In the afternoon they went up to the railway-station to see if seats

could be booked in next morning's train, Jack carrying the camera in

case anything of interest should offer. The station was crowded. For

many days troops had been passing towards the south; the platform was

now thronged with soldiers, surgeons, nurses, camp-followers. Schwab

was amazed, his German sense of discipline was shocked, to see colonels

walking arm in arm with lieutenants; still more when he noticed a

placard stuck up in the buffet, signed by General Sakharoff, threatening

with dire punishment any officer who should presume to criticise his

superiors or their conduct of the operations. He was disgusted also to

observe, in a siding, a superb dining-room car in which a company of

officers and ladies were eating and drinking with a light-hearted gaiety

that ill matched the occasion, if the rumours of the stupendous battle

approaching were well founded.

"You, Sin Foo," said Schwab, "I tell you zis; zat is not var. Zat is

not ze vay ve Gairmans shall behave ourselves ven ve go to invade

England; zen you vill see var zat _is_ var. You understan'?"

Seeing little probability of obtaining a seat in the train, Schwab

decided to return to the hotel and journey south on ponies.

As they left the station a number of Russian soldiers who had just

marched in were lying dead-beat in a sort of trench parallel with a

siding. A troop train was being slowly made up, doubtless to convey

these and other men southward to the front. Schwab stood contemplating

them for a moment. Then he turned to Jack.

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

"Allo lightee, masta," replied Jack, wondering at the German's choice of

a subject. He was to be enlightened on that point later.

It was late in the day by the time they reached the city. Passing along

the principal street, they saw a crowd of natives hurrying down a side

alley uttering piercing shouts. Jack noticed that two or three of them

had buckets suspended from the ends of a long bamboo pole carried on the

shoulder.

"My tinkey house hab catchee fia."

"A gonflagration in Moukden! Zat vill be ver' interesting to ze

abonnenten of my baber. Ve vill take it on ze hop."

Schwab led the way, his tall bulky form making a path through the crowd.

A pawn-shop was ablaze. The roof had already fallen in. Siberian

infantrymen were trying to keep order in the crowd--hundreds of Chinamen

yelling, jostling each other, going hither and thither with their

buckets, splashing through the mud. Many of them were laughing

uproariously; to the Chinaman a fire is purely a spectacle, to be

enjoyed without any disturbing sympathy for the victims, whose efforts

to save themselves and their goods are greeted as the most enjoyable

farce. Some of the crowd were waving bright-coloured flags; in the

glare from the burning house it was like a scene from a country fair.

Here and there Chinamen were squirting feeble and futile jets of water

on the house from tiny copper pumps, like the syringes used at home for

watering flowers. An old mandarin in yellow silk forced his way through

the press, paying no heed to the fire, anxious only to get home without

soiling his white socks. But the throng was becoming unwieldy; there

was danger of the whole quarter being set ablaze; and at last a Russian

captain came up with a squad of men at the request of the Chinese

Viceroy himself, and set about clearing the street in a business-like

way. For a few minutes the confusion seemed redoubled; the Chinamen

scampered this way and that as the Russians came at the double along the

street. This moment was seized by Schwab, who evidently had a keen eye

for a tableau. At his bidding Jack took a snap-shot of the strange

scene--a scene that would have been appropriate to the stage of a comic

opera. Then he returned with his employer to the Green Dragon. The

correspondents there--French, Italian, English, and American--were in

the bustle of preparation for moving out next day to Liao-yang, where a

big battle was expected to take place.

Jack, it must be confessed, was considerably excited at the prospect of

seeing something at close quarters of this terrible war, which had

brought forth so many surprises for the world. Hitherto he had seen

nothing but its fringe; and of the many contradictory rumours he had

heard he was not disposed to believe too much. The Russian officers

with whom he had talked were divided into two classes: the partisans of

Alexeieff and those of Kuropatkin. The majority pinned their faith to

Kuropatkin. If he had been left alone, they said, the war would have

followed an entirely different course. He would have waited patiently

at Harbin until his army had been raised to overwhelming strength; then

he would have taken the offensive and driven the Japanese into the sea.

But his strategy had been dictated either by Alexeieff or from St.

Petersburg. Worse than that, he had not been able to devote his whole

energies to the proper work of a commander-in-chief. That in itself was

a stupendous task for one man, afflicted with a poor staff. But the

general had been compelled to attend to details of commissariat,

hospital arrangements, the supply of clothes, the preparation of maps.

His was a harassing struggle against corruption, incompetence, and

drunkenness. Once, alighting at a railway-station to make an

inspection, he found the platform strewn with intoxicated officers.

With a burst of anger, unusual in a man habitually patient and calm, he

ordered the wretched men to be sent on by the first train to the front.

What had been the course of the war since that memorable May day when

the invading army crossed the Yalu? General Kuroki's brilliant dash was

followed by several weeks of what to the outside world seemed

comparative inaction. But during that period both sides were straining

every nerve: the Russians to hurry forward reinforcements and complete

the great fortified positions along the railway; the Japanese to perfect

the arrangements for the three great armies which were, first, to cut

off Port Arthur, and then to move northwards against the main Russian

forces concentrating in the neighbourhood of Liao-yang. General

Stackelberg having failed at Wa-fang-ho in his forlorn hope against the

army investing Port Arthur, the northward movement of the Japanese was

slowly resumed, the Russian right being steadily driven back along the

railway with occasional half-hearted attempts to stem the Japanese

advance. Meanwhile General Kuroki on the east had forced the mountain

passes at Motien-ling, and General Nodzu, in command of the centre, was

preparing for the attack on the Russian position at To-ma-shan that

resulted in the evacuation of Hai-cheng. The beginning of August found

the three Japanese armies relentlessly driving the Russian forces

towards the fortified positions south of Liao-yang which General

Kuropatkin had prepared as the scene of his first serious attempt to

roll back the tide of invasion.

It was a warm, dry morning, the 29th of August, when Schwab, Jack, and

Hi Lo, mounted on hardy ponies, hit the Green Dragon for their forty

miles ride to Liao-yang.

Just before they reached the gate, Jack had an exceedingly uncomfortable

moment when he noticed his father's enemy Sowinski hurrying in the

opposite direction in a Pekin cart. The Pole passed without recognizing

the tall figure in Chinese dress, though he gave a nod to Schwab. Jack

knew that to the European all Chinamen look pretty much alike; but he

did not wish to come to too close quarters with the Pole, and was glad

that for a time at any rate he would run no risk of being recognized in

the streets.

The rains had ceased some days before; the wind was beginning to dry the

mud which in the wet season renders all traffic impossible. The other

correspondents had already gone to the front, and when our riders left

the mud walls of Moukden behind them they saw nobody on the road except

a regiment of Cossacks marching off behind their band, and a number of

Greek camp-followers going south in the hope of reaping some profit from

the battle.

As they approached Liao-yang they heard the dull boom of guns in the

distance. For several days the three Japanese armies under Generals

Kuroki, Oku, and Nodzu had been marching through mountain passes and the

valleys opening upon the Tai-tse-ho, and the Russians had been falling

back on the circular line of defences which for three months they had

been strengthening. As he heard the thunderous reverberations, Schwab

exulted.

"So!" he exclaimed, "I haf vaited long time. At last my obbortunity haf

come. Zis are business. Ze _Illustrirte Vaterland und Colonien_ shall

haf fine bictures taken egsbress by a Gairman viz native assistance on

ze sbot. Famos!"

Liao-yang is a walled city lying on the direct road from Moukden to

Newchang and Port Arthur, and even more picturesquely situated than the

capital. Three miles north of the city flows the Tai-tse-ho, taking a

northerly course by the north-east corner of the walls. The railway

passes at some distance to the west, making an acute angle with the

western end of the city. Southward the ground rises gradually. Here

the Russians had prepared their defences; the crests of the hills were

scored with several lines of trenches, the result of three months'

diligent spade-work.

Schwab and his two companions, entering the city from the north, found

themselves in the midst of great bustle and activity. The streets were

thronged with soldiers; long lines of transport wagons were arriving;

and the merchants, native and foreign, were plying a brisk trade. Schwab

had some difficulty in finding a lodging; the hotel, kept by a Greek,

was full; but he at length secured a small cottage near the wall at an

exorbitant rental. It was evening when they arrived; Hi Lo prepared a

supper consisting of tinned sausages and biscuit brought from Moukden,

and pears purchased from a local fruiterer. The booming of artillery had

ceased, but the city was full of noise, and Jack was amazed at the

careless light-hearted mood in which the soldiers, officers and men,

were preparing for the struggle.

Before seeking repose on his frowsy k'ang that night, Herr Schwab went

out to prospect for a spot on which to place his camera next day. He

returned in a state of exaltation.

"Zere shall be colossal combat," he said. "I haf shtood on ze blatform

by ze reservoir, and zere I converse viz high Russian officer, his

gloves vite as snow. No more shall zere be evacuation, he tell me; ze

fight shall now be to ze death. Boy, ve shall see shtubendous zinks.

You are afraid?"

[Illustration: Map of Battle of Liao-Yang, Aug-Sept. 1904. Map of Battle

of Moukden.]

"My no aflaid this-time, masta; allo-same my tinkey no hab look-see

bobbely yet; what-time guns makee big bang-lo, that-time masta talkee

'bout Sin Foo he belongey aflaid."

"Vell, you muss screw your gourage to ze shticky place, for vizout doubt

ve shall be in ze midst of schrapnells. It insbires me: I breeze deep.

I zink of my ancestor Hildebrand Suobensius, a great fighter, a

Landsknecht, in ze Middle Age. Vun say zat I am ver' like."

Herr Schwab struck his chest, and continued:

"It is in ze blood. Zerefore vake me early in ze morning; ve shall be

early out to secure a goot blace."

But there was no need for Sin Foo to wake his master. Before day had

fully broken, Herr Schwab was shocked from his sleep by the boom of

heavy guns--the opening of a cannonade that broke the paper windows and

set the crockery rattling. Springing up, he bade Hi Lo saddle the two

ponies, and, stuffing some biscuits into his pocket, set off with Jack

and the camera, leaving Hi Lo to guard the house.

He led the way to the north-west of the town, past the reservoir and the

brick-built government offices near the railway-station, which was

already crowded with officers scanning the horizon through their

binoculars. On the previous night he had marked a solitary hill, known

as the Shu-shan, some distance south-west of the city, as an ideal place

for a general view of the battle-field. An old Korean signal-tower

crowned its summit; it was approached on two sides by easy slopes, but

on the north was precipitous, its rocky face cut by ravines dark with

overhanging clumps of firs. At the western base a battery of artillery

was posted.

Arriving at the hill, Schwab saw that it was impossible to ride up its

northern face, while to ascend on either side would be to court death

from the Japanese shells. But in his zeal on behalf of the _Illustrirte

Vaterland_ he was determined to gain the summit. Hitching the pony's

reins to a tree, he bade Jack follow him up the steep acclivity nearer

the road, warning him to be very careful of the camera. After a stiff

climb they, panting, reached the top. Just as they appeared there was a

prolonged whistle followed by a sharp crack; the new-comers were

assailed with loud shouts; several hands seized upon Schwab and forced

him into a trench cut in front of the tower, and rough Russian voices

informed the puffing German that he had narrowly escaped a shrapnel. He

did not understand what they said; but Jack, who had slipped into the

trench behind him, whispered:

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

Herr Schwab mopped his face with a red bandanna and glanced somewhat

nervously around. But the shock wore off, and finding himself to all

seeming well protected, his courage soared into antiquity.

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

There was a shriek above him; another shell had burst but a few yards

away. He dropped flat in the trench. Twisting his neck until one side

of its fleshiness was creased with deep furrows, he said:

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

Jack peeped cautiously over.

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

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

"Zis is most terrible. Never did I zink zat var vas such a business!

Gnaediger Himmel! vy haf I gome? Boy, I haf a bresentiment." His voice

sank on a tragic note. "I feel it here." He laid his hand on the lower

buttons of his ample waistcoat. "I, Hildebrand Schwab, shall vizout

doubt be killed." He wrung the bandanna out. "Listen, boy, gif notice:

ven I am killed you shall send all my goots to Schlagintwert Gompany in

Duesseldorf, all egzept ze letter to Schneiders Sohne, vich gontain

order for vun dozen trouser stretchers for General Belinski; zat you

shall bost. And listen, boy:"--here his voice sank to a confidential

whisper--"in my writing-desk zere is a visp of my hair tied up viz bink

ribbon, and a boem, a boem of lov; zese you vill send to ze Frau Jane

Bottle, at ze address on ze envelope, and you vill register ze packett.

Yes--and insure it--you shall insure it for hundert dollars."

Herr Schwab sighed deeply, at the same time keeping an eye on the

direction whence the last shell had come.

Another shrapnel burst a few yards in his rear. He groaned, lamenting

bitterly. The men of Stackelberg's 1st Siberian Infantry paid no

attention to him; in the trench they were secure. General Stackelberg

himself was at the other end, grimly peering through his glasses over

the epaulement.

Suddenly the projectiles ceased to pass over them. Jack ventured to

raise his head and scan the surrounding country. Before him stretched a

plain dotted with villages, the fields covered with the waving green

stalks of kow-liang. On the crests beyond, some two miles away, lay the

batteries of the Japanese; their infantry was swarming in the

intervening level, but concealed by the kow-liang. To the left,

separated from the Shu-shan hill by the An-shan-chan road, was an

irregular line of lower heights, stretching as far as the eye could

reach and out of sight. Here were posted the main forces of the Russian

infantry, ensconced in cunningly devised trenches. In every gap between

the rocky hills batteries were placed, concealed by every possible

device. To the west of Shu-shan the Russian cavalry, with a portion of

the 1st Siberian Army Corps, was stationed to protect the railway and

the right flank. Behind, between the hills and the town, large forces

of infantry were held in reserve, with the hospital tents and field

ambulances. Temporary lines of rail had been laid from the station to

the rear of the hills, and on these trolleys containing ammunition were

pushed along by men.

Jack explained as much of the position as he could see to Schwab, who,

in the security of the trench, took diligent notes, for reproduction in

the _Illustrirte Vaterland_ as first-hand evidence.

"But tell me, boy, do you see General Kuroki? I do not lov General

Kuroki; he ill-use me, he gif me vat zey call beans, ven I vas in Korea

last year. Is he in sight?"

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

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

Jack now became aware that General Stackelberg was standing erect at the

end of the trench, fully exposed to the Japanese gunnery. The general,

in hooded cloak, wearing white gloves, spick and span as if on parade,

was calmly sweeping the plain with his glass, issuing orders, dictating

telegrams, slowly, deliberately. Shells again began to fly around; but

Stackelberg, summoned to the telephone installed behind the tower,

walked erect towards the spot heedless of a shrapnel that burst within a

few yards of him, bespattering his clothes with black dust. Jack felt a

thrill of admiration; the general was giving the lie to the slanderers

who said that at Wa-fang-ho he had skulked in his carriage.

Now the sharp crackle of musketry was mingled with the shrieking of the

shells. Long lines of Japanese were threading their way through the

fields, endeavouring to turn the Russian right. Stackelberg marked the

movement; he gave an order; the Russians in the trenches sprang to their

feet and ran down the slope to reinforce the threatened position. Rain

began to fall, and Schwab raised his head from the trench.

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

"My no tinkey so," said Jack. "Japanese, he fetchee plenty big guns; he

come this-side chop-chop."

"Ach, ich Ungluecklicher!" Schwab hastily dropped back into safety.

"Nefer shall I leave ze Vaterland again. But I shall not return;

Duesseldorf shall zee me no more; no; I haf a bresentiment; I feel it

here."

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

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

offered him a biscuit.

Schwab shook his head dismally.

"No, no; I haf no abbedide."

"My eat he."

Nibbling the biscuit, Jack, in a lull of the firing, ventured to leave

the trench. A moment later he called to Schwab.

"My hab catchee one-piecee pictul. Japanese lunning long-side kowliang;

littee littee black t'ings inside gleen stalks."

"Gott sei dank! I shall not die vizout agomblishing somezink for ze

Vaterland. Ach! zere is anozer!"

There was a gentle sound overhead, like the cry of a wounded bird. An

aide-de-camp crossing the hill-top fell with a groan. A bearer-party

marked with the Red Cross appeared from behind the tower and swiftly

bore him out of sight.

Schwab flattened himself as much as his rotund form permitted against

the floor of the trench. The cannonade was resumed with redoubled fury.

The din was incessant; shells whistling and shrieking; musketry

crackling; the Russian batteries in their emplacements thundering as

they replied to the Japanese.

Whole ranks of the Japanese were mowed down in the fields; still they

pressed on. They were attempting to turn the Russian right.

Reinforcements were hurried to the threatened regiments; battery

answered battery; the ground trembled under the repeated shocks. The

attack was repulsed, and long blood-stained tracks marked the path of

the bearers as they conveyed thousands of wounded to the rear.

Stackelberg had held his own.

Dusk was falling, the rain ceased, and a steaming mist rose over the

ground. There was a lull in the firing. Jack stood upon the epaulement.

To the left he saw a village in flames.

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

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

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

Schwab got up slowly on his knees, peered over the edge of the trench,

then stood upon his feet. He was beginning to regain his spirits.

"So! Famos!" he exclaimed. "I see all ze whole fielt of battle; I see

burning villages, black fielts, hundert or tousand dead men. Zis is

var. Vat a--vat a"--Herr Schwab was at a loss for words--"vat a zink is

var!" He threw out his chest and snuffed the smoke-laden breeze. "But

I muss go and describe ze battle for my journal, illusdraded viz

photographs taken by a Gairman sobjeck on ze sbot. My ancestor

Hildebrand----"

They were turning to walk down the hill; a belated shrapnel shell burst

within a few yards of them, peppering the ground in all directions. A

splinter shaved off an inch or two of the leather cover of the camera.

Schwab cut short his reminiscence by dropping flat upon the rain-soaked

ground. When he arose, a pitiable object, after a short period of

self-communing, without further words he hastened towards the path.

Another shell crashed upon the rocks to the left, hurling a lofty

fir-tree into the ravine.

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

bonies."

Scrambling down to the spot where they had left the animals, Schwab

uttered a woeful cry; they had disappeared. A Siberian infantryman was

passing; him the German interrogated. But the Russian shook his head;

he knew no German. Jack ventured to question him in broken Russian.

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

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

Schwab lifted up his voice in bitter lamentation. It was growing dark;

the ground had been made a miry swamp by the rain; there was no

alternative but to tramp back through it to Liao-yang. They reached the

mandarin road. Their feet sank ankle-deep in mud; at every step they

almost left their boots behind. Long stretches of the road were under

water. Carts were passing drawn by long teams of mules. Schwab tried

to bargain for a seat, but the drivers refused to listen to him; their

loads were wounded men, who at every jolt uttered heart-rending moans.

Jack suggested that they should leave the road and cut across the fields

to the railway; they would find the embankment easier walking. This

they did, pursued, as it seemed, by the whistling bullets of the

Japanese. At length, unharmed, untouched, they reached the northern

gate, and, entering, made their way all bemired, weary and famished, to

the cottage where Hi Lo awaited them.

*CHAPTER XII*

*The Retreat from Liao-yang*

Rifle and Bayonet--Kuroki--Schwab's Strategic Movement--The Moukden

Road--At Yentai--One of the Wounded--Pawns in the Game--Our Friends the

Enemy--Story and Song--Schwab Smokes

Next day dawned bright and clear. The fusillade had continued almost

throughout the night, and the Japanese had made repeated assaults on the

Russian trenches in the centre, only to be driven back every time with

enormous slaughter. The first day's battle had no decisive result; the

Japanese had failed to dislodge the Russians from any part of their line

of defences. Jack was eager to go out again; his excitement had been

kindled by what little he had been able to see of the opposing

movements; after the first tremors, the shriek of shells and whistling

of bullets had left him unmoved, and he was all afire to witness the

continuation of the great struggle. But Schwab absolutely refused to

budge.

"It vas not a bresentiment," he said. "It vas a bileattack. Zose

shells, zeir schmell vas vorse zan Schwefelwasserstoffgas--I forget ze

English name, but ze schmell is ze same; it is a schmell of eggs

suberannuated. I suffer egstremely. Besides, zey haf shtole my bonies.

And vat do I discover? I discover a damage in ze ubber egstremity of ze

camera. Vy you tell me nozink about zis? I discover it, I say. Who

done zat? Vy you bermit it? It is not business: it annoy me egstremely.

I lose many dollars ven I shall gome to sell ze photographabbaratus. My

gustomers vill now see it is not new. Venever I zink of it I suffer

bile. I go not again to zis battle, no more does ze camera; I vait for

ze next. I vill stay and cure ze bileattack. You shall see ze battle;

I vill take notes ven you return."

Jack had no intention of running unnecessary risks in order that Schwab

might make "copy" out of his experiences. But he made his way towards

the railway-station, expecting to obtain from the embankment as good a

view as was possible without venturing again on the shell-swept hills.

His choice was fortunate, for it happened that the closest fighting of

the day took place west of the railway. General Oku had made up his

mind to force this, the weakest spot in the Russian position. While,

therefore, General Nodzu in the centre was repeating the first day's

bombardment, the Russian right, throughout the day, was the scene of as

terrible a series of infantry attacks as the world's history has known.

Time after time the Japanese advanced to storm the trenches; time after

time they were mowed down by the pitiless bullets of the enemy; but

again and again they returned to the charge, recking nothing of death or

wounds, thinking it a privilege indeed to end their lives in their

country's cause. On both sides the bayonet did its fell work; at one

point a trench was captured by a company of Japanese, but their

ammunition was spent, they were unsupported, and their plight being

perceived from a Russian trench a hundred yards distant, they were

bayoneted to a man. As the hot day wore on, the Russians were driven

back against the railway embankment; streams of wounded, their cries of

agony mingled with the horrid sounds of war, flowed incessantly towards

Liao-yang; and when sunset put an end to the firing, the bearer-parties

went about their awful work on the battle-field.

Except for the slight impression made on the right, the Russian position

was intact. The Siberian regiments had held their own with splendid

tenacity, and were almost recompensed for their terrible sufferings by

the message of thanks from General Kuropatkin, who had witnessed their

heroic resistance from his train beyond the railway-station. Jack

started to return to Schwab with the impression that the force of the

Japanese attack was broken, and that on the morrow the Russians would

take the offensive. The day closed with a terrible rain-storm that

turned the fields and roads into a quagmire. The streets of the city

were thronged; soldiers, Chinamen, camp-followers, pedlars improving the

occasion, all jostling one another in noisy confusion.

Standing at the door of his cottage, Schwab hailed an American

correspondent who was passing just as Jack appeared.

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

"Yes; the Russians have won. It is their first victory. I am on my way

to telegraph the news to New York--if I can get a wire."

"Zen I vill write my account of ze closing scenes," said Schwab to Jack.

"To-morrow, if ze sun shine, you can take more pictures of ze Japanese

defeat."

But half an hour later the American looked into the house on his way

back to his own quarters.

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

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

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

"Himmel! Vat is ze meaning of zat?"

"Kuroki has crossed the Tai-tse-ho, and is threatening our

communications. You had better clear out."

Schwab might well be amazed. During the desperate and persistent

attacks on the Russian right and centre, General Kuroki had crept

steadily round their left, and forced a passage at a ford twenty-five

miles east of the town. The news, as conveyed to Kuropatkin, was that

the Japanese general had four divisions; he had, in truth, only two;

and, misled by the exaggeration, Kuropatkin had felt it necessary to

detach some of the seasoned Siberian regiments from Stackelberg's

command in order to reinforce the less trustworthy European corps whom

Kuroki was attacking. But the American was mistaken in speaking of

evacuation. The commander-in-chief had only decided to abandon his

advanced position, which had always been too widely extended for

effective defence, and to withdraw his forces to the inner

entrenchments, forming a large arc almost encircling the town, and

resting at each end on the river.

Overpowered by the terrors of "war that was real war", Schwab was goaded

into feverish activity by the news of the withdrawal. His own pony was

gone; so was Jack's; but Hi Lo's remained, and this the German ordered

to be instantly prepared for himself. Whether the interest of the

Schlagintwert Company or the safety of his own rotund skin was the more

important consideration did not appear; but it is certain that, within

half an hour after receiving the news of Kuropatkin's order, Schwab was

riding as fast as the congested traffic would allow towards the north.

He carried the precious camera and the negatives with him, leaving the

tripod with Jack.

"You muss shift for yourself," said he at the moment of leaving. "You

and Hi Lo muss gome on behind. I muss go qvick; it is a matter of

business. Vun bony vill not carry zree, and if I do not arrive in

Moukden before ze Russians zere vill be no money left to bay your vages.

Take most egstreme care of ze dribod."

Jack was not ill pleased to see the back of his employer. In other

circumstances he might have been amusing; as it was, he was a trial of

patience.

"I think we will wait till morning," said Jack to Hi Lo. "I am not sure

all is over yet. In any case the Japanese won't come into the city in

the dark; the firing has stopped; and we shall see our way better by

daylight."

So they stretched themselves on the k'ang and slept until the dawn.

When they arose it was obvious that Schwab's flight was premature.

True, the roads northward were crowded with fugitives, but they were in

the main natives; the Russians held their positions; and Jack saw a fine

regiment marching, not northward, but southward, in the direction of the

enemy, singing the Russian national anthem with a spirit that little

betokened a failing cause. But Jack felt that Schwab would expect his

two servants to follow him; he would be helpless without them. The

exodus from the city was already so great that it seemed best to go

northwards by the pontoon bridge while it was possible. He therefore

started on his way back to Moukden. Hi Lo had managed to secure a

mule--Jack did not enquire how; and on this, with the boy trudging by

his side, Jack crossed the river by the pontoon and gained the mandarin

road.

He found himself in a scene of terrible confusion. The road was blocked

with vehicles of all descriptions,--droshkies, Pekin carts, ammunition

wagons, country carts with their unwieldy teams; and crowds of

camp-followers and Chinese tradesmen. Drivers were shouting, soldiers

cursing, women shrieking. Chinamen staggered along with poles over

their shoulders, a basket slung at each end containing a child barely

awake, but laughing with glee at what seemed to its innocence a novel

and pleasing adventure. Women passed, bent under heavy bundles

containing their household gear; carts were heaped with bits of

furniture, ambulance wagons with wounded and dead; here was a soldier

leading a little donkey with a battered drum upon its back, there a

farmer whose clumsy cart was filled with cackling ducks and squealing

pigs. Now an axle would break, and the contents of the wagon were

scattered over the ground; now the wheels of one cart would become

locked with those of another, and the tangled teams plunged and kicked

in the mud. Then the uproar became still more furious; riders, careless

of what damage they might do, pressed their horses through the throng in

haste to make good their escape from the terrible shells whose coming

was announced from afar. The Japanese had begun to bombard the station.

Jack saw that he had little chance of making his way through the crush.

Calling to Hi Lo, he turned aside into a field of kowliang, already

trampled, and rode on over the ruined crop. In the distance, on the

left, he caught sight of train after train steaming northwards. Behind,

dense clouds of smoke obscured the city: the Russian quarter of

Liao-yang was in flames. Ever and anon a detonation shook the air, and

by and by the whistle of bullets was heard; the Japanese had occupied

the Shu-shan hill, and with their terrible long-range weapons were

firing into the Russian settlement.

The fourteen miles from Liao-yang to Yentai took Jack six hours. It was

evening when he arrived--too late to go farther; and he put up for the

night in a ruined hut. Russians were massed in the town, and covered the

slopes towards the mines. The Russian left wing had been driven back in

this direction, and it was to reinforce the hard-pressed troops here

that Kuropatkin had withdrawn Stackelberg with his Siberians. But it

was too late. Next day Kuroki flung his divisions upon the Russian

entrenchments. At a critical moment General Orloff, professor in a

Russian military college, attacked, contrary to his instructions. The

Japanese hidden in the kowliang awaited the onset, then poured in a

terrible fire, which threw the first regiment, composed of raw recruits,

into confusion. They broke and fled; the regiment behind, prevented by

the high stalks from seeing what had happened, opened fire upon their

own comrades; a third was led into the same fatal error; and the entire

left wing, bewildered, disorganized, sought safety in flight. Yentai

was filled with the Russian wounded; surgeons, with coats off and shirt

sleeves tucked up, went about their work in the open streets; the air

was filled with the screams and groans of men in agony.

Jack hurried through the town, and came again into the open country. A

mile north of the town he overtook a bearded veteran crawling painfully

along; he was wounded in the chest. He looked with haggard, covetous

eyes on Jack's mule; his face was drawn and white; sweat was streaming

from his brow. Jack stopped and sprang to the ground.

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

The man broke into sobbing exclamations of thanks. Supported by Jack on

one side, by Hi Lo on the other, he rode on during the rest of that hot

day. At dusk they entered a straggling village, and Jack was thinking

of looking for a shelter for the night when a rough voice from a cottage

cried:

"Ach, Strogoff! come here, comrade."

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

Jack led the mule to the door, and helped to carry the man into the

cottage. It had been appropriated by a group of Russian soldiers who

had become separated from their regiment. They received their wounded

comrade with rough expressions of sympathy; and, learning from him of

the Chinaman's kindness in lending his mule, they invited Jack and Hi Lo

to stay with them. Jack was nothing loth. He shared his few remaining

biscuits with the men, and sent Hi Lo out to buy some fruit if possible.

The boy returned with some pears and peaches, which formed a welcome

addition to their black bread and cakes of buckwheat.

Sitting on the k'ang, Jack was an interested listener to the soldiers'

talk. He did not understand all they said; they were simple moujiks,

whose broad dialect was not easy to follow; but he picked up a good deal

of their conversation.

Strogoff had to relate how he had received his wound. His story was long

in the telling, punctuated by many an "Ach!" "Och!" "Eka!" "Nu!" from

his comrades.

"Ach!" he concluded, "the Japanese are fine fellows, but they are too

little to use the bayonet. A bigger man would have made a better job of

it, and I should be dead now."

"Da! But you'd rather be alive, Strogoff?"

"How can I tell, Kedril? Will the doctors be able to mend my wound?"

"Not if they're such fools as the generals," grunted Kedril, a big,

shaggy rifleman who had lost an arm.

"True, there are some fools among them. But better be a fool than a

knave, like the commissaries. Why, half the biscuits served out to us

to-day were full of maggots, and my boots--look at them!--are made of

paper. Do you think the Little Father knows how we are cheated?"

"No, no; the Emperor does not know, Almazoff. He would not suffer these

evils if he knew them. Nu! he cannot be everywhere, like the Lord God."

"Things will be better some day. We've done our part, little pigeon.

But the Emperor would not like it if he knew what lies they have told

us. Why, they said the Japanese were dirty little men like monkeys; but

they're cleaner than you and me, Strogoff."

"And they said they walked with their heads downwards."

"No, Chapkin, that's the English. They say the English walk upright in

their own country, but when they go to another place of theirs called

Australia they turn upside down and walk on their heads."

"That can't be true, because Australia belongs to Germany. It's a part

of America, I believe."

"Nu! America belongs to England, so I dare say I was right after all.

Anyway, the Japanese walk on their feet like us, and they fight well. I

wonder what made them so angry with us?"

"I don't know. What do we get angry about when we're at home? Perhaps

the Little Father called the Emperor of Japan a sheep; if you called me

a sheep I should fight you; but emperors can't fight; of course not, for

they've no one to give them orders except the Lord God, and He couldn't

give orders to both at once."

"But if they quarrel, why should they make us fight in thousands? It

would be much better if his excellency the general and the Japanese

marshal took off their coats and fought, just they two. That would be a

fight worth seeing, eh, comrades?--a fight after the old style, before

they did everything by machinery."

"Da! It wouldn't matter so much if they made each other's nose bleed,

instead of us shooting at the little Japanese and them shooting at us.

Why, think of the thousands of widows there must be in Little

Russia--da! and in Japan too, for I expect they have a kind of marriage

there."

"True, we haven't any quarrel with the little men; and they're not very

angry either. When I was wounded in the bayonet charge, and lay on the

ground, a Japanese came up and gave me a cigarette; ach! the sun was

hot, and I was fanning myself with my cap, and he made me take a little

paper fan he had. Here it is: I shall give it to my little Anna,

dushenka! when I get home again."

"Ach! shall we ever get home again? Look at the thousands of versts we

are away; and we've got to stay till we beat the Japanese! Sing us your

song, Chapkin--you know, the one that always makes me cry."

The big veteran addressed took a sip from his half-empty flask of vodka,

and began, in a fine baritone every note of which was charged with

pathos--

"No more my eyes will see the land

Where I was born.

I suffer at my lord's command;

My limbs are torn.

Upon my roof the owl will moan;

The pigeon for her mate will yearn;

My heart with grief is broken down:

No, never more shall I return!"

The simple words brought tears to the eyes of all those rough soldiers.

Kedril grunted and growled.

"Don't make us more sad. Almazoff, you're the only fellow among us who

can read: read us something out of your English book; the piece about

the great fight in heaven; that's the stuff for a soldier."

Almazoff took from his pocket a dirty dog-eared paper-covered book, and

turned over the leaves. Having found the place, he began, in a slow

sonorous chant--

"Then rose a storming fury, and such uproar as never yet had been heard

in Heaven. Arms clashed on armour, a din of horrible discord; the

furious wheels of brazen chariots roared with rage; dire was the noise

of battle. Overhead with awesome hiss flew fiery darts in flaming

volleys, and their flight covered either host with a vault of fire.

Beneath this burning dome the embattled armies shocked together, with

deadly onset and unquenchable rage: all Heaven resounded; and had earth

been then, the whole earth had quivered to her centre. What wonder,

when on both sides millions of angels fought, fierce foes, of whom the

feeblest could wield the elements and arm himself with the might of all

their regions!----"

Thus he read on, and through the rough prose of the Russian translation

Jack caught echoes of the famous passage in _Paradise Lost_.

Far into the night the reading, story-telling, singing, went on. In the

morning Jack took leave of the simple brave fellows and resumed his

journey. On the way he learnt that the Russian army was in full

retreat. General Kuropatkin's able dispositions had extricated his worn

troops from the danger of being surrounded, and they were falling back

in good order, disappointed but not disheartened, towards Moukden.

Thither Jack made with all speed; and entering the city with Hi Lo by

one of the south gates in the evening, he found Schwab placidly smoking

his pipe at the door of the Green Dragon.

*CHAPTER XIII*

*Mr. Brown's House*

Schwab and Sowinski--Extempore--The Camera cannot Lie--Sowinski

Suspicious--Shadowed--Short Notice--Run to Earth--A Hole in the

Fence--Lares et Penates--The Press--Sowinski's Supper

Weeks passed. Moukden was no longer the city Jack had known. Hitherto

but few Russian troops had been seen in its streets; now these were

thronged from morning till night. Regimental wagons, ammunition carts,

rumbled hither and thither, raising clouds of dust. Officers strolled

about, buying knick-knacks of the curio dealers; war correspondents

kicked their heels in the hotels; droshkies, rickshaws, troikas, flew

this way and that, to the disturbance of the placid people of this

ancient city.

There were already signs of winter in the streets. The seasons in

Manchuria do not shade off one into another; summer heat stops, almost

at one stride comes winter cold. One morning the shops in the principal

streets were hung with furs--the skins of wild cats, foxes, martens,

otters, sheep, raccoons; fur caps, lined coats, woollen hoods, sheepskin

leggings, stockings of camel's hair. The Chinese merchants near the

eastern ramparts plied a brisk trade with Russian officers, offering

their customers cups of tea with true oriental politeness, and raising

their prices a hundred per cent.

They had been weeks of idleness for Jack. The Japanese had occupied

Yentai; the Russians had thrown up entrenchments to the south of

Moukden. There was talk of their taking the offensive; but warlike

operations had ceased for a time, and Schwab had been too busy

developing his negatives to think about taking more photographs. Jack

spent much of his time with the compradore, hoping day after day, but in

vain, for news of his father. He had caused money to be forwarded to

Mr. Hi Feng in Harbin for the purpose of pushing enquiries in the north,

through Chinese channels, and two trusty Chinese had been sent to make

investigations along the Moukden-Harbin section. The latter returned

quite baffled. But Jack sent them out again; he chafed at his own

helplessness: meanwhile no stone must be left unturned. Once or twice

he had seen Sowinski in the streets; once he met him face to face near

the palace; but the Pole passed by without giving any signs of

recognition.

Schwab had become tired of the Green Dragon, and now lived in a little

house which he rented from a Chinese grocer. He was waited on by Hi Lo,

who shared with Jack a room looking on the street. One day Jack was

standing at the window, watching the thronging traffic. He was in low

spirits: he had been so hopeful when he left Father Mayenobe; was he to

endure a long suspense like Gabriele Walewska, but in more pain even

than she, not knowing whether his father was alive or dead? Suddenly,

behind a string of carts he saw Schwab approaching in company with

Sowinski. Schwab was talking eagerly. Jack knew that his employer had

had several interviews with the Pole; he had probably been establishing

business relations between him and Schlagintwert in anticipation of the

close of the war. The two entered the house, and Jack, with a certain

tingling of the nerves, betook himself to the kitchen. Presently Hi Lo

came in to prepare dinner; Sowinski was dining with his master. The boy

waited at table, and, coming in and out of the kitchen, he gave Jack

from time to time information of what was going on. The Pole knew a

little German; both he and his host knew a little English; and as they

eked out their acquirements the quick-witted China boy picked up scraps

of their conversation and reported them to Jack.

"He piecee Polo man talkee; say-lo what plice Melican lails? Masta he

say velly cheap; he sellum evelyting cheap; he say belongey plenty

pidgin what-time fightey man all wailo."

"Boy!" shouted Schwab from the other room.

"Hai-yah, masta!" replied Hi Lo, hurrying away. He returned in a few

seconds.

"Masta say wantchee Sin Foo chop-chop."

Jack whistled under his breath. For a moment he thought of slipping out

of the room. But Schwab knew he was there. To leave without

explanation would cause trouble. It would perhaps be best to brazen it

out. He had already met Sowinski several times without being

recognized. Yet he regretted that he had not taken French leave the

moment he saw the Pole coming. He obeyed the summons.

"You Sin Foo, bring ze photographs, zose I haf developed."

"Allo lightee, masta."

Jack went out conscious that the Pole's eyes had been fixed on him.

Returning with the photographs he gave them to Schwab, and was on the

point of leaving the room when the German bade him wait. Schwab

unrolled the papers and spread them before his guest.

"Zere! Vat you zink of zat? Zose I took at ze battle of Liao-yang.

Ach! zat, mein frient, vas a fearful time. You vere not zere? No--you

are a man of beace; ve gorresbondents are men of var. Picture ze hill

of Shu-shan, schrapnel burst here, zere, everyvere; ze bullet fall zick

as leaves of Vallombrosa. Zat hill, mein frient, vas target for hundert

fifty guns. Zere am I, at ze top, fixing ze Japanese batteries in my

focus. Danger! Donnerwetter! It vas truly bandemonium. But vy am I

zere? Duty, mein frient, calls me; business are business; my duty, I am

baid to do it; but not enough, no, certainly not enough. Vy, I write

zis mail to Duesseldorf and say I can no longer encounter such danger

for ze brice. I muss haf increase of screw. Boy, fetch ze camera."

Jack laid it on the table.

"See, mein frient," continued Schwab. "Gontemblate zat hole!

Schrapnel! Anozer inch, or inch and half--ach! it is all ofer viz

Hildebrand Schwab. Ze var gorresbondent run colossal risk, true; but ze

var gorresbondent vat is also var photographer--vy, his risk is--vat

shall I say? it is schrecklich, furchtbar!"

Jack was aghast at Schwab's magnificent assurance. If he had been alone

with the Pole, that would have been another matter; but to dilate upon

his exploits in the presence of one who knew exactly what heroic part he

had played was astounding. Jack reflected, however, that he was merely

a Chinese servant, and as such of no importance.

Finding that his invention was more than equal to the strain, Schwab

proceeded with even greater confidence.

"Look at zis, mein frient. Here ve haf terrible scene of carnage in a

Russian trench, a whole gombany is viped out by vun shell." Herr Schwab

handed his guest the photograph of soldiers sleeping in the ditch near

the Moukden railway-station. "And zis--vat zink you of zis?" He picked

out the snap-shot of Siberian infantry before the blazing pawn-shop.

"Here, mein frient, ve see Russian infantry vat make nightattack on

village near Yentai: zey set on fire house full of Japanese."

"Ver' good, ver' good," remarked the Pole with an acid smile--"for a

photograph made by night."

Schwab shot a suspicious glance at his guest.

"Ja!" he said, "it is vonderful. Zese vill abbear in ze bages of my

baber, ze _Illustrirte Vaterland und Colonien_, zey vill give true

account, shpeaking better zan volumes of gorresbondence, of ze horrible

scenes vat zeir rebresentative haf beheld at ze bost of danger."

Sowinski's attention had been flagging; perhaps his intuition had

detected the artistic temperament. At any rate Jack felt that his eyes

were once more fixed on the silent Chinese boy--fixed in a puzzled,

scrutinizing gaze. The epic of the camera being completed, and Schwab

turning the conversation once more to business, Jack took the

opportunity of slipping away. Hi Lo remained in the room to replenish

the glasses. When Jack's back was turned, Sowinski, as Hi Lo reported

later, leant forward and asked quietly:

"Tell me, where did you get your boy?"

"Vich? Sin Foo? Oh! I tell you. I got him to carry ze camera. Ach!

zese Chinamen! Zey are above all zinks suberstitious. Zey zink ze

camera hold tousand defils; not one haf ze gourage to undertake it till

I abbly to ze gompradore of a Mr. Brown, for whom I had a letter. Mr.

Brown is a bad lot; he is gone, none knows vere--ze Russians haf him put

out of sight for because he haf betrayed zem to ze Japanese. Perhaps

you know him, mein frient? Vell, ze gompradore recommend me zis boy,

Sin Foo, vat haf some intelligence and do not fear ze defils. He is of

use--yes, of use; he is not afraid to follow me in ze zick of ze battle.

Vere ze gombat rage, zere is Schwab and his camera. It is in ze blood.

My ancestor Hildebrand Suobensius vas a great fighter--a Landsknecht. I

vill tell you his history----"

Hi Lo's report made Jack uneasy. Sowinski was evidently suspicious. If

his suspicions took definite form, it was scarcely likely that a man of

his rancorous disposition would leave things as they were. In the dusk

of the evening Jack hurried to his friend the compradore; he felt that

at this critical moment he needed advice from a Chinaman of experience.

When Hi An heard what had happened, he said at once that it would be

madness for Jack to remain longer in Moukden. Sowinski would certainly

seek a resolution of his doubts; he would in any case have Jack

arrested; and being in disguise, Jack would in all probability, if

arrested, meet the fate of a spy.

While they were talking, Hi Lo came in hurriedly to report that one of

Sowinski's servants was hanging about Schwab's house, apparently on the

watch. That clinched the matter. Jack must make himself scarce, and as

speedily as possible. Where was he to go? In the confused state of the

country he might easily disappear; he could become a camp-follower, or

mafoo to some European. But this would have its dangers; a Chinaman, as

he had already proved, would soon penetrate his disguise; with a

definite purpose before him, he did not care to be the sport of chance.

He might take refuge for a time with Wang Shih's people; but it was not

improbable that search would be made for him there, and he did not wish

to involve them in the escape of a spy. There was his friend Ah Lum; he

remembered the chief's invitation, and bethought himself that the

Chunchuses, moving constantly about the country, enjoyed the best

opportunities of learning his father's whereabouts. His mind was made

up; he would join the brigands.

But unluckily the city gates were now shut. Since the war had come

nearer to the walls, the entrances had been guarded more strictly. No

one was allowed to go in or out after nightfall unless he wore a uniform

or had a pass. The inner wall was too high to climb over; if by any

chance he could slip through the gates, traverse the suburbs, and climb

the outer wall, he might be shot; if he waited till morning, he ran the

risk of arrest. Yet, all things considered, it seemed better to wait.

Sowinski was apparently not quite sure of his ground. Then, to ensure

his escape, a pony was needed; and he would have to enquire of Ah Lum's

agent in the city, from whom alone could he learn the present

whereabouts of the band. Finally, he was disinclined to leave Schwab

without personally informing him of his approaching departure. This was

perhaps in the circumstances a small matter, but it had more weight with

Jack than he was probably aware of.

Taking leave of Hi An, he set off to return to Schwab's house. Hi Lo

had preceded him. As he walked he felt that he was being dogged. He

did not care to assure himself by looking back; but he took the first

opportunity of slipping into a side street, and hurrying to his

destination by a short cut. Schwab was writing, alone.

"My velly solly, masta," said Jack, kowtowing with even more than usual

humility. "My wantchee wailo."

"Vat you say? Already vant holiday? No, no, boy. You haf been viz me

not yet vun monce. I do not gif holidays so soon."

"My no wantchee holiday; my wantchee wailo allo-time; no come back; hab

catchee muchee plenty leason."

"Donnerwetter! Vat is zat for a kind of business? Zat is desertion;

infamous! Who zen vill carry ze camera? No, I cannot let you go; no, I

refuse, I vill bay you no vages."

"My velly solly. My likee masta first-chop; wantchee wailo all-same.

Masta no say Sin Foo belongey tellum what-time he wantchee go. Masta no

wantchee pay-lo wages? all-same; my no makee bobbely. Suttinly my wailo

chop-chop."

"Ach! Zat is ever so; ze goot servant cut his shtick; ze bad servant

shtick fast. Vell, if I say no, vizout doubt you vill run avay?"

"No fea'."

"Vell zen, I let you go. You haf done me vell; zat is ze truth. But

business are business; you haf served me vun monce less two days. I bay

you zen fifteen dollar less ze vorth of two days. Vat is zat?"

"My no savvy, masta; my no hab catchee t'ings so-fashion China-side."

"Vell, I vill gif you fifteen dollar, and zay nozink about vat you owe

me. Vere you go?"

"My go look-see flend long long wailo."

"So! I tell you zis; if again you gome back to Moukden vile Hildebrand

Schwab is var gorresbondent, he alvays gif you job."

"Masta too muchee velly kind. My tinkee Toitsche genelum numpa one

chappee, galaw! My say-lo by-by, masta; so long!"

The farewell interview had taken longer than Jack anticipated. He was

anxious to be gone, feeling insecure in Schwab's house. Giving the

hard-earned dollars to Hi Lo, he hastened back by side streets to the

compradore, with a suspicion that he was watched as he left the house by

two Chinamen whom he caught sight of on the other side of the road. He

peeped back at the first corner, and saw that one of the men was coming

in his direction; the other had disappeared. On reaching Hi An's house

he found that the man was absent; he had spoken of making enquiries of

Ah Lum's agent. Jack waited rather anxiously. Twenty minutes passed,

then the compradore came in very hurriedly.

"Sowinski is coming with Russian soldiers!" he gasped. "They will be

here in five minutes. I found Ah Lum's man, Me Hong; he will send a

guide to Hsien-chia-kou, ten miles away. You must not go near Me Hong.

But how to get away!"

Jack fortunately could keep his head. He had but a few minutes to

decide on a course, and he made the most of them. If he went into the

street he would be at once seen; probably there were already men on the

watch at each end. The only other way out was by the back. The

compradore peered out; as Jack expected, he saw several figures lurking

in the shade of the wall. Jack remembered that in the fence separating

the compradore's garden from Mr. Brown's there was a narrow gap through

which Hi Lo had been wont to creep as a short cut to the house. Between

the fence and the house there was a line of shrubs about two and a half

feet high. It was growing dark; if he could creep away under cover of

the bushes to the hole in the fence he might gain his father's house.

There he would in truth be in the enemy's country; but the attention of

the watchers would probably be engrossed by the soldiers whose tramp was

now heard approaching, and his own house would be the last that Sowinski

would suspect as the fugitive's hiding-place. What the next step might

be Jack could not imagine; the first was risky, but he saw no other. In

a word he told the compradore of his intention. The man gasped; then

with a rapid movement took a revolver from a shelf and pressed it into

his young master's hand.

"Good-bye, Mr. Hi! I will let you know. Don't forget Father."

He slipped to the back door, dropped on all-fours, and wriggled along

the ground close to the line of shrubs. He had barely started when he

heard Sowinski loudly summoning Hi An to open the door. The compradore

made some reply, apparently temporizing; the answer was an angry shout,

followed by a soothing response from the faithful servant. Jack heard

no more; in another moment he reached the gap in the fence. He wriggled

through; the garden had been neglected since Mr. Brown's arrest, and the

undergrowth was rank; this was fortunate, for only a few feet away he

saw, leaning on the fence, the form of a Russian soldier, and a yard or

two beyond him another. They were talking together, or they might have

heard the rustle as Jack squeezed through the hole and made for the

house.

In these few moments he had been rapidly thinking. He could not hope to

hide in the house, but he might pass through it, gain the front door,

and escape by the street. Naturally he was so familiar with the house

that there was no danger of his going astray. But, slipping in by the

back door and turning into the passage leading to the front, his hope

was suddenly dashed. Three Chinamen stood at the open door, completely

barring his egress. They were talking excitedly and in loud tones. Jack

overheard one of them say that the Russians were arresting a supposed

Chinaman, actually an Englishman who had come to spy for the Japanese,

the very man who had been living in Hi An's house behind, and whose

illness had given them such concern. Evidently they were servants of

the Pole, stationed at the door to keep watch. The three men blocked up

the doorway and stood facing the street.

Jack noiselessly slipped into the dining-room, lit by a single lamp. He

felt like a fox in a hole, with dogs all round ready to snap him up if

he showed his nose. He looked round the familiar room with a curious

sense of aloofness. Had this been for so long his home? It was the

same room, the same furniture--a table, a few chairs, engravings on the

walls, the large oaken press; but a different air seemed to pervade it

now. For a moment he thought of hiding in the press until dead of

night, and then slipping away. He opened the door; the lock had been

forced; the press was empty save for a few bottles of wine. Clearly

this would not be a secure refuge; a bottle might be required at any

moment. What else could he do? He could open the window--the only

glass one in the house--and drop into the street; but he would certainly

be seen by the men at the door or by a casual passer-by, though there

were few people about at that hour of the evening. Yet no other course

suggested itself, and he was moving towards the window when he heard

soft footsteps in the passage outside. Quick as thought he sprang

behind the open door, listening with thumping heart.

One of the servants passed by on the way to the kitchen. He had left the

others at the door to keep watch while he prepared his master's supper.

The cloth, Jack noticed, had been left on the table. In a minute or two

the man would come into this very room, and Jack must be seen. With

nerves tingling he waited, setting his lips as a plan of action was

suggested to him by the emergency. Soon he heard the clink of glass.

The servant was returning. He came from the kitchen carrying a tray with

a glass jug, a tumbler, and a plate. He entered the room, walked to the

table, and set the tray upon it. At that moment Jack stepped quietly up

to him from behind, brought one arm round over his mouth to stifle any

cry, and with the other held the cold barrel of his pistol to the man's

temple.

"Keep silent, for your life!" he whispered.

The Chinaman, with fear in his eyes, made no sound or movement, but

stood as still as his trembling limbs allowed. Still keeping the pistol

pointed at the man's head, Jack quietly closed the door. Then he said:

"I will do you no injury, but your safety and mine require that you

should be out of harm's way for a time. I have business with your

master. Go into that press. So long as you are quiet and do what you

are told, you have nothing to fear. But if you make the slightest

sound, that moment will be your last. You understand me?"

He spoke very low and rapidly, but distinctly. The man nodded; there

was no mistaking the grim meaning with which this tall foreigner who

spoke Chinese fingered the trigger of his revolver. Crossing the room

to the press, the Chinaman stepped into it, and Jack closed the door.

He wondered if he could slip out of the house before Sowinski returned.

Before long the Pole must discover that the bird had flown; he would

realize the hopelessness of searching the whole of Moukden at night for

a man disguised as a Chinaman, and, furious as he might be, he would

doubtless accept the situation for the moment, and return to his evening

meal. Once more Jack was making towards the window when he heard

footsteps again, this time approaching from the back of the house; not

the shuffling felt soles of Chinese, but the tramp of heavy European

boots. At the same moment there came from the street the clatter of

several feet marching in time. Jack stepped back from the window. He

heard a gruff voice, the voice of Sowinski, say in Russian:

"Sergeant, there is no more to be done. The spy has got away. Inform

the sentinels at the gates. He cannot leave the city to-night; we may

trap him yet. Report to General Bekovitch; I will see him in the

morning. Good-night!"

The sergeant responded, and marched his squad away.

"Where is Ming Fo?" demanded Sowinski of the servants at the door. "Why

is he not watching with you?"

"He is preparing your supper, master; we are keeping watch for him."

"You have seen no one pass?"

"No one."

"Very well. Go and get your supper."

[Illustration: Sowinski's Visitor]

Then Jack heard Sowinski's footsteps approaching the room and the two

Chinamen shuffling along behind towards the kitchen. His chest heaved;

the crisis was at hand.

*CHAPTER XIV*

*A Night with Sowinski*

The Persuasive Pistol--A Pass--Thorough--Captain Sinetsky--The Eastern

Gate--An Empty Pistol

Jack had intended to deal with the Pole as he had dealt with his

servant; but the fact of the two other Chinamen passing the door of the

room close on his heels had thrown out his calculations. He could not

afford to run the risk of the slightest struggle; it would certainly be

heard. He had but an instant to decide on his course.

Behind the door was a chair. To this Jack tiptoed, and he had just

seated himself when Sowinski opened the door. The Pole flung his hat on

a chair, and moved towards the press, doubtless with the intention of

getting a bottle of wine. He almost had his hand on the knob when he

became aware, rather by instinct than by perception, of a movement

behind him. Jack with his foot had gently swung the door to. Turning

sharply round, Sowinski saw the red light of the shaded lamp reflected

from the barrel of a pistol in the hand of a young Chinaman seated

composedly within five feet of him. For a moment he was motionless; he

was too much surprised for speech; a second glance showed him who his

visitor was, and Jack, watching him keenly, saw his face go pale. He

stood irresolute; the ominous pistol, not held rigidly, but moving

gently from side to side, seemed to hold him spell-bound, as the swaying

head of a snake fascinates a hare.

"Yes, Mr. Sowinski," said Jack quietly, though his pulse was galloping;

"yes, it is I, Jack Brown. You were looking for me? Speak low, or the

pistol may go off."

"You would be arrested at once," said the Pole in a hard whisper.

"Possibly, but that would not help you. You would be dead."

Sowinski ground his teeth. Rage and fear struggled for the mastery; but

fear, as Jack had calculated, was the stronger. The man's eye never

left the barrel.

"First, Mr. Sowinski," continued Jack, rising, and now pointing the

revolver steadily at his head; "first, I wish to know where my father

is."

"Your father? How should I know? Am I your father's keeper? He was

deported."

"You lie!" said Jack, his voice vibrant with anger. "Come, your reply;

your life depends on it."

Visibly cowed by Jack's menacing look and tone, the Pole replied

sullenly:

"Well, it is true; he was taken to Harbin, to be delivered to General

Kriloff."

"And where is he now?"

"I do not know. I swear that is the truth. General Bekovitch----"

"Does he know?"

"I cannot say. I do not know what message he sent to General Kriloff.

I have heard nothing of your father since he went away."

"He went in chains; did you know that?"

"Yes," replied the Pole hesitatingly.

"Then where is he? You know that; you know more; a man is sent away in

chains, herded with foul criminals; it is your doing; what have you done

with him?"

"I don't know; may I never speak again if that is not true. He is

probably in the mines."

As he said this, even the imminent pistol could not prevent Sowinski

from betraying his rancorous satisfaction in a mocking curl of the lip

and a half-suppressed chuckle. Yet Jack felt intuitively that in this

case the man was speaking the truth; that he really did not know what

had become of his victim after he had seen him safely wedged in the

cattle-truck. There was scorn as well as a white heat of anger in

Jack's reply.

"You infamous scoundrel! You would be justly served if I shot you where

you stand, and for my own part the satisfaction would be worth the risk.

But I can't kill even such vermin as you in cold blood; and if I spare

you, be sure the day of reckoning is only deferred. There are a

thousand Poles waiting to kill the traitor Ladislas Streleszki at

sight."

The amazed and wretched man swayed as he stood; his hue turned still

more ashen than before; his whole body seemed to shrink together with

craven fear.

"Now, choose," continued Jack after a pause. "The pistol, or instant

compliance with my demands.--Silence!" He heard the two Chinamen

approach the door, and noticed a twitching of the Pole's mouth

suggesting a cry for help. The impulse, if impulse it was, was

immediately checked by Jack's stern command.

"Send them home."

Sowinski called to the men that they might go; he would require them no

more that night.

"Now close the shutters. Thank you! I see pen, ink, and paper on

yonder shelf. Seat yourself at the table and write in Russian from my

dictation."

The Pole moved mechanically, under the spell of the covering revolver.

"'To Lieutenant-Colonel Gudriloff,'" dictated Jack. "'Please supply

bearer, Chang Sin Foo, with a pass for the gates, and two good ponies;

debit the charge to my account.' Now sign your name--your present name.

That is right. Now, Mr. Sowinski, you have been so obliging that I

trust you will excuse what must seem a poor return for your

complaisance. But my position in your--that is to say, my father's

house, being somewhat delicate, I have no alternative."

The two Chinamen having gone away, Jack no longer subdued his tone. He

had the whip hand. Still keeping the revolver steadily pointed at the

scowling Pole's head, he stepped to the press and, Sowinski looking on

in amazement, called to the Chinese servant to come out. The man was as

pale as his master; he was stricken with the very ague of fear.

"You have nothing to fear," said Jack, pitying the fellow. "Do what I

tell you quickly. Tear up that cloth." He pointed to the none too

clean cover on the table. "Tear it into six strips."

The man tried, but the material was too tough, or his hands too much

enfeebled from fright.

"Take the knife, but remember, at the first movement in this direction I

will shoot you."

With some difficulty the man did as he was bid.

"Now bind your master's legs--first round the ankles. Quick!"--as the

man recoiled before the glare in Sowinski's eyes. Jack jerked up his

pistol, and the trembling wretch hastened to obey. The Pole made no

resistance; but if looks could have slain, both Jack and the Chinaman

would have been killed on the spot.

"Now the arms," said Jack, when, under his supervision, Sowinski's legs

had been securely trussed. "No, behind him--not in front: that is

right. Now the knees. Now tie the wrists to the ankles. Now a gag;

that fur cap will do. We are going to place your master in the press.

You take the head; I will take the feet."

Jack felt that he was giving the Chinaman a bare chance to close with

him; but the man seeming so cowed, he took the risk, careful, however,

to keep the revolver conspicuous. As they lifted the Pole they saw his

face distorted with rage and hate. They stood him upright in the press,

and closed the door, leaving sufficient space between it and the sides

to admit air. Then with a feeling of relief after the tension of his

perilous situation, Jack took up the order signed by Sowinski, and was

wondering how to dispose of the Chinaman, when there was a loud knock at

the outer door, followed immediately by footsteps in the passage. Jack's

heart beat violently; he caught a malicious look of triumph in the

servant's eyes. But he recovered his _sang-froid_, and at the same

moment made his decision. A voice in Russian was calling for Sowinski;

just as the footsteps approached the inner door Jack pushed the Chinaman

in front of him.

"Send him away," he whispered. "Remember the pistol."

He had no time for more. The visitor was at the door. It opened.

"Ha, Sowinski!--" said the new-comer, a captain of Cossacks. Then he

paused, seeing only two Chinese servants.

"Where is your master?"

"He is away, Excellency," faltered the man; "not at home; he will not be

back for some hours." Jack touched his heel to quicken his invention.

He continued: "He said he was going first to the Green Dragon, then to

the railway-station. He expected to meet a friend. Can I give him any

message?"

"It is very annoying," said the officer. "I must see him to-night. The

Green Dragon, you say? I will see whether he is there. If he returns,

say that Captain Sinetsky called, and that he is to come and see me at

my quarters at once."

He turned on his heel and left the house. The tension was relaxed. The

immediate danger was past, but Jack saw that his escape was still to be

deferred. The captain's look and tone of vexation showed that his

business with Sowinski was important. Failing to find the Pole at the

hotel he might return himself or send a messenger, and then, if Jack

were absent, the prisoner would be discovered and released, and the hue

and cry after the disguised Englishman would be hot before he could get

his pass and be clear of the city. The gates would not be opened before

daybreak. It would hardly be safe to leave the house much earlier. He

made up his mind to wait.

Creaking and groaning, the massive gates barring the eastern entrance to

Moukden swung back on their hinges; the squatting crowd patiently

awaiting the opening awoke to sudden activity; there was a general

movement of foot-passengers, chairs, and carts towards the archway. In

a moment the rush was checked: a Cossack officer with a dozen sturdy

troopers barred the way--one man only might pass at a time, and that

after careful scrutiny.

When some two or three score had run the gauntlet, the officer, whose

patience seemed to be sorely tried, permitted himself a hearty Russian

oath, and growled to the sergeant at his side.

"These Chinese are all alike. What the goodness is the use of asking us

to stop--what is it?"--he glanced at a paper in his hand--"'a young

Englishman, tall, slim, cleverly disguised as a native'? It's

absurd--it's a job for a Chinaman, not for us."

"But, little father, it must be quite easy to recognize an Englishman.

They are all red-faced, with long noses, and big teeth, and side

whiskers--I have seen pictures of them in the papers in Petersburg.

They are ugly, the English--one would know them anywhere."

Captain Vassily Nikolaeitch Kargopol, his feelings relieved by his brief

outburst, smiled condescendingly. He recognized the sergeant's

description of the familiar continental caricature of John Bull; but as

the crowd surged through he had no time for correcting his subordinate's

impressions. An old man, riding one pony and leading another,

dismounted at the gate as the crowd thinned, and with elaborate kowtows

presented his pass. The shadow of a wide-brimmed hat seemed to deepen

the wrinkles of his parchment skin; but there was an alert look in the

eye, and a nervous energy in the carriage, that told of a spirit still

young.

"Pass the bearer, Chang Sin Foo, and two ponies.

Gudriloff--Lieutenant-Colonel." The captain read out the instructions,

handed back the document, and signed to the Chinaman to proceed.

Leading his ponies through the gate, the old man mounted, and rode

slowly on. A mile out he quickened his pace, and struck off into a side

track winding towards the hills that bounded the horizon north, south,

and east. As he left the main road, the more rapid movement jolted a

pistol from the folds of his voluminous garments. He glanced back and

saw it lying on the track, but did not check his pace, though an odd

smile disturbed the wrinkles of his mouth.

"It's a good job," he muttered in unmistakable English--"a jolly good

job, Sowinski didn't know it wasn't loaded!"

*CHAPTER XV*

*Cossack and Chunchuse*

The Road in China--A Change of View--Looking Ahead--A Cold

Welcome--Beleaguered--The Part of Prudence--Smoke--Beaten Back--The

Water Supply--An Inspiration--Ch'hoy!

At Hsien-chia-kou the strangely young old man with the two ponies met

not only the guide punctually furnished by Ah Lum's agent, but also Mr.

Hi and his son. The compradore explained that after what had happened

he no longer felt safe in his little cottage, and had made up his mind

to join his brother in Harbin and do what he could there to further the

enquiries for Mr. Brown. As for Hi Lo, the boy had for the first time

shown a most reprehensible and unfilial spirit of disobedience. He had

declared that the Toitsche genelum's service, now that Sin Foo had left,

had no further attraction for him. If he must serve someone, it should

be Mr. Chack Blown; and he would much rather serve Mr. Chack Blown than

accompany his father to Harbin, for he did not like his Aunt Feng.

Jack laughed.

"Let him come with me, Mr. Hi. He saved those papers so cleverly that I

think a great deal of him, and I'll really be glad to have him with me."

The compradore would not oppose his young master's express wish;

accordingly, Jack, when he rode off, had two companions.

Jack had learnt from his guide that Ah Lum's camp was situated in the

hills south of Kirin, at a point many miles due north of the spot where

he had left the chief. He had before him, therefore, a journey of

nearly three hundred miles. Fortunately the rainy season was past; a

few days of brilliant sunshine and bustling winds had worked a

marvellous transformation. The road that only recently had been a pulp

of liquid mud was now thick with soft brown blinding dust, clouds of

which were blown by the north-easter full in the travellers' faces,

covering them from head to foot. Unpleasant as this was, it was less

troublesome than the continual assaults of midges which Jack had

suffered on his previous journey. The autumn air, already nipping out

of the sunshine, had annihilated these pests, and the only trouble of a

similar kind that Jack experienced was from some black ants whose nest

his pony disturbed, and which bit with terrible ferocity.

For more than a week the three riders pursued their journey almost

without incident. After the first few days they came into a country of

hill and forest, broken by richly cultivated valleys and large swift

streams. They had to climb ridges, to cross ravines, to ford rivers,

sometimes fording the same river a score of times, so serpentine were

its windings. Here and there were settlers' huts, where they found

scanty accommodation, but a warm welcome; here and there also a hillside

inn, at which they spent the night on the floor of a tiny room, with

perhaps a dozen Chinamen packed like sardines in a box on the k'ang

above them.

During these days and nights Jack had many opportunities of thinking

over his position. He wondered sometimes whether the course he had

decided on was the best he could have taken; but his ponderings always

converged to the same point--that his only chance of obtaining news of

his father and procuring his liberation lay in remaining in Russian or

Russo-Chinese territory. For himself, hunted and outlawed as he was,

capture might well mean death, and nowhere was he so likely to be safe

as among the Chunchuses. But he saw that in seeking an asylum among

them he was in a sense casting in his lot with the enemies of Russia and

espousing their quarrel. That consideration gave him food for thought.

He had no concern with the great struggle then in progress. It was

nothing to him whether Manchuria became the spoil of either Russia or

Japan. Up to the time of his father's arrest, indeed, his sympathies

had inclined to the Russian side. He had made many friends among the

Russians during his stay in Moukden, especially among the engineers and

officials connected with the railway. He had found them amiable,

courteous, and singularly free from what, for want of a better word, the

Englishman calls "side". Of the Japanese, on the other hand, he knew

almost nothing. His impressions of the few he had met in the course of

business were not wholly favourable, which was perhaps little to be

wondered at, for the trading classes of Japan, with whom alone Mr. Brown

had had relations, were only just beginning to emerge from the condition

of a despised and, it must be admitted, despicable caste. Japanese of

the Samurai class looked down on a merchant with far more disdain than

an English aristocrat shows towards a petty tradesman; and it would have

seemed incredible to them that an English marquis should become a coal

merchant or a dairyman. It was natural enough that a class thus

despised should not be greatly hampered with self-respect; and their

business methods did not commend themselves to Mr. Brown, with whom, as

with every British merchant, his word was as good as his bond.

But the black sheep whom Jack had come across recently had brought about

a change in his feeling towards the Russians generally. He saw them now

as grasping adventurers, and the Chunchuses as patriots waging a lawful

warfare against invasion and oppression. He had no very kindly feeling

for the men who were treating his father with such abominable injustice.

He did not disguise from himself that in joining the Chunchuses he could

not remain a passive spectator of the struggle. He must be prepared to

identify himself completely with the fortunes of Ah Lum's band, and

become to all intents and purposes as lawless a brigand as themselves,

But he hoped it would not be for long. If the tide of success upon

which the Japanese arms had been borne from victory to victory did not

turn, the Russian domination must ere long be shattered, and in some

vague undefined way he felt that the fortunes of his quest were bound up

with the discomfiture of the Russians. But in thus throwing in his lot

with their enemies he reserved one point: he would steadily refuse to

have any part in such excesses as were from time to time reported of the

Chunchuses. It was likely enough that as a very unimportant individual,

incurably a "foreign devil", he would be laughed to scorn for his

scruples by Ah Lum. The custom of torturing prisoners was so deeply

rooted in Chinese methods of warfare that Ah Lum, even if he so desired,

might be unable to control his followers and prevent atrocity when they

were not under his immediate observation. This would make it difficult

for Jack to remain with them; but he put the matter from his thoughts:

he would not meet difficulties half-way.

Now and again, as with his guide and Hi Lo he passed through isolated

villages, he heard of small bodies of Cossacks having been seen in their

vicinity. From the general talk at inns and farmhouses he gathered that

the Russians, alarmed for their communications after the battle of

Liao-yang, were about to make a serious attempt to deal with Ah Lum and

one or two other Chunchuse chiefs who threatened the railway between

Harbin and Vladivostok. The Cossack parties whose movements the

villagers reported, were presumably scouting to ascertain the exact

position of Ah Lum's band preparatory to a concerted attempt to entrap

him.

One afternoon, as they climbed a rugged slope towards a village nestling

among trees at the top, the travellers heard the rattle of musketry in

the distance, and saw a couple of Russian horsemen riding away in the

direction whence the sound came. At first Jack thought of avoiding the

village altogether, and making a detour; but he had been riding since

early morning over difficult country, the sun had been hot, and he was

very hungry; so that after consulting with his guide he decided to go

on, the man thinking there was as great a risk of encountering Russians

the one way as the other. They proceeded, therefore, but cautiously,

keeping a sharp look-out. The guide knew the headman of the village; if

he could get speech with him they might obtain useful information.

Firing could still be heard fitfully; it was impossible to tell how far

away, but it seemed at a considerable distance from the village. When

they entered the street, they came upon a knot of villagers in voluble

discussion. They were instantly the object of a narrow scrutiny; but the

guide had already marked his friend the headman among the group, and

called him by name. The man came forward to meet the riders; the guide

explained in a sentence that he wished to have some private talk with

him, and he at once led the way to his house.

Thinking that frankness was here the best policy, Jack asked his guide

to explain briefly who he was and what had brought him to the village.

The headman was perturbed, almost incensed, when he heard the story. He

had suffered already from depredations by the brigands; if the Russians

knew that he had harboured a fugitive, he could only expect to suffer

even more seriously at their hands. And there was great danger that

they would discover the new-comers' presence. A squadron of Cossacks

about two hundred strong was at that moment besieging some fifty

Chunchuses in a farm three miles away. The brigands had been shut in

for three days, and it was expected that they must yield shortly,

perhaps before another day was past. The owner of the farm had come

into the village when the Chunchuses appeared. He said that there was

plenty of grain in his barns; the brigands could not be starved; but the

water supply was likely to give out. The farm being situated less than

half a mile from a river, the store of water kept in it was only

sufficient for his family and servants, and could not meet the

requirements of the company of Chunchuses, to say nothing of their

horses. Behind the walls they might succeed in keeping the Russians at

bay unless artillery were brought against them; but lack of water must

inevitably cause them to surrender. They had made a good fight; the

besiegers had lost a good many men; two Cossacks had come into the

village only a short time before Jack's arrival, with orders to the

headman to prepare quarters for the wounded. But they so greatly

outnumbered the defenders that they could afford to lose heavily without

seriously reducing the odds in their favour; and, taught by experience,

they would probably not attempt to storm the place, but would sit down

and leave its reduction to the work of time.

These explanations were given by the headman, who concluded by earnestly

entreating Jack and his companions to depart. If the Cossacks suspected

that any of the villagers had been in relations with the brigands they

would certainly burn every house in the place, and in all likelihood

slaughter the inhabitants. Jack sympathized with the man in his terror;

he said at once that the village should suffer no harm through him; and

after buying a little food to carry him to the next stage, he rode out

with his two companions.

But the news he had just heard was not of a kind to pass unconsidered.

He was on his way to join Ah Lum's band; it was a part of that band that

was now in such desperate straits, and he felt a personal interest in

their fate. Word had been sent to Ah Lum, as the headman had informed

him; but Ah Lum was at least two days' march away, and another two days

must pass before help could come from him, even if he found himself in a

position to send assistance. If this siege of the farm were a part of

an organized movement against the Chunchuses, it was not unlikely that

Ah Lum himself was hard pressed.

Jack was in a quandary. Prudence bade him press on without delay; the

convoy with the Russian wounded was no doubt already on the way to the

village, and might meet him or cross his path at any moment. But he

felt an overpowering curiosity, natural in one of his active spirit, to

see for himself the place where the brigands were so stoutly keeping up

a fight against odds; and his curiosity was reinforced by another

motive: the desire to see whether there was any possibility of their

escaping from their peril. He felt the natural impulse of youth to "do

something", even though he recognized how hopeless it was to imagine

that he, with but two companions, could intervene between the Chunchuses

and their fate. Still, the impulse was overmastering; he must see with

his own eyes how they were situated; and having availed himself of Ah

Lum's protection in placing himself in the hands of his agent, he

thought it his duty not to leave the neighbourhood without at least

assuring himself that rescue was out of the question.

He announced his intention of riding to the farm. His guide vigorously

protested; it was absurd, he said, to go into the very jaws of danger;

much better hurry on and reach safety with the chief.

"And what would Mr. Ah think of you if he heard that?"

"But I don't know the way, master."

"No matter. The firing was to our right; we saw the way the Cossacks

went; no doubt the wounded will come the same way, so we must avoid

that; but if we work round gradually under cover of that copse yonder,

we shall be going in the right direction. They're firing again. You

will come with me," he added sternly, divining an inclination to bolt,

"or you will no longer be Mr. Ah's man, and you know what that means."

The three turned off to the right, skirting the beech plantation of

which Jack had spoken, the guide resigned but sullen. It was now about

five o'clock in the afternoon; in an hour and a half it would be dark.

Riding cautiously, keeping a keen look-out on all sides for signs of the

Russians, they gradually made their way across country, guided by the

firing that was still heard at intervals. They were crossing a hilltop

some three miles from the village they had left behind, when Hi Lo

suddenly declared that he saw smoke in the distance.

"You have sharp eyes," said Jack. "We had better dismount. Being on

the sky-line we shall be easily seen if the Russians look this way. Let

us hope they are giving their whole attention to the farm."

They tied up their ponies to trees some distance from the hill-path they

had been following. Jack wished to leave Hi Lo in charge of the

animals, but the boy pleaded hard to be allowed to accompany his master.

"Masta say-lo my hab plenty good look-see. My walkee long-side masta;

plaps my can helpum masta."

"Very well. Now show me where you saw the smoke."

The boy pointed to a hollow nearly a mile away, where at first Jack

could see nothing but fields of hay and over-ripe kowliang. The smoke

of course had now disappeared; but, following Hi Lo's finger, Jack

presently saw the dull mud-coloured walls of a farm enclosure, barely

distinguishable from the brownish vegetation around. A moment later Hi

Lo's keen glance lighted upon the low shelter-tents of the Russian

encampment, some distance to the left of the farm, apparently situated

in a field, recently cropped, near the bank of the river, of which a few

yards could be seen. Not a man was in sight; but beyond the camp was a

clump of brushwood, at the edge of which Jack fancied he saw the black

forms of two or three horses. Probably the rest were tethered in the

copse.

As Jack and his two companions, standing motionless on the hilltop,

looked across the valley they suddenly saw a score of men rush out from

the tall kowliang in which they had been concealed, and dash forward

against the far corner of the wall surrounding the farm. At the same

moment, from the fields around puffs of smoke were seen rising in the

air, and a few moments later the sharp rattle of musketry, like the

sudden shooting of pebbles from a cart, reached their ears. But the

defenders had not been caught napping. A withering fire met the

Russians as they charged up the slight slope leading to the farm; only a

few gained the crest, and these fell to the Chunchuses, who all at once

appeared as by magic in the courtyard. The survivors hesitated for a

moment; then they turned and plunged into cover of the long grass and

kowliang. In a few seconds every man had disappeared from view; peace

reigned over the scene; there was nothing to show that the farm was the

centre of a bitter struggle.

But for the scarcity of water Jack had little doubt from what he had

seen that the Chunchuses would be able to hold their own indefinitely

against the Cossacks, unless siege operations of a regular kind were

adopted. He could see no trace of trenches, such as, with their

numerical advantage, the besiegers could easily have constructed if they

had been so minded and possessed the requisite knowledge. But they were

a mounted force, unused, no doubt, to any tactics but the simple Cossack

evolutions. The average Russian soldier has little adaptability. The

construction of trenches is not a horseman's business; it would not

enter the head of a Cossack captain to employ a device so far removed

from his routine. Yet with the aid of a trench the besiegers could make

short work of the Chunchuse defences, which consisted simply of the mud

wall surrounding the farm, and the farm itself--a thatched cottage with

byres and pig-sties adjacent, flimsy structures at the best.

Under cover of the tall shrubs that crowned the hill, Jack looked long

and searchingly at the beleaguered farm. He tried to picture the

defenders within the walls, hoping for relief, watching the inch-fall of

their water supply, tantalized by the sight of the full stream flowing

so near, and yet as distant as though it were in another continent. To

Jack it appeared that there was no chance whatever of doing anything to

assist the Chunchuses, among whom doubtless were men whom he had seen in

Ah Lum's camp. He asked the guide whether he could suggest a way. The

man replied that the only course was to hurry on and inform Ah Lum of

the desperate position of his men. Inasmuch as a messenger had gone on

the same errand two days before, the guide's suggestion was not very

helpful. And Jack was possessed of the feeling that to act thus would

be equivalent to leaving the trapped band in the lurch, a thing that

went very much against the grain. Yet what else could he do? If he

could give no help in the actual, pressing emergency, there was nothing

to gain by remaining on the scene--not only nothing to gain but

everything to lose, for he would run the risk of being snapped up by the

Cossacks.

"There's no help for it, I suppose," he said half-aloud. Very

unwillingly he turned his back on the farm, and retraced his steps down

the hillside towards the copse where the ponies were tethered. Just

before the farm was wholly shut from his sight by the crest of the hill,

he turned again and swept the country with his eye, as though to take a

last look at the scene of an approaching tragedy. It happened that in

his movements upon the hill he had reached a point where a somewhat

different view was obtainable, and he now noticed for the first time,

half a mile away to his left, an open space in which a group of men,

Russians no doubt, were busy around a number of tripods with big

cauldrons suspended. Smoke was rising from one or two; the men were

evidently lighting fires to prepare their evening meal.

"Strange," thought Jack, "that the cooking place should be so far from

the shelter-tents and horses. It must be nearly half a mile from the

farm. Do the troops march to the food, I wonder, or is the food carried

to the troops? Probably the former. But why so far away?"

Even as the question occurred to him the answer flashed upon his

mind--and not only the answer, but a possible means of doing what he so

much longed to do. Was it possible? He felt his pulse quicken at the

mere thought. The dusk was fast gathering over the scene; the farm and

its surroundings must soon be shut altogether from his gaze; before that

came about, he must take one more look. Bidding Hi Lo and the guide

remain where they were, he went back to his former post of observation,

moving very carefully so as not to be seen from the quarter where he had

not previously suspected the presence of an enemy. Once more he scanned

the landscape; then he returned to the two Chinese, who looked at him

questioningly, wondering at the change of expression on his face.

"Back to the ponies!" he said briefly. As they went they saw the glow

of the Russians' fires in the glooming sky. The sight brought a smile

to Jack's lips, but he said nothing to his expectant companions. They

found the ponies where they had left them; they took from the saddles

the food brought from the village--a little rice, some bean sprouts, and

a small heap of monkey-nuts, all that they had been able to get at short

notice. As they munched their frugal meal Jack could not but wish for

five minutes by the steaming cooking-pots on the other side of the hill.

When their hunger was satisfied, and the dusk had deepened into night,

Jack suddenly looked up from the brown study in which he had appeared to

be absorbed and said:

"Now, listen to me."

His two companions listened with all their ears; Hi Lo soon became

restless with excitement; the guide, though his Chinese stolidity was

not so easily broken through, at length gave utterance to the

exclamation "Ch'hoy!" which signifies approbation or disdain, pleasure

or misgiving, according to the inflection of the voice. What Jack had

to say took some time; it was quite dark when he finished; then he got

up.

"Remember," he said, "not a movement nor a sound. Do exactly as I have

told you; then make for this spot again."

Then he slipped away into the darkness.

Slowly, with infinite caution, he crossed the brow of the hill, struck

off towards the right, and descended the slope on the opposite side. It

was so dark that he had no fear of being seen; but, his view of the camp

fires being intercepted by the hill, he could not make sure of his

direction, and knew that at any moment he might stumble upon a sentry.

The only chance of escape for the Chunchuses being to take advantage of

the darkness, he had no doubt that the Russians would keep the strictest

watch at night. He had to guess his way; he was going to the farm.

*CHAPTER XVI*

*Fire Panic*

Sentry-go--Beneath the Wall--An Old Friend--Thirst--A Way Out--Three

Shots--The Signal--The Reply--A Countryside in Flames--At Full

Gallop--Alarms--Stampede--Chow-chow

At the most, the distance Jack had to traverse was but a short mile, yet

so slow was his progress that nearly two hours had elapsed before, from

the vantage-ground of a hillock a few feet above the surrounding fields,

he caught a dim glimpse in the starlight of the farm buildings looming a

short distance in front of him. His intent ears had already caught the

measured tread of a sentry just ahead; stealing along for another few

yards he could now see his head and shoulders and the end of a carbine

projecting above the high grass. Jack stopped and watched. The

sentry's beat seemed to be about thirty yards; to his right Jack could

hear the hum of several low voices, no doubt from a picket. He had

taken the precaution of approaching the farm at the point farthest from

the main gate. The Chunchuses, if they made a sally, would not leave

their horses behind, for on foot they would be at the mercy of their

enemy. Since they could not leap their steeds over the wall, they were

bound to issue from the gate if at all; the exit, therefore, was sure to

be closely guarded, though no doubt there were sentries all round the

farm.

To the left of the sentry Jack had first seen there was another, whose

beat met that of his comrade. Jack could barely discern him in the

darkness, but he fancied that the man, on reaching the nearer end of his

beat, awaited the arrival of the other before turning. That would

evidently be the best point at which to attempt the passage to the farm;

and the best time would be a second or two after they had turned their

backs upon one another, when any slight noise Jack might make would

almost certainly be attributed by each man to his comrade. Jack went

down on hands and knees and crawled very slowly to within a few paces of

the meeting-place. Then he lay still, hoping that he had not

miscalculated and that there was no danger beyond. He listened

intently; on both sides he heard the men approaching; to the left the

sound was fainter; the beats were evidently of unequal length. One man

came to a halt; in a few seconds he was joined by the other; they

exchanged a remark in a low tone, then separated and tramped in opposite

directions. Instantly Jack glided across their trail, and, still on

hands and knees, crept towards the farm, which he distinguished as a

blacker patch against the sky perhaps a hundred yards away.

He soon found that between him and the wall lay a stretch of almost bare

ground, no doubt made by the traffic around the farm. How was he to

cross this? He might be seen by both Cossacks and Chunchuses, and if

seen he would be the target for perhaps scores of rifles.

All was still within the farm; from the distance came faint

sounds--voices from the Russian camp; behind he heard the tramp of

sentries. Flat on the ground, already cold with the autumn night frost,

he eagerly scanned the prospect for some cover by favour of which he

could creep across to the wall. His heart gave a jump as he noticed, a

few feet to his right, what appeared to be a ditch running from the wall

across the bare patch and into the fields. Crawling noiselessly to it,

he found that it was a shallow cutting, intended, as he judged by the

smell, to carry off the drainage from the courtyard. There was no help

for it; he sidled into the channel, luckily dry, and wormed his way

along it until he came to within a few feet of the wall. As he

expected, the drain passed through a hole in the wall, sufficiently deep

for a man to crawl through.

But the wall gave him pause. He dared not creep through; he would be

taken for an enemy and shot. He must seek a means of communicating with

the garrison without drawing their fire. He crawled to the hole,

hesitated for a moment, then, making a bell of his hands, sent through

the shallow tunnel a low hiss, loud enough to awaken attention; soft

enough, he hoped, not to create alarm. Breathlessly he waited; there

was no response. Again he hissed; this time somewhat louder. There was

a quick footstep within; then silence. A third time; he heard a foot

strike against the wall, and next moment became conscious that someone

was looking down at him over the wall. He lifted his head.

"I am a friend," he said in deliberate clear-cut Chinese. "I have news

for your captain."

The man uttered an exclamation under his breath; then bade him remain

perfectly still or he would shoot him. In a low tone he summoned a

comrade and sent him for the commander. Jack heard a little bustle

within, not loud enough to catch the attention of the sentries. A few

minutes later a second voice spoke from the top of the wall.

"Come through."

Jack wriggled through the narrow opening. Only his head projected

within the wall when he was told to stop.

"Who are you?"

"Mr. Wang, is that you?"

"Ch'hoy! It is Mr. Chack Blown. Rise, sir!"

All bemired and dishevelled, Jack sprang to his feet. The Chinaman

kowtowed, uttering an incoherent welcome; then led the way to the

farmhouse.

"That's the most ticklish half-hour I ever spent in my life," said Jack,

when he was seated opposite to Wang Shih on the k'ang in the

living-room. "And I'm pretty hungry. I've had nothing but rice-cakes

and monkey-nuts since morning. Have you got anything to eat?"

"Plenty, sir; it is water we are in straits for. I will get you

something."

In a few minutes a hot dish of boiled chicken and rice, with a couple of

clean chop-sticks, lay before Jack. He ate the meal with keen relish,

while Wang Shih at his request gave a rapid narrative of the events that

had led to his present predicament. With a small force he was beating

up recruits in the district when he suddenly came upon a troop of

Cossacks outnumbering him by two to one. Knowing the country so well, he

could easily have got away, but unluckily he was sighted by a second

troop, which cut across his line of retreat so rapidly that he had only

time to throw himself and his handful of men into the farm before the

two hostile bands united and closed upon him. He had kept them off for

three days; there was food enough to last another week, but his

ammunition was running short, and, worst of all, the water supply had

almost given out. His men had been put upon the smallest possible

allowance, but in spite of their care and self-denial there was barely

enough left to last for another twenty-four hours, and the horses were

already suffering terribly. He had been hoping that Ah Lum would send a

force to relieve him; but the chief was moving northward when he last

saw him, and he doubted whether the man he had sent could reach him in

time. In default of relief, his only course when the water failed would

be to make a sortie by night; but the odds against him were so heavy

that very few of his men could possibly escape.

"That is why I am here," said Jack. "I was on my way to join Mr.

Ah--the reason I will tell you presently--when I heard of your plight,

in the village yonder. I came to see for myself how you were placed;

your danger had not been exaggerated; and I was on the point of going

off in despair when I had a sudden idea; it was suggested by something I

saw in the enemy's camp. I think there is a bare chance of escape if

you will act on my plan."

There was a look of mingled eagerness and anxiety on Wang Shih's face as

he begged Jack to tell him what he had in mind.

"I am not alone," continued Jack. "I came up with a guide given me by

Mr. Ah's agent Me Hong in Moukden, and Hi Lo, our compradore's son, you

remember. They are waiting on the hill less than a mile away. When I

was looking out over the country I saw the Russians light fires for

cooking their supper, and at first wondered why their kitchen was so far

away from the farm. But I saw the reason. As you know, there's a

strong north-easter blowing; the smoke from their fires floated this

way, towards the farm. They had been prudent in selecting a spot away

from the fields, for a spark in the long grass might start a blaze, and,

spreading through the kowliang, it would destroy their cover and make

them easy targets for your marksmen. What would happen if the grass

chanced to burn in the night, eh?"

The Chinaman's expression changed; his chest heaved.

"We have tried to fire the grass more than once, but they always stamped

it out. Go on, sir," he said.

"Well, you see, if a match were put to the grass to windward of the

farm, in several places, and if the wind held, the flames would sweep

upon the Russians in a very few minutes. Their horses would stampede;

the men would be so startled that probably they would be quite unable to

think of anything but their own safety; and while they were scattered

and disorganized, you could sally out of the gate and get so good a

start that, even if they caught their horses, you would be out of harm's

way before they could pursue."

"But the flames would set fire to the farm. We should be burnt alive;

our horses would be frightened too, and we could never get them to face

the fire and smoke."

"I had thought of that. The thatch will probably catch fire; but the

open space outside the wall will prevent the flames from actually

touching the wall, and that will serve as a partial protection. Then

you can blindfold the horses so that they don't see the glare; they'll

have to risk suffocation by the smoke, but the men can avoid that by

lying flat on their faces and holding wet rags to their mouths. If I'm

right, the crops will burn very quickly and not smoulder; you must, of

course, wait until the fire has swept by the farm; but then dash out

without losing a minute. I think you can rely on the Russians getting a

terrible fright, and that will be your opportunity."

"But how is the fire to be lighted at the right place, and how are we to

know when it will be done?"

"I left instructions with my guide. If he hears three rifle-shots in

succession at noon to-morrow he is to creep down with Hi Lo at dusk and

choose two spots about half a mile apart, just beyond where the

Cossacks' horses are picketed. They will set fire to the grass where it

is thickest, then run towards each other and fire it in two other

places, and make their way as rapidly as possible back to the copse

where our ponies are. The only risk is that they may be discovered

before they can complete their work; but it's to their own interest to

be careful, and I think I can trust Hi Lo, at any rate, to outwit any

Russian."

Wang Shih was convinced. Greatly impressed by the care with which Jack

had thought out the details of the stratagem, he smiled and rubbed his

hands together with gleeful satisfaction. Suddenly he checked these

signs of pleasure; he rose from the seat, pressed his closed fists to

his breast, and bent over until his brow all but touched the ground.

"I thank you, sir," he said. "I am grateful; Mr. Ah will be grateful;

you have risked your life for us, and we Chinamen never forget a

benefit."

"You saved me from death, Mr. Wang; look at it as an acknowledgment if

you like. Besides, we are not out of the wood yet; the farm may be

stormed to-morrow before the time for trying our little plan."

The Chinaman scoffed; he had held the Russians off for three days, and

it was not to be supposed that, with an additional motive for a stout

resistance, his men would fail at the last.

"But what if the wind drops? We require the wind to make the blaze a

short and merry one."

"No, no, sir. At this time of year the wind when it sets from the

north-east blows for weeks at a time----"

"Bringing snow as often as not. A snow-storm would spoil it all."

Wang Shih's face fell; he looked so much distressed that Jack laughed.

"I was only imagining the worst, Mr. Wang. The sky is clear and the air

as dry as a bone. Barring an accident, or some very sudden and unlikely

change in the weather, there will be a pretty bonfire to-morrow night."

"Shall I tell the men to-night, sir?"

"On no account. Let them sleep. The place is carefully watched, of

course?"

"Yes. Six men are on duty for two hours at a time; the watches are

carefully arranged."

"That's all right, then. Now I'm pretty tired; this k'ang is very warm

and cosy, and if you don't mind I'll coil myself up on it and go to

sleep. Don't wake me unless anything happens."

Jack slept like a top till ten next morning. It was bright and clear,

and he was delighted to find that the wind had increased in force. Wang

Shih had been self-restrained enough to withhold the details of Jack's

plan from his men, curious as they were to learn what had brought the

Englishman into their midst at such risk to himself. They had merely

been told that there was a prospect of escape. At noon the three shots

arranged as a signal were fired by Wang Shih himself. The Russians took

no notice of them. Hidden by the kowliang they were content to wait,

knowing that the water supply must ere long fail. In the afternoon the

men were informed of the scheme and given their instructions. They

became voluble as they discussed the plan among themselves. There is a

bed-rock of stoicism in the Chinese character; these brigands were not

given to a facile display of emotion; they showed little surprise,

little pleasure, but talked over the approaching event almost

dispassionately, as if it had been an academic problem. They prepared

material for blindfolding the horses, and rags to steep in the last inch

of turbid water in the tank; then the most of them settled down to

beguile the remaining hours with fan-tan.

Jack could not achieve such composure of mind. He gave no outward sign

of his feelings; but as the hours passed and the time drew near for the

execution of his plan he began to feel restless and impatient. He was

amused at himself, remembering how his father had been wont to poke fun

at him for this very characteristic. "It's only in the Arabian Nights

that an acorn becomes an oak in a moment," Mr. Brown once said. But

though he could smile at himself he did not become less impatient as the

day wore on. As the sun crept round towards the west, and sank over the

purple hills, he looked anxiously from a secure corner of the wall

towards the spot whence he expected the flames to spring. The twilight

thickened; there was no sign. All at once he thought he saw an object

moving down the opposite hillside. Surely the guide could not be so

arrantly stupid as to approach in full view of the camp! In a few

moments Jack's anxiety was relieved, and at the same time increased,

when he found that the moving object was a Cossack slowly riding towards

the farm. He was a messenger, perhaps; probably his approach had

delayed the execution of the scheme; Jack could only hope that this

would not be frustrated entirely. The rider came nearer and nearer; he

might discover the man and the boy lurking in the long grass, for he was

approaching the very spot that Jack had pointed out as an excellent

place for the first match to be struck. An intervening hillock now hid

the Cossack from view; Jack waited; it was growing darker; would the

expected flame never spring up? The minutes passed, lingeringly; all

was quiet; nothing could be heard but the rustle and clash of the grass

and stalks as the wind struck their tops together.

Suddenly, from a spot somewhat to the right of the place where the

Cossack had disappeared, a thin spiral of smoke shot up into the indigo

sky. Almost simultaneously another appeared, far to the left; in the

dark they could scarcely be detected except by eyes so intently looking

for them as Jack's. They grew in volume; other spirals rose between

them; fanned by the steady wind they swelled into a bank of smoke,

through which Jack's anxious gaze now discerned tongues of flame.

"Now!" he cried to Wang Shih at his elbow.

The word was given to the men; in a few seconds the horses were

blindfolded; and by the time the rags were steeped a vast blaze

illuminated the sky; the four fires, spreading with amazing rapidity,

were sweeping towards the farm at the rate of a trotting horse. Shouts

broke the stillness; amid the crackling of the flames the clatter of

metal, the shrill whinnies of terrified horses, then the thunder of

hoofs. From the fields men ran helter-skelter, some attempting to catch

their horses, others in their confusion rushing towards the open space

before the farm, careless whether the rifles of the Chunchuses marked

them down. Onward came the dense volume of smoke bellying towards the

farm. Jack already felt the heat; above his head red wisps of grass

were streaking the sky; one fell upon the thatch, extinct; another

followed, dying before it could kindle the straw; the next was larger,

burned more brightly; it held; the thatch was alight.

The men were prone upon the ground, pressing wet rags to their mouths.

Their horses were snorting, whinnying, straining on their halters; one

had broken loose, and was madly dashing round the courtyard when Jack

seized it by the broken halter and endeavoured to soothe it. The mud

wall beat off the flames; but the smoke enveloped the whole farm in a

dense cloud, pungent, spark-laden, becoming every moment more stifling.

Jack was forced to earth; he could not breathe; still clutching the

halter he crept under the lee of the wall, and there lay fighting for

breath. The thatched roof was now ablaze; the fields were a mass of

fire; would the smoke never pass and leave a passage for the almost

suffocated men?

A red glare lit up the farmyard. The flames had devoured the thatch,

and were licking the joists. Jack glanced round the scene, his eyes

smarting so keenly that he could scarcely see. The horses were

shivering with terror; two or three of the men, braving the smoke, were

endeavouring to calm them; the rest of the Chunchuses were still flat on

the ground. But to the north-east the smoke was thinning. Jack rose to

his feet and looked over the wall. The fields between the farm and the

river were black, with here and there a smouldering stalk. On the other

side the flames were still raging; there was nothing to check their

fury. The passage from the gateway was now open; the ground indeed was

very hot; but it would be folly to wait for it to cool. Jack called for

Wang Shih.

"Now is the time," he said.

Wang Shih gave the word; the men sprang to their feet and vaulted into

the saddle; the bar across the gate was let down; and then, tearing the

bandages from their horses' eyes, the men dashed out at a furious gallop

across the still scorching soil. Jack, mounted on a spare horse, led

the way towards the river, making for the bridle path which must have

been followed by the Cossack just before the match was struck. For the

first half-mile it was a terrible race; sparks and smoke flew up as the

horses stirred the smouldering embers; the poor beasts screamed with

pain as their unshod hoofs felt the heat; the men breathed stertorously,

half-choked by the acrid fumes. Then, in an instant as it seemed, they

passed from an inferno into the elysian fields. They had reached the

limit of the burnt grass, the keen cold wind struck their faces; men and

animals took deep breaths; they were free, and in the pure air again.

Floundering through the fresh-ploughed field where the Russians had left

their cooking-pots, they came to the river. For one moment they halted

to allow men and horses to slake their thirst; then they pushed on, up

the northern slope, in the direction of the place where Jack hoped to

find Hi Lo and the guide.

On the crest of the slope he reined up for a moment and looked to the

left. The sheet of fire was still sweeping on towards a plantation on

the south-west side. It seemed that the whole country in that direction

must be devastated; nothing could stop the flames but the bare rocky

ridge a mile or more away. Faint shouts came from the distance; then a

fitful succession of shots scarcely audible through the crackle and

roar. Who could be firing? Jack was puzzled to account for the sounds

until he guessed that the Cossacks in their headlong flight had flung

away their loaded carbines, and that, as the fire swept over them, these

were exploded by the heat.

With a glow of content at the success of his scheme, Jack hastened on

after the brigands, now walking their horses towards the uplands. There

was no fear of pursuit; the Russians were far too much demoralized, and

their horses were gone, none knew whither. When Jack overtook the band,

Wang Shih suggested that they should follow up their advantage and

destroy the enemy. But from this Jack dissuaded him; there were

probably other detachments of Cossacks in the neighbourhood; it was best

to let well alone, and rejoin his chief as soon as possible. Ah Lum

might himself be hard pressed by the encircling movement which the

Russians had apparently begun. The Chunchuses therefore rode on, still

at a walking pace.

The moon was rising, throwing her silvery mantle over the quiet country.

Skirting a black clump of trees the riders were startled to hear the

distant clatter of a large body of horses galloping towards them.

Moment by moment the sound grew louder. Had another troop of the enemy

learnt of what had happened and started on their tracks? Wang Shih

looked anxiously around; nothing could be seen, but the sound appeared

to come from beyond a stretch of rolling country to the left of their

line of march. Giving a brief word of command, Wang Shih wheeled his

horse towards the copse; and his band following him at a quick trot,

they were soon in the cover of the leafless trees, waiting in anxious

silence for the appearance of the enemy.

Nearer and nearer came the thud of hundreds of hoofs. Wang Shih ordered

his men to maintain absolute silence; he hoped that the enemy, unaware

of his proximity, would pass by and give him the opportunity to slip

away undetected. A few minutes passed; Jack was wondering why he could

not hear the rattle of sword-cases on the horses' flanks, when on the

crest of the low ridge opposite appeared the head of the column, and the

earth seemed to shake as score after score of dark forms swept forward

towards the path the Chunchuses had so lately left. The brigands had

much ado to quiet their ponies, which were pricking their ears and

snuffing with distended nostrils in restless excitement. Then, as the

moonlight fell upon the advancing mass, every man in the copse heaved a

sigh of relief--and something more. Their pursuers were not horsemen,

but horses, every one of them riderless--clearly the stampeded horses of

the enemy, rushing blindly into the night, the fire panic at their

heels.

"We ought to catch them," said Jack to Wang Shih as they thundered past.

The Chinaman smacked his lips with approval. Such a capture would be a

turning of the tables indeed. But how was it to be done? One of his

men, knowing in the ways of horses, proposed a plan. The principal

thing was to prevent the fugitives from heading back towards the

Cossacks. Let the brigands then extend on a wide front and follow; the

runagates would keep together, and by and by, when their flight was

past, come to a halt. Adopting the suggestion, Wang Shih led his men at

a smart trot up the slope. For a long time the beat of the runaways'

hoofs could be heard in the night air--the more clearly because they

were to windward. Then the sound gradually died away. Wang Shih was

anxious not to outrun them in the darkness; the country was uneven, with

patches of timber here and there, and the animals if they stopped in the

shelter of the hills might easily be passed. But with the number of men

at his command it would not be difficult to find the most of them, at

any rate, with the morning light. He pushed on, therefore, until he

reached the spot where Hi Lo and the guide were eagerly awaiting Jack's

arrival. There the band off-saddled, and, worn out with fatigue and

excitement, the men flung themselves down on the leaf-strewn ground and

sought their much-needed rest.

Jack did not fail to bestow warm praise upon the man and the boy who had

so faithfully and cleverly carried out their part of the scheme. Hi Lo

had been just on the point of striking his match when the Cossack

messenger whom Jack had seen came riding behind him. The boy had barely

time to slip into the tall kowliang, whence he had watched the

unsuspecting horseman ride past.

"You did very well," said Jack. "Your father will be pleased when I

tell him."

Hi Lo beamed with delight.

"My hab makee velly big fire; my look-see allo-piecee Lusski man

belongey velly muchee 'flaid; my walkee long-side chow-chow pots;

catchee plenty muchee bellyful, that-time lun wailo."

Jack laughed, and bade the boy make a pillow of his pony's saddle and go

to sleep.

Next morning the stampeded horses were discovered peacefully cropping

the grass in a narrow valley about a mile from the Chunchuses' bivouac.

They allowed themselves to be caught easily; and with the booty of

nearly two hundred Transbaikal ponies in excellent condition Wang Shih

pursued his march.

*CHAPTER XVII*

*The War Game*

An Offer--Conditions--The Sweep of the Net--Military Instructor--The

Spur of Competition--Birds of a Feather--Short Commons--A Trap--More

Cossacks--Ah Lum in Danger--Initiative--A Race for Position--Sword and

Pistol--Driven Off

For four days Wang Shih and his band marched through the hills without

hearing anything of Ah Lum. Their progress was somewhat hampered by the

additional horses, and Wang Shih chose devious and difficult paths in

order to evade scouting parties of Cossacks; for he had little doubt

that when the news of the recent incident reached the Russian general in

charge of the lines of communication, he would issue orders to his

lieutenants to hasten their movements against their daring and elusive

enemy. On the fifth day it was reported by a peasant that Ah Lum, after

a continuous march northward, was now turning south before formidable

Russian forces that were threatening to enclose him. He had felt their

strength in one or two slight engagements, and found that they greatly

outnumbered him; but, owing to his superior mobility and his knowledge

of the country, he had been able to escape without serious loss.