Next day, as the band was threading a defile leading to a well-watered

valley, there was a sudden stoppage of the column. It turned out that

the advanced patrol had been halted by Ah Lum's scouts, who, however, as

soon as they learned the identity of the new-comers, allowed them to

pass. The Chunchuse chief was found to have encamped by the river-side,

in the valley, the three exits to it being carefully guarded. When he

learnt that Wang Shih had returned, with a welcome supply of remounts,

he rode forward to meet his lieutenant. Great was his amazement to find

among the band the young Englishman who had served as unpaid tutor to

his son. His surprise was greater still when Wang Shih recounted the

part Jack had played; and the narrative did not minimize his

achievement; Wang Shih declared plainly that but for Jack's timely

arrival, quick wit, and fearlessness of character, the band must

inevitably have been wiped out. Ah Lum made no effort to conceal his

pleasure. He had the soldier's delight in a brilliant feat; the

brigand's delight in a good haul; and the mere man's delight in the

chance of again securing tutorial services for nothing. He warmly

congratulated Jack, and insisted on knowing all the circumstances that

had led up to the great event. When the story was fully told, his

little black eyes gleamed through his goggles with undisguised

satisfaction.

"Irresistible destiny has fulfilled her own decree," he said. "All

events are separately fated before they happen. I repeat the offer I

made to you on the eve of your departure. If there be no faith in our

words, of what use are they? I will give you a command in my army; you

will come next to my trusty lieutenant, Mr. Wang; he has muscle, you

have mind: both inestimable qualities in a warrior. Did not the poet

Wang Wei write in his _Essay on Military Matters_:

"'Know then the Proof: that Leader is most fit

Who Thought to Valour joins, and Strength to Wit'?"

"Thank you!" said Jack gravely; "I accept your kind offer; but, to be

frank, there are one or two points I think I ought to mention. As I

said, our compradore has gone to Harbin to make enquiries for my father;

if I hear from him, I may have to leave at any moment."

"That is understood. The son that forgetteth his father, shall he not

die childless?"

"And there is another point. As you know, Mr. Ah, it is not the English

custom--nor indeed the custom of any western nation--to torture

prisoners. I have heard that the ways of Chinese warriors are not like

ours in that respect. You will pardon me if I say that it will be

difficult for me to take service in a force to whom such excesses are

permitted."

Somewhat to Jack's surprise the chief did not take offence.

"In that also," he said, "my mind is equally yoked with yours. As

Confucius says, 'The intelligence of the superior man is deep'; the wise

man is he that is ever learning. I have watched this war; I see that

the Japanese have won their successes by adopting the red man's methods.

I will make a decree that no prisoner shall suffer inordinate

correction. But I must beg you to be patient. When water has once

flowed over, it cannot easily be restored; when the passions have once

been indulged, they cannot easily be restrained. Water must be kept in

by dykes, the passions must be regulated by the laws of propriety. I

will impress these laws on my men; they shall know what is right; and I

will make them understand that knowing what is right without practising

it denotes a want of proper resolution."

"Thank you, Mr. Ah! that is a relief. For myself, I can only say that I

will do my best to be worthy of your confidence."

"Now, is it not written, 'He that gives willingly is himself worthy of

gifts'? I beg of you a favour in return; it is that you will continue

to give my son lessons in your honourable language. And, further, I

shall be grateful if you will deign to teach me something of the

barbarian's art of war, the learning of which has made the Japanese so

victorious."

"I will go on with Ah Fu with pleasure," said Jack, adding with a smile:

"but I'm afraid I can't do anything in the other line. I have made no

study of warfare; my father has trained me to a commercial career."

"But you have seen the barbarian armies at their exercise?"

"I admit that."

"Well, I am sure you can be of great service to me if it is your august

pleasure."

"I will do what I can, Mr. Ah,--if your men will carry out instructions.

I'm a 'foreign devil', after all."

"'In the world there are many men, but few heroes', as the proverb says.

I know your worth; do I not remember the boar, and the saving of my

son's life? surely it would ill become me to forget; and this late

employment of fire against our enemies? Modesty is attended with

profit; whereas arrogance courts destruction. My men, those that I

place under you, will obey you. I will see to that."

Jack thus found himself lieutenant in a regiment of some twelve hundred

men, armed for the most part with Mausers, and well mounted. Except for

a wholesome dread of their chief, however, they had very little

discipline, and but scant military cohesion. Although there was no lack

of arms and ammunition, Ah Lum was not too well provisioned. He had been

driven by the encircling Russian movement into a somewhat poor district,

the hills being more fruitful in forest trees than in grain. The valley

of his encampment was fertile enough, but its products would soon be

exhausted, and it was separated from the grain-bearing plains to the

west by a chain of barren heights. The bandits were being driven

farther and farther into the mountainous regions, where it would become

increasingly difficult to feed so large a force. Messengers had

recently come in, reporting that Russian troops operating on the

northern frontier of Korea were pushing reconnoitring parties into the

hills in their rear with the object of locating them. There were many

smaller parties of Chunchuses scattered over the country, but Ah Lum's

was the only considerable band left in the angle between the two railway

lines connecting Harbin with Kirin and Vladivostok respectively. The

lull after the battle of Liao-yang had enabled the Russians to devote

more attention than heretofore to clearing their flanks of these

troublesome irregulars. Ah Lum was well served by scouts, the country

people being anxious to purchase immunity by giving such information as

they could without risk; and from them the chief had learnt that the

largest force opposed to him was at this time about two marches away.

Some days would probably pass before they came on his trail. It had

been throughout the war the Russians' experience that the Chinese were

very reluctant to give them news of any kind, and this reluctance had

been still more marked since the unbroken success of the Japanese had

become common knowledge through the country.

Day after day passed, and the bandits were still left unmolested. Jack,

settling down to his new position, had his hands fully occupied. He

gave Ah Fu lessons in English daily, to his father's great delight. But

he had wider scope for his tutorial faculty. He had felt a little

natural amusement at the idea of being placed--he, a civilian, with just

as much military experience as his school drill-ground and some practice

at the butts afforded--in command of a troop of warriors--a motley

horde, indeed, but all seasoned, determined, fearless fellows. But, as

was inevitable in a force indiscriminately recruited and entirely

lacking in regular training, the men had much to learn; and Jack had not

made a whole-hearted study of the Boer war without feeling that,

civilian though he was, he was better acquainted with the general

principles of warfare than possibly any other member of the band. The

Chunchuses were little accustomed to organized movements on any

considerable scale; they were most adept in sniping at single travellers

or small bodies whom they could attack unawares from the vantage of

cover. Something more was required if they were to defeat the serious

attempts now being made to crush them, and Jack was determined to show

himself worthy of Ah Lum's confidence by his manner of handling his own

division of two hundred and fifty men.

Marksmanship and cover: these he took to be the principal factors in

modern warfare. So far as the use of cover was concerned, he found that

his men had little to learn; several months of hard fighting against

troops carrying arms of precision had enforced the value of cover in the

most practical way. In each engagement the Russians had taken toll of

those who failed to recognize its importance: their bodies lay among the

hills from the Yalu to the Sungari. But in marksmanship the Chunchuses

were not so efficient. A large proportion of them had never handled,

perhaps never even seen, a rifle until they joined the band. Without

definite instruction they were apt to blaze away at their own will and

pleasure, absolutely reckless of the wastage of ammunition, which had

hitherto, owing to one or two lucky raids, been plentiful. Jack

suspected that the proportion of hits to misses was woefully small. He

therefore set earnestly to work to effect an improvement in this

respect. He rigged up butts, put every man in his command through a

course, and, taking advantage of the Chinaman's love of competitive

examination, started a shooting competition, with badges of different

form and colour for the prizes. This especially pleased Ah Lum; it

aroused a keen spirit among his men; the example of Jack's division was

soon followed by the rest, and the general proficiency was very largely

increased.

Among Jack's men were the greater part of the company he had rescued.

One of them was Hu Hang, the ex-constable. This man showed

extraordinary skill with the rifle. As Hi Lo said:

"Policeyman he can shootee allo plopa first-chop what-time no piecee man

he shootee back."

This was a somewhat caustic remark; but Hi Lo had no love for the

constable, who indeed was not popular among the band. His comrades

would have been hardly human if they had not made the most of their

opportunities of paying off against Hu Hang the scores that many of them

owed to members of his hated class. He kept a good deal apart, finding

a congenial soul only in C'hu Tan, the former second in command, who had

been deposed for grave neglect of duty, and replaced by Wang Shih. The

two malcontents were often together, condoling with each other on their

wrongs; and their animus against Wang Shih extended to Jack, who struck

them as an additional supplanter, the more hateful from being a

foreigner. Jack knew nothing of this himself; but it did not escape the

shrewd eyes of Hi Lo, who kept quiet and unobtrusive watch upon C'hu

Tan, dogging him at every turn.

After a fortnight's steady practice Jack felt that the fighting value of

his little force was well-nigh doubled. But at the end of that time Ah

Lum suddenly ordered the rifle practice to be stopped. A scout had

reported that the Russians had approached within striking distance, and

the chief feared lest the sound of the firing should betray his

whereabouts.

At last one morning, after hearing a messenger who came in faint and

gasping after a long night's ride, Ah Lum felt that the coil was being

drawn too tightly around him. He gave a sudden order to decamp; the

band quitted the valley that had sheltered them so long, and set off

into the hills. Lack of provisions was beginning to be felt. The

ponies, hardy little animals, were able to pick up a subsistence on the

hillsides, sparse though the grazing was at this time of year; and for

them stalks of kowliang could always be obtained as a last resource.

But the supply of rice and buckwheat, on which the men depended, was

running short. Ah Lum somewhat dismally told Jack that it would now be

necessary to reduce the rations. He confessed that he was in a tighter

place than ever before. At no time previously had the Russians made such

determined efforts to crush him. In addition to the Korean frontier

force far to his rear, which for the present need not be reckoned with,

there were, as he had learnt, three large forces of Cossacks, each

stronger than his own band, converging upon him from north, east, and

west. General Kuropatkin had hitherto been able to make little use of

these characteristic cavalry of the Russian army, so that they were

available for the less dignified but very necessary work of

bandit-hunting. The three forces directed against Ah Lum were still a

considerable distance apart from one another, but it was clear to him

that in a few days he would have to try conclusions with one of them

before they got into touch. He had only escaped this necessity so long

because the Cossacks were unaccustomed to hill work. Matchless in rapid

furious charges on the plain, they had shown little capacity for

mountain fighting or even for scouting; and, as Jack learnt afterwards,

they were desperately chagrined at their hard luck in having so few

chances of the kind of work that suited them.

The Chunchuses marched for several days into the hills, their condition

going from bad to worse. The rations were verging on exhaustion. The

Cossacks were no doubt well supplied, and Ah Lum felt that the moment

had come for an attack on one of their forces. The nearest was only a

long march distant. Breaking up his camp early one morning, when the

night's frost lay white on the ground, he led his men across the hills

northward, and, proceeding with great caution, located the enemy late in

the afternoon. Throwing out scouts in advance--men intimately

acquainted with the country--he sighted the Cossacks before they sighted

him, and at once fell back behind a forest-clad ridge so that his

presence might not be discovered that day. During the night his scouts

reported, apparently by a calculation from the enemy's watch-fires, that

the Cossacks were at least a thousand strong, and thus about equal

numerically to Ah Lum's effective force, with the advantage of better

discipline and training. But the chief, in common with all his

countrymen, had shrewdly studied the invaders; he had not been blind to

the Cossacks' failure in the war, and he was hardly the kind of man to

allow himself to be terrorized by the mere name of Cossack, the effect

of which was due merely to the memory of past exploits when the

conditions of warfare were different.

An hour or two before they sighted the Russians, the bandits had

advanced through a narrow pass, enclosed between steep and rugged

bluffs. Upon this pass Ah Lum decided to fall back; it offered every

advantage for an ambuscade. Withdrawing thither during the hours of

darkness, he allowed his men a brief spell of sleep; then, while the

dawn was yet but a glimmer, he set them to fell trees in the copses that

crowned the hills, and to pile them across the pathway at the far end.

It was still early when he placed half his men in cover upon the heights

overlooking the track; the rest, consisting of the divisions of Wang

Shih and Jack, were sent to threaten the Russian rear. A mist hung over

the hills; it was bitterly cold, and the ponies often slipped on the

frosty ground. Luckily Wang Shih had with him a peasant of the

neighbourhood who acted as guide. But for him the Chunchuses could

hardly have found their way.

It was but an hour after daybreak when they found themselves on the

right rear of the Russians about two miles from the latter's camp. Wang

Shih's orders were to wait until the Cossacks had advanced to the end of

the pass and been checked by the ambuscade there. Then, before the

enemy could recover from the confusion into which they would be thrown,

he was to follow up rapidly in the hope that a movement seeming to

threaten their line of retreat might complete their disorder. He

therefore waited until, from a secure hiding-place, he saw them quit

their camp and march out. Then he moved his men with Jack's down the

hill somewhat closer to the enemy's line of march, and awaited the sound

of firing in the distance that would announce the beginning of the fight

at the ambuscade.

Meanwhile Jack narrowly scanned the surrounding country. The mist had

cleared away, and a bright cold October sun was painting the distant

hills with various charming tints. Suddenly Jack's attention was

attracted by a dark, narrow, tape-like something moving down a slope far

to the north-west. Before many seconds were past he was convinced that

it was a body of horsemen. The question was, what horsemen? In the

distance their character could not be distinguished; the one thing

certain was that they were not Japanese, for their clothes were very

dark; the Japanese were wearing khaki. They were scarcely likely to be

Chunchuses; from their regular even progress Jack concluded that they

could not be native carriers; surely they must be a second body of

Cossacks who had advanced by forced marches to co-operate with those now

approaching the ambush.

Jack had moved some little distance in advance of his troop. What he

had seen sent him in haste to rejoin Wang Shih.

"We must get our men under cover," he said. "There are Cossacks, I

believe, descending the opposite hills. They may not have seen us yet."

The Chunchuses moved within cover of the nearest trees, and Wang Shih

sent forward his keenest scout on foot to ascertain whether the

new-comers were enemies or friends. He returned in a few minutes

declaring that even at this distance he had distinguished the

characteristic head-dress of the Cossacks. Wang Shih was disposed to

remain in cover until the time came for him to carry out Ah Lum's

orders. In his present position he ran little risk of being seen by the

oncoming party, and being entirely without imagination it did not occur

to him that the situation was now perhaps radically altered. But to

Jack the discovery seemed to be serious. The line of advance taken by

the second body of Cossacks would bring them within an hour across Ah

Lum's rear. The position had been strangely reversed. While Ah Lum

believed that Wang Shih was cutting off the retreat of the first body,

his own rear was in process of being threatened by a force twice as

numerous as the one he could dispose of. He was probably in ignorance

of the danger, for the advancing Cossacks were shut from his view by the

contours of the hills, and there was little likelihood now of a warning

being conveyed to him by a Chinese villager. It was impossible for a

messenger to reach him from Wang Shih, for the first Russian force lay

between.

Jack pointed out to Wang Shih the peril in which his chief lay. The

Chunchuse admitted it, but asked what he could do. With his assistance

Ah Lum might beat the first body of the enemy before the second could

arrive, and then could turn his attention to it in its turn.

"But suppose the fight takes a long time? And suppose we do not succeed

in beating the first Russian force? If they hold us until the second

arrives, Mr. Ah's men will be attacked from the rear, and they will

certainly be crushed between the two."

"It is as you say. But the chief has given me orders; he will be angry

if I disobey. It is better to carry out orders."

It was evident that Wang Shih was disinclined to assume any

responsibility. Jack was by no means satisfied that things must be

allowed to take their course. It appeared to him of the utmost

importance that the second Russian force should be held in check until

the first had been disposed of. He went through the clump of bare trees

until he reached the summit of the crest, and looked anxiously towards

the advancing band.

About a mile away the hill path it was following disappeared in a cleft

in the hills, reappearing a quarter of a mile farther on. It seemed to

Jack that at this spot, resembling somewhat the position Ah Lum had

taken up, it was possible to hold the Russians in check. So far as he

could see, there was no better place along their route for such an

attempt, and he instantly made up his mind that the attempt must be

made. It was doubtful whether the Chunchuses could reach the cleft in

time to occupy it before the Cossacks arrived, but there was a bare

chance, and he resolved to take it.

Hastening back to Wang Shih he explained that he proposed with his own

division of men to make for the cleft, leaving the rest to carry out Ah

Lum's instructions. Wang Shih raised no objection; he merely stipulated

that Jack should accept the full responsibility for his action. In a few

minutes, therefore, Jack rode off at the head of his band; almost

immediately after starting he heard the dull sound of firing in Ah Lum's

direction; the fight in the pass had begun. Clearly there was no time

to lose, for the same sound would certainly quicken the approach of the

second body of Russians.

Keeping down the hill in order to screen his movements as long as

possible from the enemy, Jack led the way at as rapid a trot as the

rugged ground allowed. Only a few minutes had passed when the little

force rode out on to the open hillside, where they must be seen by the

Russians. Jack fancied that the enemy was at this time nearer to the

cleft than his own men; but the Chunchuses were riding downhill, the

Russians up, which gave room for hope that he might reach the position

first. He was helped also by the more open character of the ground on

his side, and by the fact that for some time the Russians failed to

recognize the object of the horsemen riding at full speed towards them.

During these precious moments Jack's party gained several hundred yards.

Keeping one eye on the rough ground and the other on the enemy, Jack

noticed that the leading files broke from a walk into a trot and then

into a headlong scramble. It was now neck or nothing. Throwing caution

to the winds, he dug his spurs into his pony, and clattered at breakneck

speed down the slope, the Chunchuses hard at his heels. Several ponies

stumbled and came to their knees, flinging their riders; but the rest,

intoxicated with the excitement of the race, rode unheeding after their

leader. A dip in the ground now hid the two forces from one another;

they would not again come in sight until the cleft was reached. Between

the Chunchuses and the point they aimed at lay a comparatively clear

space, dotted by a few single boulders without any of the smaller stones

that for most of their ride had impeded their progress. Now Jack urged

his panting steed to a mad gallop; the quarter-mile was covered in a few

seconds; he dashed into the cleft, the foremost of his men but a length

behind.

[Illustration: At full Tilt]

Eagerly he peered ahead through the narrow tortuous passage. None of

the Cossacks was in sight. He galloped on, hoping to reach the other

end before they arrived; it would be easy to hold the entrance against

them. He had almost reached the farther opening when he came full tilt

on the leading Russian horseman, a Transbaikal Cossack riding with loose

rein, pistol in hand. He was some twenty yards in advance of the troop.

In the heat of the race Jack had not anticipated the chance of a fight

on horseback. Before he could draw his pistol the Russian had fired:

the bullet whizzed harmlessly past Jack's head. With astonishing

dexterity the Russian whipped his sword from the scabbard; by the time

Jack had his pistol ready only a few yards separated the two. Then Jack

fired; the Russian's uplifted sword dropped from his hand, and the

ponies came together with a thud. Both riders fell to the ground, Jack

being thrown lightly on the slope to the right, thus fortunately

escaping the hoofs of the ponies following. He arose dazed, saw a

confused mass of men in front of him, heard shouts and the crack of

pistols. Pulling himself together, he ordered his men to dismount and

line the sides of the gully. In an instant some scores of them were

scrambling up the bluffs on both sides, leaving their ponies to be

gradually passed to the rear by their comrades.

The men in front, finding themselves unsupported, began to give way, but

slowly and stubbornly. As the Russians could only advance two abreast,

and that with difficulty, two or three precious minutes were gained,

during which the crests of the slopes on either side were manned by the

Chunchuses. Now Jack gave the word to open fire. His men were

breathless; their limbs were quivering; and their hasty ill-directed

shots did little execution. But several horses and men fell in the

Russian van; the pressure on the mounted Chunchuses who were stemming

the Russian advance was reduced; and then, as the marksmen steadied and

took deliberate aim, a hot and deadly fire was poured into the enemy's

ranks. The Russians made an attempt to reply, taking advantage of cover

where they could, some of them sheltering themselves behind the ponies

that had fallen. But the bandits had all the advantage of position; the

Cossacks, after a gallant stand, were forced to give way; and leaving

more than thirty of their number on the ground they galloped back a

half-mile to a shoulder of the hill, where they found protection from

the rifle-fire of the Chunchuses.

*CHAPTER XVIII*

*A Fight in the Hills*

Playing the Game--A Sprint--Hit--Waiting--Across the Open--Hard

Beset--Between two Fires--The Raising of the Siege--The Spoils--The

Rear-Guard--The Outlook

The onfall had been so violent and the fight so brisk and rapid that

Jack had had no time to form any plans or give any but the most obvious

orders demanded by the exigency of the moment. He was exceedingly glad

of the breathing space afforded by the withdrawal of the enemy. If he

had checked them, it was only because he was able to forestall them in

the cleft; the real struggle was to come.

He utilized the pause to make good his position in the pass. The narrow

path was strewn with boulders. With these each bandit made his own

little fort, so arranging them, when they were not too heavy to be

moved, as to give the maximum of cover against the enemy's fire. Jack

wondered what form the Russian attack would take. The pass was so

narrow, its course so uneven, that direct fire from the farther end

would not, he thought, be very effective. That he was right was soon

proved. In about a quarter of an hour the Cossacks opened a spasmodic

rifle-fire from the rough ground about three-quarters of a mile away.

It made no impression on the Chunchuses, except that one man was shot

dead by a ricochet.

Apparently convinced of the hopelessness of loosening the bandits' hold

upon the pass, the Russians ceased firing. As the minutes passed in

silence, Jack wondered what their next move was to be. Faint sounds of

shots came from the distance; Ah Lum's band was evidently still engaged;

surely the commander of the men opposed to Jack must know that he was

losing precious time, and would make some real effort to join hands with

the other force. Jack could not but suspect that some movement was

being developed quietly and out of sight, a suspicion strengthened when

firing again broke out, intermittent, absolutely ineffective, probably

designed to withdraw his attention from anything beyond his immediate

front. From his position in the pass he could see nothing of the

surrounding country; but about a hundred yards nearer the Russians there

was a point from which he thought a good view might be obtained. To

reach it, however, he would have to run the gauntlet of the Russian

fire; for at least thirty yards he would be fully exposed without

possibility of taking cover. Should he risk it?

For a time he hesitated. The weighty reasons against endangering his

life flocked one after another through his mind; uppermost of all, the

thought of his father, and of his friends at home so anxiously waiting

for news of him. But he felt that having brought his men into their

present hot corner it was his duty, at whatever personal risk, to get

them out of it; and only by ascertaining the Russian plan of attack, if

they had one, could he hope with his mere handful of men to hold his

own. He hesitated no longer. Not that he was disposed to forget

prudence and play the dare-devil. He would not throw away any chance.

Shouting to the men nearest to him he told them what he proposed to do,

and arranged that when he reached the limits of cover three of the

bandits should draw the Russian fire by the old Indian trick of

displaying the corner of a garment above their lurking place, as if they

were exposing themselves to take aim. The trick when tried for the

first time was almost certain to provoke a fusillade from the enemy, and

Jack could then seize the opportunity to make a dash across the open

ground. The same device could be employed again when he signalled his

desire to return; but it was less likely to prove successful then, for

the Russians would be on the watch, and the more intelligent of them

would have seen through the ruse. Still, it would be worth the trial

even in the second case. Accordingly, having arranged for the signal

which should announce his return, he started to worm his way to the

limit of cover.

When he arrived there he halted, turned round, and, lifting his hand to

show that he was ready, braced himself for the sprint across the open.

The appearance of a hat and portion of a coat above the rocks behind was

followed instantly by the rattle of musketry from the Russian position.

Setting his teeth, Jack sprang from cover and raced at full speed up the

hill to a little knot of boulders above him. Before he had gone half

the distance there was a second crash of volleying rifles; but the

Russians had clearly taken very flurried aim; Jack heard the hissing

flight of the bullets, but reached the shelter of the rock without a

scratch.

As soon as he had taken breath, he set himself to make a careful survey

of the scene beneath him. There was a party of Cossacks, whose numbers

it was impossible to estimate, more or less hidden in the rough ground

immediately in front of the pass. Half a mile in their rear was another

body, apparently in reserve, numbering, as he guessed, about 300. But

the force he had seen an hour before, winding its way down the hillside,

had consisted of more than 1000 men. Where, then, were the rest? Jack's

eye travelled from the lower to the upper slopes of the hill. For a few

moments he could distinguish nothing resembling a body of men;

then--yes, about a mile and a half away was a dark object moving

diagonally across the field of view, and this soon resolved itself into

a column of horsemen. The remnant of the Cossack force, about a third

of its strength, had presumably returned some distance along the path of

their advance, then swept round to the right. In a few minutes they

disappeared from view; Jack could hardly doubt that they intended to

turn his position by following a bridle path that would probably bring

them out upon his rear. He must go back and question the guide. He

made the signal to his men; again they raised the garments; there was a

scathing volley from the Russians, but some, not to be caught napping a

second time, held their fire, and as Jack bounded forth he heard the

flying bullets whistling unpleasantly around him. One tore the felt

from his Chinese shoe; another stung him like a whip in the forearm;

but, owing, doubtless, to the fact that he was racing downhill, and that

in consequence both the range and the elevation were rapidly changing,

he reached cover in safety except for these slight mishaps.

While his wound was being bound up, he questioned the man who had guided

the bandits to the district. The Chinaman, on Jack explaining what he

had seen, agreed that there was a path through the hills in the

direction indicated. It led to a ledge of rock jutting out from a

shoulder of the hill about half a mile in the rear of Jack's position.

An enemy holding that narrow platform could command the southern outlet

of the pass, and completely cut off the Chunchuse force. For a moment

Jack thought of stealing a march on the Cossacks and occupying the

ledge, but a little reflection showed how useless this would be. Not

only would he weaken the body holding the pass, every man of whom would

be required when the serious attack was delivered, but the ledge itself

and the path in its neighbourhood were scarcely tenable against a force

so largely outnumbering his own.

Another move that suggested itself was to abandon the pass and fight a

rearguard action as he retraced his steps towards Ah Lum's position.

But to do this would be, he felt, to abandon his whole object, which was

to relieve Ah Lum as long as possible of pressure from the second

Russian force. After taking anxious thought, he decided that he must

stick to the pass if the chief was to have any chance of escaping the

net now closing around him. So long as there was a fighting force in

the pass the Russians would not venture to attack Ah Lum, for they could

not spare enough men to bottle up Jack's division and at the same time

strike an effective blow at the chief so strongly placed. Accordingly

Jack withdrew his men from the section of the pass likely to be covered

by the flanking force, and settled down to await developments. Sounds

of firing still came across the hills in the rear, showing that Ah Lum,

and possibly by this time Wang Shih also, were at grips with the first

Russian column.

Fronting the southern end of the pass was a small clump of trees that

would give the Russians ample cover if they could reach it. But in

order to reach it they would have to cross a quarter of a mile of

comparatively level ground, affording little cover, and exposed to the

direct fire of the defenders. For a moment Jack was tempted to occupy

the clump; but that would involve the splitting of his force, and any

detachment he might send to hold the position would be completely cut

off from support except by rifle-fire. Fortunately the clump was not

approachable from the rear; the attempt would involve a laborious climb

uphill, the climbers all the time exposed to fire from the mouth of the

pass. This end being less defensible than the northern, Jack had

already placed the greater number of his men in cover here in

anticipation of the arrival of the Russian turning column.

Some twenty minutes passed, during which Jack impressed upon his men the

necessity of husbanding their ammunition. They had but a small supply,

with no reserve to draw upon; it was imperative that they should not

reply to the Russian fire until they could see their enemy distinctly.

The near approach of the Cossacks was heralded by a sudden hail of

bullets falling upon the rocks on either side of the pass. This was the

signal for a warm fusillade from the original point of attack. To

neither was any reply made by the Chunchuses, among whom not a man was

touched. After a few minutes there was a sudden lull in the firing; it

had become evident to the Russians that unless they rushed the clump of

trees they could make no impression on an enemy so well protected.

Intuitively Jack knew what was impending; he called to his men to be on

the alert; and scarcely had he spoken when forty or fifty big horsemen,

in open order, dashed across the open space towards the trees. Then

Jack gave the word. The Cossacks had covered but a few yards when a

terrible fire was poured upon them from the pass. Here a man dropped

from his saddle; there a horse rolled over; but with the fine courage

that had distinguished the Russian soldier throughout the war, the

others held on in their terrible race with death. As they galloped

forward man after man fell; only a gallant remnant reached the clump,

and with it comparative safety. Scarcely a third of the troop gained the

shelter of the trees, but tactically the movement was worth the

sacrifice. There was silence for a brief space; then the men in the

clump opened fire. From their new position they were able to enfilade a

considerable section of the pass. One by one Jack's men began to fall;

then there was a second rush from the Cossack main body to reinforce the

men in the copse; and the defenders of the pass, enfiladed as they were,

were unable to stop it. Most of the Russians got across; and with the

reinforcements they had received, the men in the clump poured a still

more damaging fire into the Chunchuses, only half-concealed now by rocks

and boulders, and hampered by the necessity of sparing their ammunition.

The Russians, feeling that they had the upper hand, began to expose

themselves both in the copse and on the rough ground whence their rushes

had been made; and the bandits, with the fear of their cartridges

running short, durst not take full advantage of their opportunities of

picking off incautious individuals among the enemy; they had to content

themselves with firing whenever a group of two or more presented a broad

target, and directing occasional close volleys into the copse. Still,

the distance separating the combatants was so short--barely three

hundred yards--that even in the comparative shelter of the trees the

Russians suffered heavily; every now and then their fire slackened, and

it was necessary to reinforce them by further detachments from the main

column.

While the battle was thus waged at the south of the pass, there had been

constant firing at the other end. Hi Lo went backwards and forwards

between the two divisions of Jack's band, with news of the enemy's

movements and the progress of the fight--a duty involving considerable

risk; but the boy could make use of rocks and inequalities of the ground

that would not have sheltered a grown man, and he was indeed exceedingly

proud of being selected to assist in this way.

He reported now that the enfilading fire of the Russians in the copse at

the south had driven the Chunchuses from the western face of the pass at

the north end, allowing the Cossacks to creep round the hillside on the

north-east of the entrance, and gain a position from which they were

able to inflict serious loss on the defenders. Jack felt that the coils

were gradually being drawn around him; and when a number of men, covered

by a brisk rifle-fire, dashed from the copse towards the steep hillside

overlooking the pass, and in spite of the loss of several of their

number began laboriously to climb the slope, he could not but recognize

that the game was well-nigh up. The fight had lasted three hours. His

men were worn; the strain had been very great; and they were reduced to

half a dozen rounds a rifle. But they were still steady and undismayed;

how much their tenacity owed to Jack's training and how much to their

native courage it would be difficult to say; but two things were

certain: their marksmanship was distinctly superior to that of the

Cossacks, and the temptation of undisciplined troops to blaze away at

random had been quite heroically resisted.

The men climbing the face of the hill soon passed out of sight; but in

about ten minutes they opened fire from a ridge high up the slope. In

excellent cover themselves, they had many of the Chunchuses in full

view; and the Chinamen could not move into shelter without exposing

themselves to the fire of the Cossacks in the copse. Nevertheless the

bandits, with the characteristic doggedness of the Chinese in face of

peril, clung to their positions, flattening themselves against the rocks

and boulders, which gave them less and less protection, attacked as they

now were from several sides. More than once Jack made a hazardous trip

to the northern end of the pass, encouraging his men; each time he

noticed with a sinking heart that the number of still and prostrate

forms was greater. What caused the keenest pang, it was impossible to

bring the wounded to a place of safety. As soon as a man fell, he

almost inevitably lost the complete protection of his boulder; a portion

of his body lay outside the zone of safety, and the poor wretch thus

became the mark for a score of bullets. His heart torn with pity for

the men, Jack at one time thought of surrender. But then he recollected

that they would merely exchange the bullet for the noose; and there was

always a bare chance of relief. He himself was wounded in the shoulder;

at least half his men were out of action; the Russians were gradually

closing in towards both entrances of the pass; and a simultaneous rush

at each end must finish the struggle. Jack wondered why such an assault

had not already been made. It would entail a certain loss of life; but

perhaps less in the end than would result from prolonging the struggle.

Even as the thought struck him, he saw signs of the movement he so much

dreaded, and hurrying back to the southern end, where the worst of the

fighting must take place, he was about to urge his men to sell their

lives dearly, when from the steep pathway beyond the rocky platform

previously pointed out by his guide there came the discharge of half a

hundred rifles. The combat in the pass ceased instantly; both sides

were startled and amazed--Jack wondering whether the first Russian force

had disposed of Ah Lum, and was now returning to complete the

destruction of his followers; the Cossacks apparently uncertain whether

the shots came from friend or foe. Another volley flashed from the

height; immediately afterwards a swarm of horsemen was seen to descend.

By the manner of their riding it was plain they were not Cossacks. They

were making direct for the rear of the Russian force, threatening to cut

off its retreat. The Cossacks beyond the copse waited no longer. In

one wild rush, some throwing away their rifles in their haste, they fled

towards the pathway by which they had come, hoping to reach the ponies

tethered beyond the zone of fire. The men in the copse, less

fortunately placed than their comrades, offered a desperate resistance

to the Chunchuses now enveloping them--Jack leading some of his men in a

charge from the pass, the new-comers sweeping round at headlong speed to

intercept the fugitives. A few of the Cossacks, seeing their flight

hopeless, surrendered; the rest died fighting; while those on the

hillside, taken in reverse, were shot down almost to a man.

Thus reinforced, Jack sent a detachment round towards the northern end

of the pass, and led a strong body to make a frontal attack on the

Cossacks there. But they did not await the assault. Perceiving their

danger, they withdrew towards their reserve; and becoming aware within a

few minutes of the Chunchuses rapidly approaching on their flank, they

abandoned their position and galloped swiftly away, many of them falling

to the rifles of the bandits.

The detachment which had come so providentially to Jack's relief proved

to be Wang Shih's force. By the time they returned from pursuing the

fleeing Russians, Ah Lum himself arrived at the pass. Jack then learnt

what had happened. The first Russian force had been completely routed.

They had lost heavily in the ambuscade, but had rallied and attempted to

rush Ah Lum's position. Then, however, Wang Shih had come down upon

their flank, and, discouraged by their heavy losses at the ambuscade,

they had retreated. Closely followed up by Ah Lum, they were taken

between two fires, and their retirement, at first orderly, soon became a

headlong flight.

Ah Lum made the handsomest acknowledgments to Jack for the part he had

played. And his was indeed a notable achievement. Though threatened by

nearly thrice their numbers, his men by their gallant fight had

prevented the junction of the two Cossack forces, and thus enabled Ah

Lum to secure his object, and win the victory on which so much had

depended. His combined force was not strong enough to follow up the

advantage gained; for among the hills the Cossacks would easily find a

defensible position, and if they once succeeded in checking the pursuit,

the Chunchuses would soon be opposed by overwhelming numbers. But in

the hastily evacuated position the victors discovered a considerable

supply of food, fodder, and ammunition abandoned by the Cossacks, and

this proved a welcome addition to their depleted stores.

Ah Lum had now to consider his future movements. He had learnt from a

scout, who had overtaken him as he rode towards the pass, that a strong

Cossack force was pushing northwards from the Korean frontier. To

escape the ring-fence in which the Russians were evidently determined to

enclose him, it seemed best to strike north-east, and endeavour to gain

a position that had more than once been occupied by Chunchuses in their

conflicts with Chinese troops. Arrangements were hastily made for the

transport of the wounded, on both sides unfortunately very numerous.

Mindful of his engagement with Jack, Ah Lum would not allow his men to

despatch the wounded Russians, as was their wont. Forming a long

column, he started on his march, leaving Jack with 300 men to watch the

Cossacks and hold them at bay, should they return, until the main body

had got a good start. Jack held the pass for the remainder of the day;

he was glad of the rest, for it enabled him to have his injured arm

bathed and dressed. Fortunately the wounds were slight. No sign of

further attack being seen, he thought it safe to follow up his chief.

They joined forces within twenty-four hours of Jack's leaving the pass.

Ah Lum's march had been delayed by the wounded, whom, however, he left

in groups at friendly villages en route. All the wounded having been

thus disposed of, the combined Chunchuse column regained its former

mobility, and, marching rapidly, in three days reached the hill fastness

where Ah Lum hoped to enjoy a breathing-space to rest and recruit.

In the course of the march he gathered up ample food supplies for man

and beast, but was still beset by the scarcity of ammunition. A great

deal had been expended in the recent fight, and the wastage was by no

means made up by what had been captured from the Russians. The band,

too, was constantly being recruited, mainly from men who had been

wounded and left behind in the villages after previous engagements; and

in spite of its recent losses it was now again fully twelve hundred

strong. But when the stock of ammunition came to be examined, it was

found that there scarcely remained a dozen rounds a man. Unless,

therefore, a fresh supply could in some way be procured, it would be

necessary to disband the force. The dilemma gave Ah Lum serious

concern.

*CHAPTER XIX*

*Captain Kargopol finds the Chunchuses*

Grumbles--Pai-chi-kou--The Masterful Muscovite--A Midnight Council--The

Inn--A Summons--Betrayal--Confirmation--Miss-fire--The Rounds--Ivan

Ivanovitch

Captain Vassily Nikolaeitch Kargopol was not in the best of tempers.

His pony, which had carried him all day over some of the worst mountain

tracks in Manchuria, slipped at the frozen edge of a rut, and nearly

rolled over. The rider, as a captain of Transbaikal Cossacks, was too

good a horseman to be thrown; but he was severely jolted, and he brought

the poor jaded beast up with a smart lash of his whip. This seemed to

relieve his feelings; and further consideration, together with a

comically reproachful look on the face of his companion, brought

repentance. Leaning forward he patted the animal's neck.

"You needn't look at me like that, Borisoff," he said. "I know it's too

bad of me to visit the sins of this accursed country on the beast.

Never mind; he shall have an extra feed of buckwheat to-night, and I'll

see that he gets it."

"That's more like you, Kargopol," returned Lieutenant Casimir Andreitch

Borisoff. The cloud had indeed cleared like magic from the captain's

round, jovial, somewhat rubicund face; evidently he was not a man on

whom ill-temper sat long or heavily.

"The truth is, I am becoming a little uneasy. Isn't there something in

the Scriptures about hunting after a dead dog, after a flea? I confess

I'd rather stick to our proper work, and smash Oyama instead of running

after this Ah Lum and his Chunchuses."

"Yes, confound the fellow! He's as agile as the little unmentionable

fellow you were beguiled into naming, though by all accounts he's more

like a live lion than a dead dog. That fight of his was a masterly

piece of work."

"I only wish we could get to grips with him. Here have I been for

weeks--months--on the hunt, and haven't so much as sighted a bandit. Hi

there! Ivan Samsonitch, ask the Chinaman how far it is to this precious

village."

The trooper addressed, riding beside a burly Chinaman twenty paces

ahead, translated the question into a barbarous mixture of Chinese and

pidgin Russian. The Chinaman, whose legs as he bestrode his little pony

almost touched the ground, bowed humbly upon the animal's neck, and

barked a reply.

"He says, little father," said the sergeant, translating, "that

Pai-chi-kou is about seven li farther; that is four versts; but there is

a river to be forded."

"Another river! That makes a round dozen since we started. And the

water's icy cold, confound it!"

The captain had drawn up to the sergeant; only to him and the Chinaman

was his mild grumble audible. The sergeant was a man of responsibility

with whom he could to a certain extent unbend; the men must hear no

complaints. For nine hours the detachment of 150 Cossacks had marched

up hill and down dale over tracks slippery with frost, wading streams

that in another month would be deeply coated with ice. Their progress

was hampered by the necessity of watching and assisting the

heavily-laden pack-mules that formed the major part of the column. Their

destination was the village of Pai-chi-kou, where they were to be joined

by the larger force for which they were carrying ammunition and

supplies. As verst succeeded verst, the captain thought, and said to

Lieutenant Borisoff, hard things of the transport officer who had drawn

out the itinerary. The want of good service maps was a terrible

disadvantage. Once the detachment had lost its way altogether; and only

after an hour had been spent in futile search was a countryman

opportunely discovered and pressed into the service as guide. The man

was very unwilling to act; he protested his wish to go in an entirely

different direction, to a village where his grandfather awaited burial

rites. But Captain Kargopol had had enough dealings with Chinamen to

regard this grandfather as an oriental Mrs. Harris; he turned a deaf ear

to the man's protests, and was unmelted by his facile tears. Under his

guidance the troops had trudged along, the men bearing the fatigues of

the march with the fine cheerfulness of the Russian soldier, breaking

out every now and then into song, their rich voices ringing out

gloriously in the clear, frosty air.

The twelfth river was waded, only one of the mules losing its footing

and submerging its load. Shortly afterwards, just as dusk was falling,

the column arrived at a long, straggling village.

"This is Pai-chi-kou?" said the captain.

"Yes, little father," replied the sergeant, after questioning the guide.

"H'm! It seems very populous. Where do they stow all the people? And

what is the noise about?"

The street was crowded with Chinese men, women, and children, making a

terrible din with gongs, drums, and crackers. The guide explained that

a great number of people had come into the village to keep the annual

Dragon-boat Festival; if the Russians had arrived a little earlier they

would have seen the river covered with long, narrow, gaily-painted boats

paddled by crews of twenty in fantastic costumes, the banks thronged

with onlookers.

"A pity we missed it, Borisoff," said the captain. "However, I'm glad we

have arrived safely at last."

If Captain Kargopol had known a little more about Chinese customs, he

would certainly have asked why in this village the Festival--a summer

festival held on the fifth day of the fifth moon--was being celebrated

four months after the proper time. Moreover, it is only celebrated

where the rivers are broad; on a hill stream the procession of boats

must be a mere travesty. But the captain could hardly be expected to

know that.

The captain rode up to the only inn, where the one habitable room was

crammed with Chinamen. After a short colloquy with the innkeeper these

natives were unceremoniously bundled out into the courtyard; the captain

had declared his intention of occupying the room with Lieutenant

Borisoff for the night. He then sent his sergeant to find quarters for

the troopers in the village. The man reported that every house was full

up.

"Then we must empty them," said the captain, who was tired and grumpy.

"Make the Chinese turn out. The men have more need of rest than they."

This was unanswerable, if illogical. The sergeant went to do his

bidding, and soon the street was noisier than ever, the dispossessed

Chinamen in scattered knots cackling away in their high-pitched voices,

some of them weeping, and crowding to suffocation the few houses that

were not required by these masterful foreign devils.

With military punctiliousness Captain Kargopol set a strong guard at

each end of the village, arranged for the single street to be patrolled,

and the inn to be watched by a sentry; then threw himself on the k'ang

with a weary sigh, and prepared to eat, if not digest, the meal which

the innkeeper soon had ready for his guests. It was quite clear that,

though the Chinamen had all been turned out, some had ventured to creep

back into the passage and a sort of shanty adjoining the room. The

innkeeper kow-towed and apologized; he hoped the honourable officer

would not object to the men occupying this shelter for the night; they

had paid their scot in advance, and if he did not give them house-room

he would have to refund the money and pay compensation in addition.

"Poor wretches!" said the captain to Borisoff. "We're pretty hard on

them at the best. They won't interfere with us, I suppose, unless they

snore; and even then, I fancy I'm so dead beat I could sleep through

anything."

When the officers had finished their supper, they wrapped themselves in

their cloaks, and lay, Captain Kargopol on the k'ang, the lieutenant on

the floor. Though the inn was now quiet, and the troopers were no doubt

sleeping as soundly as their superiors, it was evident from the sounds

proceeding from the houses that the Chinese were wakeful, possibly

through the excitement of their festival.

Towards midnight, under the shelter of a low shed not far from the inn,

where they crouched for protection from a biting north wind, two

Chinamen were talking in low tones. One was the guide who had so

reluctantly accompanied the Russians; the other a much younger man. All

at once, out of the darkness crept a short Chinese boy, looking fatter

than he was by reason of his thickly wadded clothes. He came to the

younger of the two men, and addressed him in an excited whisper. To

anyone who overheard him it would have been clear that he had been

hiding, according to instructions, in the inn. He said that he had

overheard a conversation between Hu Hang and C'hu Tan, who were among

the Chinamen in the shanty. He had seemingly heard more than was

expected. The ex-constable and Ah Lum's ex-lieutenant were going to

seize and gag the innkeeper, and then to waken the Russian officers and

give them an important piece of information. The howl of a dog outside

the village was to be the signal for carrying this plan into effect.

They had said that between the first howl and the second there would be

plenty of time for what they meant to do.

"Hai-yah!" growled the larger of the two listeners, following up the

exclamation with an oath. The other made no comment on the news he had

just heard, but, turning to the boy, he said rapidly:

"Run and tell Pai Ting there are to be two howls, not three. What was

to have been the first will now be the second. The signal will be given

as soon as the moon goes down behind yonder clump of trees. You

understand?"

The boy nodded, and without a word crept away, wriggling down a narrow

passage between the shed and the next house towards the outskirts of the

village.

As soon as he had gone, the two men rose quietly and went into the

street. Dodging the patrol, they hurried to the inn, passed to the

rear, and cautiously made their way into the shanty or lean-to. There

were several Chinamen in the stuffy den, to all seeming fast asleep; but

a close observer might have noticed that the entrance of the new-comers

was at once remarked, and that, as they passed by or actually stepped

over the recumbent forms, they were the object of a keen scrutiny. The

inspection appeared to satisfy the men, for they at once resumed their

attitude of complete repose.

To any but ears keenly alert the progress of the two men would have been

inaudible; for there was a constant noise from the courtyard and a large

open space behind the inn, where the greater number of the ponies of the

convoy were picketed under a Cossack guard. A Cossack was also doing

sentry-go in front of the inn, but approaching from the back the two

Chinamen had avoided him.

When they came in sight of the main room they exercised the extremest

caution. The door was but half-closed, and through the opening came the

faint yellow light of a small oil-lamp. Coming to a spot whence they

could see the greater part of the interior, they halted, and peeped

within. Near the door they could just make out the forms of three

Chinamen huddled on the floor--doubtless the innkeeper, and the two men

whose little plot the boy had overheard and reported. The Russian

officers had apparently been too much fatigued to resent this invasion

of their privacy.

Waiting merely to get a mental photograph of the position in the room,

the younger of the two Chinamen moved gently backward, and, touching one

of the dormant figures on the shoulder, beckoned him towards the back

door. Then he whispered an instruction. The man was to enter the room,

boldly but not aggressively, and summon the innkeeper to join Wang Shih

at the house of the village headman. This was but a move in the game

shortly to be played out. The two conspirators would doubtless be

relieved to find themselves--by a lucky accident, they would

suppose--free from the presence of the innkeeper; it would no longer be

necessary to dispose of him; at the same time they would be reassured as

to the whereabouts of Wang Shih. The man crept in as directed. His

entrance caused the captain to stir.

"What is it?" he growled.

The innkeeper explained as well as he could that he was called away.

"Out with you, then, and tell the sentry to allow no one else in. I

want to sleep."

He then turned over, and was instantly oblivious. The innkeeper, coming

out, was surprised to find Wang Shih at the door, but was warned by that

burly man's younger companion not to open his lips.

He had scarcely left the room before one of the two Chinamen lying

within the room began to wriggle towards the officers. The other man,

none other than Hu Hang, once a constable, now a disappointed Chunchuse,

bent forward, intent upon his companion's progress. At a hint from the

younger of the two watchers, the elder, Wang Shih himself, slipped into

the room and stood silent and unnoticed behind Hu Hang.

The creeping Chinaman came first to Lieutenant Borisoff, stretched on

the floor. He nudged him; the Russian grunted. A second gentle nudge

provoked another grunt. Then the officer awoke with a start, and seeing

by the dim light a Chinaman bending over him, he instinctively felt for

and grasped the revolver beneath the cloak that formed his pillow. The

Chinaman held up his hands to show that he wras unarmed.

"What do you want, confound you?" asked Borisoff in pidgin Russian.

"Ss-s-h!" was the answer. "Listen quietly, honourable nobility. There

is danger."

"What is it?" asked the lieutenant, raising himself on his elbow. "Tell

me quickly, and be sure you tell me the truth, or----"

There was an ominous movement of the revolver. He touched Captain

Kargopol's foot, and that officer, awake in an instant, sat up on the

k'ang and looked about him.

"This village is not Pai-chi-kou, honourable nobility. It is

Ta-kang-tzue. The Chinamen here are all Chunchuses. Very soon

honourable master will hear the howl of a dog. It will not be the voice

of a dog, but of a man. It is a signal. Ah Lum's men are outside. At

the signal they will surround the village."

Both officers were now on their feet, gripping their revolvers.

"Afterwards another howl," continued the informer. "The Chunchuses in

the village will seize rifles and pistols hidden in the gardens and

pig-sties. Afterwards a third signal; every house with Russians in it

will be attacked, every honourable soldier captured or killed."

The captain rapped out an oath. The Chinaman, still on his knees,

lifted up his hands and spoke earnestly.

"I can show the honourable nobility how to cheat them; honourable master

will reward his humble slave. Is it not so?"

The captain, none too quick-witted, nodded to the man to proceed. The

Chinaman stood erect.

"At the first howl, master will cut a hole in the window--quickly, so

that the men in the passage hear nothing; they are all Chunchuses. He

will whisper to the sentry outside; the soldier will warn the patrol,

and they will in haste make the round of the houses where soldiers are.

Before the second signal is given, honourable master's men will be

ready; they can shoot down the Chunchuses in the village, and Ah Lum

will have to retreat, for honourable nobility's countrymen are only ten

miles away."

For a moment the captain gazed doubtfully at the man.

"Do you think it a trap?" he asked Borisoff.

The long-drawn howl of a dog as if baying the moon rose and died away at

some distance from the village. The officers started.

"Trap or not, we can't go far wrong in doing what he says. Even if he

is lying we are no worse off."

"Honourable nobility's servant asks fifty ounces of silver for----"

"By and by, by and by. Your story must be proved. It sounds likely

enough----"

"You are quite right, your nobility," said another voice in good

Russian. "It is more than likely; it is literally true."

As the figure of a young Chinaman advanced from a dark part of the room,

the startled officers backed and cocked their revolvers; the informer,

turning a sickly green under his yellow skin, stared mouth agape at the

speaker; while, from the corner where the man's fellow-conspirator had

been waiting, the sound of a choking gurgle showed that Wang Shih was

busy with his old friend the constable.

The scene in the dimly-lit room was one not likely to be soon forgotten

by the actors in the drama.

While the two officers stood fingering their weapons in amazed

irresolution, and the wretched traitor leant for support against the

k'ang, the new-comer continued:

"What this man says, gentlemen, is perfectly true, so far as he knows.

But he doesn't know all. Before you do anything rash allow me to

explain. The howl you have just heard was the second, not the first

signal. Ah Lum's men have already surrounded the village, and eighty

men inside are prepared to rush the quarters occupied by your troops.

The inn is watched; the slightest commotion here will be the third

signal."

The news was in itself sufficient to provoke the deepest wrath, but the

coolness with which the explanation was given enraged the captain beyond

all bounds. Springing forward with an oath he cried, "I will risk it!"

and snapped his revolver within a foot of the Chinaman's head.

There was no report.

"It is fortunate for you, sir, that we drew the charges while you slept.

But for that, your fate and that of your men would have been sealed. If

you will give me your word of honour not to make a sound, I will give

you ocular proof of what I have said. Believe me, it is only to save

your detachment from annihilation. But you shall judge."

The officer, pale and quivering with rage and chagrin rather than fear,

threw a glance at Lieutenant Borisoff, who nodded.

"Agreed," said Kargopol fiercely.

Going to the door, the Chinaman said a few words to those outside. They

rose and stood, fully armed, in the passage.

"They are Chunchuses, you observe, sir; not peaceful countrymen, as you

believed, but the men you are hunting. We will pass outside. Be careful

not to alarm your Cossacks."

They passed by the row of silent Chinamen out into the street. The

officers were saluted by the sentry, who supposed them to be making the

rounds. They came to the largest house in the village. In front, on

the street, nothing was to be seen. But at the back, and in a dark

passage-way at the side, were at least twenty dim figures, armed at all

points with rifle, pistol, and dagger. The silent group passed to

another house, and to yet another; at each, cunningly placed out of

sight of the patrol, Chunchuses lurked, awaiting the signal for the

terrible work of the night.

"We have but a few minutes, gentlemen, before the signal. Are you

satisfied? Nothing stands between your men and extermination, save

yourselves. What is your decision?"

The captain bit his moustache.

"Let things take their course," said Borisoff quietly. "We had better

die fighting than be tortured to death after surrender."

"I can promise you and your men good treatment as prisoners of

war--always supposing your general is willing to exchange you for our

men, and does not hang any more of ours in the meantime. You need not

fear torture."

The Russians laughed grimly.

"What are your assurances worth--you, a Chunchuse?"

"A Chunchuse--yes, Captain, but in this case also an Englishman."

"An Englishman!" cried Kargopol with a start of surprise. Borisoff

stepped nearer to Jack and peered into his face.

"An Englishman, sir."

"And a Chunchuse?"

"A Chunchuse, by compulsion of your countrymen. But, gentlemen, we waste

precious time. In a few seconds the matter will be beyond your

discretion--or mine."

The captain stopped and faced the speaker. Borisoff's face wore a look

of perplexity.

"You give me your word?" said Kargopol after a moment.

"Yes."

"As an Englishman?"

"As an Englishman."

"Then I surrender."

"Believe me, sir, it is the wisest, the most humane course."

"Your name is Brown?" said Borisoff suddenly.

"Ivan Ivanovitch Brown, Lieutenant Borisoff."

"Batiushki! I was puzzled by something familiar in your voice. What in

the world----"

"Pardon me, the situation is still full of danger, a spark may fire the

train. I will explain everything afterwards."

Peering into the dark, Jack in a moment beckoned to a small figure

crouching under the shelter of a wall. Hi Lo came bounding up, and to

him Jack gave a rapid order. The boy sped away at full speed.

"I have told him that the third signal is not to be given. I hope he may

be in time."

*CHAPTER XX*

*The Battle of Moukden*

Reservations--The Cupboard--Perfidious--"The Little More"--Winter

Quarters--More Perfidy--Russians Concentrating--Captured Maxims--A

Missing Messenger--The Battle Ground--Nogi dashes North--Hemmed In--Nogi

cuts the Railway--The North Road--A Carnival of Blood

"You have sold us completely, Ivan Ivanovitch," said Borisoff as they

walked back towards the inn. "I suppose that rascally guide of ours led

us into this trap."

"All's fair in war, you know. He is Wang Shih, Ah Lum's principal

lieutenant."

"He deserves to be hanged!" growled the captain. "So do you, Mr. Brown."

"We seldom get our deserts, Captain. But I think Lieutenant Borisoff

had better make a round of the houses and tell your men of the

surrender. I will send word to our man outside bidding him keep his

Chunchuses in hand for the present. In a few minutes I will rejoin you

at the inn."

As the lieutenant visited house after house he recognized how hopeless

resistance would have been. At the given signal every dwelling would

have been rushed, and before the Cossacks could have realized what was

happening they must have fallen to a man. The crestfallen troops were

paraded and disarmed in the street; then by the light of flares the

convoy was got ready, and an hour and a half later it set off from the

village up the hillside, escorted by the Chunchuses, to join Ah Lum some

fifteen miles away. Jack stood at the door of the inn beside Captain

Kargopol as the convoy and prisoners filed past. Nearly a hundred

pack-mules heavily laden with ammunition, winter clothing, and

provisions, and a hundred and fifty Cossacks, formed the prize of his

ingenuity.

Several mules and their loads were left behind for the benefit of the

villagers who had assisted in the plot.

"You had better hide them," said Jack to the headman. "There is a large

Cossack force only ten miles away: they may be down upon you at any

moment."

He learnt later that hardly were the last of the ponies and their loads

secured in caves and hollows among the hills when, shortly after dawn, a

squadron of Cossacks galloped up--the advance guard of the twelve

hundred men whom Captain Kargopol was to have joined with his convoy.

The commander was furious when he heard the news, told him with much

sympathy by the headman, who reserved none of the details save only the

participation of the villagers. Finding the track followed by the

Chunchuses, the commander sent a galloper back with the news and himself

pushed on in pursuit. But after three hours' hard riding his squadron

was effectually checked by a handful of men in a defile, and by the time

he had received sufficient support to force the pass the convoy had

reached Ah Lum's encampment, and nothing but a battle could recover it.

During the northward march Jack rode between Captain Kargopol and

Lieutenant Borisoff. They were eager for the promised explanation of

his partnership with brigands. Jack had already made up his mind to be

chary of details. He would give no hostages to fortune in the shape of

information that might be used against him later; nor would he say

anything about the friends whose assistance had been so valuable to him.

Of Gabriele Walewska and the missionary, of Herr Schwab and the

compradore's brother, he therefore said never a word. The gist of his

explanation was that, being uncertain and suspicious in regard to his

father's fate, he had resolved to stay in the country, and found that he

could only do so safely in disguise. This being penetrated by

Sowinski's acuteness, he had perforce taken refuge with Ah Lum, one of

whose lieutenants was an old friend of his.

"That rascally guide of ours, I suppose," said Borisoff. "Well, it

happens that I can give you a little information----"

"About my father?'

"No, I know nothing about him. A few weeks ago a curious thing happened

to that fellow Sowinski, a man I loathe. Kuropatkin received a telegram

from Petersburg asking for particulars of the charges brought against

your father, and for information as to his whereabouts. Your Foreign

Office had apparently been making enquiries. Kuropatkin knew nothing

about it, of course; after some delay he discovered that Bekovitch had

dealt with the matter. Bekovitch produced a number of letters found in

your father's office conclusively showing that he had been in

treasonable correspondence with the Japanese----"

"That's a lie!" said Jack.

"Well, there were the letters," said Borisoff with a shrug. "Kuropatkin

asked if there was any independent evidence. Bekovitch at once sent

Sinetsky for Sowinski. He couldn't find the man, and though he left an

urgent message he didn't turn up. So he went to his house again early

next morning. There was nobody about, the door was wide open, and he

walked in. The house was empty, but he thought he heard a strange

rustling in a big press in the dining-room; Sowinski had appropriated

your house, by the way. He opened the door, and there was the Pole,

gagged, tied hand and foot, and nearly dead from exhaustion. Sinetsky

cut him loose; the poor wretch couldn't speak for half an hour, his

tongue was so much swollen. He'd been tied up by a Chinese servant, it

appeared, though the job must have taken more than one man."

"Yes--I was the other."

"You!" The officers laughed heartily. "You're a perfect demon of

ingenuity, Ivan Ivanovitch. Why didn't he say it was you?"

"He had his reasons, I suppose. What happened then?"

"He went to Kuropatkin and swore to all manner of things against your

father. The information was telegraphed to Petersburg, and that's all I

know about it."

"But where is my father?"

"I don't know. Bekovitch didn't know, or professed he didn't. I fancy

he had taken care not to know, in case any unpleasant questions were

asked."

"But someone must know. Confound it, Lieutenant, is the whole Staft a

conspiracy of silence?"

"It appears that Bekovitch sent your father to Kriloff, and Kriloff is

dead. I suppose enquiries were made, but so far as I know nothing has

come to light."

"I never heard of such villainy!" said Jack, his indignation getting the

better of him. "I had always believed the Russian officer was a

gentleman."

"Oh, come now!" said Captain Kargopol, "you English haven't a monopoly

of the virtues. You can't throw stones, after the dirty trick your

government has played us."

"What do you mean?"

"You haven't heard? I forgot: I suppose your Ah Lum doesn't subscribe

to the _Manchurian Army Gazette_. The Baltic Fleet was attacked by

British torpedo-boats in the North Sea; Admiral Rozhdestvenski very

properly fired and sank one or two. Some trawlers got in the way and

were rather knocked about: unfortunately a few men were killed, and your

canting press of course set up a howl and clamoured for war. But it's

we who are the injured party: you may be the ally of Japan, but that's

no excuse for an unprovoked attack on our fleet."

"Really, Captain, pardon me, but the story's absurd. When did this

torpedo attack take place?"

"At night, of course; you don't suppose they'd dare to attack

battleships in broad daylight."

"Then depend upon it there was a mistake. Someone was scared by the

sight of a trawler. It's ridiculous to suppose that our government sent

torpedo-boats on such a silly errand as that."

"Well, they might have hired Scandinavian boats, to save their face."

Jack repressed a smile. It was evidently of no use to argue with the

captain.

"Time will show," he said. "By the way, Mr. Wang," he added, seeing the

Chunchuse a few paces away, "what did you do with Hu Hang?"

"I am very sorry, sir," said Wang Shih with a look of sincere penitence.

"It was quite a mistake--I was excited, and I squeezed too hard."

"You strangled him?"

"Yes. It is a pity--a great waste. I fear the chief will be angry. Hu

was a strong man--he would have lasted for days."

"Oh!"

Understanding what he meant, Jack thought it just as well. He doubted

whether his influence with Ah Lum and the band would have been enough to

preserve the informer from the most gruesome and lingering tortures

Chinese inventiveness could devise.

"And what became of Ch'u Tan?"

"He stabbed himself."

"Anticipating a worse fate," Jack explained to the officers.

"We are aware of our good fortune in falling into your hands, Ivan

Ivanovitch," said Borisoff gravely; "and if, when we are rescued, I can

do anything----"

"Thanks, Lieutenant! I don't owe much to the Russians," he added

bitterly, "my father less. When he is righted I shall hope perhaps to

pick up my old friendships again."

Towards the close of the day the convoy reached Ah Lum's mountain

fastness. The chief's little eyes gleamed when he saw the great haul

made by his son's tutor.

"You are bold enough to stroke a tiger's beard," he said. "Where there

is musk, there will of course be perfume."

The supplies captured were very welcome. Ah Lum had found it necessary

to lie low, to avoid the forces on the hunt for him. But after a few

days he learnt that the troops from the Korean frontier had been

recalled, and the only Russian column now in the mountains was nearly a

hundred miles away. He could therefore afford to live on his gains for

a time.

The band settled down to a period of quiet camp life. The Cossacks were

distributed over the settlement and carefully guarded. Jack proceeded

with the education of Ah Fu, and the further training of his men. There

was considerable competition among the Chunchuses for enrolment in his

corps; he was looked upon as lucky, a special favourite of heaven. For

himself, he regarded his position differently. Harassed with anxiety as

to his father's fate; among uncongenial surroundings; an exile, without

anyone to confide in as a friend; he felt anything but lucky. As week

after week passed he grew terribly weary of his life; winter had settled

down upon the hills; the snow lay inches thick, and even the warm

clothing captured from the Cossacks--the fur caps, thick gray overcoats,

felt-lined boots, ear gloves, and what not--proved but insufficient

protection against the intense cold. He volunteered for what active work

was going; but there was little, and he did not covet the command of any

of the parties that went out from time to time to replenish the larder.

Ah Lum was punctilious in giving receipts for the supplies he

requisitioned from the country people, but Jack felt that they were

little likely to be paid for: it was a mere form at the best. And the

villagers could ill afford the contributions demanded, though after all

they were better off than their countrymen living in the main current of

the war. To all except the few merchants and contractors, who made huge

profits by supplying the rival armies, the war had brought blank ruin.

Occasionally news of the progress of the war filtered through the

country. Jack learnt that Admiral Alexeieff, after continual wrangling

with Kuropatkin, had been recalled; that the combatants had gone into

winter quarters on opposite sides of the Sha-ho, both Russians and

Japanese living in dug-outs, called by the Russians _zemliankas_; that

Port Arthur was still holding out, though from Chinese reports it seemed

inevitable that the end must soon come; that fresh troops were

continually arriving from Europe. One day a dirty copy of the

_Manchurian Army Gazette_ was brought into the camp; the Chinese are

always loth to destroy anything written or printed. The most

interesting item of news it held for Jack, and one on which he had a

battle-royal of argument with the Russian officers, was the statement

that the _Ocean_, a British battleship on the China station, had been

sold to the Japanese, and would appear in the next naval fight as the

_Yushima_, which the Russians declared had been sunk by a mine while

blockading Port Arthur. Captain Kargopol stoutly maintained that this

was another instance of British perfidy, and came very near to losing

his temper when Jack refused to take the report seriously, and bantered

him on his anti-British prejudice.

At last, one bright cold January day a Chinaman came in with the news

that Port Arthur had fallen. Jack could not but sympathize with the

captive officers. Personally they were the best of comrades; their

distrust of England did not alloy the cordiality of their relations with

Jack; and their air of hopeless dejection was distressing to one who

bore neither to them nor to their nation any enduring ill-will.

A few days afterwards Ah Lum learnt that the Russian column which had

been watching him had suddenly decamped. The inference was obvious.

The fall of the great fortress had released a large number of Japanese

troops, and Kuropatkin was concentrating against the forward movement

now to be expected. This information had considerable importance for Ah

Lum. He had been canvassing the desirability of moving towards Kirin,

leaving only a small force in the hills to watch the Russians. Their

sudden retreat, however, caused him to change his plan. He resolved to

follow them. There was more chance of safety for him if he kept to the

hills within a few marches of the combatant armies than if he was

completely isolated and likely to be cut off by several mobile columns

operating against him. It was hardly likely that the Russians would now

spare any troops from the fighting line to interfere with him. He was

only a mosquito after all, though his sting had more than once proved

extremely irritating. His only concern was to be near enough without

being too near. In the last resort he could go over to the Japanese;

but he disliked the Japanese only less than the Russians, and preferred

to keep aloof. It would be time enough to approach the Japanese when

they were well on the road to Harbin and the area of his possible

operations became more restricted.

The camp was therefore struck. By easy marches the band came to within

eighty miles of Moukden. Then, having made complete arrangements for

the approach of any Russian force to be signalled to him from point to

point, Ah Lum encamped and awaited a favourable opportunity of cutting

across the Russian line of communications.

To none was the change of scene more welcome than to Jack. He had been

worrying for some time past at the absence of news from the compradore;

that he had sent no message made Jack fear that the man had returned to

Moukden and been made to suffer by Sowinski or General Bekovitch for his

young master's escape. Growing more and more restless, disappointed

also that no news of his father had been gleaned by any of Ah Lum's

agents in different parts of the country, he at last made up his mind to

venture once more into Moukden. It was necessary to ask leave of Ah

Lum; and Jack, in his present state of mind, was not disposed to be

fobbed off with maxims and proverbs.

As he expected, the chief looked very solemn and endeavoured to dissuade

him from his purpose.

"It is like a blind fowl picking at random after worms," he said. "It

is like attempting to carry an olive on the pate of a priest. You have

already had a very narrow escape. You may not be so fortunate next

time."

"I must insist, Mr. Ah," said Jack. "Anything is better than suspense."

"I will send a man for you. A wise man never does himself what he can

employ another to do for him."

"Yes; but if one will not enter a tiger's lair, how can he obtain her

whelps?"

He cited the proverb with the utmost gravity. Ah Lum was taken aback.

Were his own maxims to be turned against him? He pondered for a moment.

"All things are according to heaven," he said with a resigned air.

"Still, I will send a man with you; let him go before you into Moukden;

then you must act as you think best on receipt of information. To die

or to live is according to fate."

When it became known in the camp that Jack, or Sin Foo as he was there

known, was about to leave, many of the Chunchuses were eager to

accompany him. He found his popularity, and the extraordinary belief in

his luck, rather embarrassing. He thanked these willing volunteers, but

declined their company: Hi Lo and the man selected by Ah Lum were to be

his only attendants.

Soon after dark on a bitter February night Jack, with his two

companions, rode up to the farm of Wang Shih's people, some fifteen

miles from Moukden. They were overjoyed to see him, and to hear news of

their son and brother. Old Mr. Wang, when he learnt that his son was

now Ah Lum's chief lieutenant, rubbed his hands with delight and

foretold that he would die a mandarin. It would not be the first time

in the history of China that a successful brigand had been bought back

to the cause of law and order by the bribe of high official rank. Mrs.

Wang was garrulous about a second visit paid them about Christmas-time

by Monsieur Brin, who had consoled himself for his failures as a war

correspondent by studying Chinese social arrangements at first hand.

The simple folk readily agreed to put Jack up for a few days; it would

have been impossible to find more comfortable quarters during his period

of waiting.

Next morning Ah Lum's man went into Moukden. By mid-day he had

returned. The compradore had never been seen in the city since he left

for Harbin on the morning of Jack's departure. But the Chunchuse agent

Me Hong had learnt one trifling fact about Mr. Brown; he was surprised

that his chief was still in ignorance of it. The English merchant had

been seen and recognized among a gang of convicts at Kuan-cheng-tzue.

Me Hong had sent off the news at once by a messenger to Ah Lum; the

runner had vanished. He had not returned to Moukden; certainly he had

never reached the Chunchuse camp. Sowinski was still in the city; so,

the messenger believed, was the "Toitsche war-look-see man"; but there

were so many of the fraternity living in Moukden that he was not sure

that his information on that point was correct.

He brought other news. Another great battle was evidently impending.

The Japanese had for weeks been steadily pushing forward. They had cut

the railway-line south of Moukden; two regiments of their cavalry had

crept round the Russian left, and had been seen within a few miles of

Harbin; and it was reported among the Chinese that Generals Nogi and Oku

were preparing a great turning movement on the right. The city was full

to overflowing with refugees; many were streaming northward; the

Russo-Chinese bank had packed up its chests and decamped; and the

Chinese viceroy was in a terrible state of anxiety for the safety of the

palace and the ancient tombs of the Manchu emperors.

This news almost tempted Jack to venture again within the city. But on

second thoughts he decided to run no risks of meeting Sowinski. The

imminence of another great battle, however, perhaps to prove the

decisive battle of the war, created a keen longing to witness the scene;

and next day, taking leave of his kind hosts, he set off with Hi Lo for

a little village lying between the Moukden railway-station and

Sin-min-ting. Hi Lo had relatives there with whom they could safely

stay.

The battle-ground was in essentials a repetition of that of Liao-yang,

though on a much larger scale. The Russians had thrown up an immense

line of entrenchments extending in a rough semicircle from Sin-min-ting

on the north-west of the city to Ping-ling on the east, with Moukden as

the centre. Comprising a range of low hills for the greater part of its

course, the position was naturally strong, and it had been fortified for

months with all the devices known to the military engineer--pits,

abattis, barbed-wire entanglements, forts of solid masonry bristling

with huge guns. Snow lay upon the ground, frozen so hard that the

passage of cavalry across it raised clouds of white dust. The plain to

the west and south of the city was one vast whiteness: yet that peaceful

scene was the arena on which three-quarters of a million of men were

preparing to spill their blood in blind obedience to duty--to contend

with desperate earnestness in one of the decisive battles of the world.

The Russian right wing was composed of the Second Manchurian Army under

General Kaulbars, resting on an arc between Sin-min-ting and Moukden.

The centre, south of the city, was held by General Bilderling with the

Third Army; the left, thrown out as far south-east as Tsin-khe-chen, was

entrusted to General Linievitch and the First Army. It was here that

the first attack was made. On February 19 General Kawawura threw his

right flank detachment against the Russian works, and, after a fight

prolonged over five days, drove the Russians back towards Fa-ling.

Meanwhile General Kuroki moved forward upon Kao-tu-ling, and succeeded

in forcing his way northward, and General Nodzu, from his position on

the Sha-ho, opened a furious bombardment on the exact centre of the

Russian lines. By these movements General Kuropatkin was led to expect

that the brunt of the fighting would fall upon his centre and left; in

reality they were designed to hold his attention while more formidable

operations were developed on his right.

It was on the last day of February that General Oku's army deployed

between the Sha-ho and the Hun-ho, and General Nogi started with

incredible rapidity on his northward march. By the time General

Kuropatkin became aware of the danger threatening his communications on

the right, Nogi had made such progress and so skilfully disposed his

forces that to crush him was out of the question; all that Kaulbars

could do was to fall back towards Moukden and oppose as stubborn a

resistance as possible. The assaults of Kuroki and Nodzu on the centre

were so fierce and persistent that Kuropatkin had no troops to spare for

the reinforcement of his jeopardized right flank. Doggedly, intrepidly,

the indomitable Japanese pressed home their attack. The Russians clung

heroically to their positions, and rolled back charge after charge; but

still the enemy returned, seeming to gain in vigour and enthusiasm after

each repulse. They charged with bayonets, with grenades, with shovels

and picks; sometimes, when they penetrated the Russian entrenchments,

flinging down their weapons and going to it with their fists. The

trenches were filled with corpses; the frozen ground all around was dyed

red with blood; there was no respite day or night; men fell, their

places were filled, and foe met foe over the bodies of the slain.

For ten days the issue was in doubt. Then, on March 5, Kuroki was

across the Sha-ho; Nogi had swept through Sin-min-ting towards the

railway; Marshal Oyama's huge army was flinging its octopus tentacles

around the Russian position, vast as it was. Kuropatkin, most

unfortunate of generals, on March 8 found it necessary to withdraw his

centre and left behind the line of the Hun-ho, and collect every unit

that could be spared by Kaulbars and Bilderling to stem the advance of

Oku and Nogi.

Meanwhile the Russian left had opposed a bold front to Kuroki and

Kawawura. Unable to make a successful offensive movement, Linievitch

stubbornly retreated in good order beyond the Hun-ho, and entrenched

himself in a new position there. But around Moukden the plight of the

Russian army was becoming desperate. As the terrible enemy crept on

towards the city from all sides save the north-east, the Russian troops,

packed into a constantly diminishing space, and exposed to a converging

fire, fell in thousands. More than once the Russians attempted to break

through. The gallant Kuropatkin in person led a terrific attack on Oku

at the head of sixty-five battalions, and his splendid men fought with

such courage and determination that for a while it seemed the Japanese

advance must be checked. But at this critical moment, when the Russians

were at least holding their own on the right centre and left, and Oyama

was concentrating to hurl them back, an event had taken place at the

left centre that proved to be Fortune's cast of the die. Early on the

morning of March 9, Kuropatkin received the news that Kuroki had driven

a wedge between Bilderling and Linievitch. Those generals in falling

back on the Hun-ho had temporarily lost touch: and the Japanese general,

who had never made a mistake throughout the war, was quick to seize this

opportunity of breaking the enemy's line. On the same day Nogi got

across the railway between Moukden and Tieling; nothing but instant

retreat could save the Second and Third Russian armies from annihilation

or capture; and at nightfall on that fifteenth day of the battle the

order to retreat was given.

Next day at ten in the morning the Japanese entered the city, and with

their entrance burst the bubble of Russian domination in Manchuria.

Scattered parties of Russians fought on for several days in the

neighbouring villages; but with Nogi astride of the main line of retreat

and every northern road, the Russians were forced to abandon everything

and take to the hills. Two days afterwards the Japanese had chased

their enemy full thirty miles to the north; Kuropatkin's great army,

broken, routed, had well-nigh ceased to be.

Jack is never likely to forget that terrible fortnight. During the first

few days he witnessed nothing of the fighting; he heard the

reverberations of the guns, and saw crowds of natives hastening from the

villages in the line of the Japanese advance, bearing with them

everything portable that could be saved from the impending ruin. At

night, standing on the broken mud wall, he beheld in the far distance a

dull glow in the sky that told of houses burning, and thought of the

untold misery inflicted upon a peaceable and industrious people by the

greed of rival governments. But as the tide of battle rolled northward,

and the roar of the guns grew louder, other evidences of the terrific

struggle came within his ken. Ever and anon a train would rumble

northward along the line, with wagon-loads of wounded. The darkness of

the nights was now illuminated with bursting star-shells, and the red

flare of burning villages nearer at hand. One morning, in the twilight

before dawn, he saw an immense column of smoke rise over the Russian

settlement by the station. It was in flames. Venturing out with Hi Lo,

he soon came upon stragglers from the army, and by and by upon a huge

block of horse and foot and artillery, field-telegraph wagons, mess

carts, ambulances--all in inextricable confusion, jammed in their

frantic efforts to escape. Trains rolled along, crowded to the roofs of

the carriages, even to the engine itself, with soldiers; carts lay

overturned, broken, wheelless, on the roads and fields; the air was

loaded with the acrid fumes from piles of blazing goods, clothing, and

forage, burnt to prevent their falling into the hands of the conquerors.

The retreat from Liao-yang had been orderly and not uncheerful; the

retreat from Moukden was an orgy of riot and misery. There was no order

in the ranks: the officers made no efforts--made, they would have been

in vain--to check the insubordination of their men. Some as they fled

had looted the sutlers' carts and roamed at large, defenceless,

intoxicated, singing wild songs, dropping to the ground, to be frozen

stiff in a few minutes. Others tramped along, moody, taciturn, mad,

going blindly they knew not whither, they knew not why. Here a horse's

head could be seen above the crowd, its eyes bloodshot and haggard, its

nostrils dilated. There a horse fell; the throng thickened around it;

harsh voices were raised in imprecation; then the movement recommenced,

and nothing was heard but the tramping of feet and the crunching of

wheels. Wounded men dropped and froze in their blood; others staggered

this way and that, having lost all power to govern their limbs; and

still in the distance artillery boomed, flames crackled, and the smoke

of burning homesteads rose into the sky.

Sick at heart, Jack returned to the village. That evening the Japanese

entered it, bringing with them a number of Russian prisoners and

wounded, these having been carefully tended by the Japanese ambulance

corps. Jack lent what assistance he could in finding cottages where the

more seriously injured could remain. "Strange," he thought, "that war,

which brings out the worst in men, should bring out also all that is

best."

*CHAPTER XXI*

*Ah Lum at Bay*

Schwab again Retreats--A Business Friend--Reinstated--A Little Light--Ah

Lum Threatened--A Thousand Roubles Reward--The Lessening Circle--A

Mountain Tiger--Mirage--Ah Lum's Lament--A Cossack Cloak

It was not merely curiosity that had held Jack within the area of

fighting. He clung with a sort of superstition to the belief that his

father's fate was inwoven with the fate of the Russian army. He had a

conviction, perfectly illogical, that a victory for Japan would favour

his quest. There was so much truth in this idea as that amid the

disorders of a Russian retreat he might hope to pass undetected in his

disguise. The Russians would be too busy to look closely into the

bona-fides of a mere Chinaman, one of thousands who would be swept

northwards on the tide. He could easily keep out of sight of the few

who might recognize him.

He thus had a purely personal interest in the result of the battle.

Convinced that the compradore must have remained with his brother in

Harbin, he had resolved to go north and learn from the man's own lips

the issue of his enquiries. When the victorious army had rolled by, he

set off with Hi Lo in its wake.

One day, a few miles north of Tieling, he was riding slowly along,

contrasting his present position with the different circumstances under

which he had made the retreat from Liao-yang, with Mr. Schwab's precious

tripod in his care, when, a little ahead of him, he caught sight of a

solitary figure trudging wearily along. It needed but one glance at the

broad back. The tired pedestrian was Schwab himself--and he was

carrying the camera.

Jack's lips twitched. To this had come the descendant of the great

Hildebrand Suobensius, the itinerant representative of Germany's

imperial might! There was matter for amusement in the reflection, and

for sympathy too: Schwab's patriotism was genuine; his little vanities

were harmless enough; and whatever else might be said of him, he was

devoted to the interests of the Schlagintwert company. Jack resolved to

make himself known to the correspondent, who could have no interest in

betraying him to the Russians. Cantering up behind, he heard Schwab

sighing and muttering under his breath.

"Excellenz," he said, "my Sin Foo----"

At the first word Schwab swung round with an alacrity that betokened as

much pleasure as surprise.

"Ach!" he said, "I know you; you are imbostor. I am delighted. I

abologize."

"That's very good of you, Herr Schwab, but I don't know why."

"Vy! Vy, for my vant of gombrehension, my zickness of shkull. But you

did bretend; zat you muss gonfess; and I did bay you your vages, so!"

Jack smiled.

"I've nothing to complain of," he said. "To you I was a Chinese

servant, and I never want a better master."

"Say you so? I vill shake hands viz you. Zere vas talk about you in

Moukden; vy truly, zey gratulate me for because I haf, zey say, a so

clever servant. Ach, mein freund! you see me; I am sad, I am broken;

no longer am I vat I haf been."

Schwab proceeded to tell a pitiful story. He had started on the retreat

in company with Sowinski, with whom he had arranged a great deal of

business against the termination of the war. One night they had taken

refuge in a Chinese hovel. Schwab had carefully put the satchel

containing his papers and money under his head. In the night he had

heard and felt a movement, and, springing up in the dark, seized and

held an arm. The arm was wrenched away, then Sowinski's voice asked

whether he had heard anything.

"'Yes, certainly,' I said, 'I zink zere is a zief. 'Shtrike a light!' I

cry. Zere shtrikes a light; I look for my zinks; siehe da! eferyzink is

gone. Against ze door had I blaced a big kettle, for to gif notice if

anyvun intrude. Zere it is, in ze same sbot. I say: 'Sowinski, you are

vun big scoundrel; gif me my money!' Zen he burst into fearful bassion;

he bresent me a bistol and demand instant abology. For myself, I am

berfeckly cool. I egsblain I am business man; certainly it is not my

business to fight, ven ze ozer man hold a revolver. I abologize;

Sowinski say he is satisfied; but zen he say I had cast asbersion on his

honour; no longer could he travel in my gompany; he demand me to get

out. Vat could I? Ze bistol muzzle vas at my head. It is gombulsion.

I vat you call clear out, viz my photographabbaratus. But my trouble

only begins. My mafoo, vere is he? Vizout doubt he has abbrobriated my

bony. Zere am I, zen, viz no babers, no money, no bony, nozink in ze

vide vorld but my camera. I cannot send a message to ze _Illustrirte

Vaterland und Colonien_: vere is ze money to gome from? Ze

Kaiser,--alas! he is in Berlin. I zink vat is var gorresbondence for a

kind of business? I try to sell my camera; no vun buys. Ze Russian

soldier is good comrade, ver' fine fellow; for zree days I eat nozink

but vat he gif me. But ze officers--ach! ven I egsblain to zem, zey are

all too busy to listen; zey tell me, abbly Colonel Egoroff. But Colonel

Egoroff, vere is he? Nobody know. Nobody know vere nobody is. All is

gonfusion and upside-down. I never see nozink so unbusinesslike novere."

As he told his story Schwab trudged along beside Jack's pony. Jack did

not interrupt him; the man's relief in finding someone to lend him a

sympathizing ear was so obvious.

"You have had an uncommonly hard time," he said. "I'm very sorry. What

do you think of doing?"

"Zink! I zink nozink. My brain is no more vat it vas. All I can do,

you see it; I valk and valk; I beg my bread, vich is Russian biscuit.

Nefer shall I see ze Vaterland no more. Hildebrand Schwab is gome to an

end."

"Cheer up! What do you say to taking me on as your servant again?"

"Zat is unkind, to mock at me."

"Believe me, nothing is further from my thoughts. I mean it. There

will be some risk for you and for me, but it's worth chancing. Let me

explain my plan."

Jack saw in Schwab's plight a means of advancing his own quest, and at

the same time doing a good turn to the unfortunate representative of the

_Illustrirte Vaterland_, for whom, in spite of certain unlovely

characteristics, he had a real liking. As servant of a European, far

from any place where he was likely to be recognized, Jack thought he

would probably reach Harbin more quickly than as a masterless Chinese

fugitive. He proposed that they should make for the railway. The

nearest point was Erh-shih-li-pu, the junction of the Kirin branch with

the main line. It was not unlikely that if Schwab told his story there

the officials would give him a passage to Harbin. The German eagerly

accepted the proposal. Jack insisted on his mounting the pony; it was

necessary, he explained, to keep up appearances, but his firmness on the

point was really due to the quite obvious fact that Schwab was

completely worn out. At the first village both Jack and Hi Lo made a

few alterations in their dress, so as to look as little like Schwab's

former servants as possible; and without more than the expected

difficulties and delays, the three at length reached Erh-shih-li-pu.

Luckily at the station Schwab was recognized by a Russian officer, a

member of Stackelberg's staff, who had once dined with the foreign

correspondents at the Green Dragon in Moukden. On hearing the German's

troubles he readily agreed to give him a pass to Harbin for himself and

his servants, and would not allow the fares to be paid; Jack had

previously pressed upon Schwab some of his rouble notes. Thus on a

bright March day, when the frozen ground was sparkling in the sunshine,

the three travellers arrived in Harbin. Schwab was lucky in obtaining

quarters in the Oriental Hotel; Jack made his way at once with Hi Lo to

the house of his uncle, the grain merchant, and there, as he had

expected, found Hi An. The two brothers were delighted to see their

visitors, and there was a touching scene of welcome between Hi Lo and

his father.

For Jack there was but one crumb of information. Hi Feng, as he had

promised, had set on foot such enquiries as seemed safe, especially

along the railway line. About a fortnight after Jack left Harbin in the

horse-box, a customer of Hi Feng came in with the news that he had seen

a man answering to the description of Mr. Brown among a batch of

prisoners at Imien-po on the Harbin-Vladivostok section. The train was

apparently bound for Vladivostok, but it had remained for twenty-four

hours on a siding, and the man's business had not allowed him to wait to

see what became of it. Hi Feng had himself travelled to the place; the

train had of course by that time departed; and the Chinese of the

neighbourhood could give him no information about it; one train was to

them like another, and delays at this siding were of constant

occurrence.

Jack shuddered to think what his father's sufferings must have been

during the protracted journey. His blood boiled when he saw Russian

officers in the streets; his rage against Bekovitch poisoned his former

good-will towards them. He fumed under his utter helplessness; he could

do nothing. To some extent the information received narrowed the area

of search. The fact of the train having been seen at Imien-po showed

that the prisoners had been taken either to Eastern Siberia or to

Sakhalin. Whichever it might be, Mr. Brown would be equally unable to

communicate with his son, and his removal from Manchuria seemed to

destroy all chance of help from the Chinese. To them Siberia and

Sakhalin are foreign lands; and if Siberia was remote, Sakhalin was

inaccessible. Being wholly a penal settlement, there was little chance

of getting into or out of its ports undetected.

Jack remained for several weeks with Hi Feng, hoping against hope. Herr

Schwab was still at the Oriental Hotel. Exposure to cold, lack of

sufficient food, and his mental anxieties had broken down the German's

robust health, and for a fortnight he lay at death's door. Monsieur Brin

happened to be at the same hotel; he had missed every fight, solely

through his own restlessness, which sent him backwards and forwards from

place to place--never the time and the place and the correspondent

together. He was a good-hearted fellow, and, finding a German lying ill

and not too carefully tended, he constituted himself sick nurse, and

devoted himself to his self-imposed duties with unusual constancy. He

had his reward in the patient's convalescence. As soon as Schwab was

able to sit up and take a little nourishment, Brin undertook to prove to

him that the Kaiser in Berlin was the Man of Sin, and for a good

fortnight he had much the better of the argument.

One day Hi Feng learnt that a great effort was at last being made

against Ah Lum. He had already been defeated by a large force of

Cossacks, and driven from the neighbourhood of Kirin north-eastwards

towards the Harbin-Vladivostok railway. Strong columns were hard upon

his heels in pursuit. Through his position as forage contractor to the

Russians, Hi Feng already knew that a large body of Cossacks was shortly

to leave Harbin for a place half-way between that town and Vladivostok.

Putting the two pieces of news together, and making discreet enquiries,

he found that it was intended to make a sudden dash upon Ah Lum's line

of retreat and dispose of him once for all. The evacuation of Moukden

and the narrowing of the area of country open to the Russians in

Manchuria had made the presence of a strong guerrilla force within their

lines insupportable. Ah Lum must be rooted out.

Hi Feng was to deliver a large quantity of forage within ten days; it

was pretty safe to infer that the expedition would start from Harbin

soon afterwards. Jack felt that Ah Lum must be warned at once.

Furthermore, he was much disposed to rejoin the Chunchuses. Without

overrating his abilities, he knew that he had been able to do something

for them, and what he had learnt about his father's treatment did not

make him more friendly to the Russians or less inclined to do what he

could to thwart them. If he had seen any chance of reaching or

communicating with his father he might have taken a different view:

having left Ah Lum with that purpose there would be no call for him to

abandon his quest. But it was now clear that his enquiries must be

pursued through Russian agents. He therefore decided to rejoin Ah Lum.

At the same time he would let it be known that a reward of 1000 roubles

should be paid to anyone giving him certain information of his father's

whereabouts. This offer, judiciously circulated through Chinese

channels among the officials of the railway, might bring definite news.

There was another consideration. Among the Chunchuses, so long as Ah

Lum held his own, Jack would be out of reach of the Russian authorities.

If he remained in Harbin, or any other Russian centre, the news of his

offer would at once put his enemies on his track. While he was in Ah

Lum's camp Hi Feng or his brother the compradore could easily

communicate with him if they received any information.

Once more, then, he set out to join Ah Lum, Hi Lo accompanying him. He

travelled in the guise of a Chinese farmer. Each took two ponies, and

they pushed on with great rapidity, riding the animals alternately. By

means of the secret signs used by Ah Lum, Jack soon got upon the chief's

track. Making a wide detour to avoid the Russian columns now steadily

driving Ah Lum towards the point whence the Harbin force was to complete

his encirclement, he came upon the Chunchuses from the east, and early

one morning rode into the brigand camp.

His arrival was regarded as a favourable omen. It was likened by Ah Lum

to the delightfulness of rain after long drought. Sin Foo was lucky;

Fortune would now surely smile. The Chunchuses were, in fact, in a

somewhat critical position. The camp, only one day old, was pitched in

a valley of the Chang-ling hills some twenty miles above the Kan-hu

lake--an extensive sheet of water nearly thirty miles long and of

varying breadth. Fifty miles to the north lay the nearest point on the

railway, about 150 miles from Harbin and twice as far from Vladivostok,

the line threading a tortuous path among the hills. A considerable

Russian force sent out from Kirin was known to be at Wo-ke-chan to the

south-west; from this place a winter track led over the hills to the

head of the La-lin-ho valley, within striking distance of Ah Lum's camp.

Another column, at O-mu-so to the south, commanded the upper valley of

the Mu-tan-chiang, and while cutting off access to Ah Lum's old quarters

on the upper Sungari, threatened his left flank by the high-road to

Ninguta. At that place, some eighty miles from O-mu-so, a third column

covered the passes into the Lao-ling mountains on the east. The bandits

were thus in a ring-fence. Only the north was open, and Jack's news

confirmed the wary chief's suspicions that the apparent gap in the north

had been left with the sole object of tempting him into the

neighbourhood of the railway, on which an overwhelming force was held in

readiness.

The confirmation of his suspicions roused the chief from the dejection

into which the gradual tightening of the coils had thrown him. From an

attitude almost of despair he now rose to a spirit of sullen

determination. The Russians were gradually closing around him; they

would drive him to bay.

"The tiger comes to eat the fly," he said. "Wah! he may prove a wooden

tiger. The Russians shall see what it is to draw a badger. I own,

honoured sir, I thought once of disbanding my force. But on reflection

I have come to another mind. The very villagers who have been most

willing to help me would probably turn against me retreating, and sell

me to the Russians. He who advances may fight, but he who retreats must

take care of himself. It is better to die fighting. Adversity is

necessary to the development of men's virtues. I will choose a strong

position and await the flood. It will not be long in coming. The

Russians, I doubt not, when their arrangements along the railway are

complete, will advance at the same time from east, west, and south,

driving me against the spears of the Cossacks hiding behind the railway

to the north. I have only 600 men left. There has been much fighting

since you left, honoured sir; my men are exhausted with constant

marching and insufficient food. It is not easy to stop the fire when

water is at a distance."

Jack found that the Russian prisoners were no longer with the

Chunchuses. Ah Lum had been glad to exchange them against as many of

his band captured during the recent fight. But for this exchange his

force would have been even smaller than it was. He was hopelessly

outnumbered by the Russians, each of whose columns was about 1200

strong. Their horses were in good condition; and the work of chasing

the Chunchuses having devolved on one only of the columns at a time, the

Cossacks were not so much worn out as their quarry, who had been kept

moving constantly.

Ah Lum and Jack discussed the situation in great detail. There seemed

indeed no way out. To fight or to disband: those were the alternatives,

each fraught with peril if not disaster. Another fight would probably

be the last, for the Russians would hardly make a serious attack until

they had the wily brigand who had given them so much trouble completely

surrounded. With perhaps 5000 men engaged on one side and only 600 on

the other there was but one result to be expected.

If the gap to the north had really been a gap--if the Russians had been

as stupid as they wished Ah Lum to believe--there would still have been

a chance. The chief explained that far to the north, in the high hills

above the lower valley of the Mu-tan-chiang, he might hope to elude

pursuit for an indefinite period. It was a wild, mountainous, almost

uninhabited country, in which the only difficulty would be that of

subsistence, not of hiding. But a Chunchuse can live on much less than

a Cossack, little though the latter requires. If only Ah Lum could have

gained those hills, he could have shown a clean pair of heels to his

pursuers.

Regrets, however, were useless. "It is no good climbing a tree to hunt

for fish." The appearance of the Chunchuses within twenty miles of the

railway would be the signal for a simultaneous movement of squadron upon

squadron of Cossacks from east and west, while the three columns now

closing upon them would seize the opportunity of occupying the passes in

their rear, hemming them within a small circle where they would soon be

annihilated.

"No," said Ah Lum, "I can only eat my three meals in the day and look

forward to sleeping at night. It is impossible to stand on two ships at

once. I shall stay here, occupy the approaches on each side, and fight

to the last gasp. Death has no terror for me. I can eat my rice

looking towards heaven. My only trouble is my son, my only son Ah Fu.

If I die, he will die; who then will do honour to my bones? True, I

shall be remembered; as the scream of the eagle is heard when she has

passed over, so a man's name remains after his death. But my

cooking-range will go to a stranger; the ancestral tablets of my family

will be broken; there will be none to sacrifice to my manes. And the

boy: why should he be cut off? The growth of a mulberry-tree

corresponds with its early bent. Ah Fu is a good boy, as you know,

honoured sir. He is brave; I love him, and have been liberal in

punishment, as the sage advises; his intelligence, though but a grain of

millet, will in due time grow green to the height of a horse's head. I

looked for him to endure the nine days' examination and write verses

worthy of high office. Ai! ai!"

Through the scholar's pedantries Jack saw the man's heart throbbing. He

expressed his sympathy.

"Wah!" returned Ah Lum. "Calamity comes from heaven. After the pig has

been killed it is useless to speak of the price. I have done all I can.

The one thing remaining is to meet the inevitable end with dignity. But

as for you, honoured sir, you have done enough. I do not ask you to

stay. You have your own quest to follow. Let every man sweep the snow

from before his own doors, and not heed the frost on his neighbour's

tiles."

"You are right, chief," said Jack. "But it has not come to that yet.

There may be a way out even yet, and you have been so kind to me that I

should not think of leaving you while there is any hope at all."

Ah Lum's remark about the possibility of evading pursuit if he could

reach the farther side of the railway had set Jack thinking. Was there

no way out of his strait? Could the Russians, he wondered, be led off

the scent, thus gaining time for the band to make a dash across the

line? In the privacy of his little hut of kowliang stalks Jack pondered

the problem long. But the more he thought, the less feasible the thing

appeared. The railway gave the Russians so great a mobility: they could

move troops so quickly up and down it, and now that the main armies were

for the time quiescent, they had so many men available, that with only

600 Chunchuses there seemed no hope of such a dash being successful. He

racked his brains far into the night. As the hours drew on, it became

very cold; the north wind struck keenly. Looking around for an

additional garment, Jack saw a military cloak, part of the stock of

clothing captured from the Cossacks. He put it on, and tramped up and

down, thinking and thinking again. The fur-lined cloak warmed him, by

and by he became hot with the excitement of an idea. He rolled himself

up in the cloak and tried to sleep, but his eyes were still unclosed

when the chill dawn stole over the mountains. With racking head he

sought an interview with the chief. For some hours they remained in

earnest consultation. When the talk was ended Ah Lum rubbed his hands

together and said:

"If you succeed, honoured friend, we shall certainly escape the net.

The task you have set yourself is difficult. It is like feeling after a

pin on the bottom of the ocean. But whether you succeed or not, we shall

owe you an unfathomable debt of gratitude. Choose what men you need;

all will be proud to serve under you."

Then, weary but light of heart, Jack returned to his hut and slept.

*CHAPTER XXII*

*Capturing a Locomotive*

Overdue--A Special--The Vladivostok Train--The Sound of a Whistle--An

Interrupted Message--A Correction--Bound East

"The fair at Wu-chi-mi will be well attended this month. I have not had

so many bookings for a long time."

The station-master at Mao-shan looked appreciatively at the motley

gathering. With true oriental patience they had come at least an hour

before the train was due, and in Manchuria that was probably two hours

before it would arrive. Flanked by the enormous bundles and parcels

that in the East represent personal luggage, they were squatting on rugs

and mats under the station shed, waiting for the gates leading on to the

platform to be opened.

"I only hope there'll be room for them all. But it's wonderful how

tight these Chinamen can pack. And they haven't far to go. The

long-distance passengers will grumble."

The waiting crowd was not really large, but the station was small.

There might be seventy or eighty in all--men, women, and children. Some

of them were chattering volubly in their high-pitched voices; others

were stolidly smoking or doing nothing at all. One big, burly fellow

was joining in a game of knuckle-stones with a bright-looking boy, the

man playing with the deepest solemnity, the child bubbling with

merriment as he got the better of his elder. All were protected from

the cold by garments so thickly wadded that the heads of the people

looked entirely out of proportion to their bulk of body.

"It's extraordinary," continued the station-master, who was doing the

most of the talking, his companion, a tall captain of Cossacks wearing

long felt boots, a large fur hat, and a fur-lined cloak up to his ears,

interjecting only an occasional brief word--"it's extraordinary, your

nobility, how the Chinese have taken to the railway. When I came here

four years ago, the most of them looked on it with suspicion, even

dread; now they use it as freely as the folk in Moscow or Petersburg.

But this is a poor district hereabouts, and they can't afford to travel

much, though it's cheap enough, goodness knows."

"She's late, is she not?" enquired the captain, breaking into the

official's monologue. "It's past eight"--glancing at the station clock.

"True, little father. Half an hour late at Hsiao-ten-shan-ling, and

that's less than usual. She may make up five or ten minutes; it is

downhill on the whole. But the government is keeping a sharp eye on the

fuel. They won't burn extra to make up lost time; and for the matter of

that, there's no need. The only train that mattered ran through two

hours ago."

"Ah! a special?"

The station-master dropped his voice, as if fearful of being heard by

the Chinese outside the barrier.

"Yes, a special. We were warned by telegraph not to let the news spread

among the natives. But seeing you are an officer, there's no harm in

mentioning there were three hundred of your own men--Cossacks, and a

sprinkling of Siberian Rifles. I suppose you are going on the same

errand?"

[Illustration: Map of the Siberian Railway from Mao-shan to

Han-ta-ho-tzue.]

There was much curiosity in the station-master's voice. He was himself a

soldier, and keenly interested in military matters, in which, indeed, he

was more at home than in the routine of railway work. A green-coated

railway sentinel passed and saluted. The captain, who was unknown to

the station-master, had ridden in from Ho-ni-ho-tzue an hour before, and

purchased a ticket for Hai-lin, the station for Ninguta. He had been

anything but communicative, much to the chagrin of the official, to whom

a gossip was the sole distraction in a very monotonous existence, exiled

as he was in this out-of-the-way station. His curiosity had been

aroused by the fact that the captain was leaving his horse in his

charge. It was to be put on board the Harbin train when that officer

returned.

"Yes," the captain replied, "the same errand."

"Ah Lum?"

"Da, da! Ah Lum. There will soon be a strong force at Ninguta."

"There must be nearly a thousand there now, to say nothing of the three

hundred that passed through this morning, and as many yesterday morning.

They are running them very quickly, for the empty train passed here on

the way back to Harbin on the afternoon of the same day. We don't often

make such running on this railway. It's more like old days on the

Warsaw section. I was there before I came here. The Paris express--that

is a train if you like. Although they do say that they run even faster

in England. Of course that's a lie; they are all liars, the English.

That's well known, is it not, little father?"

"What's that yonder?" said the officer instead of replying.

The station-master looked in the direction indicated. Nearly a mile away

a cart, drawn by mules and ponies, was hurrying from the neighbourhood

of Ho-ni-ho-tzue towards the station.

"Another passenger, I suspect," said the station-master. "And he'd

better hurry, for there's the train at last."

A thin white riband of vapour was just visible against the blue sky,

floating above the hills to the west.

"He won't catch it," said the officer.

"I sha'n't keep it for him," returned the official. "But he may just do

it. He's cut it rather fine for a Chinaman. The train's late as it is;

should have been half-way to Wu-chi-mi by this time."

As he spoke, the engine came in sight round a curve of the hilly track.

The Chinamen in waiting rose to their feet, grasped their bundles, and

closed up against the barrier. Three riflemen emerged from their little

blockhouse and began to patrol the platform; two or three station

attendants appeared. A few seconds later the huge train, looking far

too large for the station, rumbled in and came to a stop. It consisted

of several old and shaky carriages already well filled with passengers,

and one saloon in the centre. The few passengers for Mao-shan alighted

and passed through the barrier; then the waiting crowd surged through

and hurried along the platform in search of vacant places, which seemed

hard to find.

A train attendant handed an official-looking paper to the

station-master, who passed with it into his office; there was a

signature to affix. Two of the Chinese passengers followed him as he

left the platform; two others halted near the attendant. There were

cries from the officials to the Chinamen to take their seats. Meanwhile

the Cossack captain had sauntered into the room of the telegraph

operator, and half a dozen Chinamen, having, it seemed, failed to

discover vacant places in the forward carriages, were moving on towards

the engine, followed by the voluble protest of one of the riflemen, who

hurried after them to bring them back. Two or three, among them the big

man and the boy who had been playing knuckle-stones, were peering in at

the windows of the saloon carriage, apparently in great curiosity to see

the occupants.

By this time the rest of the passengers had squeezed themselves into the

already crowded compartments. Faces were pressed against all the

windows; there was much speculation as to the chance of the belated

passenger in the cart catching the train, its progress being eagerly

watched, and the Chinamen in the carriages betting freely on the event.

Suddenly a shrill whistle rang out from the room of the telegraph

operator. There was an instant change of scene. Here and there along

the platform, groups of Chinamen, who a moment before had all the guise

of peaceable passengers, threw themselves with startling rapidity upon

the officials and the riflemen. There was a series of brief swift

struggles; a revolver shot was heard; but that was all. Inside and

outside of the train the guard and attendants were in a few seconds

bound and helpless; the men who had gone forward to the engine grappled

with the driver and fireman; the station-master was tied up in his own

office. The passengers, alarmed and apprehensive, were staring

open-mouthed at the proceedings. The door of the saloon carriage was

thrown open, and there appeared at it two men, one a tall long-bearded

Russian officer, whose uniform betokened high rank, the other a fair

hook-nosed civilian, who stared round the other's shoulder.

"What is this, what is this?" cried the officer, stepping out of the

train revolver in hand.

The last word was hardly out of his mouth when the burly Chinaman hurled

himself at the Russian's knees from behind; he fell backwards; the

revolver was wrenched from his hand, and the Chinaman held him pinned to

the platform. His companion meanwhile had run back into the saloon;

before he could slam the door the Chinese boy interposed, flinging

himself flat on the floor of the doorway. Two Chinamen forced their way

in, and did not reappear.

The prostrate officer was now trussed up. His captor had given a brief

order to the rest of the assailants, now ranged along the platform

awaiting instructions. At once they boarded the train, and peremptorily

ordered the passengers to alight. Then the Chinamen found their

tongues; there was a great hubbub and commotion among them; their first

hesitation was quickly overcome by the pistol butts of the bandits, who

hastened their exit by ruthless and well-directed kicks and buffets.

One of the passengers, a heavy man, roared an imprecation and showed

fight; but he was matched in size by the big fellow who had tackled the

officer, and who now, his work with him being finished, seized the

protester and flung him out on to the platform. Bruised and shaken, he

rolled over and squatted on his hams; there was no more fight in him.

As soon as the train came to a standstill the Cossack officer had

entered the little room of the telegraphist, and at a sign from him the

Chinaman close behind him blew the shrill blast on a whistle that had

been the signal for the attack.

"Excuse me," said the captain, "I have a message to send."