering the idol and watched

the pan as it rolled across the floor and came to rest; then he looked

round with his empty stare, smiled vacuously, and took up the idol once

more. The Manchu drank a heavy draught of rice-beer, then threw himself

backward and was soon snoring.

Bob caught a look of approval in Ah-Sam's eyes. The stranger being

asleep, the company resumed the conversation at the point where his

entrance had interrupted it. Where did the dangerous region begin? Some

three miles from that inn. It was impossible to enter it without being

discovered; no one indeed wished to enter it; if some incautious

traveller did intrude within its borders, his only wish, and that a vain

one, was to make his way out. The reason of its being so carefully

guarded was that once the Mountain Tiger had narrowly escaped being

surprised by a sotnia of Cossacks, and he had determined never to be

caught napping again. On the outer edge of the prohibited district

there were patrols by day and by night, and surprise visits were paid to

every hamlet in the neighbourhood. Within, at a distance of about two

miles from the fortress, there was a series of posts about a quarter of

a mile apart, and the ground between them was studded with innumerable

and unexpected obstacles. One only path led to the stronghold, and upon

this men were constantly encamped. These particulars had been learnt at

various times from members of the garrison when they came out on brief

spells of furlough, and neither the landlord nor the man who had spoken

most could vouch for the truth of all the details they had thus picked

up.

Ah-Sam enquired whether the obstacles mentioned completely encircled the

fort. The question was answered by an old man who had hitherto taken

little part in the conversation. There was no need, he said, for

artificial obstacles on the farther side of the fort. He had been in it

on one occasion many years ago, in the time of the old chief, and he

knew therefore more about it than anyone present in that inn. Had any

other of the company ever entered the stronghold? No, none had but

himself alone. Sing-Cheng had just opened his mouth to contradict him

when Ah-Sam gave a loud sneeze, the snoring figure on the k'ang stirred,

and in the general rustle Ah-Sam whispered to the impetuous chief to be

more carefully upon his guard. The old man continued, speaking in low

tones and with a solemn air of mystery. On the other side of the fort,

he said, was a ravine, so wide, so deep, so precipitous, that no other

defence was needed. He remembered that, when he was a young man, one of

the inmates of the fort had incautiously stepped too near the edge; he

had fallen, and his mangled body was washed and battered by the foaming

torrent until the vultures had picked his bones clean.

The incident impressed the company. There was a moment's silence. The

snores of the prone figure on the k'ang had ceased. Then Ah-Sam asked

again: Could the fort be seen from that village? No, it was too far

away, said the landlord; but it could be seen from a low hill about nine

miles to the south-east, the direction which he advised the travellers

to take. But it was so distant that it looked scarcely larger than a

hut upon the hillside. Ah-Sam said that he must get a glimpse of the

stronghold next day; he had never before heard of such a terrible place,

and he would like to be able to tell his uncle, when he reached Gensan,

that he had seen with his own eyes the dread haunt of the Mountain

Tiger.

The conversation dragged on for some time longer, turning upon the great

struggle then in progress between Russia and Japan. Bob was thoroughly

tired when at length the voices ceased, the evil-smelling lamps were put

out, and the guests sought their several couches. He was burning with

eagerness to learn from Ah-Sam what he had discovered; but it was too

dangerous to attempt to talk to him in the inn, and he had perforce to

wait until the morning.

Early next morning they purchased as large a stock of provisions as they

could carry in their wicker-baskets, and set off towards the hill of

which the landlord had spoken. Bob felt that the eyes of the people in

the inn were upon them as they left. The late-comer of the previous

evening stood at the door watching them with his furtive eyes. Ah-Sam,

in obedience to a cautious whisper of Bob's, had made particular

enquiries regarding the road to their alleged destination. The nearest

village of any consequence, he had learnt, was about twenty miles

distant, on the far slope of a range of high hills just visible against

the morning sky. Towards this, then, the three took their course, in a

direction that would lead some four miles outside the forbidden district

of the Mountain Tiger. The country was rolling and sparsely wooded,

becoming more and more broken as it approached the hills that stretched

across the horizon from south-west to north-east.

When they were fairly away from the inn, Bob whispered to Ah-Sam that on

no account must he or the chief look behind. Presently the path led

them through a clump of trees, and Bob seized the opportunity to look

back, from behind a trunk, along the path towards the inn. He was just

in time to see, about a third of a mile away, the figure of a man

scuttling along in their wake. Even in the distance Bob was almost sure

that he recognized the beetle-browed guest who had so persistently

addressed him in the inn. Again impressing upon his two companions the

importance of not looking back, he set a steady but not hurried pace,

and now that he was well out of earshot, got from Ah-Sam a full account

of what he had learnt in the inn. They tramped on for two hours before

resting on the slope of a low hill, which from the Chinaman's general

description appeared to be the hill from whose summit Chang-Wo's fort

could be seen. But, in order to avoid the appearance of curiosity, Bob

called a halt some distance down the slope rather than at the top. Then

pursuing their way after a short rest, still careful to show no

suspicion of being followed, they gained the crest of the hill, and saw

a wide expanse of country spread out before them. They did not pause

now, but Bob, taking his observations as he walked, noted in the far

distance to the left a bright spot against the dark background of a

hill. It gradually defined itself as an extensive building perched on a

precipitous spur. The intervening country was bare; and at two or three

spots upon it he descried small moving patches, which he surmised to be

bodies of horsemen. One of these patches, from its size consisting of

from twenty to thirty riders, was much nearer than the others, and

apparently heading in his direction. It was still very far away, and

since it was not coming from the direction of the inn he hoped that the

horsemen were not concerned with him. He would have liked to hurry his

pace, but recognized that he would thus awaken the suspicion of the man

behind, who, as he had perceived by a hasty glance some time before, was

still following.

The situation was clearly somewhat awkward. If the horsemen were indeed

coming on the track of the party of three, Bob suspected that they would

not be satisfied with explanations, but would arrest them and carry them

to the fortress for examination by Chang-Wo himself. In that case

nothing could save them, for Bob at any rate must be instantly

recognized. If they were not actually on his track, they might be set

upon it by the Manchu coming up behind. It was important, at any rate,

to know whether they were working in concert with that dogged pursuer,

and Bob decided that his best course was to dodge the latter until this

point could be cleared up.

What could be done? There was no time for making experiments; if the

attempt at eluding the Manchu did not succeed at once, it would fail

miserably and entirely. Bob looked anxiously around. For some distance

the path had led over loose, rocky ground, alternating with small copses

of hill trees where the rainfall had washed the soil into hollows. The

copse nearest to the spot on which he now stood was a ragged clump of

stunted pines, which in the late Manchurian spring had scarcely begun to

show signs of new growth. In any case it would prove an insecure place

of hiding, for it would be instantly searched by his pursuers. But half

a mile farther on he spied a narrow watercourse zigzagging almost at

right angles to the track. It was a mountain stream which had been so

swollen by the frost and rains that it had cut a bed some feet deep in

the face of the hill. Except where it crossed the path it was concealed

by the shelving bank.

As Bob's eyes fell upon it, a sudden idea struck him. Hurrying his pace,

he led the way towards it, and found that on the other side was a

stretch of damp, mossy ground, leading up to an irregular group of rocks

somewhat to the left of the path. These rocks were the lower fringe of

a vast extent of broken country--a country of large boulders separated

by narrow, tortuous fissures. Without telling his companions what was in

his mind, he waded through the stream, the water of which was still icy

cold, and stepped on to the wet, oozing ground. The two Chinamen

followed him; the footsteps of the three left deep prints in the moss,

filled instantly by water. They gained the rocks beyond; then Bob,

instead of pursuing the same course, which would have been among the

inhospitable boulders, turned sharp to the left, and describing a rough

semicircle came back to the stream.

His followers tramped along behind him, saying never a word, wondering

what his purpose was, and confident that this doubling on their track

was not without some important end in view. Along the bed of the

stream, the water rising almost to his knees, he made his way as rapidly

as possible, crossed his former path, and continued his march for some

hundred and fifty yards beyond, till he came to a spot where the bank on

the right was low, scarcely above the level of the water. There he left

the stream, and wading through a small swamp, bore continually to the

right until he arrived almost at the path again, more than a hundred

yards from the stream. He had thus made a complete circuit, and come to

a point where the hillside rose steeply above the path and was strewn

with several fallen trees uprooted or overthrown by the previous

autumn's storms. Creeping forward with great caution under cover of the

prostrate trunks and of the few standing trees which the elements had

spared, the little party came to a spot almost immediately over the

path, but completely screened from the sight of anyone below. There

they lay in cold silence and waited.

Hardly more than two minutes passed when they heard the rapid shuffle of

footsteps upon the stony path, and the hard breathing of a man. Peering

cautiously over, Bob saw that it was their Manchu pursuer. He was

moving with swiftness on his clogs, seeming uneasy at having lost sight

of the party. He did not look up; indeed, he would never have suspected

the hiding-place above him, for no one could have reached it directly

from the path without being seen by him. Panting and perspiring, he had

only just passed the concealed party, when Bob heard the clink of

approaching hoofs, and a few moments later a group of riders dashed over

the crest of a hillock some distance on the other side of the path and

bore down immediately on the Manchu, who stopped, wheeled round, and

stood waiting.

With a thrill of uneasiness Bob saw that the foremost of the horsemen

was Chang-Wo himself. Sing-Cheng also recognized his old enemy; Bob

heard him pant, and for a moment feared lest an incautious exclamation

should betray him. But Ah-Sam was on the watch; he laid his hand on the

chief's arm, and the man restrained his pent-up rage.

Chang-Wo rode up to the Manchu and eagerly questioned him. Bob was, of

course, unable to follow their brief conversation, but from their

gestures and demeanour--the man pointing along the path ahead, his

leader's face gleaming with malignant satisfaction--he divined what its

purport was. With a grunt of approval Chang-Wo rode on; his troop

followed him. Bob counted sixteen horsemen. Then the Manchu, his

features relaxing in the relief of a task accomplished, sat down

contentedly beside the path, untied his wallet, and brought out a

handful of dried fish, which he proceeded to devour.

The party in hiding waited on, cramped and chilled, not daring yet to

rise. The man was only a few yards below them; they could hear the

working of his jaws, the smacking of his lips, his grunts of

appreciation; between the mouthfuls any movement they might make would

assuredly be heard by him. Half an hour passed slowly by; once or twice

Bob noticed that the man paused in his eating and looked somewhat

anxiously in the direction in which the horsemen had disappeared; but

hearing nothing, seeing nothing, he returned to his fish until his

appetite was appeased. He had just retied his wallet preparatory to

rising, when the sound of hoofs scattering the loose stones was heard.

A few seconds later Chang-Wo dashed up, followed at a little distance by

fourteen out of his sixteen men. He almost rode down the Manchu, who,

having scrambled to his feet, stood in cowering alarm as the brigand

chief pulled up his horse with a jerk, and rained down upon the man a

shower of furious questions. Vainly the poor wretch tried to make

reply; at the first word Chang-Wo shortened the long spear he carried,

and with ungovernable rage drove it through him. The man fell without a

groan. Then Chang-Wo, riding his horse over the prone body, roared an

order to eight of his men, and with the remaining six galloped away over

the crest of the hill.

*CHAPTER XXIII*

*The Tiger's Lair*

A Tramp by Night--A Distant View--Across the Ravine--The Cleft in the

Gully--Scouting--Light and Shadow--Baffled--An Inspiration

Bob and his men still crouched behind their fallen log. Here indeed had

been an expressive object-lesson in the methods of the Mountain Tiger.

The sight of the dead man gave Bob a sickening sense of horror. Had his

friend Kobo suffered a similar, perhaps a worse fate? Or was he still

alive, with a more awful fate in store? As these questions suggested

themselves Bob felt his courage renewed, his determination strengthened.

Be the issue what it might, for Kobo he must and would dare all.

The eight men left by Chang-Wo had evidently been ordered to continue

the search. They spread out fan-wise, and began to ride slowly in the

direction in which the three fugitives had been last seen to be going.

Bob watched them anxiously. Fortunately they spread from a point almost

opposite to the hidden three. It did not occur to them that the

fugitives had made a circuit, doubling on their tracks. They tried to

find traces of footsteps on the ground, and drew gradually farther away

from the hiding-place. As soon as the last of them had disappeared, Bob

scrambled down to the path, followed by his men. He shuddered as he

passed the dead Manchu; Sing-Cheng with no compunction stooped and

rifled his clothes; then all three set off in the direction Chang-Wo had

taken: there would be less danger in following him. Thus, keeping a

sharp look-out, they retraced their steps for nearly two miles. Then,

noting a patch of scrub on the left which offered a resting-place

sufficiently secure from observation, Bob plunged into it, found it

deeper than it had appeared, and decided to remain there for the rest of

the day.

Night fell; the sky was clear and starlit, and taking the stars as their

guide the party of three resumed their journey, following a course due

south. All through the night they marched, eyes and ears alert, but

seeing nothing save rocks and trees and their grim shadows, hearing

nothing but the faint calls of wild beasts. At daybreak they were dead

beat; their journey had been arduous, and they knew not whither their

path would lead. Even Sing-Cheng was unfamiliar with this region.

At dawn they found themselves nearly at the top of a range of hills,

which the chief recognized as being near the large village mentioned in

the inn. It was wild desolate country; there were occasional patches of

grass among the hills; on sheltered slopes mountain trees grew in

clumps; but in those latitudes the signs of spring appear late, and the

prospect had all the bleak dreariness of winter. Choosing a spot

defended from the cutting morning wind by a wall of rock, they snatched

a few hours' sleep, taking it in turns to keep guard; then after a meal

they pressed on again, bearing to the east with the object of coming

upon the fort from the side of the ravine. Bob hoped that Sing-Cheng

could have led him direct to this spot, but when Ah-Sam asked him the

Chunchuse said that he had never approached the place from this quarter,

and could only guess at its whereabouts.

By and by they came to a stream of some size, flowing north and south.

Bob guessed that this must be the stream that ran through the ravine; it

gave him hope that he was on the right track. He looked along the

surface of the water for the roughness that would indicate a ford. At

that spot they crossed, tying themselves together with the straps of

their baskets to prevent themselves from being swept away by the rapid

current. Having crossed, they pushed on without a halt, up the left

bank, and arrived somewhat late in the afternoon at an elevated spot,

where they came suddenly in sight of the fort, a mile or more below

them.

Sing-Cheng's eyes gleamed as he saw the stronghold of his enemy. He

stretched his right arm towards the place and began to speak excitedly.

Bob pulled him behind a rock. It was not unlikely that Chang-Wo among

his many precautions had set a sentry to watch this part of the

surroundings of the fort, even though the ravine rendered it

unassailable from this direction.

Keeping well in cover, Bob himself took a long look at the stronghold

that was now more important to him than anything else in the world.

What he saw was an irregular fortress, probably a hundred yards in

diameter, built on the edge of the ravine, which appeared a black strip

in the distance. There were five flanking towers, two resting on the

ravine, the other three disposed somewhat irregularly on the outer wall;

this was evidently of considerable height. In the whole enceinte there

was, so far as Bob could see, only one gateway, on the farther side.

Allowing for his distance from it, and for the slight slope of the

intervening country, he estimated that the ravine was wide; and from the

general lie of the land, and his own experiences of the lower course of

the river, he knew that it must be of great depth. On the near side of

the ravine, almost exactly opposite the fort, he noticed that the edge

was broken by a narrow cleft running at right angles to it. Beyond the

fort the country was bare and rolling to the north, but to the west and

south was much broken up by knolls and plantations of fir.

The gray stone walls stood out in clear relief against the background.

Within the enclosure scores of figures were moving about between the low

buildings; it was like an ant-hill for activity; and on the rising

ground beyond the farther wall Bob descried more than one ragged

encampment, confirming what had been told in the inn about the careful

guard maintained on the only practicable line of approach.

As he took in these details, Bob realized with a new clearness how

Chang-Wo had made himself a power and terror in the land. With such a

fastness to fall back upon, and supported by a numerous band of

desperadoes, he could defy Russian and Chinese alike; it was easy to

understand that neither had been eager to try conclusions with him. The

fort was so situated and so massively constructed that it might mock at

any attempt at capture, short of a regular siege enforced by heavy

artillery.

Yet it might be in this solitary mountain stronghold, the lair of the

Mountain Tiger, that, dead or alive, Kobo San lay. As Bob let his eyes

dwell on it with anxious care, he felt his heart sink within him. What

had he come for? What could he do, with two helpers however willing,

however earnest, to rescue Kobo if Kobo was indeed immured within those

strong towers? How could he discover whether his friend was there? The

strength of Samson could not tear down those massive walls; the wiles of

Ulysses could not avail to win entrance through that single gateway;

only an eagle could ascend from the depth of the ravine, and even had he

eagle's wings he would ascend in vain. Why had he come on this wild

enterprise? Now that he had seen with his own eyes, what remained to

him but to acknowledge the hopelessness of his quest, and quit this

region of tyranny and death?

Long he mused, weighed down by a despair more bitter than had burdened

him when he lay under sentence of death at Antung. He felt a strange

certainty that Kobo was there a prisoner, and alive; humanity,

gratitude, affection combined to produce an intense longing to save his

friend, yet even his longing was clouded by a sense of powerlessness,

his activity seemed paralysed.

Ah-Sam had been watching him out of his slant expressionless eyes. For

a time he stood by his master mutely, noting every shade of feeling that

flitted across his tired face. At last he touched him lightly on the

arm.

"Massa no can do not'ing. Allo wailo this-tim'."

Bob started as if stung. The words were but the echo of his own

despair, yet they provoked him to almost violent repudiation.

"Impossible!" he said. "Nothing is impossible. We have ourselves done

things people would have said impossible. At the gully--at the temple!

What has been done can be done again. I am going into the fort. When

it begins to get dark I shall go and find out a way. We haven't come all

this distance to go back without making an effort. We'll have a try,

Ah-Sam,--a try, anyhow."

"Allo lightee, massa; tly, no fear."

In his cold unexcitable manner he told Sing-Cheng what his master had

said. The man grunted approval; he saw no way of accomplishing their

purpose; he did not care for that; the Englishman had scattered

Chang-Wo's Manchus with curses from a brazen bell, and he was ready to

follow the Englishman anywhere.

"That's right," said Bob heartily. "Please God, we'll find a way."

Till dusk he waited, thinking, puzzling. The first move must be to spy

out the position--the surroundings of the fort, especially the ravine.

He resolved that this was a task for himself alone; the risk of being

seen would be trebled if he took his companions. He wondered whether

the moon would give him light; without it he could discover little or

nothing, with it he might himself be discovered. The afternoon had been

cloudy; a high wind had swept dense cumulus across the sky; but the

cloud mass had been broken, not continuous, and the fitful gleams he

might expect if the moon rose would serve his purpose better than a

steady shine.

It was not yet dark when he started, but sufficiently gloomy.

"Wait here till I return," he said to Ah-Sam. "If you are discovered,

save yourselves as best you can."

He crept cautiously down the long slope. Shrubs, mounds, irregularities

in the soil, gave him cover for a considerable distance. A belt of low

trees apparently fringed the ravine; if he could gain that, he thought

he would be safe. He came to it, passed through, and found that it did

not extend quite to the edge of the ravine; a space of a few yards had

at some time been cleared, but was now becoming overgrown with

brushwood. He threw himself on his face, crawled behind a thick clump,

and found himself on the brink. For a few moments he waited, wondering

whether, as' he moved, his light-coloured garments had been descried

from the fort. He heard the sound of many voices from the other side,

the whinny of a horse, the clink of metal; but there was nothing to

indicate any unusual circumstance, and drawing himself a little forward,

still keeping as much as possible in the shadow of the bush, he peeped

over.

The ravine was deep, deeper even than he had expected. Even in the gloom

he could see its opposite side and the walls of the fort, but he could

not see the bottom of the ravine; he only heard the swirl of the water

over the rocks far below, and fancied he could just discern an

occasional dash of white foam. Opposite rose the grim wall of the fort.

Bob scanned it anxiously for the sign of a sentry; there was none. He

realized that none was needed. Below the fort the ground shelved rapidly

for several yards to the edge of the ravine, then bent inwards before it

became a perpendicular wall to the invisible bottom. Bob looked all

along the space from left to right, and marked one spot where the inward

curve was broken by what appeared to be a horizontal rocky platform,

like those large flat slabs sometimes encountered exceptionally among

jagged rocks on the sea-shore. Beyond this platform, up the shelving

bank, he espied a narrow winding path which was visible for a few yards,

then disappeared into the face of the cliff to the left of the fort. In

the cliff-wall itself, just above the platform, he caught sight of what

appeared to be an iron staple, though this seemed so unlikely that he

thought his eyes might have deceived him.

"A sentry's post, I suppose," said Bob to himself, "though it is

evidently never required. Only a bird could cross the ravine. I wonder

what its width is."

It was difficult in the growing darkness to make a guess; still, it

could hardly be less than eighty feet across. The width varied a little

to right and left of his position, but only by a few feet at the most.

Bob saw only too well that the fort was indeed, as his informants had

said, on this side inaccessible. The question suggested itself: Could

it be reached from the bottom of the ravine at some remote point to left

or right? At the spot where he lay the descent on both sides was too

precipitous to be scaled even by an expert mountaineer; but it was

possible that at some distance the cliffs would be lower as well as less

steep. In that case he could descend on one side and ascend on the

other. But he might need assistance in his climbing. He remembered

that Alpine climbers roped themselves together for safety's sake; it

would be a reasonable precaution to return for Ah-Sam and the chief, so

that with their joined straps they might help him in case of need.

It was now so nearly dark that the risk of being discovered was much

lessened. Rising on hands and knees, he prepared to make his way back

up the hillside; but he suddenly remembered the cleft he had noticed on

this side of the ravine, at right angles to it, and it occurred to him

that he ought to take a cursory look at this also. Crawling within the

belt of trees, he rose to his feet and walked rapidly as long as it was

safe, then wriggled along from bush to bush till he came to the edge of

the opening, and looking over found that it was in the shape of a long

wedge, like a slice cut out of a large cake. The sides of this also

were precipitous, and the bottom was out of sight.

He looked along the cleft from the narrow inner end to the wider outer

end, and there noticed a long dark object lying transversely across it.

He thought at first that it was possibly a sapling which had been

uprooted and fallen, but this idea was negatived on his approaching the

spot. The object lay, not on top of the cliff on either side, but a

foot or two below. Walking, still with caution, close up to the place,

he was surprised to find that the two sides of the cleft were connected

by a stout bar of iron, the nearer end of which he felt was firmly

embedded in the rock, reminding him of similar poles used at home to

support unsteady arches or prop up tottering houses. Obviously no such

purpose could have been intended for this bar, and he vaguely wondered

why and when it had been placed in position. It had clearly been there

a long time; it was much rusted, flakes of rust coming off as he touched

it.

Leaving the cleft, he returned as quickly as possible to the spot where

he had left Ah-Sam and the chief. The former rose to meet him.

"Well," said Bob, "has all been quiet?"

"Yes, massa; no piecee man come this-side, no bobbely, not'ing."

"I want you to come along with me. Hide your baskets under the shrubs,

but bring the straps; we may require them."

In a few moments he was leading the way in a direction at an angle to

the path he had taken, past the narrow end of the cleft, and then on a

line parallel with the edge of the ravine. He walked for nearly a mile,

finding as he proceeded that the ground, while undulating, was in

general on almost the same level as his starting-place. Suddenly,

however, it made a sharp dip, and going to the edge of the ravine he saw

that the cliffs on both sides were less precipitous and less lofty. The

sky had for some time been growing lighter, indicating the rising of the

moon; and peering over the edge he saw the water of the torrent sweeping

along in foamy current below. The sides of the ravine were covered with

stunted trees, by means of which he saw that descent or ascent might be

facilitated. Telling Ah-Sam to join the three straps together, he took

one end and climbed down the rocky slope, carefully placing his feet,

and stopping at intervals to allow the men to make sure their footing

behind him. Having reached the brink of the stream, he bade his

followers remain hidden among the trees; then he waded into the water,

and began to ascend the opposite side, carrying the strap with him to

assist in his descent by and by.

The moon, emerging now and then from among the flying clouds, threw a

fitful radiance over the scene as Bob scrambled up the steep acclivity.

Stepping with great care, pulling himself up by overhanging branches

after he had tested them, endeavouring not to displace loose stones, he

at last with one final heave gained the top, where he sat down to

recover breath and look around him. The white moonlight clothed the

neighbourhood with a ghostly glamour, throwing up in bold relief the

grim outlines of the fort far up the ravine. No tree or other obstacle

interposed between it and him; the ground for some distance from the

edge had probably been kept bare purposely. But some hundred and fifty

yards to his left there stood a dark patch of firs, he could not tell of

what extent; to gain that would at any rate bring him a little nearer to

the fort. Throwing himself on his face, he crawled towards it, pausing

every few moments to listen. It seemed a long time before he reached

the firs: it was really only a few minutes; but at last he gained their

shelter, and stood erect, stretching himself in relief.

A light wind sighed in notes of gentle melancholy among the branches,

though above his head he saw between the tree-tops the heavy clouds

drifting rapidly across the sky. He moved carefully among the firs,

pausing now and then to listen and to take his bearings, for he was

anxious to avoid the risk of losing his way as he returned. The trees

at the edge of the clump were set far apart, and between their trunks he

saw three firs forming a group on the other side of the ravine. These

he took as his landmark. Then he walked into the heart of the patch,

where the trees grew thicker, treading lightly on the deep compost of

fir cones, wondering whither his steps were leading him.

Suddenly he halted. A faint sound had touched his ears from a point

ahead--a sound like the clink of steel. He listened, his body bent

forward resting on his right foot, his left foot raised upon its toes.

The sound had ceased; he now heard nothing but the rustle of the wind.

He went on again, but after a few steps he was again arrested by the

same sound, the same slight clink. Again he waited, for a longer time.

Hearing nothing, he took a few more steps, and emerged almost unawares

upon a small clear space. Instantly he darted on tiptoe behind the

nearest trunk. In the centre of the clearing a figure had caught his

eye, a motionless form whose outlines in the suddenness of its discovery

he had had no time to distinguish. He waited, scarcely daring to

breathe; his heart thumped against his ribs, he heard its thuds. But

there was no sound from before him--yes, he caught again the

clink-clink, louder, more prolonged.

He waited, then ventured to peep out from behind the trunk. The figure

was still there, in the same spot, in the same attitude, motionless.

Strain his eyes as he might, Bob could detect, in the darkness of an

overshadowing cloud, no sign of movement. A gust of wind came sighing

through the copse; yes, the figure does move, and as it moves there

comes again the clink-clink. Then all is still again. A nameless

uneasiness seized upon Bob; a cold, clammy perspiration broke from every

pore; he watched the figure as if fascinated. Again a gust of wind;

again the slight swaying movement; again the soft clink-clink; again the

perfect stillness.

Bob could bear the suspense no longer. Between himself and the figure

stood one slender sapling, an accident of growth. With heart wildly

beating, he stole out and tiptoed towards this fragile cover. He

reached it just as a stronger gust swept through the plantation, and at

the same moment a sudden beam shot from beneath a cloud and filtered

wanly through the tree-tops. The figure swayed more violently; the

clink-clink became the rattle of chains; and in the moonlight Bob saw

with horror, but at the same time with unspeakable relief, that the form

was a human skeleton, chained upright to a post.

He remembered what Ah-Sam had learnt in the inn. This no doubt was some

hapless wretch who had been caught wandering on the spot and chained

there, with who could tell what accompaniment of cruelty, to die of

starvation or exhaustion. Grim reminder to Bob of what his own fate

would be if he fell into the hands of this Wild Man of the Hills; of

what perhaps Kobo's fate had already been! For a moment he paused,

surveying the grisly object. "Poor wretch!" he murmured. Then with

lips resolutely set he pursued his way.

Keeping as nearly as he could judge a course parallel with the edge of

the ravine, he crossed the clearing and plunged into the firs on the

other side. In a few minutes the copse thinned, then came to an end;

there was nothing but open country, rough, but clear of trees, between

him and the fort. The ravine, he thought, must be about five hundred

yards on his right. In that direction, where the ground sloped down to

the edge, he saw a low hut; a similar building lay at almost equal

distance on his left. Were they the huts of sentries? he wondered. He

waited at the edge of the copse. From the hut on the right came no

sign, but on the left he saw in the moonlight a figure emerge from

behind the building and walk slowly towards him. Bob stood motionless.

Surely he had not been seen? No, the man approached but a few steps,

then returned and disappeared.

Bob's pulse had resumed its natural beat; he felt cold and strangely

tired, but the suspense, the uncertainty, the eeriness of waiting for he

knew not what, had gone. All his senses, all his intelligence, were

bent towards the fulfilment of his purpose. He must go on, whatever the

risk. Waiting for the moon once more to ride behind a cloud, he stole

forward between the huts. For a quarter of a mile all was dark, then a

gleam shot forth; he dropped to the ground and lay still. He waited

long, turning on his side to watch the black clouds scudding overhead.

At last the moon was again obscured; again he stole forward, and he had

come within an arrow's flight of the fort, and was hidden from the huts

by a dip in the ground, before the moon reappeared.

He could now take a leisurely view of this face of the stronghold,

bathed and blanched as it was by the moonbeams. Two figures were moving

up and down upon the wall, two others on the top of the flanking tower

to his left. He saw the opening, black and ominous, of the fort's only

gateway. Here and there around him the grass was blackened as if by a

temporary encampment. If he moved, his light clothes would show against

these dark patches. He wondered whether it would not almost be safer

if, avoiding them, he should continue his progress only when the moon

shone.

He still lay watching, vainly trying to imagine some means of entering

the fort, when he heard the clang of arms, then a great creaking and

groaning. Hardly daring to peer over the brim of the hollow in which he

lay, he saw the huge gate swung open outwards. Even as the thought

struck him that this was surely an unusual incident at such a time of

night, a man on horseback came out, set his horse to a fast trot, and

clattered by within a hundred yards of Bob's position. He flattened

himself against the ground and held his breath; he felt the tremor of

the earth under the horses' hoofs; he heard his heart beating. But the

horseman did not slacken his pace; the clatter became fainter. Again

there was a groaning and creaking, and the great gate clanged to. All

was silent.

For a full hour Bob lay there, while the light of the moon came and

went, vainly endeavouring to think out a means of accomplishing his

ends. It seemed to him that he had come in truth on a wild-goose chase.

The walls of the fort rose sheer from the ground to a height of at least

twenty feet, smooth, regular, with not a foothold from base to crown.

He could not hope to scale them. Even if he could do so, what chance

had he of finding Kobo? He must himself be instantly discovered. The

walls were out of the question. What of the gateway? As he had just

seen, the massive gate was shut at night; no doubt it was closely

guarded by day. Supposing an opportunity offered of slipping in in

disguise, how could he make use of it? He knew nothing of the language.

He would gain admittance only to be detected, arrested, and despatched.

Thus all his puzzling was in vain. At length, with a feeling of

despair, he rose during a temporary darkening of the moon, and made his

stealthy way back towards the patch of firs. He groped his way through,

shuddering as he heard the clinking of the chained figure, emerged on

the opposite side, and finding the three trees he had chosen as his

landmark, safely reached the edge of the ravine. There he waited. The

moon had sunk behind the distant hills; in the darkness he would run the

risk of alarming his enemies if he attempted to descend, for this side

of the ravine was steep, as he knew, and he could not get down without

making some noise. So, crouched under the edge out of sight from above,

he waited, cold, tired, and heavy of heart, through the night till the

chill dawn. Then with infinite care he let himself down from tree to

tree, passing the strap round a trunk and holding firmly to it until his

feet were secure below. He reached the stream, waded through, and found

his two companions waiting with oriental patience where he had left

them.

"My say no can do not'ing," said Ah-Sam, glancing at his master's drawn,

pale features.

Bob was too tired to reply. Under cover of the trees the three threaded

their way back to the spot where they had left their provisions

concealed, and there, making sure that no alarm had been raised in the

fort, they sat down to their breakfast. Bob had no appetite. He forced

himself to eat, for he knew not what further trial of endurance might be

before him; then, feeling the need of sleep, he lay down behind a

spreading bush, and bade the other two keep watch in turn.

The day passed alternately in sleeping and in discussing the situation.

Neither Ah-Sam nor Sing-Cheng had any suggestion to offer. The former

stolidly adhered to his opinion that nothing was possible. The latter

said in effect, "Don't ask me to plan. Tell me what to do, and I will

do it."

Bob got neither help nor comfort from them. The stock of food was

rapidly diminishing. The two Chinamen ate without sparing; and if only

for this reason, either something must be done at once or they must all

return on their tracks. The sense of his powerlessness stung Bob like a

goad. At one moment he was on the point of giving up; then with the

thought of Kobo in the power of Chang-Wo came a fresh spurt of

determination. All through the day fits of despair alternated with

renewed efforts to solve the difficulty, until his mood of nervous

irritability was almost past enduring. Ah-Sam and the chief talked

constantly in low whispers, and with such solemn looks of concern that

Bob felt they would help him if they could. It occurred to him once to

ask them what point they were discussing so gravely, and he could have

knocked their heads together in sheer vexation when Ah-Sam replied:

"My tellum Sing-Cheng littee pussy boilum stew, makee numpa one topside

chow-chow. Hai yah!"

At last, thoroughly worn out with the strain, as darkness sank over the

hills Bob fell into an uneasy sleep. It was crowded with dreams--of

recent happenings, of his school-days, of his childhood among the

Cumbrian dales. He turned restlessly from side to side, sometimes

muttering, sometimes calling to his friends, giving his two companions,

as they in turn took watch, matter for wonder and concern. At last he

found himself on his back, with eyes wide open, staring up into the

starlit void, his pulse beating furiously, his nerves aquiver. He had

awoke at a moment when in his dream a terrible accident was on the point

of happening. The scene was the school gymnasium. He was swinging on

one of the ropes of the giant-stride, and seemed to have worked up a

velocity only to be obtained in dreamland. On the next rope before him

swung his chum, and he felt that some demon of speed was whirling him

down upon the boy, with such force that he must inevitably do him

serious hurt. Only by his own agility and muscular strength was the

injury averted; and he woke trembling from the nightmare--to a scene of

absolute peace beneath the clear cold stars.

Suddenly he sat bolt upright, uttering a low exclamation that caught the

ear of Ah-Sam, taking his turn of duty.

"I have it! I have it!" he cried. "Ah-Sam, wake the chief. There is a

long journey before you."

Sing-Cheng was soon roused from his snoring slumbers. Then Bob, his

nerves still quivering with excitement, told Ah-Sam what he must do.

With the chief he was to set off at once for the large village of which

they had heard. It lay probably about sixteen miles away over the

hills. They were to enter the village and explain that their master's

mule-cart had broken down several miles away through the snapping of the

traces. They required ten yards of new rope. When they had bought this

they were to say, as by an after-thought, that, rope being very dear in

their village far to the north, they would like to purchase a larger

quantity to have a stock always in reserve, and to sell again to

neighbouring farmers. They were to ask for at least one hundred yards.

Further, they must procure more food, and return with their loads as

soon as possible.

The chief looked discontented when this errand was explained to him. He

had evidently expected some scheme for the instant conquest of the fort.

But Ah-Sam reminded him of his promise to do anything he was bidden, and

he assented with a shrug.

The moon was up.

"If you start at once," said Bob, "you will cover several miles before

the moon sets. When it is too dark to see your way, rest. On your

return, don't come within five miles of the fort by daylight. Wait

until dusk, then hurry back to me with all speed. Ah-Sam, I trust to

you; be careful, be quick."

The men took the money he gave them, and with the customary low

obeisance marched away. At the same time Bob stole down to the

wedge-shaped cleft in the side of the ravine, and, keeping under cover,

spent some time in looking up and down it, and across to the fort. The

moon was disappearing when he returned and threw himself down again to

rest and think.

*CHAPTER XXIV*

*In the Enemy's Gates*

A Long Rope--A Trial Trip--A Miss--As a Thief in the Night--Chang-Wo

Takes His Ease--Tantalus

The next day passed so slowly that it seemed as though it would never

end. Bob was full of all kinds of apprehension as to what had befallen

Ah-Sam and the chief. He wished he had accompanied them; then saw how

unwise it would have been so to do; his presence would only have been a

source of danger, and, except in an actual fight, he could be of no use.

He ate sparingly of the remaining food; till the men returned he could

not be sure of their being able to procure a fresh supply. If they

proved unsuccessful, all three would be on short commons indeed.

Dusk fell. There had been time for them to go and return. Bob waited

anxiously. Hour after hour passed; the moon rose, and climbed higher

and higher into the sky. Where were the men? He was anxious about

their fate; but he fretted also because, even if they returned in

safety, it was growing too late to do anything that night. He walked up

and down like a sentry, stopping at the end of his beat to listen, how

often he did not count. At last, when he judged it must be nearing

midnight, he heard a soft footfall, and in a moment saw a man's form

approaching. Holding his pistol ready, he waited until the man came

within a few yards of him, then called softly, "Who are you?"

"My Ah-Sam, allo lightee," came the answer in a whisper.

Bob lowered the pistol, and the Chinaman stepped forward panting, and

dropped a heavy bundle at his feet.

"Where is Sing-Cheng?"

"He one piecee li wailo, he hidee. Chang-Wo look-see. 'Ch'hoy! two

piecee man', he say; 'my catchum, killum'; one piecee man no makee

muchee bobbely; he come this-side allo lightee; Chang-Wo no can look-see

he."

"I see, you come one at a time; Sing-Cheng will give you time to get

here, then come himself. A good idea of yours, Ah-Sam. Now tell me how

you got on."

They had reached the village at early morning, said Ah-Sam, and made

their purchases with no difficulty. On leaving the place they had

thought it advisable to make a slight circuit, and had unluckily, after

an hour's march, come plump upon two of Chang-Wo's men on horseback. One

of the men had instantly recognized Sing-Cheng, and attempted to lay

hands on him, while the other made at Ah-Sam with his spear.

"And how did you get away?" asked Bob.

"Killum, one, two," replied Ah-Sam simply.

"The horses?"

"He lun wailo chop-chop; my no can catchee."

"Towards the fort?"

"No, massa; lun far far wailo that-side."

He pointed in the opposite direction. Bob gave a sigh of relief.

"Did you see any more of the brigands as you came?" he asked.

"Look-see one, two, t'lee; he makee my hidee; my come this-side velly

slow, galaw!"

In a few minutes the chief arrived, bearing his share of the burden.

Both he and Ah-Sam were exhausted; in any case it was too late to

attempt anything that night; and Bob told the men to eat and rest, for

there would be work for them on the morrow.

When, next day, dusk was deepening into night, a sentry on the wall of

the fort abutting on the ravine might possibly have seen, if it had

occurred to him to look, a figure moving by almost imperceptible degrees

along the face of the cleft opposite. The course followed was along a

narrow ledge some feet below the top, leading from the inner end of the

cleft to a spot immediately below the stout iron girder whose presence

and purpose had given Bob so much food for conjecture. Arriving at the

girder, the figure reached up, cautiously passed the looped end of a

long rope over it, and, threading the other end through the loop, drew

it tight over the girder and pushed it gently with the stripped branch

of a sapling towards the centre. Then he retraced his steps along the

ledge, carrying the loose end of the rope. The slack, dangling in the

cleft, displaced a stone, which fell with a rattle to the bottom. The

stealthy form hurried his pace to reduce the length of the slack,

fearing for a moment lest the fall of the stone might have been heard in

the fort. But there was little risk; stones must frequently drop down

the sides of the ravine; and in any case the rope, in the almost total

obscurity of the narrow cleft, was invisible from the farther side.

At the nearer end of the ledge Bob rejoined Ah-Sam and the chief, who

were crouching by a couple of stout saplings that overhung the deep

gorge beneath. Making fast to one of the saplings the rope he carried,

he sat down and spoke in low tones to the Chinaman, explaining the

scheme which he had devised after hours of meditation.

The situation was a simple one, yet one that called for nerve and

unbounded courage. Immediately opposite the cleft, on the other side of

the ravine, was the small rocky platform, with a staple in the wall

above. The width of the ravine, as Bob estimated, was some eighty feet,

but it was impossible to make any more accurate calculation; it might be

more than eighty, it might be less; and a few feet one way or the other

would make all the difference in the plan he had conceived. He had come

to the conclusion that the iron girder which had so much piqued his

curiosity had an intimate connection with the platform and staple. It

had been there in the old chief's time; nobody knew when or why it had

been placed in position, but Bob felt convinced that girder and platform

had been intended to serve as a means of ingress to or egress from the

fort if it should chance to be invested. A besieging force, relying on

the apparent impossibility of scaling the side of the ravine, would be

unlikely to maintain a guard there. But Bob's idea was that, suspended

from a rope fastened to the girder, an active man could swing across the

chasm, and, if the length of the rope were properly adjusted, could land

gently on the platform, make good his footing by grasping the staple,

and thereby prevent himself from falling backward with the return swing

of the rope. If the rope were too long, he would of course run the risk

of being dashed against the wall of the ravine beneath the platform. If

it were too short, he would fail to reach the staple and swing back into

the cleft; and as the return swing would obviously not carry him to his

starting-point, he would again swing across the ravine, and so the

pendulous movement would continue until he came to rest perpendicularly

beneath the girder. He would then either have to climb the eighty feet

of rope until he reached the iron bar, or drop the sheer two hundred

feet to the bottom of the cleft. There was a further danger. On the

return swing the man might, owing to oscillation in the rope, fail to

enter the cleft, and be carried against its jagged edge, probably with

sufficient force to stun, disable, or even kill him. Clearly the

attempt would be full of danger; but it was this hazardous feat that Bob

had resolved to attempt.

One necessary precaution could be taken in advance. It was to discover

by experiment the length of rope needed. Bob guessed that the ledge on

which he stood, at the narrow end of the cleft farthest from the ravine,

must always have formed the springing-ground; its position therefore

governed the length. Having explained to his two companions what he had

in mind, he cut their expostulations short by borrowing some of their

upper garments, which he made into a soft bundle. He weighted this with

some heavy stones, tied it to the rope, and then, as the moon threw a

dim light on the opposite side of the ravine, he placed the bundle in

Ah-Sam's hands and made his way to the neighbourhood of the girder.

Arriving there, he lifted his hand as a signal to the Chinaman to loose

his hold on the bundle, and anxiously watched its course. It swept

through the cleft, across the ravine, came to rest apparently within a

yard of the platform, then swung back, making a giddy oscillation and

narrowly escaping the wall of the cleft, until as it approached the

ledge Ah-Sam caught it by means of a noose in a shorter rope. Its

unsteady return journey gave Bob some alarm, but he surmised that with

the greater weight of a man the rope would probably have risen higher

and taken a more direct backward swing.

The experiment was sufficiently satisfactory, and then Bob explained to

his amazed listeners what he proposed to do. He would himself risk the

attempt. If he got safely across he would fix the rope to the staple

and make a preliminary investigation of the pathway leading upwards from

the platform. Should he require assistance he would return and loosen

the rope, which would then swing back to a position perpendicularly

under the girder. Ah-Sam meanwhile was to crawl to the extreme end of

the ledge just below the bar; he was to obtain a hold of the rope as it

swung loose, return to the innermost end of the cleft, and swing across

the ravine as Bob had done. On the other hand, if Bob found that

nothing could be done from the platform, or if he were detected, Ah-Sam

was to cover his retreat with the revolver.

"What Sing-Cheng do allo tim'?" asked Ah-Sam when he had grasped his own

instructions.

"He will remain behind. Tell him so."

When the chief understood this he was greatly indignant, and began to

protest in loud tones. Bob checked him peremptorily. He felt that if

he gained admittance to the fort precious time would be wasted if he had

to give orders to Sing-Cheng through Ah-Sam, while if two men were

unable to effect their purpose it was unlikely that three would succeed.

He did not consider it necessary to argue with the chief, but pacified

him by saying that, if Ah-Sam crossed over, he was to take the

Chinaman's place at the end of the cleft and watch carefully lest it

proved necessary to cover the retreat of the two from the other side.

All was now ready. But Bob waited for nearly an hour until the

moonlight fell full upon the platform and the staple above it. Then he

rose, placed his right foot in the loop of rope from which he had

removed the experimental bundle, and stood on the ledge, grasping the

rope firmly with his right hand. It was an anxious moment. He felt a

sudden shudder run through his body as he hesitated on the brink,

looking at the black gulf before him, and realizing that he was in very

truth taking his life into his hands. But his hesitation was but

momentary. With a determination and a hope that were themselves prayer

he set his lips, pulled the rope taut, and dropped, his companions

holding their breath as they watched him. There was little jerk as he

fell, but it seemed an eternity before the swift motion through the air

began to slacken on the upward swing. Suddenly, just as he felt that he

was coming to a stop, he saw the staple above him slightly to his right.

He jerked himself up and sideways in the effort to catch it with his

unoccupied left hand; he touched it with the tips of his fingers; then

the sagging rope became taut again; he fell swiftly downwards, felt a

slight jerk at the lowest point of the rope's course, twirled round and

round, and grazing the wall, it seemed by an inch, shot upwards towards

the ledge. He had only time to wonder whether Ah-Sam would catch him

with the loop when he again came to rest and began to fall downwards.

There was a sudden constriction about his waist; he felt a sharp pain;

then, to his relief, though to his discomfort also, he was steadily

hauled in, and landed breathless, exhausted, and dazed on the ledge

beside Ah-Sam.

When he was again able to take stock of his surroundings, he observed

that Ah-Sam had fastened to one of the saplings one end of the rope by

which he had been landed. But for this precaution the two men on the

ledge could scarcely have arrested his fall, but would probably have

been dragged themselves headlong into the cleft.

"That was well thought of," said Bob to Ah-Sam. "Now, I must have

another try."

"No, no," returned Ah-Sam. "Massa too muchee tired; Ah-Sam tly one

tim'; massa no can do evelyting."

"Your turn by and by. When I have rested a little I'll drop again. It

can be done. It will not be so strange and breathless the second time."

He waited until he felt completely recovered from the experience, which,

though lasting only a few seconds, had been a very trying one; then he

rose for the second attempt. This time he placed his left foot in the

loop and grasped the rope with his left hand, leaving his right free.

He sprang off with his right foot, down into the gulf. He went through

the same series of sensations as before, except that he was more

conscious of the motion and more alert at the end of the swing. There

was the staple again; again on his right side; he flung out his arm as

rapidly as he could, touched the iron, caught it, obtained a good grip.

As he did so, the whole weight of his body was thrown on his right hand;

but the strain was only momentary, for instinctively advancing the right

leg he reached the edge of the platform, and with a forward jerk he

stood safe but breathless on firm rock.

Waiting for a few moments to steady himself, he released his left foot

from the rope. Then hitching the end to the staple, he made his way

cautiously up the path. It was broader than it had seemed from the

opposite side of the ravine. At the point where the path had appeared

to vanish into the cliff he now saw that it entered a low tunnel. Going

into this, treading warily, he found that he had come to a flight of

narrow steps. It was pitch dark. With his hands lightly touching the

wall on either side he crept up, waiting after each step, anxious,

suspicious, his ears strained to catch every sound, his eyes peering for

any light above him. Suddenly the steps ceased; he was on level ground

again; he stole forward on tiptoe for what he thought must be between

twenty and thirty yards. From the direction of the tunnel he guessed

that he must now be near one of the flanking towers: the left-hand one

overhanging the ravine. There was still no light, still no sound; this

was not surprising, for the whole garrison save the sentries were

probably asleep. Yet, if he found no light, his enterprise almost

certainly must fail. He went on, groping, conscious of the musty

atmosphere of the passage. He could see nothing: his hands were

outstretched, and he moved them now to the right, now to the left,

touching the walls on both sides.

All at once his right hand came upon an obstacle immediately in front of

him. It was either the blind end of the tunnel or a door. His heart

sank as the thought crossed his mind that the tunnel, so long in disuse,

might have been bricked up. But moving his hand over the obstructing

surface he felt that it was of wood, and in a moment he touched

something cold that projected an inch or two towards him. He pressed it

gently, pushed it, tried to lift it, then bore down upon it; it yielded

suddenly, and from the other side came the unmistakable click of a

latch. He held his breath, waiting motionless for more than a minute,

fearful lest the sound should have been heard by someone on the other

side. All was still as death. Keeping the latch depressed, he pushed

the door gently, then more firmly. There was no yielding. Again his

heart sank; was the door bolted on the inside? Had he come thus far only

to be baulked at last? But doors might open outwards as well as

inwards. He pulled gently at the catch, and stopped with a start, for

he heard the dreaded creak of a hinge. The door had begun to open

towards him; through the inch-wide opening a draught of cold air played

upon his face.

Had the creak been heard? He waited, listening. The silence was still

unbroken. Then he began to pull the door towards him by almost

infinitesimal degrees, and with every least movement there was a faint

creak that sent a thrill through him. Yet it was better to risk many

slight and interrupted sounds than one loud and prolonged; and he

continued, lessening the strain on the hinges by giving an upward

pressure upon the catch.

It seemed an age before the door was sufficiently open to allow him to

wriggle through. He waited again; then moved slowly and warily forward,

to find within a few paces that his foot was arrested by another step.

He had come to a staircase. This time the flight wound round and round,

and as he rose higher a glint of moonlight fell through a narrow slit in

the right-hand wall; he must be on a winding stair within the tower. He

left the dim light behind and came again into inky blackness; then, at

another turn, another slit gave entrance to the pale beam. At last,

after mounting until it seemed that his winding course would never end,

he came into open air and full moonlight; he was on the roof of the

tower. Before stepping out from the shelter of the stairway he glanced

eagerly to right and left. The roof was vacant. It was hexagonal in

shape. He wondered whether it was overlooked by other towers. Dropping

on his knees, he crawled under cover of the wall that intercepted the

moonlight, and made his way thus to the parapet. With relief he saw

that the other towers were no higher, but apparently indeed a few feet

lower. Completing the circuit of the roof, he came to another stairway

immediately opposite the one he had just left. He entered cautiously,

and found that this also was a winding stair, differing from the other

only in the fact that there were no patches of light from slits in the

wall. He went down step by step, quietly, until at a turn he was

brought to a sudden pause by the sight of a small lamp burning in a

niche opposite a heavily-barred door. For a minute he stood still; then

stepped silently down until he came to the door. He listened; he

ventured to place his ear against the wood: there was no sound. Waiting

for a brief space, he hovered between advancing and retiring; then, with

quickening breath, he moved on past the door until he came to the foot

of the staircase.

He there perceived that he was in a narrow passage, with matting

underfoot. It was dark, except at the farther end, which was slightly

illuminated by a dull glow, evidently the reflection of a light from

some point round the corner. Proceeding with cautious movements towards

it, he came to a spot where the passage made a sharp turn to the right.

He dropped to the floor, and, after listening to make sure that no one

was approaching, ventured to peep round. At the end of the passage he

saw a half-open door, through which the light was streaming; and now he

heard the low hum of voices, and in the distance a faint clatter as of

cooking utensils. On his left was a massive door clamped with plates of

iron. It was shut. Bob guessed that he had been following a passage

that led round the inner wall of the tower, and that the iron door was

the principal entrance to the tower from the central courtyard of the

fort. On the right hand, opposite this door, he saw a broad corridor or

entrance-hall, illuminated by a large oil-lamp. He rose and peeped

round the corner; the corridor ended with another door richly hung with

silk.

He waited for a moment. If either door should be suddenly thrown open

he was lost. He almost feared lest someone should hear the beating of

his heart, so madly was it thumping. It was touch and go. The risk was

great, but he had a great purpose. He stepped into the corridor, and

crept along towards the silk-hung door.

Lifting the curtain, he found that the door stood slightly ajar. He

held his breath as he peeped round, and spied, in the midst of a

magnificently-furnished apartment, crowded with the rich spoils of many

a raid, the one-eared Manchu Chang-Wo, reclining on a divan, and

smoking. He wore a loose jacket of blue silk above his pantaloons, and

a skullcap. His features had the same impassivity that always

characterized him; from his face one could never have guessed whether he

was happy or the reverse. As Bob looked, Chang-Wo raised his hand, and

with the knuckles struck a small gong that stood by his side. Bob

wondered with no little alarm from what quarter the summons would be

answered, and gripped his revolver. From a door on the left of the

apartment a burly Manchu entered. To him Chang-Wo addressed a few curt

words; whereupon the man kow-towed and disappeared through the doorway.

There was a sound of voices, then light footsteps in the passage at the

end of the corridor--a continuation of the passage up which Bob himself

had come. He flattened himself against the wall just as three figures

crossed the end of the corridor in front of the iron door, and went

along the passage towards the staircase by which he had descended. They

were no doubt carrying out the order Chang-Wo had just given. What if,

on their return, they should take the nearest way to their chief's room

and come down the corridor instead of along the passage and through the

door leading, as Bob conjectured, to the kitchen? In that case they

would certainly discover him. He could not risk discovery, so tiptoeing

along the corridor he followed the men, calculating his pace by the

sound of their shuffling footsteps ahead.

He came in a few moments to the foot of the staircase, and knew by the

hollow sounds coming down that the three men had ascended. Their

mission apparently was either to the roof or to the heavily-barred door

he had passed on his descent. The passage led on past the opening of

the staircase, and as it was quite dark in that direction Bob resolved

to go on for a few steps and await the men's return, trusting to the

darkness to conceal him. Listening near the foot of the stairs he heard

the clatter of the bolts as they were withdrawn at the door above, then

the creak of rusty hinges. There was an interval; then he heard the men

returning, and as they came down, with the sound of their voices was

mingled the clank of chains.

They descended slowly, and as with care. They reached the bottom; they

entered the passage; and then in the dim glow Bob saw that there were

not three men now, but four. The fourth, a smaller man than the rest,

was being half pushed, half dragged along, and all the time his every

movement was accompanied by the clank-clank of metal. Bob felt a rush of

blood to his face; his fingers tingled as though with galvanism. He

pressed on after the group. They came, as he had done, to the great iron

door. As he had done, they turned into the corridor opposite; and they

passed into Chang-Wo's hall by the draped door where Bob himself had but

a few minutes before been peeping. Almost reckless of consequences he

followed them. They left the door half open, and from the folds of a

silken hanging he beheld a piteous scene.

Between two of the Manchu guards Kobo was held up before his enemy. He

was but the shadow of his former self. Bob could not see his face, but

he saw his thin manacled wrists, he saw the hollows in his neck, and

these, with the drooping helplessness of his attitude, were evidence of

something too terrible for words.

Chang-Wo was speaking. He took the pipe from his mouth and jerked a

word at the third Manchu, who went into the kitchen and returned with a

metal can. Then Chang-Wo spoke to Kobo, snapping out the syllables in a

harsh staccato that matched well the cold cruelty of his stony face. It

mattered little to Bob that he could not understand what the Manchu

said, or what Kobo replied in a thin husky whisper, scarcely audible.

He heard a mocking note in Chang-Wo's voice; he saw the cup held before

Kobo's face, but just beyond his reach; he saw Kobo's head move slowly

from side to side as if making the gesture of refusal; and he guessed

that this was the extremity of torture to which his friend had been put:

that he had been kept without water, and that a brimming cup was now

being offered to him in the hope of tempting him to betray his country.

For some minutes the scene continued--Chang-Wo's cold metallic voice

addressing the fainting Japanese; Kobo murmuring his steadfast refusal;

the Manchu offering the cup. Then suddenly it ceased; Chang-Wo, his

expression never changing, flung up his hand; the water was taken away;

the two guards wheeled Kobo round, and in the moment before Bob turned

to retreat he caught one glimpse of his friend's face.

"God in heaven!" he muttered, and, white to the lips, went silently over

the matting to the foot of the staircase.

*CHAPTER XXV*

*Nemesis*

Gagged and Bound--Flight--Into the Depths--Too Late--Last

Wishes--Taru--At Rest

Bob went up the winding stair, past the door now unbarred, until he came

to a spot where, unseen, he could see. After him, at a slower pace,

ascended the Manchus with their haggard, tottering captive. They hauled

him into the room, shut and barred the door upon him, and descended to

their quarters. Bob waited till their footsteps had died away, then he

too descended again; if he was to accomplish his purpose he must fix the

positions of the rooms so firmly in his mind that he could move without

error or stumble. He stole once more along the passage around the wall,

down the corridor leading from it to Chang-Wo's room, back to the

passage and along it farther until he came to a door opening to the

kitchen, from within which he heard the voices of the servants. Then he

returned to the stairway, mounted to the roof, went down the outer

stair, and so through the tunnel to the platform above the ravine. He

looked across to see whether the moonlight would reveal the form of

Ah-Sam at his appointed post; but the Chinaman had kept out of sight.

Bob himself could be seen; he loosened the rope from the staple and sent

it flying downwards. It was caught as it swung under the iron girder. A

few minutes passed, then he saw the form of a man swinging across

towards him. Holding on to the staple, Bob caught Ah-Sam at the end of

the swing, once more secured the rope, then retreating to the shelter of

the tunnel he explained in a whisper to the amazed and breathless

Chinaman what he had discovered and what he meant to do.

For some hours the two waited there in silence, until Bob thought the

occupants of the tower must be asleep. Then he led Ah-Sam by the way he

himself had traversed until they reached the passage at the foot of the

inner stairs. Bidding Ah-Sam remain there, he stole forward to

reconnoitre. As he came down the stairs he had seen that the lamp

opposite Kobo's dungeon was still burning, though dimly; he now saw that

the lamp in the corridor also was still alight. Did Chang-Wo keep these

lamps constantly burning? Was he, like all tyrants, fearful of

assassination? The constant lights, the massive iron-barred door in the

passage, suggested that he did not trust his followers; he himself was a

usurper and an assassin; might not the measure he had meted to others be

measured to him again? He ruled by fear; when men ceased to fear him

his authority would vanish like a pricked bubble.

Bob went along until he came to the door into the kitchen. It was half

open, and peeping in, he was concerned to see that the three men were

immersed in a game of "go"; two playing, the third looking on. He

wished they were asleep. Scarcely daring to breathe, he stood in the

passage for what seemed hours, ready to flee or to fight as the moment

might require. The players were absorbed in the game, exchanging only

rare monosyllables. They were no doubt gambling, and to them the stakes

were important.

At last the looker-on, the man who had answered Chang-Wo's summons,

turned away, retreated to a corner of the room near the door of his

master's apartment, and curled himself up for the night. Bob gave an

inaudible gasp of relief. The other two played on; when would this long

game be ended? The minutes lengthened themselves into at least an hour

before one of the men rose with a sudden exclamation of anger, and,

seizing his opponent, knocked his head smartly against the floor.

Having taken this revenge for his losses, he went to his corner, spread

his couch, and prepared for sleep. The victor, a much smaller man, bore

the assault with a patient shrug, and, rubbing his head, tied his paltry

winnings in a bag which he took from somewhere among his clothes. Then

he too retired to rest, leaving the lamp burning.

As soon as heavy breathing and snores in three different tones told that

all were asleep, Bob returned for Ah-Sam. He whispered a few words to

him, then both tiptoed along the passage until they came to the kitchen

door. Ah-Sam entered alone. A few minutes elapsed; he returned to the

passage, and handed Bob a soft pad of cloth a few inches long and a

strip of cord, himself retaining a shorter piece. Bob looked his

approval of his follower's quiet and successful search, and both went

into the room.

The big fellow lying nearest Chang-Wo's door was clearly the toughest

customer of the three, and Bob had decided to tackle him first. He was

lying on his back, and his mouth was wide open. Bob crept to his head,

Ah-Sam stood at his feet. With a sudden pounce Bob slipped the pad of

cloth between his jaws; at the same moment Ah-Sam seized his feet and

began to tie them together, and Bob endeavoured to pinion his arms. The

Manchu's position rendered this difficult; he wriggled over, and his arm

striking against the floor, roused one of his companions, who half rose

upon his elbow. Seeing that Ah-Sam had firmly bound the feet, Bob left

him to complete the trussing of the first man and rushed over to deal

with the second. The half-dazed fellow had just sat up and begun to

look about him when Bob dropped upon him, dealing him a blow that

rendered him for the moment harmless. But before Bob could recover his

balance, he was himself pulled to the ground by the third man, who had

awakened in full possession of his senses. Giving a shout, he got his

left hand upon his assailant's throat; Bob was upon the floor, helpless

to resist the horrid clutch. He writhed, he was choking; he felt already

that all was over, when the pressure suddenly relaxed; the Manchu fell,

a huddled heap, to the ground. Ah-Sam had disobeyed orders. He saw

what was happening to his master, and, finding the first man still

wriggling, had given him his quietus with the knife, and then darted

across the room, to deal in the same way with Bob's opponent.

Bob sprang to his feet. Chang-Wo must by this time have been awakened

by the commotion, and might escape by the farther door. There was no

time to lose. Pulling the dead Manchu from before the door, Bob flung

himself against it. The catch on the inside gave way; he burst into the

room; there was a blinding flash, and a bullet crashed through the

woodwork within a few inches of his head. In the middle of the room

stood the Manchu chief, with a pistol in his hand. Bob made a dash for

him, but keeping his eyes on Chang-Wo he failed to notice a pile of

quilts on the floor. He tripped. The figure of Ah-Sam coming in

support was seen by Chang-Wo, who waited no longer, but rushed to the

door leading into the corridor, and slamming it behind him, disappeared.

Bob was after him in a moment. The door, he already knew, had no

fastening on the outside. He pulled it open, and, followed by Ah-Sam,

dashed into the corridor after the fugitive. He heard the pad of rapid

footsteps ascending the stairway. Springing up as fast as the narrow

winding steps allowed, he gained the roof just in time to see, in the

thin light of dawn, the gigantic Manchu disappearing through the opening

opposite. Bob leapt across the roof to follow. Down the stairs he

plunged, staggering, recovering himself, gaining on the heavier man in

front of him. So eagerly did he pursue that he forgot the existence of

the door at the foot of this staircase, until, coming suddenly full tilt

against it, he was brought up with a painful shock that rendered him

almost breathless. He remembered that the door fastened on the other

side; had there been time for Chang-Wo to slip the bolt against him? He

pressed it; it did not yield; he went back a few steps and flung himself

against it. There was a creak, a slight yielding; pray heaven the bolt

is old! Ah-Sam is by his side. Together they hurl themselves against

the door with all the force the confined space admits. The bolt is torn

from the woodwork, the door flies open, and the two dash through.

But with this interruption Bob bethought him of the man he had felled in

the kitchen. He might, he would, recover consciousness, and alarm the

garrison.

"Back!" he cried to Ah-Sam, halting for an instant. "Back, and secure

that man. Do not kill him."

The Chinaman, after a moment's hesitation, ran to do his master's

bidding. Bob ran on, stumbling through the tunnel, down the path,

towards the platform. Then he saw that a rope-ladder hung from the

staple. Chang-Wo must have kept it in readiness in the passage or on

the stairs, and snatched it up as he ran. As Bob emerged on to the

narrow platform the bandit was facing about to take the first step

downwards. But with the quickness that had always served him, he saw in

a flash that, once upon the ladder, he would be at the mercy of his

pursuers, who could cut the rope and hurl him infallibly to destruction.

One bound, and he caught at the rope by which Bob had crossed, slipped

the noose over the staple, and, with a desperate courage that extorted

Bob's admiration, flung himself off the platform into the abyss, just as

Bob came within arm's length of him. At the brink Bob stopped, watching

as if spellbound the hazardous course of the swinging figure. It grazed

the angle of the cleft by a hair's breadth, spinning round and round at

the end of the rope; then as its speed decreased on the upward flight,

and it finally stopped, to begin the backward swing, Bob caught sight of

another figure, a crouching form on the ledge below the girder--it was

Sing-Cheng, who, obedient to instructions, had spent the livelong night

watching in silent patience on the spot where Ah-Sam formerly had been.

The sun was just rising across the opposite hills, and Bob saw the face

of the Chunchuse chief, and noticed its expression of rage and hatred as

he peered over the precipice at the swinging figure. In his right hand

he grasped his revolver. Bob had an impulse to call to him, and bid him

spare the wretch beneath; but even with the thought he recognized its

hopelessness. Nothing could now intervene between the hunter and his

prey. The drama must play itself out.

[Illustration: A Question of Seconds]

Meanwhile beneath the girder the rope swung heavily backwards and

forwards for some time before it came almost to rest. Then, all

unconscious of the fierce eyes watching him from above, the Manchu began

to climb up the rope, slowly, painfully, carefully, for he knew the

cleft and its ragged bottom two hundred feet below. Foot by foot he

ascends; he is more than half-way up; thirty more feet and he is

safe--when he suddenly catches sigh of the stooping enemy on the ledge

above. He stops his upward progress, twisting his legs round the rope

to ease his straining arms. For a few seconds he remains thus; Bob,

watching with fascinated eyes, sees not a shade of emotion on his face.

Above, the ruthless enemy; below, the jagged rocks; both alternatives

are fearful. To drop is certain death; to ascend is to meet an armed

foe. But a man may miss his aim; it is here a chance in a million. It

is the only chance, and Chang-Wo takes it.

He climbs up a few more feet; his eyes are now fixed unswervingly upon

the waiting enemy. Reading their expression of vengeful hate, he stops

again. At that instant a shot rings out, and from behind Bob a flight

of birds spring with clattering wings into the air, almost smothering a

scream of pain from the dangling figure. He has loosed his hold with the

right hand; the right arm falls helpless to his side. He swings round,

still clinging to the rope with the left hand, though he knows full well

that with one hand he can never raise himself. For half a minute he

hangs thus, swaying; the strain is unendurable; he lets go his hold, and

without a cry falls into the gulf.

A moment afterwards there was a sharp report from the wall of the fort

above Bob, followed by a babel of shouts. Bob, who had watched the scene

before him in silent horror, saw a puff of dust struck from the side of

the cleft just above the spot where Sing-Cheng lay peering gloatingly

down upon his lifeless enemy. The chief instantly rose to his feet,

glared for an instant towards the fort, then raised his hand and shouted

a few words to the men who, as Bob surmised, though he could not see

them, were now lining the wall. Whatever the words signified, they had

an instantaneous effect. The clamour ceased. Then the chief raised

himself to his full height, and began to harangue the crowd, turning

this way and that, pointing with his finger, using many strange gestures

to emphasize the words that fell in a rapid staccato from his lips. He

spoke long, and the crowd heard him in complete silence. When his speech

came to an end, he put the tips of his fingers together, and made three

dignified movements with his head. Then he stood waiting.

Immediately afterwards Bob heard a great bustle and chatter from the

unseen crowd. All seemed to be talking at once; the noise was like that

of a hundred parrots holding a parliament. Again silence fell, and from

the wall a loud voice shouted what was apparently a brief question to

the stolid, immobile figure on the other side of the ravine. The answer

came instantly, with a proud gesture, and was received with a storm of

approving shouts from the crowd.

At this moment Ah-Sam came from the tunnel and stood beside Bob, who

turned to him and asked:

"Is all safe in the tower?"

"Yes, massa; one piecee man makee no bobbely; he tied velly muchee

tight, galaw!"

"Ask Sing-Cheng yonder what is happening."

Ah-Sam stepped forward and called across the ravine. The chief replied

in a few words.

"What does he say?" asked Bob.

"He say come this-side velly soon; he hab catchee allo piecee man, now

allo belongey he."

"Made friends with the enemy, has he? How is he coming here?"

"He go long down that side; come lound chop-chop. He velly muchee

topside man this-tim', galaw!"

"Tell him he will find me in the tower."

Bob did not understand what means of persuasion Sing-Cheng had found,

but he had complete faith in the man's discretion. As soon as the chief

had disappeared up the cleft, Bob went in haste with Ah-Sam back into

the tower; he felt with a deep sense of relief that there was now

nothing to prevent the release of Kobo.

They returned to the kitchen. Bob suspected that the keys of the

dungeon would be found on the person of the big Manchu who had slept by

Chang-Wo's door, and told Ah-Sam to search him. In half a minute the

keys were in his possession, and with eager steps he hastened along the

corridor, up the staircase, until he came to the doorway. The lamp had

burnt itself out; the passage was so dark that he had to feel for the

keyhole. Then he threw open the door and entered the room. It was in

darkness, save for the thin light filtering through a narrow slit high

up in the wall. In the middle of the room lay, amid his chains, the

huddled figure of the Samurai. Bob went up to him, stooped, and touched

him on the shoulder. In a low, husky whisper came an exclamation that

he did not understand.

"Speak to him," murmured Bob to Ah-Sam; he feared lest the sound of an

English voice might prove disastrous to the overwrought prisoner. At

Ah-Sam's first words the prostrate man stirred and opened his eyes. He

tried to lift his hand, but it fell back, and the chain clinked against

the stone floor.

"Mr. Fawcett!" he murmured. "Water, water!"

Reproaching himself for forgetting, in the excitement of the moment, the

scene he had witnessed in Chang-Wo's room, Bob sent Ah-Sam back to the

kitchen, whence he returned with a full cup. Handing this to his

master, he knelt down and raised the prisoner's head. Bob held the cup

to Kobo's lips, allowing him to take only one sip at a time. The

Japanese gave a sigh of ineffable content; for several minutes not a

word was spoken by any of the three; Bob's heart was too full for

speech. Presently Kobo signified that he had drunk enough, and Bob

placed the cup beside him on the floor.

"Thank God I came in time to save you!" he said, laying his hand on

Kobo's. He had a terrible sinking of the heart as he felt the thin

hand--it was mere skin and bone, the hand of a skeleton; it was clammy

to his touch.

"I thank you, Mr. Fawcett," said Kobo feebly. "I thank you, but it is

too late. I am dying."

"Don't say that," replied Bob. "We'll take you out of this horrible

place. In the fresh air and sunshine, with good food, you will be

yourself again."

"Tell me," went on the prisoner, in the same low, difficult tones, "did

you give my message to the general?"

"Yes; I remained with him, and was able to do something to guide the

Twelfth Division. We are across the Yalu, sir."

"Banzai! Banzai!" exclaimed Kobo with sudden vigour. "The Russians are

beaten?"

"Thoroughly--driven from all their positions; we captured forty of their

guns."

"Banzai! My country! She will win. I know it. We have crossed the

Yalu: then we shall drive the enemy before us--from Kiu-lien-cheng to

Liao-yang, from Liao-yang to Mukden, from Mukden to Harbin, from

Harbin-- Ah! why should we drive them farther? Dai Nippon shall come

to her own."

"But yourself, sir; we must take you out of this. You will be more

comfortable in Chang-Wo's room, and then, when you have rested and

eaten, we will take you slowly into the Japanese lines, and you will

live to see the triumph you have done so much to secure."

Kobo shook his head.

"I cannot stand," he said. "I shall die. But what is death?--Rest,

peace, eternal quiet."

Bob felt a lump in his throat.

"Help me lift Kobo San," he said, turning to the Chinaman.

Tenderly they carried the slight figure between them down the stairs

into Chang-Wo's room, where they laid him on the soft quilts that still

bore the impress of his enemy's form. And then Bob saw that there was

indeed no hope. Kobo was almost unrecognizable. He was haggard,

emaciated to a shadow; but for his open eyes he would have seemed a

corpse. At Bob's orders Ah-Sam hurriedly prepared some food, but after

one or two mouthfuls Kobo refused to take any more.

"Rest," he said; "I want rest, that is all. I thank you."

His eyes roved round the room as though in search of something or

someone.

"Your enemy will not trouble you again," said Bob. "Chang-Wo is dead."

"He died first! He has starved me, beaten me; he kept me without

water--how many days? I do not know. He tempted me, held a cup before

me; I might drink if I would do as he wished: betray my country. We

Japanese do not fear death.--My servant! Have you any news of him?"

"No, I have not seen him since I left you."

"No matter. Taru will know how to die. If he should survive, and you

meet him, tell him to return to Nikko; my wife will have need of him.

And my son, my boy Takeo in England. You will see him? You will tell

him?"

"Yes; I will go to him as soon as I can."

"I thank you. Will you give me a little water?"

Kobo lay back on the padded quilts, and his eyes spoke his thanks. Bob

was troubled, and watched him in silence. Ah-Sam, with stolid

countenance, was busy preparing a meal for his master. Suddenly through

the walls of the tower penetrated the sound of a multitudinous discharge

of firearms. Bob rose to his feet, and leaving Kobo in Ah-Sam's charge

hurried to the top of the tower, his mind filled with apprehension. Was

Kobo's end to be disturbed? From the roof he saw a strange sight. The

inner wall of the fortress was thronged with the garrison, who were

shouting and gesticulating with excitement. The huge gate stood wide

open, and beyond, half a mile across the green plain, a tall figure had

just mounted a beautiful horse, which had evidently been taken out to

meet him by three men from the garrison. The horseman rode up slowly,

and as he approached, Bob saw that it was his late companion,

Sing-Cheng.

At the gate of the fortress the chief halted and made a speech to the

men, who responded with loud cries and another discharge of their

rifles. Then he rode through the gate into the courtyard. Looking up,

he caught sight of the solitary figure on the roof of the tower.

Instantly springing from his horse, he bowed himself low to the ground,

and ordered the surprised Manchus to do the same. The kow-towing over,

he sent a man to knock at the outer door of the tower. Bob hurried

down, and bade Ah-Sam open the door. Sing-Cheng entered, bowed humbly

to the Englishman, and followed him into Chang-Wo's room. He gave one

glance to the figure prostrate on the floor, looked a mute question at

Ah-Sam, and then explained what had happened.

As he stood at the edge of the cleft, looking towards the wall, he had

recognized among the crowd one who had been his comrade when he himself

had served the old chief. Addressing him by name, he had reminded him of

his own former importance in the band before the chieftainship had been

usurped by Chang-Wo. He explained that Chang-Wo had met a terrible fate

through his ill-considered adhesion to the Russian side in the great

struggle now desolating the country. Chang-Wo was dead; if he had

lived, the extermination of the whole band could only have been a matter

of time. But now he, Sing-Cheng, the chief of a rival band, had

disposed of his old enemy and proved himself a better man. Let them

accept him, therefore, as their new chief. He would lead them with more

success; under him let them relinquish the losing side and do yeoman

service for the conquering Japanese. The alternative? If they did not

accept his leadership he would deliver them into the hands of an army of

Japanese whom he had guided into the neighbourhood, and they would be

slain to a man. The strong tower of the fortress was already in the

hands of two powerful friends of his, who had crossed the ravine by an

unheard-of means, had faced the Mountain Tiger in his lair, and driven

him headlong to destruction.

The bold offer had been accepted. Sing-Cheng had demanded that an

escort of three men, with a horse suited to his dignity, should meet him

at the distance of a li from the fortress, and, as Bob had seen, he had

ridden in to receive the submission of the garrison.

The chief's story was hardly finished when one of the garrison came

running in with a message. Sing-Cheng instantly went out into the

courtyard.

"He say Manchu hab catchee one piecee Japanee," explained Ah-Sam.

"Follow the chief, and bring me word what is happening," said Bob.

A few minutes passed. Kobo was restless, his eyes wide open with a look

of strained eagerness, his breath coming and going in quick feeble

pants. Bob sat by his side, moistening his lips at intervals.

Presently the door opened, and Ah-Sam first appeared, restraining a

small gray-headed man, who seemed to be in haste to enter.

"One piecee boy Kobo San," said Ah-Sam to his master.

The man came forward eagerly, and Bob saw that it was Taru, his friend's

servant. The little Japanese flung himself down at his master's feet,

and muttered a few words brokenly. Kobo smiled. Beckoning to Ah-Sam,

Bob went out of the room, leaving the two lifelong friends, master and

man, together. Outside he learnt what had happened. The rider whom he

had seen leave the fortress on the memorable night when he had

reconnoitred the position had returned, bringing with him the disguised

Japanese servant, who had been making his way by devious routes to the

haunt of his old enemy. Taru had explained to Ah-Sam that while in

Yongampo he had heard that his master had been captured by Chang-Wo, and

had instantly set out to track him; if possible to rescue him; if not,

to die with him. He had come safely to within two miles of the

fortress, and then fallen into the hands of a small party led by the

Manchu courier.

For half an hour Bob remained in conversation with the chief, discussing

through Ah-Sam the measures that were to be taken to consolidate his new

authority, and to do service to his new allies, the Japanese. Then Taru

came hurriedly from the tower, and asked Bob to return with him. They

found Kobo now raised to a sitting posture. His eyes were closed, but he

opened them as Bob entered. He was pale with the pallor of death.

"I am going--to my fathers," he whispered.

Bob sat down by his side, and looked at him with dim eyes. He breathed

painfully; Taru, on the other side, gave him at intervals a spoonful of

water.

"I rejoice to have--two faithful friends," said Kobo. "Mr. Fawcett, Taru

will--return to Nikko; you will remember--Takeo, my son in England. I

shall rest."

He closed his eyes and remained silent. Taru took one hand and held it

fast, Bob held the other. He waited, sad at heart, grieved that Japan

was to lose one who had served her so well. He thought of the long

hours of agony this hero must have suffered; the tortures of hunger and

thirst, the fierce temptation that must have assailed him. Kobo had

been reticent of details, but Bob understood that he might have

purchased his life by disclosing the methods of the Japanese secret

service. How small a thing, thought Bob, to meet death bravely in the

heat of battle! in a moment a man passes from full life to quietude. But

to endure such horrors as Kobo had faced without flinching needed

another kind of courage, a higher mind, a greater soul. Bob thrilled

with sympathy and admiration, and all the time felt an aching

disappointment that he had not been able to avert this tragic martyrdom.

Kobo's eyes slowly opened. In tones almost inaudible he said a few

words in Japanese to his servant. Taru bent to the floor, and placed

his master's hand upon his head. Kobo looked at Bob, and attempted

feebly to press his hand.

"It is good-bye," he said. "I am going into the dark--which is rest.

Good-bye."

Bob could not speak. There was a moment of silence. The dying man

gasped painfully.

"Taru," he murmured. "Taru--sayonara!"

His head sank. Taru waited a few moments; then, lifting Kobo's hand, he

rose saying:

"Be at peace, dear master."

*CHAPTER XXVI*

*Old Friends and New Prospects*

Compulsory Leave--Andrew B. Charteris--Looking Ahead--The Busy

Bee--Smuggling Ah-Sam--Schwab Proposes--A Blessing

Kobo was buried in a glade among the trees near the fort. Bob placed

over the grave a stone from the ravine--a flat slab washed smooth and

white by the torrent; and upon this Taru scratched a simple inscription

in Japanese characters. The chief meanwhile had sent men to find the

body of Chang-Wo. What indignities the already mangled corpse might

have suffered but for Bob's presence need not be told; Bob insisted on a

decent burial, and made the chief promise that the grave should not be

desecrated. The dead man's effects were thoroughly examined, and a

discovery was made which threw light on a matter always puzzling to

Bob--the presence of Chang-Wo in Tokio. Among his belongings were many

papers, charts, and maps of Japan and the surrounding seas, plans of the

Japanese ports, memoranda of military details--all probably intended for

Russian use in an invasion of the islands, and kept by the Manchu until

he could depend on getting a good price for them. These Bob made into a

bundle; then he prepared to return with Taru and Ah-Sam to the Japanese

head-quarters.

A few days later the services of one of the army doctors with General

Kuroki's force were required for a young Englishman who had just been

brought into camp by four coolies, led by a Japanese and a Chinaman.

Sunstroke had laid Bob low on the day after leaving the fort. The

unusual exertions which he had undergone since his adventure with the

Cossacks had tried his constitution more than he was aware, and the

final excitement and strain of Kobo's rescue had left him too weak to

withstand the effect of the sudden heat. He was unconscious when he

reached General Kuroki's quarters, and the doctor who examined him

looked grave.

It was some days before he came fully to himself, and then the doctor,

though he foretold a complete recovery, declared that it would be a

matter of time and rest, and emphatically forbade Bob to think of active

service for months to come.

"But I must get back to the fleet," protested Bob. "I'm a kind of

deserter, and though I couldn't help being captured, and everything else

has followed from that, I sha'n't be able to help feeling guilty when I

report myself to Admiral Togo."

"You'll do nothing of the kind. We're a long way from the coast; in any

case we can't spare a cruiser to carry you to Port Arthur; and if we

could, I shouldn't allow you to go."

"What's to become of me, then? I can't follow the army; and I'm sure I

don't want to be left behind in a Manchurian village."

The doctor's reply was interrupted by the entrance of General Kuroki

himself. After greeting Bob, the general took the doctor aside, and for

some minutes the two were engaged in conversation. They spoke in

Japanese, and Bob, with the impatience of an invalid, felt annoyed at

being the subject of a discussion which he could not follow. At length

General Kuroki turned to him and said:

"I hear you want to rejoin the fleet, Mr. Fawcett. That is an entirely

creditable wish; but the doctor is quite right, you must not think of

it. You need not be disturbed about your quarters, however; we shall

not leave you to the tender mercies of the Manchus. I'm going to send

you to Yokohama. Stay," he added, as Bob began to protest, "it is quite

fixed; you will be escorted to Chemulpo as soon as the doctor gives

permission. For my part, I shall be glad to be rid of you." The

general smiled. "Don't take that personally; I have had the pleasure of

sending a report to the illustrious Emperor detailing the services you

have rendered us since you left the fleet, and your adventurous

expedition for the rescue of Kobo San. You have good friends, sir.

Ever since you started on your quest I have been pestered by telegrams

from a lady, first from Seoul, then from Yokohama--a Mrs. Pottle, who

has been most energetic in enquiring after your welfare. Mrs. Pottle

has given me more trouble than all the press correspondents together,

and that is saying a good deal. I wired to the lady when you were

brought in, telling her of your illness, and hoped that I should hear no

more from her. But her telegram has now become a daily event, and only

this morning she wired: 'Send him right along, I will nurse him like a

mother'. So you see, Mr. Fawcett, that in getting rid of you I get rid,

as I hope, of Mrs. Pottle."

For all his disappointment, Bob could not help smiling.

"She is a most determined woman," he said; "quite capable of leading

your army, sir, with her umbrella. Well, I'm in your hands, general;

it's very kind of you to be bothered with me at all. I only wish I had

a chance of doing something; but I suppose that when I am quite well

again the war will be over."

"I hope so," said the general gravely. "We have hard work before us;

many good lives will be lost; but we shall persevere, and who knows--?"

Bob was welcomed by Mrs. Pottle at Yokohama literally with open arms.

He had never been so much fussed over in his life as he was during the

next few days. His health had improved with the voyage; but he was

still only the shadow of his former self, and Mrs. Pottle showed that

she had undertaken in all earnestness the duties of nurse. Bob found her

energy rather trying, but he endured her ministrations with patience,

for they were alleviated by the presence of Ethel Charteris, whose

enthusiasm was displayed in a quieter and more winning manner. Mrs.

Pottle was by no means short-sighted, and after a time she began to

leave Bob more and more in her niece's hands, much to his contentment.

One day she returned from her usual morning expedition through the town

accompanied by a stranger--a tall grizzled gentleman, sparse, keen, yet

bearing an undefinable resemblance to the lady. Ethel was seated at

Bob's side on the veranda of the hotel when she saw the two figures

approaching.

"Good gracious! It's poppa!" she exclaimed, and fled to meet him.

Mrs. Pottle came up first, rustling in Japanese silk under a

chrysanthemum parasol.

"See what you're responsible for!" she exclaimed. "Here's my brother,

Andrew B. Charteris, come right out to fetch us. Says he couldn't make

head or tale of our letters, and couldn't size up the attractions of

Yokohama, and so he's left his business in a critical situation to see

what his sister and daughter are doing. I hope you and Andrew will get

along, Mr. Fawcett. He's a silent man, but a real good hand at taking

stock of things. Here he is."

Mr. Andrew B. Charteris came up with Ethel clinging to his arm. The

introductions were made.

"Heard a lot about you, sir," said Mr. Charteris. "Real glad to meet you

in the flesh."

"There, Andrew, you don't mean anything; but if you had known Mr.

Fawcett before, you wouldn't have said just that. Poor boy! he's little

enough flesh on his bones now."

"H'm! Nature has wonderful recuperative powers," said Mr. Charteris,

who after this profound remark walked on into the hotel with his

daughter.

A week passed--a time of quiet enjoyment to Bob, who had still more of

Ethel's company now that Mrs. Pottle had her brother to pilot round, as

she put it. There was only one drawback to his happiness. One day he

was surprised by a visit from a high court functionary, who had come to

command his attendance at the palace in Tokio at a certain hour next

day. Bob made a wry face when the functionary was gone. He guessed

that this unexpected honour was due to General Kuroki's report to the

Mikado, and was sufficiently boyish yet to hate all fuss, as he told

Ethel.

"I think you are quite wrong," she replied. "You have done splendidly,

and it is only right that the Mikado should thank you himself. Why, I

know young men in San Francisco who'd give their eyes to be invited to

see a real live emperor."

He went to Tokio, and certainly did not look unhappy when he returned.

Mrs. Pottle bombarded him with questions about what had happened.

"Oh, it was all right," said Bob. "He's a very good sort; so's the

Empress. It wasn't the formal affair I expected. They had me in their

private apartments and gave me some tea, and the Emperor said uncommonly

nice things, and presented me with--this."

He held up a ribbon with a gold ornament attached.

"My!" exclaimed Mrs. Pottle, "what's that?"

"It's the insignia of the order of the Sacred Treasure."

"Mysakes! Only think of that! Well, I'll say this; it's no more than

you deserve. There!"

"I'm so glad," said Ethel.

"What's it worth in cash?" drawled Mr. Charteris.

"Oh, poppa, you unromantic, practical, shocking old man! The idea!

It's perfectly priceless. Mr. Fawcett wouldn't part with it for

anything, I'm sure."

"I sha'n't tempt him. I don't cotton to fal-lals of that sort. A

thumping cheque would have been more to the point. Say, Mr. Fawcett,

you ain't a rich man?"

Bob flushed at the blunt question, and Ethel blushed in sympathy.

"No offence!" added the old man, his eyes twinkling. "It's just this

way. I've been thinking for a week, Mr. Fawcett. It ain't right for

that tramp of yours across the Manchurian hills to be thrown slick away.

How long do you suppose this war will last out?"

"That's more than I can even imagine," replied Bob. "I don't see how

Port Arthur can hold out much longer; they are closing in on it; and as

to the land campaign, the Japanese generals are driving the Russians

from pillar to post. If the Russians are wise, the war will end with

the fall of Port Arthur."

"Ah! and then?"

"What do you mean, sir?"

"Well, I suppose the Japs--"

"Poppa!" interrupted Ethel. "Don't use that horrid word--call them

Japanese."

"Anything to please you, my love. I was going to say that I suppose the

Japs--Japanese, I mean--are not running this war for nothing. They'll

want to develop the country--what?"

"No doubt."

"And they'll keep an 'open door', eh? Well, what I've been thinking is

this. When the war ends, it'll be time for me to slip in with a

syndicate to work out some of the minerals--what! And it seems to me,

from what I've heard and seen of you--especially what I've seen--that

you're the right sort to be of use. You know the country; say, you've

had a practical training--not wasted too much time on defunct languages,

eh? and what's most to the point, you've got a pretty level head, and

I'll go bail you ain't afraid of work. So, if you're agreeable, we'll

strike a bargain. What?"

"I accept your offer with pleasure, sir," said Bob, his face flushed,

his eyes shining. "I've always wanted to live an active life, and--"

"Shake!" said the American, relapsing into his usual laconic mode of

utterance. Mrs. Pottle gleamed benevolence through her eye-glasses, and

Bob's eyes sought Ethel's.

A few days later, one of the liners of the _Pacific Mail_ was steaming

across the ocean from Yokohama towards San Francisco. On the deck sat a

group of three--the same three who had foregathered on the voyage out to

Nagasaki seven months before. Morton and Desjardins, finding that their

chances of seeing anything of the actual fighting were not improving,

had asked to be recalled, and were returning by way of New York. Bob,

with sick-leave from the Japanese government, had accepted an invitation

to spend a few weeks with Mr. Charteris in San Francisco. The three

were lolling on their deck-chairs, when a fourth figure was seen slowly

rising from the companion-way.

"Well, Schwab, feel better?" shouted Morton.

"Zanks, Mr. Morton, I am vat you call fairly gumfortable. Ze sea-illness

attack me not zis time so bad. Indeed," he added expansively, "I

gommence to enjoy myself."

"Ah! de beautiful sea, de beautiful sun!" exclaimed Desjardins. "I look

up into de blue sky lovly above, and it make me feel all de vorld is

poetry."

"Bosh!" snorted Morton in his downright way. "Excuse me; no poetry in

the world but what you put there. I ain't built that way; no Englishman

who can eat a beefsteak is. No!"

"But, monsieur, you do yourself, you do your nation, im-mense injustice.

Par exemple! vat vas it I hear last night ven I promenade myself beneas

de so silent stars? Assuredly it vas de sweet voice of Mademoiselle

Charteris who give a lesson to de boy Ah-Sam. I listen; I am charmed;

it vas a little poem, so short, so simple, I learn it by 'art at once:

"''Ow doss de leetle beesy bee-e

Impr-rove each shinin' hour-r,

And gader 'oney all de day-e

From every openin' flower-r-r!