The operator, interrupted in the midst of a message, was startled by the

abrupt entrance of the soldier, the sudden whistle, and the sharp crack

of a revolver immediately following. He looked round, half-rising from

his chair, his hand still on the key of the instrument.

"Finish your message," said the officer quietly. His uniform, his calm

air of authority, impressed the man. Dropping back into his seat he

ticked off the remainder of his message: it was merely a service

intimation of the arrival of the train. The sounds of commotion on the

platform were increasing; when the operator had finished he said:

"Is there a fight, your nobility? Perhaps I ought to assist. We are a

small staff."

"No. Stay where you are. It is all over. Now please, my message. To

Wu-chi-mi----"

"But, your nobility, if you will write the despatch out--we are not

allowed----"

"There is no time for that. At once, if you please."

The man still hesitated: the officer sternly continued:

"My business will not admit of a moment's delay. You can attend to

formalities afterwards."

"Well, your nobility, if you insist---- But you will take the

responsibility?"

"Certainly. Call up Wu-chi-mi, if you please."

The man ticked off the call. There was an immediate reply.

"Say this: 'Station on fire'----"

The operator almost sprang from his stool; his eyes were wide with

alarm.

"But----"

"You heard what I said. 'Station on fire!'"

A pistol's cold muzzle at the man's ear sent him cowering to his post.

Pale to the lips, with trembling fingers he ticked off the words. It

was clear that the officer could follow his rapid movements, for he

suddenly pointed the pistol full at his brow, saying:

"That is enough: recall your last word; another mistake of the kind may

cost you your life."

[Illustration: "Recall your last word!"]

Seeing that his attempt to warn the operator at the other end had been

detected, the man corrected the word.

"Now add: 'Vladivostok train can get through; expect temporary cessation

of messages: will try to save instruments'. That will do."

The man sank back, and wiped his clammy brow. The officer turned to the

Chinaman, beckoning him forward. In his arms he bore a bulky parcel. At

a sign from the captain he placed the bundle beneath the operator's

desk; opening it, he disclosed a heap of greasy shavings. He struck a

match and set light to the pile; the man sprang from his chair and made

for the door, but was caught and held by the Chinaman. Dismantling the

apparatus, the officer gave it into the free hand of his follower; then,

the room being full of smoke, he hurried out to the platform, the cowed

and bewildered official being pushed along in front.

Only a few minutes had elapsed since the train came to a stop at the

platform. As the captain emerged, the cart which had been sighted in

the distance had just arrived. While twenty men stood with levelled

revolvers overawing the crowd, a dozen muscular bandits hauled crowbars,

spades, and long spanners from the cart across the platform into the

brake-van, and the noticeably big man carefully carried a small box to

the saloon carriage. At a sign from the captain, a gang of the Chinamen

had hurried up the line some distance from the station and were now

cutting the wires in two places a hundred yards apart. Breaking open

the store-room, yet another group found what they were evidently in

search of: a reserve instrument and a heavy coil of wire. These, with

the wire cut from the line, with which the other men came hastening up,

were bundled into the train; and within a quarter of an hour from the

beginning of the attack the brigands were aboard, the Cossack captain

was in the cab of the locomotive, and, watched by the ejected passengers

in silent amazement, the train rumbled slowly out of the station.

*CHAPTER XXIII*

*From Mao-shan to Imien-po*

Wrecking a Bridge--Through Wu-chi-mi--More Dynamite--At

Imien-po--Clearing the Line--Pelion upon Ossa--A Puff of Smoke--Two

Minutes' Grace

Jack felt an extraordinary sense of exhilaration as the train, gathering

speed, rolled eastward over the single track towards Wu-chi-mi. The

country was hilly. The line at this point is some 900 feet above

sea-level, but although there are steep gradients the main altitude for

a considerable distance varies little. Jack was satisfied at first with

a speed of about thirty miles an hour--a speed indeed rarely exceeded on

the railway--for the curves are at times very sharp, and not knowing the

line he felt that there was some risk of running the train off the

metals. More than once, keeping a sharp look-out, he had to shut off

steam and apply the brakes at a particularly ugly corner. His

hobnobbing with railwaymen during the construction of the line was now

bearing fruit; and he remembered with a curious pleasure, even while he

kept his hand on the regulator handle and his eye on the gauges, a

saying of his father's: "Never lose a chance of picking up odd bits of

information: you never know when they may come in handy". He had not

actually driven a locomotive before, but he had often ridden in the cab,

and watched the driver, so that he felt no nervousness at having the

Alexander the Second under his control.

As the train rattled past the block-houses of the railway guard, placed

at every tenth verst along the line, the men stared to see it make such

unusual speed; but no doubts troubled their sluggish minds, for they

caught sight of the well-known caftan and head-dress of the Cossacks at

every window. In their innocent-looking bundles the Chunchuses had

carried the uniforms captured with Captain Kargopol's convoy, and they

had donned them as soon as the train started.

Though he gave close attention to the engine, and saw that from time to

time the furnace and boiler were replenished with fuel and water, Jack

was keeping a sharp look-out for a spot at which he could do sufficient

damage to the line to check a pursuing train. That he would be pursued

he had no doubt; he only wondered how long it would be before news of

his escapade reached the nearest point whence a train could be

despatched after him. Mile after mile was passed, without his seeing

works of any importance. The culverts were small, the water-courses

only a few feet broad, until, about twelve miles out, the train

approached a stream of some size spanned by a small bridge. At this

point a special guard of three riflemen was stationed. The train slowed

down, ran a few yards past the bridge, and came to a stand. At a word

from Jack a dozen men leapt from the carriages on to the track, and

before the astonished guards, deceived by the Cossack uniform, knew what

was happening, they were seized, disarmed, and stretched bound upon the

embankment.

The bridge was of brick, and consisted of two small arches, the central

buttress sunk in the stream, which here ran only a few feet deep. Jack

sent three men into the water above and below the bridge, each party

armed with a large hand drill. The water was bitterly cold, but the men

set to work quickly, both parties simultaneously attacking the buttress

near the water-line. Fortunately the brickwork was soft; Jack was glad

that his father had not had the contract for it, for then their labours

might have been indefinitely prolonged. By a system of relief gangs a

fair-sized hole was drilled at each end of the buttress in the course of

twenty minutes. Then Wang Shih brought from the saloon two articles

from the box he had so carefully carried from the cart. They were

dynamite cartridges, part of the spoil of a Russian convoy. One was

placed in each aperture, and in a few seconds two muffled explosions

sent rumbling reverberations as of distant thunder among the hills.

Jack hoped the noise would not be heard at Wu-chi-mi, about six miles

off; it could not escape the ears of the guards in the intervening

block-houses, and it would probably carry much farther. But the true

explanation was not likely to occur to the staff at Wu-chi-mi, who in

any case would be quite unable to verify any suspicions they might have.

The result of the explosions was the collapse of the middle portion of

the bridge, only the jagged foundations of the central buttress

appearing above the water. Followed by his men, Jack ran at once to the

train, which had been taken two hundred yards away, out of reach of

harm, and started the engine full speed ahead. Although twenty minutes

had been spent at the bridge, the rate of progress from Mao-shan had

been so much above the average that the lost time might almost be made

up before the train arrived at Wu-chi-mi.

The general trend of the line from this point was downhill, and the

train tore along at furious speed over the six or seven miles into

Wu-chi-mi. Slackening speed slightly during the last mile, it rattled

at about forty miles an hour through the station. Jack noticed that the

staff was collected on the platform, excited probably by the noise of

the explosions, and by the reported fire at Mao-shan. They evidently

expected the train to stop. But any hopes they may have formed of

authentic information were disappointed. Sounding the whistle, Jack ran

the train through the station, and it was soon lost to sight. But he

could not afford to take any risks. If the suspicions of the Wu-chi-mi

men were aroused, it was certain that they would warn Imien-po, the next

station, some twenty miles distant. In that case he would probably be

stopped at the points and questioned. About a mile beyond Wu-chi-mi,

therefore, he stopped the train and sent half a dozen men to cut the

telegraph wire, hoping that the officials at the station behind would be

still discussing the unexpected passing of the train instead of

instantly sending a message ahead of him.

The bare hills had now given place to wooded slopes, the trees standing

gaunt and brown, awaiting the touch of spring. The line crossed several

small water-courses and irrigation ditches. Though he grudged the loss

of time Jack decided to pull up at one of the smaller culverts and

expend his last two dynamite cartridges in completing the work of

destruction begun at the bridge beyond Wu-chi-mi. Although the

explosions raised a huge cloud of dust the actual damage was not great.

But as he was about to start the train, Jack hit upon an idea for

supplementing the work done by the cartridges and at the same time

lightening the load upon his engine. Quickly uncoupling the third

carriage from the rear, he sprang into the cab and threw over the

reversing lever, setting the train in motion backwards. When it had

gained sufficient momentum, he brought the engine to a stop; the three

rear carriages rushed down the incline and dashed with tremendous force

into the wreckage. Then, relieved of nearly half its load, the engine

again started eastward. The cutting ran parallel with the Ma-en-ho, a

wide stream flowing northwards into the Sungari. Glancing at the map of

the railway which had been found in the saloon carriage, he saw that

within a few miles he would come to a short stretch of line branching

off on the right, but apparently leading to no village, and having no

station at its end. It seemed probable that it was a light line

connected with a mine. At first he thought that the junction would be a

good place to lift a few rails. But seeing at a second glance that the

station of Imien-po was not far beyond, he dared not run the double risk

of another delay. On went the train, then, past the junction, where the

single pointsman looked amazed at the speed with which it thundered by.

Passing a brief instruction along the train, Jack shut off steam and

drew up sharply at the Imien-po station. It was time, he thought, to

reassure the railway officials ahead.

On entering the station he noticed that an empty goods train bound west

stood on a siding waiting for the passenger train to pass. Obviously he

must not leave this intact behind him. Imien-po was a place of some

size; for all he knew, it might contain Russian troops sufficient in

number to deal with his handful of Chunchuses; and the goods train,

being empty, could soon be manned and sent after him in hot pursuit.

But what could he do with it? At first sight only two courses seemed

open to him: either to take the engine with him, or to destroy some of

its working parts. Coupled to his own train, the engine would probably

be only an encumbrance, and he had almost decided to adopt the second

alternative, when, just as he drew up at the platform, a third course

suggested itself. Bidding Wang Shih take half a dozen men and secure

the personnel of the goods train, he leapt on to the platform and

accosted the station-master.

"You will please give orders to preserve quietness. General Bekovitch,

who is in the saloon, is indisposed." The general was in fact lying

bound hand and foot on one of the luxurious divans, just able to see

Sowinski in a similar plight at the opposite side. "Be so good as to

wire down the line to shunt all traffic. We are already late; the train

has been shortened to lighten us; and it is imperative that the lost

time be made up. The service, you understand. The general"--here he

became confidential--"is in charge of the operations against the brigand

Ah Lum."

The station-master looked duly interested and impressed, and was about

to speak when Jack moved towards the telegraph office, saying:

"Follow me, if you please."

Wondering what this young Cossack officer of the authoritative manner

wished to do, the station-master, a burly little man, toddled at Jack's

heels. The other officials had watched the short colloquy, and were now

approaching the carriages, surprised that none of the train attendants

had yet appeared. Meanwhile the station-master had himself ticked off

the brief message to the next station. The instant it was complete Jack

stepped to the door of the office and held up his hand. A dozen men in

Cossack uniform sprang from the nearest carriage.

"Now, sir, you have been very obliging, and I am sorry that you and your

clerk must consider yourselves my prisoners."

The station-master stared in stupefaction. Before his slow tongue could

find words two of the bandits ran into the room, and while their

comrades outside were dealing with the other officials, the poor man and

his equally amazed clerk were securely tied up. At the same time Wang

Shih and his men, slipping out of the opposite side of the train, had

swarmed on to the goods train and surprised the driver and fireman, the

only men to be found on it, relieving them of their coats and caps, and

tying the men up. The garments were afterwards donned by two of the

bandits who rode beside Jack on the engine. Leaving his men to destroy

the telegraphic fittings, Jack hurried to the newly-captured engine. He

released the brakes, then opened the regulator valve to its full extent.

The train began to move westwards; Jack jumped to the ground, and a few

seconds brought him to his own train. Glancing down the platform to see

that all his men were on board, he started the engine, and it snorted

out of the station just as one or two railway officials and the guard of

the goods train came running up from an outbuilding where it is to be

supposed they had been beguiling the time with vodka.

There was a grim smile on Jack's face as, leaning from the cab, he

watched the tail of the empty goods train rapidly dwindling as it raced

away on its uncontrolled journey westward. In a few minutes it would

crash into the ruins of the bridge and the wreckage of the carriages

already cut off from his own train. The resultant block would tax all

the ingenuity of the railwaymen to clear away in time to get on Ah Lum's

track, if the chief succeeded in reaching the appointed spot at the

appointed time.

Jack examined his stock of fuel and the water in the tender tank. There

was enough wood to serve for an hour's run, he thought; but he would

require to water in half that time at the most. This was a necessity he

had foreseen: how to surmount it must perforce be left to the chances of

the journey. He could only face each difficulty as it arose. The

pressing matter at present was to guard against an attempt to stop him

at Pei-su-ho. Two miles from the station he had just left he stopped

the train at a bridge. The half-dozen watchmen at this point were

easily overpowered, though not before one of Jack's men was wounded; the

telegraph wire was cut, and the rifles of the Russians were added to the

stock. With those already captured the little party of Chunchuses had

now some twenty Mausers and a fair supply of ammunition.

The pause offered another opportunity for bridge destruction, but the

supply of dynamite cartridges was exhausted, and after what had been

done it was not worth while to expend precious time; there was still

ample work to do in providing against a dash of the Russians from the

neighbourhood of Ninguta. The train once again started on its

adventures, the line still clinging to the valley of the Ma-en-ho; a

gradual ascent of some thirty miles, up which the engine snorted

furiously, leading to one of the highest points touched by the railway

in this district--a spur of the Chang-ling hills some 1200 feet above

the sea.

Five minutes after the journey was resumed, Hi Lo, who was on the

railed-in space on the right of the engine, drew Jack's attention to a

small white puff of smoke in the direction of Imien-po, apparently no

more than two or three miles behind, and easily visible from the higher

position now attained. Jack started, swung out on the foot-board, and

gazed intently down the hill.

"They are after us!" he ejaculated. "But how in the world did they

manage it? They can never have got over the wreckage."

He looked long and earnestly. Then he turned to Hi Lo.

"What is it, boy?"

"Tlain, masta, no-fea'," he replied without hesitation.

There was no room for doubt. The Russians were on his track. Springing

back into the cab, Jack ordered the man acting as fireman to put more

fuel into the furnace, and opened the regulator valve to its full

extent. Dense spark-laden smoke poured from the wide funnel; the

pistons flew backward and forward; the great locomotive seemed to leap

over the line, and Jack wondered whether the roughly-laid track would

hold together. But, looking anxiously back, he found in a few moments

that the pursuing train had appreciably gained. It must be either

lighter or better engined, or had still the advantage of the momentum

acquired before it had been discovered.

Danger acted on Jack like a tonic. He instantly grasped the situation

and braced himself to cope with the peril. Shouting to Wang Shih to tear

up the rails behind the train as soon as it came to a stop, he shut off

steam and applied the brakes hard, bringing the engine with a jolt and a

screech to a stand-still. Instantly the men told off leapt on to the

line; with feverish energy they loosened the fish-plates, forced up with

crowbars the spikes holding the rails to the sleepers, and threw the

lifted rails over the embankment. Glancing anxiously back along the

track Jack, though the pursuing train was as yet invisible, saw its

smoke growing larger and larger in volume over the hills. At last the

train itself came into view. Jack saw with surprise that the engine was

at the other end of it; could the goods train, he wondered, have been

stopped in some inexplicable way and started back after him? In two

minutes it would be upon him. He waited for one minute; then, seeing

that a gap of some fifteen or twenty yards had been made in the track,

he summoned his men back to the train and pressed the regulator handle.

To his eager impatience it seemed that the engine would never get under

way. The wheels slipped on the rails; he had pushed the regulator too

far; he drew it back, the wheels held, and, gathering speed every

moment, the locomotive raced on once more.

The thunder of the pursuing train was roaring in Jack's ears. It seemed

to him, looking back, that the foremost carriage was charging at the

gap. He hoped the work of destruction had not been perceived; but in

this he was disappointed, for when the rear of his own train was barely

two hundred yards from the break, steam was shut off on the engine of

the pursuer, and, helped by the rising gradient, it succeeded in coming

to a stand-still just as the buffers of the foremost carriage were

within half a dozen yards of the gap.

*CHAPTER XXIV*

*Lieutenant Potugin in Pursuit*

From a Hilltop--Mystified--In Full Chase--A Runaway--In Sight--A Railway

Duel

"Those Cossacks are taking their time, Akim Akimitch."

"Yes, little father; 'tis to be hoped Ah Lum has not swallowed them."

Lieutenant Potugin smiled.

"Ah Lum has been a bogey to them, truly, ever since Captain Kargopol

walked into his trap. But I think we'll run the fox to earth this time.

General Bekovitch will soon start the rounding up; and 'tis high time."

A half-company of Siberian infantry, including a few engineers, were

seated on the rocks in the hills above the Ma-en-ho, engaged in a meagre

luncheon of black bread and vodka. They had arrived early that morning

by special troop train, in company with a sotnia of Cossacks, from

Harbin. Their errand was to establish a temporary signal-station on a

convenient hilltop. The hole for the signal-pole had been dug, not

without difficulty, in the hard and frozen soil, and before the

completion of the job was taken in hand, Lieutenant Potugin, in command

of the working party, was allowing his men a short respite for rest and

food. The Cossacks meanwhile were scouting in the hills beyond--a task

they were by no means fond of,--and seeking a suitable place for the

erection of a corresponding signal some miles distant, whence

communication could be established with the height now occupied by the

infantry.

Lieutenant Potugin was very popular with his men, largely because he

never overworked them and was quite content when on duty to share their

humble rations. He was seated now beside the sergeant, in the midst of

the circle, munching his bread, and every now and then raising his

field-glass to scan the surrounding heights. It was a fine morning; a

breath of spring was already in the air, even in these heights; the

atmosphere was clear, and the outlines of the country were sharply

defined against the unclouded sky.

Over the shoulder of a low hill beneath him he could just see a stretch

of the main railway line, some three miles away. The little branch line

along which his train had come that morning was out of sight immediately

below; but he expected every moment to see the empty train reappear on

the main line. It was to return to Harbin; rolling stock was urgently

needed on all parts of the system; and when his work was done Lieutenant

Potugin was to report himself to General Bekovitch and join that

officer's carefully-planned expedition against the Chunchuses. The

branch line ended at a disused quarry which had been largely drawn upon

when the main railway was under construction; and there was no

telegraphic communication between the main line and the terminus of the

branch--if, indeed, the latter could be said to have a terminus: it

simply left off. The empty troop train would doubtless remain at the

junction until it was signalled by trolley-car from Imien-po to proceed.

The sergeant, a famous raconteur, was telling a story, long-winded, not

at all humorous, yet received by the men with shouts of laughter.

Lieutenant Potugin smiled good-humouredly at the naive amusement of the

honest fellows, and once more idly scanned the panorama beneath him. In

the far distance he saw a dense line of smoke lying flat in the still

air, betokening a train travelling eastward at a high speed. He watched

it with languid curiosity as it appeared in the open and vanished into

cuttings in the winding valley of the river. It passed the junction,

slackening speed, and then, to his surprise, pulled up. Distant though

it was, he could distinctly see through his powerful glass a little knot

of men hurrying from the train up the line. They disappeared for a

time, apparently beneath a culvert. The circumstance awakened

Lieutenant Potugin's curiosity; he watched with a certain eagerness for

the men to reappear; one or two small groups could be seen against the

snow, but a considerable time elapsed before the most of the men joined

them and the whole party ran back to the train. Scarcely had they

reached it when a cloud of dust rose high into the air above the bridge,

and a few seconds later the sound of two dull explosions reached the

lieutenant's ear, followed by miniature echoes from the rocks.

The lieutenant sprang up and gazed intently through his glass. The

sounds had been heard by the men also; they turned their heads for a

moment, but, seeing nothing, resumed their conversation. But Potugin

stood as if stupefied. An attempt had been made to wreck the culvert;

that was clear. But who were the wreckers? Were they Russians, cutting

the railway to check pursuit by the Japanese? Surely the enemy was not

already at Harbin? Accustomed as he was in this terrible war to sudden

and startling movements, the lieutenant could not believe that the

Japanese had made such strides. No, he thought; it was more likely to

be a party of Japanese who had captured the train and were engaged on a

wrecking foray. Such things had happened south of Moukden; a flying

squadron might have evaded the Cossacks and made a daring attack on some

inadequately protected train.

The train was moving forward. But what is that? It has stopped again;

it is running back towards the stream. The madmen! Are they going to

hurl themselves to destruction on the ruins of the culvert? Potugin's

gaze is fascinated. Ah! he sees through it now; three carriages have

left the rest of the train, which is again at a standstill; they are

rushing down the gradient, faster, faster. Good heavens! they have

crashed into the culvert, piling themselves one above another, and the

sound comes to him like the breaking of some giant's crockery afar.

Then Potugin found his wits. Nothing in the whole course of the war had

given the Russians so much anxiety as their railway. Depending on it

for the rapid transit of reinforcements and munitions of war, they were

constantly in nervous dread of this their sole communication with St.

Petersburg being cut by Japanese or Chunchuses. The dreaded thing had

happened. Fully realizing the situation, Lieutenant Potugin was prompt

to act.

"Fall in!" he shouted.

The men sprang from their seats and were aligned in a twinkling.

"Sergeant, signal the Cossacks that a train is in the hands of the

enemy, and going eastward. Men, follow me."

He led the way at a breakneck pace down the hill towards the spot where

they had left the empty troop train. Three minutes brought them within

sight of the train; at that moment the engine whistled and began to puff

along. The officer shouted, waving his hand; the engine-driver saw his

urgent gesture, and shut off steam. In another ten minutes sixty

breathless men, heated with their headlong scamper, were on board the

train; the lieutenant was beside the driver; and the engine was steaming

as rapidly as the crazy irregular track permitted towards the main line.

Arrived at the junction, Lieutenant Potugin himself leapt down and

switched the points close. The pointsman had apparently been startled

by the crash and run off to inform the guardsmen at the nearest

block-house. The troop in was just moving forward to cross the points

when a tremendous rumbling was heard from the direction of Imien-po,

moment by moment increasing. The engine of the troop train was already

on the main line. But the lieutenant, standing with his hand on the

switch and looking down the track, was horrified at what he saw rapidly

approaching.

"Reverse the engine!" he shouted; "for God's sake reverse the engine!"

The driver with frenzied haste threw over his reversing lever and put on

more steam; the engine stopped, moved slowly backward; it had reached

safety by only a few inches when a goods train came thundering past at

furious speed, and disappeared in the direction of the bridge. As it

flashed by, Lieutenant Potugin was almost sure that the engine had

neither driver nor fireman. Startled though he was by the

hair's-breadth escape from destruction, he immediately recovered his

presence of mind. Setting the points, he ran to his retreating train,

clambered into the cab, and before the driver had pulled himself

together the lieutenant seized the lever, reversed the engine, and drove

the train on to the main line, then sprang down, unlocked the points,

and in two minutes was running the train backward towards Imien-po.

The engine was a powerful Baldwin; the train though long was nearly

empty; it gathered way, and with the regulator fully open had soon

attained a high speed. But the engine was at the wrong end; it was

difficult to see ahead. The lieutenant was now outside the engine,

hanging on to the rail, and bending outwards in order to get a clear

view down the line. Half-way to Imien-po he caught sight of a trolley

approaching. He called to the driver to shut off steam and apply the

brakes. The man working the trolley stopped the moment he caught sight

of the train, and seemed in doubt whether to go back or to remain. The

train had almost come to rest; the officer bellowed a few words to the

trolley-man; he sprang to the ground, promptly tipped the trolley off

the track and over the embankment, and, running to the engine, climbed

up beside Potugin, the train still moving. Again the brakes were

released and the regulator opened, and as the train forged ahead the

trolley-man explained in a few words to the lieutenant what had

occurred.

At Imien-po a few minutes' stop was made while appliances for repairing

the line were hastily brought on board and a number of skilled

platelayers taken up. The opportunity was taken to shunt several of the

carriages on to a siding. The engine could not be transferred to the

front of the train without a serious waste of time, and every second was

precious. A fresh start was made; greatly lightened, the train made

fine running for some miles. Then the lieutenant, using his glass, saw

the smoke of a train about five miles down the line. As he watched it,

the smoke ceased; the train must have stopped, for the gradient was

rising. A few minutes more and the runaway came in sight. But the

fireman, stooping from his side of the engine, observed with his trained

eyes that a portion of the track had been torn up, and steam was shut

off and the brakes applied only just in time to avert a disaster.

Jumping from the train, half a dozen platelayers hurried with their

tools behind the engine, and, spurred by the voice of the officer and

helped by his men, in an incredibly short space of time they had

wrenched up some rails from the track already covered, and bridged the

gap at the other end.

Slowly and carefully the train was run over the shaky metals only

half-secured to the sleepers. When the danger point was passed, the

driver opened the valve and the engine pushed along at full speed. It

was to be a trial, not only of speed between the two magnificent

engines, but of wits between the two leaders: between the ingenuity of

the pursued in obstructing the progress of the pursuer, and of the

pursuer in overcoming the obstacles raised by the pursued. It was more;

it was a competition in daring and the readiness to take risks. The

track was hilly, winding, roughly laid; not intended for, wholly

unsuited to, great speed; with steep gradients and sharp curves never

rounded by the regular drivers of the line but with caution. Over this

track the two trains were leaping at a pace unknown on the Siberian

railway--a pace that would have turned the chief engineer's hair white

with dismay. On the one train Jack Brown, on the other Lieutenant

Potugin, had to think out their decisions, or rather to flash them

unthought, clinging to the outer rail of a rattling, swaying, jolting,

throbbing engine threatening at any moment to jump the rails, with the

noise of escaping steam, the roaring of the furnace heaped to the mouth

with fuel, the whistle constantly sounding to warn off any obstruction

ahead, small though the chances were that the signal, if needed, could

be heard and acted on in time. Accident apart, the race would be to the

coolest head and the quickest wit. On the one side the stake was life

or death. Into whose hand would fortune give it?

*CHAPTER XXV*

*The Pressure-Gauge*

Timber on the Track--Fuel and Water--The Station House--A Trap--Neck or

Nothing--Screwing down the Valve--A Slip Carriage--Nearing the

End--Kao-ling-tzue--Indiscreet Zeal--A Lady Passenger--Traffic Suspended

Jack glanced anxiously back along the line; his engine was jolting,

bumping, up the incline at the rate of forty miles an hour; steam was

escaping from the safety-valves; the gauge registered over 10

atmospheres, considerably above working pressure; yet to his impatience

it seemed to be moving with exasperating slowness. Dust was whirling

behind; through the cloud, five minutes after he started, he saw a puff

of steam in the distance; the pursuing train was again under way.

Turning to see if he could put on more steam, he was dismayed to find

that the water was just disappearing in the gauge glass. In a few

minutes--he could not tell how few--the water would be below the level

of his fire-box crown, the fusible plug would drop, and the fire would

be put out by the escaping steam. This was ominous indeed.

There were, he saw, two conditions in his favour: he had a start of

nearly five minutes; and he could choose his own place to obstruct the

pursuer. But the other conditions were all against him. He must needs

stop for water, and at the present rate of consumption for fuel also;

and whenever he passed a station it would be necessary to cut the

telegraph wires. Moreover, on board the pursuing train there must be

men skilled in repairing the line, or the chase could not have been

resumed so promptly; and Jack could not expect to do more damage in a

given time than could be remedied by expert hands in the same period.

Worst of all, the pursuing engine was evidently more powerful than his;

and though it was somewhat handicapped by its position at the wrong end

of the train, yet an experienced driver can always get more work out of

his engine than a tyro,--and Jack was making his trial trip!

He cudgelled his brains for some means of checking the pursuit without

bringing his own train to a stand-still. He wished that he had thought

to instruct his men when tearing up the rails to lift some of the

sleepers into the train; these placed on the line would prove serious

obstacles. It was too late to repine; he made up his mind not to lose

the chance if it should occur again. While his thoughts were still on

the matter, his eye caught the balks of timber used for fuel on this

part of the line. The stock in the tender was much diminished; more

fuel must soon be obtained; but surely one or two might be spared for

the experiment. Without delay he sent Hi Lo to the back of the tender

with an order to Wang Shih to carry two of the balks through the train

and to drop them on the line from the communication door at the rear of

the last carriage. In a few moments the command was carried out, but

Wang Shih reported that owing to the high speed he had found it

difficult to see what happened to the logs when they reached the ground.

One, he thought, had remained on the inside rail; the other appeared to

jump off. Narrowly watching the riband of steam from the pursuing

train, Jack believed he detected a momentary diminution about the time

when it should have reached the spot where the logs had been thrown out;

but if there was a delay it was very brief, and a few minutes later the

tail of the advancing train came into full view, the growing size of the

carriage-end showing that it was making up on him.

Looking ahead with greater anxiety, Jack saw a station within a mile.

This must be Pei-su-ho. He had already decided that to stop there would

be absolutely necessary, and in a short colloquy with Wang Shih when he

returned from throwing the logs on the track he had arranged what should

be done. Immediately on the stoppage of the train twelve men were to

engage the station staff and destroy the telegraphic instruments; ten

were to tear up the rails behind the train, and, if possible, bring some

sleepers on board; four were to cut the telegraph wire, and twenty to

load wood from the station stock on to the nearest carriage. In the

meanwhile he himself, with the assistance of the man acting as fireman

and others riding on the engine, would take in a supply of water from

the tank.

The train rattled into the station. In his anxiety Jack found that he

had shut off steam too late; the engine ran some yards beyond the

water-tower. As he had already found at Imien-po, it was not easy to

the amateur to bring a train to a stand-still at a given spot. But

although the greater part of the train had run beyond the platform, the

Chunchuses, who were standing ready with the doors open, swung

themselves out, and before the gaping officials were aware of what was

happening they were disarmed and helpless. Not for the first time had

Jack reason to be glad that his men were the pick of Ah Lum's band, and

a standing proof of the efficacy of discipline with the Chinese.

While Jack was backing the engine to the tank the work of ripping up the

track and demolishing the wire had already been begun, and a string of

men were hauling timber into the nearest carriage. But before the

supply of water was fully replenished Jack had to blow his whistle to

recall the various parties; the pursuer was drawing perilously near.

The train moved off before all the men were in their places; the last of

them running along the platform and being helped in by his comrades. Up

came the second train; again it had to halt before the gap, and the

driver, being at the other end, was compelled for safety's sake to

reduce speed earlier than he would have done had he been able to judge

the distance more exactly. But this time the gap was shorter; the time

required to restore the line would be correspondingly less. Yet Jack

had gained one advantage; knowing that the enemy's water supply, like

his own, must have run low, he had brought the station hose away with

him, and he looked at it with grim satisfaction, lying coiled at the

rear of the tender.

As Jack's engine, Alexander the Second, gained impetus and charged up

the gradient towards the hills looming in the distance, it was followed

by a dropping fire from the pursuing train: some of Lieutenant Potugin's

men had climbed to the roof of the stationary carriages. Whether any of

the bullets struck the train was doubtful; no harm was done; and in the

excitement of the moment the idea of firing rifles seemed almost as

childish as shooting at the moon. Nothing less than a siege-gun would

have appeared formidable in the circumstances.

The brigands' last cutting of the line and the removal of the hose had

evidently gained several minutes for the fugitive, for many miles had

been covered before the smoke of the pursuer was again seen. With so

considerable a start Jack felt it safe to pull up once more and try a

device that had occurred to him. His engine was at the summit of a long

descent where the line curved. Hitherto his track-breakers had forced

up both the rails, but the curve was here so sharp that he thought he

might save time by having only one rail lifted, hoping that the partial

gap might not be seen by the enemy until it was too late to do more than

check the train, which would in all probability be derailed. An

alternative plan suggested itself, only to be dismissed. It was to

remove the rail, and then replace it without the bolts. The pursuer

would then rush on at full speed expecting no danger; the train would be

hurled from the track, and probably all on board would be killed or

injured. But even in the heat of the moment, and with the knowledge

that if he were caught he could expect no mercy from the Russians, Jack

could not bring himself to compass such wholesale destruction. "Play

the game": the phrase of the school song stuck to him. His purpose

would be amply served by the mere derailment of the train, the speed of

which would no doubt be sufficiently checked, when the gap was descried,

to avert fatal consequences.

So confident was he of the success of his scheme that when, after the

single rail was removed and flung over the embankment, he again crowded

on steam, his mind was occupied rather with the question of what should

be done at the next station than with the prospect of further

difficulties with his dogged pursuer. He was now approaching the place

in the hills to which Ah Lum was to advance by forced marches, and

whence he was to be prepared to dash across the line on receiving a

message that the scheme had succeeded. Jack had already selected his

messenger; the man was clinging to the rail of the engine, and only

awaited the word to spring during a temporary slackening of speed and

plunge into the hills.

The chosen spot lay between Pei-su-ho and Kao-ling-tzue, and had been

minutely described by Ah Lum. Jack was glad that his anxieties appeared

to be over, for the country flashed by so rapidly that he ran the risk

of over-shooting the mark unless he could keep a good look-out. He was

narrowly watching for the opening on his right when Hi Lo suddenly drew

his attention westward. With greater alarm than he had yet felt, even

when he first caught sight of the pursuer, he saw, scarcely a mile and a

half behind him, the relentless enemy leaping along in his wake. He was

half-way up a steep incline; the second train was rushing with wholly

reckless speed down a steep straight gradient on which Jack, no longer

fearing pursuit, had thought it desirable to clap on the brakes. All

notion of going cautiously must now be abandoned. Amazed at the failure

of his last effort to delay the pursuer, Jack set his men with desperate

energy to pile up the furnace to its utmost capacity; and when he topped

the hill, and the enemy was just beginning the ascent, he let the engine

go at its own pace down the opposite side. He and his men had to hold

on with both hands as they rounded another sharp curve; the wheels on

the inside seemed to be raised from the track, the train keeping the

rails only by the grip of the outside wheels. Jack held his breath as

the panting engine plunged along; would it come safely on to the

straight? Even in the excitement of the moment he solved as in a flash

the mystery of the pursuers' escape from derailment, and he could have

beaten his head for his thoughtlessness. The rail that had been lifted

was an inside rail; rounding a curve the weight of a train going at

speed is always thrown on the outer rail, which is raised above the

level of the other. Either designedly or by accident the pursuing train

had passed at full speed over the gap, its very speed proving its

salvation.

Although there were many ups and downs, the general trend of the line

was still chiefly on the up grade, and Jack found that while the enemy

made as good timing as himself down the slopes, their more powerful

engine gained rapidly wherever the track began to rise. As mile after

mile was passed, the huts of the line guards at intervals of ten versts

seeming like the milestones on an ordinary journey, the space between

the two trains steadily diminished. Every now and again the pursuer was

lost to view; but whenever it next came in sight it was always

perceptibly nearer. The noble Alexander the Second rattled and groaned

like a creature in pain; the working parts were smoking; some of the

bearings were melting, and Jack dared not risk the perils of oiling. He

knew that he was getting out of it every ounce of which it was capable,

unless indeed he adopted the desperate expedient of screwing down the

safety-valve, from which a dense cloud of steam was escaping. He

glanced at the gauge--13 atmospheres; then his eye went backwards along

the track--the pursuer was still gaining; he turned to look ahead, there

was a long steep ascent to be climbed. The pace lessened to an alarming

extent: puffing, panting, creaking, the engine toiled up a hillside on

which the track could be seen rising for at least two miles. He must

risk it.

Three minutes later, the valve now screwed down, he again glanced at the

gauge--14 atmospheres. Bursting pressure, Jack knew, was calculated at

five or six times the working pressure; but the Alexander the Second was

an old engine, he doubted whether her boilers would stand anything like

this strain.

For a time Jack's train drew away; but the gain was only temporary; the

pursuers, he guessed, must have adopted the same desperate expedient.

Gradually they crept up, while Jack alternately watched them and the

track ahead, and the gauge, which now registered 15 atmospheres--the

limit which it was constructed to indicate. Beyond this point he had no

means of knowing how the pressure was increasing. The rapidity of his

thoughts seemed to keep pace with the tremendous speed at which he was

travelling. His mind worked with marvellous clearness; the minutes

seemed like hours; he even found himself speculating which of the three

risks was the greatest--derailment, capture by the Russians, or the

imminent explosion of the boiler.

To look for the spot chosen for the despatch of his messenger was out of

the question; it had probably been already passed. Jack felt that he

had no longer any alternative; he must play what seemed his last card.

The pursuing train was only half a mile behind on the steep upward track

when at his order Wang Shih, at the risk of his life, uncoupled the

rearmost of the three carriages. For a short distance it followed the

rest; then it stopped, and began to run back at a pace that threatened

to telescope at least one carriage of the oncoming train. A turn in the

track hid both the detached carriage and the pursuer from sight; Jack

listened with a beating heart for the sound of the collision, which he

felt would be audible even above the thundering roar of his own train.

Lightened of part of its load, his engine was forging its way uphill at

considerably higher speed. At one moment he thought he heard the

expected crash, and it seemed that the move had been successful, for

when next he obtained a fair view of the line behind, the enemy was not

in sight. Alternating between compunction and elation, he ventured, the

line being more level, to reduce speed until it was safe to drop his

messenger, who must perforce find his way to Ah Lum. But the man had

barely left the track when, to Jack's amazement, the indomitable pursuer

reappeared. A glance showed him that it was pushing the discarded

carriage before it. His move had been detected, probably before the

cast-off carriage began its backward journey; the pursuing engine had

been able to reverse in time; chased and overtaken by the runaway

carriage, the train had no doubt been badly bumped, but not with force

enough to cause any serious damage. Now, to all appearance, it was

following the quarry at the same breakneck pace as before. Jack felt a

glow of admiration for the wary Russians, who showed themselves so

intent to mark his every move, so quick to take measures to defeat it.

His mouth hardened as he watched the pursuer gaining upon him yard by

yard. He knew that the pressure must now be enormous; would the boilers

stand the strain? Yet in spite of all he was steadily being overhauled.

Yard by yard the gap lessened. Nothing but an accident could now

prevent him from being overtaken; his only course seemed to be to stop

before the enemy was too close, reverse his engine, and with his men

take to the hills. But then he reflected with a kind of agony that the

task he had set himself was even yet only half done. There was no

longer, indeed, any chance of Ah Lum's retreat being cut from the west;

but the Russians could still despatch a force from Ninguta in ample time

to check the Chunchuses before they got across the railway; and if they

were once checked, the forces behind would at once close in and crush

them. While, therefore, the slightest hope remained, Jack resolved to

cling to his train; but he gave his men orders to jump clear at a

moment's notice. They must now be very near to Kao-ling-tzue: if they

failed to cut the line there the race was clearly run, for a warning

would certainly be flashed over the wire to the next station at

Han-ta-ho-tzue, giving ample time for preparations to be made to meet

him. He was in a bath of sweat; his throat was parched; his limbs were

trembling; but collecting all his forces, he watched the gauge and

grasped the lever.

There remained, he clearly saw, one small chance, and only one. If

there happened to be a train at Kao-ling-tzue side-tracked in obedience

to his instructions, it might be possible--how long would it take?--to

interpose it between himself and his pursuers. There would be a minute,

nay, less than a minute, to gain possession of it and set it in motion.

Could he increase the margin? Yes; by detaching the saloon, now the

rearmost carriage, and crowding the whole of his men and the two

prisoners into the single carriage in front. The enemy had all along

shown himself so alert that he would doubtless be on the look-out for

such a move; there was no longer any likelihood that it would end the

chase; but at least it would check the pursuer's progress, forcing him

to stop or reverse. Even if it caused the delay of only a few seconds,

it was worth attempting; a few seconds might make all the difference.

The station was already in sight when, the transference of men having

been quickly effected, Wang Shih broke the couplings and left the saloon

solitary upon the line. Looking with blood-shot eyes ahead, Jack

saw--and his labouring heart leapt at the sight--not one, as he had

hoped, but two trains, one behind the other, completely filling a

siding, where they were halted to allow General Bekovitch's expected

train to pass.

But the same glance that gave Jack such elation showed him that he had

to deal with perhaps the greatest danger he had yet encountered. He had

intended to follow the same plan that had proved successful at the other

stations: dispose of the officials, cut the wires, and block the line.

But he saw almost with dismay that the platform here was thronged.

Drawn, no doubt, by curiosity to see the train of General Bekovitch, and

excited by the urgent messages received along the wire, not only the

station officials were waiting, but a considerable number of workers on

the railway, Russian riflemen, and Chinese passengers. These, together

with the attendants of the standing passenger train, were massed upon

the platform. They formed so numerous a crowd that it would tax all the

energies of the Chunchuses to deal with them; there might be a prolonged

fight, and, even if it ended in a victory for the brigands, so much time

would have been consumed that the pursuers must arrive before anything

could be done to stop their progress. It was a moment when many a man

might have despaired. But Jack was not made of the stuff that yields.

As his engine plunged along towards the station he conceived an

alternative plan; it would test his nerve and self-command to the

uttermost; but it might succeed by its very audacity.

Passing the word to his men that they were to remain in the carriage and

hold their revolvers ready in case an attack was made, he halted the

engine with a jerk a yard beyond the spot where the station-master was

standing. He sprang to the platform, clutched the astonished official by

the arm, and dragged him along, speaking in low, rapid, urgent tones.

"Come with me. There is not a moment to lose. We are pursued by a

train in the possession of the enemy. General Bekovitch is laid up. We

have done our best to check the pursuit, but they'll be upon us in a few

minutes. Only one thing can be done: uncouple the engine on the siding,

and start it up the line. Quick! our lives depend on it. I will take

the responsibility."

As Jack had hoped, the suddenness and unexpectedness of the news, and

the urgency of his manner, bereft the station-master of all power of

independent thought. He hurried along the platform, shoving aside all

who stood in his path, every man in the crowd looking on with

wonderment. He sprang on to the line, with his own hands uncoupled the

engine, signalled for the points to be closed, and ordered the driver to

send it ahead at full speed.

"Two minutes saved!" thought Jack, as the engine started. But he could

not afford to let the flurried official regain his self-command.

"That is not enough," he said. "They will see the engine, reverse,

couple it on, and come at greater speed. I've tried it already. You

must empty the passenger train, and then push it along with the goods

engine. It would be well to throw a carriage or two off the rails at

the points. Anything to block the line."

"Certainly, your nobility," said the station-master. "It is the only

way."

They were now on the track between the waiting train and Jack's. Many

of the passengers had their heads out of the windows, wondering what was

going on. Waving his arms, the station-master summoned them in urgent

tones to alight.

"I'll now push on," said Jack. "Do your best, nichalnik; remember how

much depends on you."

He walked rapidly along between the trains to reach his engine.

Passengers, anxious, wonder-struck, were already leaving the train. One

of them, a Russian army doctor, stopped Jack and asked what was the

matter.

"Train behind in possession of the enemy," returned Jack laconically.

"Bozhe moi!" ejaculated the doctor, drawing his revolver and making for

the platform.

Jack passed on, not venturing to delay even long enough to assist a

lady, for whom the jump from carriage to track was somewhat difficult.

She sprang down unassisted.

"Monsieur Brown, Monsieur Brown!"

Jack shivered from top to toe, and never in his life felt so much

inclined to take to his heels as then. He could hardly believe he had

heard aright; yet amid the bustle now filling the station he had caught

the whisper of his name. On a sudden impulse he swung round.

"Monsieur Brown," said Gabriele Walewska, running up to him, "I have

news for you: I have something to show you."

"Come with me, Mademoiselle," said Jack instantly. "I haven't a minute

to lose."

"But Masha is here; I cannot leave her."

"For heaven's sake, Mademoiselle, climb up into this carriage. I will

fetch Masha."

With anxiety tearing at his heart Jack hurried back down the train. He

saw Gabriele's old nurse at the door of a carriage; she was almost the

only passenger who had not yet alighted.

"Spring into my arms," he said, forgetting that she knew no tongue but

Polish. But his outstretched arms spoke for him. The woman jumped

clumsily; but Jack kept his feet, and, straining his muscles, he carried

the burden, as rapidly as he could stagger, to his own train.

Gabriele's hands were ready to help the woman; with an unceremonious

heave Jack pushed her into the carriage. Then he ran to his engine,

swung himself up, and pressed the lever just as the empty passenger

train moved off in the other direction. Before he had run a hundred

yards he heard a crash behind. Glancing back, he saw that the first

carriage had jumped the points, ploughed up the permanent way, and

overturned. One after another the other carriages followed; and in a

brief minute there was a pile of wrecked trucks and coaches in

inextricable confusion across the rails.

Jack had not time to give a second thought to Gabriele. He was again

urging Alexander the Second along at full speed. He must run to within

a few miles of the next station, and lift enough rails to delay for some

hours any train despatched from the direction of Ninguta. Twenty

minutes brought him to a likely spot--a high culvert over a brawling

hill stream. Employing the whole strength of his detachment in the

work, he lifted fifty yards of the track and flung the rails and

sleepers into the stream's rocky bed.

"At last!" he exclaimed. The load of anxiety he had borne for over two

hours was gone. From the place where he had wrecked the bridge nearly a

hundred miles westward to the spot where he now stood, traffic on the

Siberian railway was hopelessly blocked.

*CHAPTER XXVI*

*A Double Quest*

Gabriele's Story--A Hasty Word--Lex Talionis--Bribery and

Corruption--Cause and Effect--The Natural Man--The Filial

Obligation--The Choice of Routes--A Fair Pleader--In the

Circumstances--Improving the Occasion

Jack's part was done. The way had been cleared for the passage of the

Chunchuses across the railway, and knowing Ah Lum's rapidity of movement

he felt tolerably sure that the crossing might easily be made. He could

now afford to think of his own safety. He determined to run the train

back as near as he dared to Pei-su-ho, then to leave it standing on the

line and make off in a northerly or north-westerly direction, trusting

to join hands with Ah Lum at some distance north of the line. The

railway guards were amazed to see the train running swiftly backwards;

but, whatever their suspicions, they were powerless. Jack came to a stop

between two of the block-houses; in a few minutes his men alighted with

Bekovitch and Sowinski, Gabriele, and her nurse; and then Jack abandoned

the noble Alexander the Second that had served him so well, and started

on his northward march. Some distance above the line he instinctively

turned for a last look. There was the short train, motionless on the

rails, a derelict in a vast solitude. But it represented activities

that had disorganized the whole traffic of the line for a hundred miles,

nullified a military scheme, and saved hundreds of lives. It was not

without a certain grim amusement Jack remembered that the final card in

that game had been played by the Russians themselves. "I only hope the

station-master won't be cashiered," he thought, as he turned his back

upon the scene.

Not till now had he an opportunity of learning what strange fate had

entrusted Gabriele to his care. Some time after he had left the

missionary's house the girl, unable to endure the separation from her

father, again ventured into Vladivostok. Acting on the knowledge that

Jack had bribed a Russian official, she succeeded in persuading a

colonist about to re-embark for Sakhalin to carry a letter from her to

Count Walewski. She told him of her intentions, assuring him that in

spite of her failure to gain permission to enter the island, she still

meant to persevere. Several weeks later she received a reply, brought

by the same man, who had crossed the sea in probably the last boat

before the ports became ice-bound. It was addressed in a strange

handwriting, and as she tore it open she was oppressed by the fear that

her father was dead. But the first line of the letter, written in

French, dispelled her anxiety. The count was ill in hospital, unable to

write; but he had availed himself of the ready help of a

fellow-prisoner--a political prisoner who had recently arrived in the

island. He thanked his daughter for her affectionate solicitude, but

pled with her to abandon her purpose: Sakhalin was no place for a woman;

she would only suffer without alleviating his lot. As for himself, until

the arrival of his new friend he had despaired of ever regaining his

liberty. But the surprising news that the Japanese were winning victory

after victory had sown a seed of hope. The prisoners on the island had

been fed with lies by the officials, who reported constant victories for

Russia. But the new-comer had thrown a fresh light on the war; he could

not foresee its end: the Russians had still enormous powers of

resistance; it was possible that the great fleet on its way eastward

might break through to Vladivostok and change the aspect of things.

Yet, if it should be defeated, the Japanese might capture Sakhalin;

possibly the political prisoners would then be released if they had not

been previously removed to the mainland. It was only a possibility, but

sufficient to give new courage to a sorely-tried man.

Jack read all this himself, for Gabriele, immediately after explaining

how the letter came into her possession, handed it to him. The writing

was his father's. At the first moment he felt unutterable relief in

finding that his father was alive; then rage burned within him as he saw

before him, marching at some distance apart, each manacled to a

Chunchuse, the two men whose villainy had sent Mr. Brown to the bleak

"island of the dead". Gabriele noticed his look.

"I understand," she said. "But if your anger is great, how much greater

is mine! Your father's persecutor is a Russian, a foreigner; my father

was betrayed by one of his own countrymen,--one of his own house. The

traitor there recognized me as I entered the saloon carriage; bound as

he was, he shrank from me as though expecting that I would kill him."

"But he did not recognize you when he saw you at Father Mayenobe's?"

"No. But something must have put him on my track, for it is through him

that I was a passenger on the train. I was arrested in Vladivostok and

ordered to go back to Europe. He was with the soldiers who arrested me:

in fact, he pointed me out to them. I do not know how he came to

recognize me after all."

At the moment no explanation occurred to Jack, who indeed did not give a

thought to it. But later he remembered that, on the well-remembered

evening in Moukden when he had got the better of Sowinski, he had

mentioned the man's true name, Streleszki. This had no doubt set the

Pole wondering how Jack could have learnt his name; and the chain of

incidents had led him to connect the disclosure with the European girl

he had met at the missionary's. So that Jack's almost inadvertent

explanation had ultimately led to this meeting with Gabriele at the

station, and to the end of his long search for his father's whereabouts.

The party marched as rapidly as possible, rising gradually towards the

barren hills. After two hours they stopped for a brief rest, and for

the first time since his capture at Mao-shan General Bekovitch was

within arm's-length of the Chunchuse leader. Jack wondered whether he

would be recognized; but the change of costume, the hardening of his

features and the development of his physique due to his active rigorous

life, made him a different being from the lad whom Bekovitch had seen

for five minutes at the Moukden railway-station. And the general was

certainly not in such a calm and collected mood as might quicken his

memory. He was indeed in a condition of boiling rage and indignation.

"Here, you--" he cried, seeing Jack so near to him. "Do you understand

Russian?"

"Moderately well, sir."

His very voice had become more manly; its deeper tones did not awaken

recollection.

"Then what do you mean, confound you! by treating a Russian general

officer thus? What do you mean, I say? Do you know what you are doing?

Made to tramp over these hills--fettered to a filthy

Chinaman--why--why----"

The general could find no further words to express his indignation.

"Is it not the Russian custom to manacle prisoners?" asked Jack quietly.

The Russian's cheeks took a purple hue.

"An officer--a general! Do you know who I am, you--you----"

"You are General Bekovitch."

"Well--well--loose me at once, then; I insist on this indignity being

removed; it is monstrous!"

"Possibly; but quite Russian. You are no worse treated than you treat

your prisoners. If a Chunchuse, myself for instance, had fallen into

your hands, what would have been his fate?"

The mild reasonableness of the Chunchuse's reply, together with his firm

attitude, seemed to suggest to the general that he should try another

tack.

"Come," he said, with sudden suavity, "I know you gentlemen; I suppose

it is a matter of dollars. How much will you take to let me go?"

Jack looked at him.

"Say a thousand dollars--that's a very fair sum, more than you'd get in

the ordinary way of your--business. Eh?"

"Yes: our business, as you call it, is certainly not profitable, but we

do make a haul at times."

The general looked furious. Jack quietly continued:

"But you are making a mistake--you are treating me as you would a

Russian and an official. I am merely a brigand--but we Chunchuses have

our code. Dirty though he is, General Bekovitch, the man you are bound

to has cleaner hands than you: he at least is an honest man according to

his lights. It is he who should complain of contamination."

Bekovitch quivered with rage, but gulping down the indiscreet words his

anger prompted he returned to the point.

"I could make you a rich man. I said a thousand dollars; come, I will

make it two thousand. It will buy you a pardon, and an official post as

well. Batiushki! no brigand ever had such a chance."

Jack laughed.

"We have our code, General Bekovitch, I repeat. There are some things

bribery cannot effect. Your release just now is one of them. But for

bribery you would not be here."

The general stared.

"What do you mean?"

"It is all very simple. If the Pole Sowinski yonder had not bribed you,

General Bekovitch, you would not have conspired against Mr. Brown at

Moukden, and you would not have needed to deport his son. If you had

not deported his son, his son would not still be in Manchuria; and if he

had not been in Manchuria he could not have captured you, General

Bekovitch, and you need not have attempted to bribe him."

The general stared incredulously at the speaker. Then it was as though

the Cossack uniform dropped away; as though the young man before him

became again the lad he had been nine months before. The Russian

recognized him at last, and his jaw fell.

"You see now," pursued Jack, "the double uselessness of offering bribes

to me--as the son of Mr. Brown, and as an Englishman."

"What are you going to do with me?"

All the bluster, all the silkiness, was now gone; the general was

anxious, almost suppliant.

"That I cannot say. You will be delivered to my chief, Mr. Ah. It is

likely that you will be detained until my father is released. But I

cannot answer for Mr. Ah. He is a Chinaman, with Chinese ideas. Much

may depend on how my father has been treated."

Bekovitch became pale; his eyes looked anxiously around. Jack left him

to his meditation. Passing the spot where Sowinski sat, manacled like

Bekovitch, Jack noticed that the Pole's eyes met his with a hunted,

terrified look. He had recognized his captor at once, and having also

seen Gabriele he felt that he had to reckon with her as well; and his

imagination of what he himself might do, were he in their place, shook

him like the ague.

The march was resumed, and late in the day the party came in touch with

Ah Lum's scouts. The meeting between Ah Lum and Jack was very warm.

"Never was captain so nobly served," said the grateful chief. "I was at

my wits' end to escape the meshes of the net; and now not only have I

escaped, but I hold in my power the man who was to ensnare me. Truly

the poet Li T'ai-poh was right when he said, in his _Apology for

Friendship_--

"'Never despair: the darkest Lot may mend;

Call no Man lost that hath one faithful Friend'.

You will find the works of Li T'ai-poh worthy of perusal, my honoured

friend. They have been to me as a bright star to a wanderer in a dark

night."

Jack thanked him for the recommendation; then changed the topic, and

asked how the crossing of the line had been effected. He learnt that a

slight skirmish had taken place at the line between the Chunchuses and

the energetic pursuers of the train; but the Russians, being hopelessly

outnumbered, had been compelled to retire with loss. Ah Lum in his turn

was informed of the discovery of Mr. Brown's whereabouts.

"Nothing proceeds from the machinations of men," he said, "but the whole

of our lives is planned by destiny."

"Yes, Mr. Ah, and destiny has willed that my father's persecutor and

your hunter are the same man--the Russian general there."

"Ch'hoy! May his posterity be cut off! May the five thunders strike

him dead! May the village constable attend to his remains! May he be

born again as a hog! When we pitch our camp, I will cut out his tongue,

fry him in a caldron of oil, rip----"

"Stay, stay, Mr. Ah!" cried Jack, aghast at this unwonted fury in his

scholarly friend. "You forget that he is a European, and I am an

Englishman; we don't do such things in my country."

"But it is an imperative duty. Your duty to your father demands that

you should heap on the villain the direst curses, and inflict on him the

most terrible torture."

"No, Mr. Ah, the books of our sages teach us differently. Besides, my

father would not approve: he would most strongly disapprove."

This was a new aspect, and one that Ah Lum took time to consider.

"That alters the case," he at length reluctantly admitted. "A son may

not act contrary to his father's wishes. What does the poet Tu Fu so

beautifully say?--

"'Happy the Father, yea, and doubly blest,

Whose Son, though absent, doeth his Behest'.

Yes, it is a pity; but when inclination and the counsel of sages agree,

there is but one course."

Considering that there would be plenty of time to levy a contribution on

the settlement at Shih-tou-ho-tzue, Ah Lum sent back 200 men for the

purpose of collecting supplies, and pushed on with the main body. A few

hours later the detachment rejoined, with a number of carts containing

useful stores of all kinds, and the march northward was resumed with all

speed. One of the carts was appropriated to the use of Gabriele and her

servant; but the former soon declared that she preferred to walk; the

springless cart made riding anything but comfortable. The march was

continued throughout the day. In the evening Ah Lum reached a spot far

in the hills, where he might safely encamp.

Next morning Jack took the earliest opportunity of holding a

consultation with the chief. It was his fixed intention to get if

possible to Sakhalin; he knew his father was there: to rescue him ought

not to be difficult. As a Chinaman Ah Lum confessed that he could not

oppose an enterprise of such piety; but as a practical man he thought it

his duty to mention the objections. He had never been to Sakhalin, but

he understood that it was a terrible place, visited by fierce storms,

buried for the greater part of the year under snow and ice, covered with

thick forests, infested by wild beasts, wilder men, and even hideous

dragons. By the many forms of exorcism employed for generations past in

China, dragons had been driven out of the Celestial Kingdom; but they

had crossed the sea and taken refuge, so Ah Lum had been informed, in

the dreary wastes of Sakhalin.

Jack brushed all these objections aside. Seeing that he was firm, the

chief carefully considered the best means of helping him. The strait

between Siberia and Sakhalin was at this time of the year frozen over;

the ice would not begin to break up for several weeks. The nearest

point at which it could be crossed was at least 1500 li from the

Chunchuses' present encampment, and not only would so long a journey be

attended by many hardships, but Jack would be liable to arrest as soon

as he came to any considerable Russian settlement. Jack at once said

that he did not propose to make the long overland journey; his best plan

would be to sail by junk from one of the Manchurian ports as soon as the

coast was clear of ice. To go to Vladivostok was too risky; Possiet Bay

was the nearest point, and the most promising in all respects. It was

some hundreds of li distant, and there were high hills to be crossed;

but Ah Lum offered to send with Jack a man who knew the country, and to

issue orders to the headman of every important village, instructing him

under pain of his severest displeasure and drastic penalties to do all

in his power to forward the journey.

This having been settled, the question of the disposal of the prisoners

arose.

"I am not one to mistake a village headman for the emperor," said the

chief; "but fishes, though deep in the water, may be hooked, and I know

I have a valuable fish in the Russian general. How many men think you a

general is worth in exchanges?"

"That's a hard question, Mr. Ah. Some less than nothing: others an

infinite amount."

"Then it will be a matter of long bargaining. As for the other man, he

is of little account. The mule is always attended by a flea. The two

men are companions: what does that prove? When the rat and the cat

sleep together, be sure that the larder will be empty in the morning.

As the fishmonger throws a sprat into the scale to make the salmon

appear cheap, so will I deal with the Pole when I dispose of the

Russian. But there is another point, my honoured friend; what is to

become of these women whom Destiny has sent to trouble me?"

"Yes, that has troubled me, too. I must go and hear what they say."

Jack found Gabriele listening gravely to Ah Fu's recitation of the "May

Queen".

"Mademoiselle, may I have a little serious talk with you? The chief is

sadly perturbed about your presence here."

"Well, Monsieur Brown, it was your train that brought me. Seriously, I

suppose I must go back to Father Mayenobe _en route_ to Sakhalin, for

sooner or later I will get there--on that I am determined. They may

deport me, but I shall always return.--What will you do yourself?--not

remain a Chunchuse?"

"No, indeed. I am going to find my father."

"To Sakhalin?"

"Yes."

"Oh! Monsieur Brown, cannot I come too? I may never get such a chance

again. My poor father! he has been there six years. Take me with you."

"But, Mademoiselle----"

"I am very strong, really I am. Did I not walk for six hours yesterday?

I will not delay your march."

"But think of the difficulties--a long mountain journey to begin with, a

voyage in a junk at one of the worst seasons of the year, the danger of

being discovered and arrested at any moment, exposure, perhaps

hunger----"

"I am not afraid. And surely it will be better for me to face these

hardships in your company than alone!"

"Alone?"

"Yes, alone! I have as strong a motive as you; my father--oh! I cannot

bear to think of him ill and wretched. I shall go to Sakhalin. If you

will not take me, and do not give me up to the Russians, I shall tramp

to the coast and cross on the ice--alone."

Jack hardly knew whether to be amused at the absurdity of such a

venture, or to be impressed with the girl's determination. That she

meant what she said he had not the slightest doubt.

"But what about Masha?"

"Poor old thing! She declares she will never leave me. And she is quite

strong--stronger than I am, though she is getting on in years. We shall

get through somehow; the Lord God will protect us."

In face of this spirit Jack felt helpless. It was arranged that

Gabriele and the nurse should accompany him. Their destination was kept

secret from the band, lest by any mischance it should leak out. A week

afterwards, Jack took a cordial farewell of Ah Lum, asking him, if he

had any news to communicate, to write to him at the care of the

Hong-Kong and Shanghai Bank at Shanghai. The leave-taking was conducted

with due solemnity. There was no question as to Ah Lum's sincerity of

feeling. He was unfeignedly sorry to lose the lieutenant who had done

him such yeoman service. When he had exhausted the resources of his

language to express his gratitude, he spent a few minutes in bestowing

fatherly counsel on Jack, drawing lavishly from his well of proverbial

wisdom. Jack found the draught a trifle turgid, but otherwise the

quality was excellent.

"Difficulty and danger," began the chief, folding his hands and looking

benignly over the rims of his spectacles--"difficulty and danger teach

us to know the value of friendship; at the same time they winnow the

true from the false, even as a husbandman winnows the grain from the

chaff. I may never see you again; take from me a few words of counsel,

learnt as well from life as from the works of the poets and sages. What

says Li T'ai-poh?--'A good rule of conduct is better than stout armour

or a sharp sword'. When you are most happy, you should be most ready to

meet misfortune. Extreme joy is but a sign of grief to come. In

security, do not forget danger. Do not consider any vice as trivial,

and therefore practise it; nor any virtue as unimportant, and therefore

neglect it. Let your words be few, and your companions select.

Inattention to minute actions will ultimately be prejudicial to a man's

virtue. Past events are as clear as a mirror; the future as obscure as

lacquer; yet, gazing into that mirror, I seem to see reflected a future

of great prosperity, high office, and a numerous progeny. Heaviness and

care will come upon you, as upon all men; at such periods the works of

Li T'ai-poh will prove a well of refreshment, a mine of solace. I have

no fears for you. As the sun's rays first gild the highest mountains,

so the blessings of Heaven fall in richest measure upon the upright.

You have shown yourself to be an excellent son: what says the poet Wang

Wei in his _Address to Posterity_?--

"'To him who faithfully his Father's Will obeys,

Heaven in its Bounty grants great Wealth and Length of Days'."

*CHAPTER XXVII*

*Sakhalin*

Abundant Profits--A Hut in Sakhalin--Sowinski and

Another--Sympathy--Coincidence--Blood Money--Downhill

One brilliant April morning Jack set out towards Ninguta, accompanied by

Gabriele and the servant, Hi Lo, and two trusty Chunchuses. They were

all dressed in Chinese garb, and since Manchurian women do not deform

their feet there was no difficulty for Gabriele on that score. But they

carried Russian dresses and uniforms for use if necessary. They crossed

the railway safely at night half-way between two of the block-houses;

and, striking into the hills, followed a path that would take them a

considerable distance south of Ninguta. Their great danger lay in the

chance of meeting one of the Russian columns which had been engaged in

rounding up Ah Lum; but the two bandits believed that they would hear of

the proximity of any such troops in good time to avoid them.

Jack had discussed with Gabriele whether they should take Father

Mayenobe's mission station in passing. On all grounds they decided that

it would be best to leave the good priest undisturbed. No doubt he

believed that Gabriele was well on the way to Europe; it would be a pity

to renew his anxieties, and possibly involve him in trouble with the

Russians.

While they were laboriously making their way over the hills, another

member of Ah Lum's band, posing as a lumberman, travelled by the

railway, newly restored and more strictly guarded than ever, to

Vladivostok. He bore a letter from Gabriele to the man by whose aid she

had communicated with her father in Sakhalin. The letter stated that

the receiver might earn 500 roubles if he would accompany the bearer to

Possiet Bay, and there meet the writer, who would then give him further

instructions. Jack had little doubt that when they arrived they would

find the man waiting. To an ex-convict of Sakhalin 500 roubles is a

fortune.

The Chinese shipping interest at Possiet Bay was scandalized when it

heard that Too Chin-seng was contemplating a voyage to Chifu at least

three weeks before the usual season. The ice, it was true, was breaking

in the harbour; but the weather was tempestuous outside; and large

quantities of loose floe rendered navigation difficult and dangerous.

There was much shaking of the head over the temerity of the ship-owner

who was thus imperilling not only the lives of the crew but the safety

of the vessel. He could easily get another crew; a vessel like the

_Yu-ye_ ("Abundant Profits") was more difficult to replace. She was a

stout junk some sixty feet in length and fifteen in beam, built of thick

wood to withstand the heavy seas of those northern latitudes, and from

the Chinese point of view well found in all respects. That for the sake

of a few weeks' gain in time a man should risk so valuable a craft

seemed to the shipping world at Possiet Bay a wilful flying in the face

of fortune, almost an insult to Ma Chu, the goddess who watched over

good sailors.

Too Chin-seng went quietly about his preparations, not even swerving

when his neighbours protested that by the time he returned from Chifu he

would be too late for the early herring fishing off Sakhalin. One day

the vessel, loaded with a cargo of rice, made her way with much creaking

and groaning out of the harbour, her sides bumped and scratched by heavy

ice floes. Before sailing she had undergone the usual inspection; the

officials sniffed and pried, as though the dissatisfaction of the native

community had infected them also; but everything was in order. The day

was fine, the sea exceptionally smooth for the time of year; and when

once free from the floating ice, the _Yu-ye_ ran merrily before a light

north-easter down the coast.

But towards evening, when off Cape Lesura, she hauled her wind and beat

about as if in expectation of something. She had not long to wait. Half

a dozen figures appeared on the shore; a sampan was launched from the

edge of the ice and laboriously punted its way out to the junk. The

passengers were got aboard with some difficulty, for the wind was rising

and the sea beginning to be choppy. But, all being at length embarked,

the junk clumsily beat out to sea, heading towards the coast of Yesso to

the north-east.

"He can makee chop-chop sailo pidgin, lowdah?" asked Jack of Too

Chin-seng at the tiller.

"My belongey numpa one junk, masta. Ping-ch'wahn no can catchee he,

galaw!"

In a rough wooden hut on a hill-slope above a small lumber settlement on

the south-east coast of Sakhalin two men were talking. It was nearly

dark; a sputtering tallow candle threw a murky light over the room,

showing up its bareness. A rickety table was the only article of

furniture; a raised portion of the rugged wooden floor, covered with one

or two frowsy blankets, served both for chairs and bed. On these

blankets the two men were now seated.

One of them was a big, heavy-browed, uncouth fellow--a posselentsy; that

is, one who having served his time in the convicts' prison, was now

liberated, though not free. He could not leave the island, nor could he

choose his place of residence; he was bound to live where the governor

bade him live. On leaving the prison he had been furnished with

implements and ordered to go and build himself a hut at the spot

prescribed, and till the soil around it. For two years he had been

provided with food enough to keep him from starving; after that he must

keep himself by the labour of his hands--cutting wood, loading coal,

mending bridges. His hut became the nucleus of a village, other

convicts being sent to do as he had done. After fourteen years he might

hope to be permitted to return to Siberia or Russia.

The posselentsy was sitting with his back against the log wall, taking

frequent pulls at a bottle of vodka, which, though forbidden to the

colonists except at the two great Russian festivals in October and

January, is secretly manufactured in stills deep in the woods, and

stealthily bought and sold. But this bottle was a present.

"Yes," he was saying in answer to a question; "he checks the logs loaded

into store by the foremen of our artels."

"An easy job, no doubt," suggested the other man--the Pole Anton

Sowinski.

"Easy! It's child's play. All he has to do is to count the logs and

write the numbers in a book. Then the dirty Pole--I beg pardon; I

forgot he was a countryman of yours--gives out the vouchers, and the

work--work!--is done. I had the Englishman's job myself--until I made a

mistake in the figures."

"A mistake!"

"Well, they said it was intended. At any rate they sent me back to the

woods."

"And while this Englishman--this spy--and the other sit at their ease,

you poor Russians have to do all the hard work. I suppose it _is_

hard?"

"Hard! Try it, barin. Felling trees and splitting logs all day is not

exactly a soft job. And to make matters worse, since this war has been

going on they've set a lot of us fellows to deal with the fish--make the

stinking fish manure that the Japanese used to make. The herring season

is just beginning; that'll be my pleasant occupation next week."

"And that is the life you lead while the Englishman--the spy--and the

other live like barins, eh? It is shameful."

The Russian took a long pull at the bottle. It was not often he got a

chance of airing his grievances and drinking vodka from the continent--a

great deal more to his taste than the crude poison of local manufacture.

"You are right; it is shameful."

"I wonder you don't do something."

"Do something! What can we do? We rob them when we get the chance, but

that doesn't make things easier. Besides, they are not so bad after

all--the Pole and the Englishman. The Englishman taught my boy to cast

accounts; he's now a clerk in the superintendent's office. And the Pole

taught my girl to speak French; she's now maid to the governor's lady.

It didn't cost me a kopeck: no, they're not a bad sort."

"Still, think of the injustice."

"Yes, the injustice; that's what makes my blood boil. I was a robber; I

tell you straight what I was; and I killed a gorodovoi who interfered

with me: that's what brought me here. But what's that to being a spy,

and plotting against the Little Father's life? No, and if I had my

rights----"

The drink was beginning to take effect; the posselentsy was becoming

noisy.

"Yes, yes," interrupted Sowinski; "and I suppose if the Englishman were

out of the way you would stand a chance of getting your old job--his

job--again?"

"Perhaps--if I could bribe the governor's secretary. But what chance is

there of that? His price is too high for me. And besides, the

Englishman is not out of the way, nor likely to be."

"And yet it might be managed too. A determined man like you, with say a

couple of hundred roubles to back you, might go far."

The Russian was not so much fuddled that he failed to understand the

drift of the other's words.

"What do you mean?" he asked suspiciously. "Speak plainly," he added,

bringing his huge fist down upon the table with a bang that made the

Pole wince. "What is your game?--that's what I put to you. You haven't

come here--a barin like you--just to see me, and listen to my grumbles;

I know that. No, nor yet for love of anybody else; I'm an old bird, I

am, and I see what I see, I do. If you want anything out of me, I won't

say I sha'n't meet you if you make it worth my while; but you'll have to

speak out, man to man, you know; beating about the bush is no good with

an old bird like me, not a bit of it."

"Quite so, my friend, quite so. Indeed, that is my way: a clear

understanding--nothing kept back on either side."

"Well then, speak out, can't you? What is it? What do you want me to

do, and what will you pay me for it?"

"That's what I like--plain speaking. Well, it seems that the matter

stands thus: here are two men between your present hard life--an

atrocious life, an unendurable life, a life worse than a dog's--and an

easy life, a life with little to do and any amount of time to do it.

It's a strange thing, but these very two men are hated by the

government. The officials don't want to do anything openly: you know

their way; but if the two men were suddenly to disappear----you

understand?--well, the government at Alexandrovsk wouldn't take it

amiss. Of course, there would be a kind of enquiry--a formal matter;

and that would be all. But the officials must not appear in it. There

are reasons. That is why, as I was coming here to see about a contract

for railway sleepers, the matter was mentioned to me--by a high

personage, you understand. I have with me----" he corrected himself

hastily--"that is to say, not here, but at the superintendent's, two

hundred roubles--fifty for an immediate present when an understanding is

come to, another fifty when the disappearance takes place; the rest if

the disappearance is so complete that no traces of the two are

found--say within a month. But of course I must know what becomes of

them."

"Ah! That's the game, is it? And what's to be the story for

Petersburg, eh?"

"That's an easy matter. We'll say they bought false passports--there's

a manufactory of those useful documents not a hundred miles from

Nikolaievsk--and smuggled themselves away in a herring boat. That'll

wash, don't you think?"

"If it goes down as easy as this vodka it'll go down uncommon easy,"

said the man with a chuckle.

"And there's plenty more where that came from. Well, what do you say?"

"I can't do it alone. I shall want some one to help. You--" he looked

critically at the Pole--"you ain't the man for such a job. I'll have to

get a pal. Ten roubles, now--I suppose you won't object to pay that,

supposing you don't want to lend a hand yourself?"

"That shall not stand in the way. I shall have to pay the money out of

my own pocket," he added as by an artistic inspiration.

The man flashed a shrewd glance at his visitor; but though he said

nothing on the point, he was apparently making a note of something in

his mind.

"Well, you leave it to me, barm," he said. "When I take a job in hand,

my motto's 'thorough', it is. And mind you: when I see you next,

another bottle of this vodka: that won't ruin a barin with two hundred

roubles at the superintendent's office and ten in his own pocket, eh?"

A few minutes later Sowinski left the hut and stumbled out into the

darkness--down the hill, dotted with rude huts dimly discernible in the

gloom, towards the little bay where half a dozen junks engaged in the

herring fishery lay at anchor. The road was broken by ruts and

pitfalls; unconsciously the Pole groped his way over or past them, busy

with his thoughts, which were blacker than the night, hurrying him to a

deeper pitfall dug by himself for his own undoing.

*CHAPTER XXVIII*

*The Empty Hut*

My Son--Liberty in Sight--Au Revoir!--Suspense--The Open Door--A

Footprint--The Trail

While Sowinski was making his way down the hill, a sampan with two

passengers put off in dead silence from one of the junks in the

roadstead. The vessel had arrived that afternoon with a small cargo of

rice; she was to ship a consignment of dried fish for Chifu. The

loading was to be commenced at dawn on the following day; she was not to

carry a full cargo, having to fill up with coal at Alexandrovsk; by the

evening it was expected that her consignment would be on board, and she

would sail again next morning.

The sampan moved without a splash towards the northern end of the bay,

where there were no huts. The fishing settlement extended half round

the southern end, and the lumber yards occupied the rest of the southern

quarter and part of the northern. It was a very solitary spot at which

the passengers landed, and the sampan-man--who happened also to be the

owner of the junk--steering his little craft between two rocks, where he

was secure from observation, squatted motionless, apparently awaiting

the return of the two men whom he had just put ashore.

Making a circuit round the lumber settlement--a somewhat difficult

matter in the dark--the two passengers, one of whom evidently knew the

way and walked a pace or two in advance, stopped at a hut a little

larger than the majority of those they had passed, and gently tapped at

the door. No light was visible; the taller of the two men cleared his

throat as in nervous impatience. A step was heard within; the door was

opened, and a voice asked in Russian:

"Who is there?"

"It is I, graf," said the man who had led the way. "I have a friend

with me."

"Come in, then."

The two entered; the door was gently closed behind them. The outer room

was in complete darkness; but, leading the way through that, Count

Walewski opened a farther door, which led into a second room, dimly

lighted by a couple of candles. A man was seated at a table, reading.

"Here is our friend Godunof, comrade," said the count in French.

Mr. Brown looked up--looked again, stared, then sprang to his feet.

"Jack!"

The taller of the two visitors brushed past Godunof, and father and son

clasped hands. For a few moments not a word was spoken by either of

them; a stranger might not perhaps have guessed from their manner that

they had been parted for nearly a year--the father a victim of foul

wrong, the son ignorant of the father's whereabouts and burning to

avenge the wrong. But beneath his iron-gray moustache and beard Mr.

Brown's lips were quivering, and Jack had a lump in his throat which

made him incapable of speech when his father turned to the count and,

keeping Jack's hand in his, said simply:

"My son, Count."

Count Walewski was deep in conversation with the other man. He seemed

scarcely to comprehend what Brown had said.

"Your son! But--my daughter--you remember her letter; she is here, now,

in a junk at the shore; Godunof says so; it bewilders me; am I dreaming?

Your son!--they came together; Godunof tells me they have come to take

us away. After all these years!--Brown, this will kill me!"

The count, trembling like a leaf, leant for support against the crazy

table.

"Sit down, my friend," said Brown. "We must keep our heads. Jack has

come on a desperate adventure; it takes my breath away; he must tell us

what it means."

A long conversation ensued--not long in point of time, but in the amount

of matter compressed into it. The difficulty of arranging the escape

lay in the impossibility of knowing from what quarter the wind would be

blowing at any hour that might be determined. Without a favourable wind

the _Yu-ye_ could not get out to sea; and it would be madness for Mr.

Brown and the count to go aboard until there was a practical certainty

of the junk being able to slip away. As soon as they were missed, every

boat in the roadstead would be searched. And even if the vessel cleared

the bay, there was always a risk of its being followed by the government

launch engaged to patrol the fishing settlements along the coast,

perhaps by a gunboat sent from Korsakovsk in response to a telegram.

The launch at this moment lay at anchor in the bay, and unless the

_Yu-ye_ got a good start and a fair wind, it must inevitably be

overhauled, though the government boat was an old and crazy vessel whose

best work was long since done.

Granted a favourable wind, then, it was arranged that the two, the

following midnight, should make their way down to the point at which

Jack had landed. If the wind proved unfavourable, the departure must be

postponed. The junk would slip her moorings at the first glint of dawn,

and before the escape was discovered Jack hoped they would be hull down

on the horizon.

"But what speed can you make?" asked Mr. Brown. "You can't outrun a

steamer."

"I doubt whether the launch would venture far into the open," said

Godunof, the colonist who had carried the letters between Gabriele and

her father. "She can't stand heavy weather, and a gale may spring up at

any moment in these seas. Besides, she'd be chary of meeting Japanese

cruisers in the Strait of La Perouse. I wonder, indeed, she ventured

into this bay--no better than an open roadstead, and exposed to attack."

"She only arrived two days ago from Korsakovsk," said Mr. Brown. "She

came on a matter of revenue; nothing else brings her here."

"Well, we must chance it, Father," said Jack. "We've got here safely,

and please God we shall get away safely too. We can run for the nearest

Japanese port, and there we'll be as safe as--as in Portsmouth Harbour,

by Jove!"

The plan having been discussed rapidly, yet with anxious care, Jack took

leave of the two gentlemen--all three with full hearts wondering whether

they would ever meet again--and returned by the way he had come.

His return was eagerly expected on board the junk. He had scarcely

clambered over the side when a figure closely enwrapped in Chinese dress

moved towards him.

"Did you see him?"

"Yes, Mademoiselle. He was overcome at the news that you were here."

"And is he well? And your father--both well? Oh, Monsieur Jack, I pray

that nothing, nothing, may happen! Nobody knows of your visit?--you are

quite sure? You made them understand?--the time, the place, the wind?

To think that we have to wait a whole night and day! I can hardly

endure it!"

"I am just as bad, really, Mademoiselle. Lucky for me we have to load

up to-morrow; that will give me something to do. By this time

to-morrow----"

The next day was a time of dreary waiting. It was a bright morning, the

sky clear, the sea smooth--too smooth, thought Jack, anxiously whistling

for a wind. The cargo was taken on board--smelling horribly, but

Gabriele waived Jack's condolences: what was such an unpleasantness

beside the larger matter of her father's safety? As the day wore on,

black clouds came scudding out of the north; the wind freshened minute

by minute, and the junk began to roll.

"The wind serves!" cried Gabriele joyfully. "Oh for the dark!"

Some time before the hour agreed upon, the sampan was punted to the

appointed spot. In it were Jack, Hi Lo, and the owner of the _Yu-ye_.

The wind was roaring, the sky was black, the tide full, and the Chinaman

had much ado to prevent his craft from being dashed against the rocks.

Time passed; nobody appeared. Jack looked at his watch; it was twenty

minutes after midnight. What had delayed the prisoners? Another twenty

minutes; he was becoming uneasy. What could have happened? Godunof

could not have played him false; the colonist had not returned to the

junk with him the night before, but since he had received only a portion

of the reward promised him, it was unlikely that he had betrayed the

secret. Had the prisoners been delayed by an unexpected visitor? Had

they started and been caught? All kinds of possibilities occurred to

him.

At last, when the two were fully an hour and a half late, he could

endure the anxiety and suspense no longer. He resolved to go up to the

hut, and alone. But when he told the Chinaman what he intended, and

asked him to put him ashore, Hi Lo spoke:

"My go long-side masta."

"No, no; you must stay and look after Mademoiselle."

"My no wantchee stay-lo; my no can do. Masta wantchee some piecee man

allo-time long-side; ch'hoy! what-fo' Hi Lo no belongey that-side?"

The boy was already slipping over the side of the sampan.

"Very well then," said Jack reluctantly.

Then, turning to the Chinaman, he bade him remain at the same spot until

near dawn. If by that time Jack had not returned, the man was to go

back to the junk and come again when darkness fell on the following

night. He must find some excuse for not putting to sea, and not let it

be known that anyone connected with the junk was ashore. Above all, he

was to watch over the women.

With great caution Jack and the boy stole round the settlement towards

Mr. Brown's hut. Unfortunately, as Jack thought, a bright moon was

shining fitfully through gaps in the scudding cloud; and having to take

advantage of every patch of shadow when it appeared, their progress was

slow. The wind was bitter cold; the spring-like promise of the earlier

part of the day had been succeeded by a sharp frost, which had already

hardened the slush and mud except in places sheltered from the blast.

The thin ice on standing pools broke under their tread, with a crackle

that gave Jack a tremor lest it should have been heard. But there was

not a light or a movement in the settlement, nor any sound save the

whistling of the wind and the booming of the surf on the shore.

Stealthily they made their way up the hillside. They arrived at the

hut. The door was closed, the window dark. Jack tried to peer through

interstices between the rough logs of the wall; he put his ear against

the wood; he heard nothing, saw no glimmer of light. With a sinking

heart he pushed gently at the door. It yielded to his touch. He

entered, groping in the dark; and bidding Hi Lo close the door, he

struck a match and held it above his head. Feeble as the light was, it

showed enough to strike him cold with despair. The hut was empty, and

in disorder. A chair was overturned; a half-burnt candle lay on the

floor; the table was pushed into a corner, and a book had fallen beneath

it and stood on its bent leaves. Jack picked up the candle and lit it.

The clean boards of the floor were marked with many muddy stains as of

scuffling feet. Dreading to search, Jack yet looked for traces of

blood; there were none. But among the marks one struck him

particularly--a huge footprint, too large to have been made by either

Count Walewski or his father. Someone had entered before the ground

outside had frozen. But the struggle--everything in the bare hut spoke

of a struggle--must have taken place after the fall of dusk, for with a

pair of old perspective glasses found in the junk Jack had kept a close

watch on the hut, and had seen his father enter, late in the afternoon,

with another figure--presumably the count.

Dazed with this sudden set-back to his hopes, Jack sat down on one of

the chairs, resting his throbbing head upon his hands. A feeling of

utter helplessness paralysed him. Hi Lo stood watching him, the boy's

whole attitude one of mute sympathy. Had the authorities got wind of

the plot, thought Jack, and again spirited his father away? Had

Godunof, the ex-convict, betrayed him? Scarcely, or a police visit

would have been made to the junk, and he himself arrested. He tried to

pull himself together; he must do something, and at once; but what? He

could not tell; he was in the dark; and Gabriele in the junk was

waiting, listening, wondering why ere this she was not in her father's

arms.

Bending forward in his misery, suddenly his eye fell on the huge

footmark made with a clay-clogged boot on the white floor. The boot

must have been of quite unusual size; what could have been the stature

of the man who owned it? Jack suddenly sprang up; if there was such a

footmark within, would there not be others, similar, without? By them

could not the assailants be traced? He was convinced that his father

and the count had been attacked: should he rouse the settlement? Their

lives might be in danger; in warning the authorities he would at the

worst only risk his own liberty. But supposing the authorities

themselves should be concerned in the matter! To appeal to them would

then be worse than useless; he would merely sacrifice his own freedom,

and with it all possibility of serving his father.

Still the footmark stared at him. An idea suggested itself. Could he

trace the man himself? He had never followed any trail but that of a

paper-chase; but what of that? It was worth a trial. In a rapid

whisper he told his thoughts to Hi Lo. The boy nodded with full

comprehension. Jack blew out the light, and pocketed the candle; then

the two groped their way to the door and issued forth into the moonlit

night.

*CHAPTER XXIX*

*The Heart of the Hill*

Trackers--Voices--Into the Open--Waiting for Dawn--Demons--Greater

Love--Choke Damp--Found--A Rusty Chain--From the Depths--Explanations

The moonlight and the frost, which Jack had been disposed to regard as

hindrances, were now all in his favour. The moon threw just sufficient

light to enable him to avoid obstacles and to see the impressions of

footsteps in the mud, which the frost had suddenly hardened. Bending

low, he was at first unable to distinguish, among the many footprints in

front of the hut, the large one for which he was so intently looking;

but a little distance away he had no difficulty in picking out two

separate trails of the enormous foot, one approaching the hut, the other

receding from it. It was the latter that must be followed, and with Hi

Lo at his side Jack walked as quickly as possible over the glistening

track.

Every now and then the traces disappeared, for whenever the moonlight

was obstructed by a cloud, a hut, or a tree, it was impossible to see

clearly enough to distinguish them. Then it was that Hi Lo proved

himself invaluable, and made Jack thankful he had not refused the boy's

request. It was he, as a rule, who succeeded in finding the lost trail;

scouting ahead like a sleuth-hound, he seemed to be able to see in the

dark.

The way led steeply uphill. It was hard and rough going, following a

narrow road probably used for the haulage of timber. Under the thin

coating of ice the mud was deep, and at times their feet sank up to the

ankle. The little hamlet of log huts was soon left behind; they came

into a clearing dotted with the low stumps of trees; here, evidently,

had been felled the timber of which the huts were built. Then they

passed into a densely wooded clump, through which in the darkness they

had to grope their way. Once or twice Jack ventured to light a match;

this being the sheltered side of the hill, there was no wind, and during

the few moments of feeble light Hi Lo could assure himself that they had

not lost the trail. Crossing more rapidly another open stretch, they

entered a still thicker and darker patch of wood. When, after going

some distance into this, Jack again struck a match, the boy, peering on

hands and knees, declared that the footprints were no longer visible.

They must needs go back to pick up the trail, far more difficult to

distinguish in these forest depths than in the open. The search took

time; anxiety was all the while tearing at Jack's heart-strings, but he

schooled himself to patience. At last they came again upon the huge

footprint with which they had now grown familiar. Lighting the

candle-end, Jack traced the mark for a few yards on the upward path;

then, together with the other footprints, it suddenly disappeared.

"What in the world are we to do?" whispered Jack.

The forest was dense on each side of the path. At the few points in the

course of their journey where a gap let through the moonlight, they had

seen extraordinary effects, the trees seeming to have been tossed about

by giants, lying at all angles against the trunks that had arrested

their fall. But the path had been cleared of these obstructions, for if

not removed, the waleshnik, as the fallen timber is called, would soon

block up any forest road in Sakhalin.

Groping about, Hi Lo at length discovered, to the right of the main

path, a fallen tree that concealed a narrower track, made by men, but

apparently no longer in use, and partially overgrown. For some time the

keen little fellow's search failed to find the footprint, but at last,

at a break in the undergrowth, he pounced upon it. The man with the big

feet had evidently passed this way. Jack struck up the path; it was

steeper now, and blocked at many points by trees that had been allowed

to remain where they fell; but it was fairly broad, and at one time must

have been as important and as frequently used as the path they had just

left. Here and there they came to a clearing--the work of fire;

blackened stumps standing grim and gaunt in the moonlight. Then on into

the forest beyond, picking their way by touch rather than sight, barking

their shins and rasping their elbows against obstacles they were unable

to avoid.

The air was pervaded by the musty smell of decayed vegetation. It was

silent as the grave save when a quick rustle told of some wild beast

scurrying away into the thicket. Suddenly Hi Lo stopped, putting his

hand on Jack's arm.

"What is it?" murmured Jack.

The boy instantly clapped his hand upon his master's mouth, and pulled

him from the path through a mass of tangled undergrowth. They were at

the edge of a small clearing. Through the still air Jack could now hear

voices ahead; then came the faint glimmer of a light; and soon, as they

crouched breathless behind a friendly trunk, two figures appeared on the

farther side of the clearing, coming towards them, one carrying a

lantern. The men's voices were low; even in this remote spot they were

doubtless mindful that it is illegal to be abroad after dark. Jack held

his breath as they passed within two yards of him. He caught a few words

in Russian.

"How long do you think?"

"About three or four days--unless they can eat coal!"

Then a hoarse chuckle.

The voices receded; the light died away; the men were gone. One of them

was tall and broad, a son of Anak: clearly the owner of the giant foot.

His heart thumping against his ribs, Jack waited until he thought all

was safe; then with Hi Lo he recommenced his climb up the wooded hill.

He had no doubt that these men, whose voices the boy had fortunately

heard in time, were concerned in the disappearance of his father and the

count. But what had been done with them? Were it not for the evidences

of the struggle Jack would have been tempted to suppose that the men

were in league with the two prisoners, conniving at or assisting their

escape. But the state of the hut belied any such thought.

It was some time before he ventured to strike another match in order to

make sure that he was still on the track; the merest glimmer seen from

below might lead to disaster. When at last he thought it safe to do so,

he saw clear indications of the recent passage of several feet. He

hurried on at the greatest speed the difficult path and the darkness

allowed, and after some twenty minutes emerged upon a kind of table-land

above the bay. He remembered seeing it from the junk--a huge terrace in

the hills, sloping gradually upward, and after about a mile ending in

another steep incline. The road was here more easy to follow; there

were no fallen trees; it was the so-called tundra of Sakhalin. The

trees were not so thick: through gaps in them he caught glimpses of the

sea, silvery in the moonlight; and he thought of the fair girl waiting

in the junk, now doubtless in an agony of apprehension regarding her

father's fate.

The two pressed on. By and by they came to the steeper ascent. It was

necessary once more to verify the trail. Fearful lest a gleam should

give the alarm below, Jack took off his hat and struck a match within

it. There were the footsteps, going up and down the hill, which was not,

like the slope below, covered with trees. Indeed, during the last few

hundred yards the two searchers had stumbled over sleepers, rails, and

other things indicating a railroad either abandoned or in course of

construction. Once they came full upon an upturned truck; a little

beyond, upon a coil of wire rope. Jack stopped more than once to

examine these impediments, always careful to conceal his light; and he

concluded that they were rather the relics of a railway than material

for a new line. He was still wondering what had tempted Russian

enterprise to construct and then to abandon a railway in this spot, so

remote and difficult of access, when the explanation came suddenly. He

found himself among the outworks of a deserted coal-mine. The ground

was littered with timber, dross, rusty tools; the path had come to an

end; and Jack stopped abruptly, at a loss what to do.

It was hopeless in the darkness to attempt to explore the workings, for

he had no doubt now that his father and Count Walewski had been brought

here and left in some remote part of the mine, to perish of starvation.

He saw through the villainous scheme. "About three or four days--unless

they can eat coal!"--the words were now explained. What the motive was

he could not guess. The conspirators had shrunk from murdering their

victims outright; but when starvation had done its work they would no

doubt come upon the scene, discover the dead bodies, and claim the

reward which the governor would probably have offered for news of the

fugitives.

The matches were used up; it would be dangerous to attempt to trace out

a route in thick darkness. All that could be done was to wait for the

dawn. What that might bring forth who could tell? With morning light

the prisoners would certainly be missed, and a hue and cry would be

raised. Even if the plot were the work of officials, still a search

would be made. In that case it would be perfunctory; while if they were

innocent undoubtedly they would scour the country all round the

settlement. There would be little to guide them. The main path from

the hut was largely used; many tracks crossed and recrossed on it; and

if the night's frost was succeeded by a thaw, as was almost certain, the

footprints would become mere puddles and give no clue.

Jack and the boy made themselves as comfortable as possible in the

shelter of an overhanging cliff; but the hours till dawn seemed to creep

along. Jack's thoughts dwelt in turn on the prisoners and their fate,

and on Gabriele waiting in the junk. She was dressed in Chinese

clothes, but would she escape undetected when the vessels in the bay

were searched in the morning? Jack was tempted to send Hi Lo back, so

that she might be warned; but second thoughts counselled him to wait

until daylight. He might then at least let her know whether the count

was alive or dead.

There was no sleep that night for either Jack or Hi Lo. As soon as it

was light enough to see the ground they resumed their search. Almost

immediately Jack understood why they had failed to pick up the trail the

night before. The party had climbed on to a ledge of bare rock a few

feet above the ground, and on this their boots had left no mark. But a

little farther up the hill the track could be distinguished. It led

directly towards a dark opening in the cliff--one of the galleries of

the deserted mine.

As they approached the opening, Hi Lo began to shake with fear. A mine

to an unsophisticated Chinaman is a terrible thing. He believes that

the delving of the earth lets loose innumerable demons, enraged at the

disturbance of their homes. So strong is this belief that mining is

actually forbidden by law, though the law is now fast becoming a dead

letter. Hi Lo knew nothing of western progress, and he implored Jack to

turn aside from this black tunnel into the earth. Jack did not laugh at

the boy's fears; he told him to remain at the entrance and give warning

if anyone approached. Then he stepped into the mouth of the gallery.

He had already concluded that the mine consisted of galleries, not of

shafts. The outcrop of coal was visible in the side of the hill. He

therefore had no fear of coming unexpectedly upon a pit. But he groped

his way along with great caution; the truck rails had not been removed

from the floor of the gallery. The air was pure; he felt indeed a

slight draught, which pointed to the existence of an outlet of some kind

in the direction in which he was going. After proceeding for a few

minutes he was brought to an abrupt halt by a solid wall of rock in

front. Feeling each side of the gallery, he found that the passage

branched off to right and left. Which turning should he take? He stood

in indecision; in the darkness there was nothing to guide his choice.

Then it occurred to him to shout. If his father and the count were in

the mine, they were doubtless alone: they would hear his call, though it

were inaudible outside. He gave a halloo, and listened; he heard

nothing but the sound rumbling along the passages. He shouted again;

there was an answering cry behind him; then the patter of footsteps

hurrying, stumbling along towards him. Facing round, he raised his fist

to fell an enemy; but a small form cannoned against him, and a boy's

voice uttered a gasping yell. It was Hi Lo. Hearing the shout, he had

unhesitatingly plunged into the blackness. Anxious as the moment was,

Jack admired the spirit of the little fellow, who, to come to his

assistance, had braved dangers none the less terrifying because so

purely imaginary.

"Well done!" said Jack, patting his arm. "Now run back and wait for me.

I'm all right here."

"My no can do," said Hi Lo decisively. "My stay-lo long-side masta.

Big piecee debbils this-side; my helpum masta fightey; my no can lun

wailo."

"Very well. Keep close."

Again and again he shouted, always without response. Then at a venture

he turned into the right-hand passage. After a few yards he felt Hi Lo's

hold on his tunic relax. The boy had fallen to the ground. Hastily

stooping he picked him up, almost falling as he breathed the lower

stratum of air, and staggered with his burden to the main gallery. He

had but just reached it when he himself was overcome and sank to the

floor. He did not lose consciousness, but his head buzzed and swam, and

he felt a horrid nausea. When he was somewhat recovered, he carried Hi

Lo back to the entrance, and was relieved to find that in the open air

the boy quickly regained consciousness. But he could not expose the

little fellow again to such peril; bidding him remain at the spot, and

on no account to follow, he plunged once more into the darkness.

This time he turned into the left-hand passage, and found that it sloped

rapidly upward. Before long he was brought up by a similar obstacle;

the gallery again divided. He felt a slight current of air strike

against him from the left-hand side; in that direction he continued to

grope along. If the words he had overheard meant anything, they meant

that the prisoners might be expected to survive for a few days. As that

would be impossible in the foul air of the unventilated passages, he

could not be wrong in pressing forward wherever he could breathe. Again

he shouted; again there was no reply but a series of echoes. But moving

on again, and listening intently, he fancied he heard a low continuous

rumbling ahead; this could not be an echo. The sound grew stronger as

he advanced; in a few moments he understood its cause; it was

unmistakably the sound of falling water. Stepping now with still

greater caution, he soon became aware that he was within a few yards of

the waterfall; the sound seemed to rise from beneath his feet. He threw

himself on his face and crawled forward--and the floor ended; he was on

the verge of a precipice.

With a shudder and a long breath he drew back. For some distance he had

noticed that the walls of the passage suggested to the touch stone

rather than coal. They were hard as flint, and the roof was so low that

he had to bend almost double. Apparently it was a prospector's gallery,

not a real working. He wished he had a match; in the current of air

that he now clearly felt, there was little risk of explosion from

fire-damp. But his box was empty. He understood that the sound of the

waterfall must hitherto have smothered his shouts; but if he hallooed

now he might be heard, if there was anyone within hearing. Making a bell

of his hands he uttered a shrill coo-ee. It gave him a kind of shock

when, apparently from only a few feet below him, there came an answering

call.

"Is that you, Father?"

"Yes. For heaven's sake be careful, Jack. It is a sheer drop. Wait a

moment."

Mr. Brown struck a match. Jack peered over the edge. There, some

fifteen feet below, on a broad ledge of rock sprayed by the waterfall

that plunged past it into a dark abyss, stood his father and Count

Walewski. The rock above them was perpendicular and smooth; on either

side of them the ledge rounded inwards; in front of them yawned the

unfathomable gulf. As he looked, the match went out, and with the

return of complete darkness a feeling of terror seized upon him; his

limbs shook, his skin broke into a cold sweat.

"Are you there, old boy?"

"Yes."

"You've no matches, I suppose?"

"No, but--of course, I've a candle-end." Jack was pulling himself

together. "Do you think you could pitch up your box, Father?"

"I can try. I'll strike a match; the count will hold it so that I can

get an aim."

Both spoke in a loud tone, to be heard above the splash and roar of the

fall. Count Walewski held the lighted match aloft; Jack stretched

himself to the edge of the precipice; his father, retreating a few feet

along the ledge, took careful aim, and tossed the box of matches gently

into Jack's outstretched hands. In a moment the scene was faintly

illumined.

"You see how we stand, Jack; can you get us up?"

"You were let down by a rope?"

"Yes; they took it away with them."

Jack remembered the coil of wire-rope he had noticed at the entrance to

the mine. It had no doubt been formerly used for hauling the trucks.

"Wait a few minutes, Father. I'm going to see what I can do."

"Blow the candle out; there isn't much of it left."

Again the scene was in darkness. Jack hurried back along the passage,

and found Hi Lo at the entrance. Together they retraced their steps to

the spot where the coil of wire lay. As Jack feared, it was too heavy

to carry; it proved too thick to break. Wasting no time here, he sent

Hi Lo in one direction while he went in another to search for any stray

rope that would be long enough for his purpose. He came to a

tumble-down hut which from its contents he guessed had been the

foreman's tool-house. Rummaging about among its rubbish, he found a

chain some ten yards long, rusty, but quite strong enough to bear a

man's weight. In a corner stood a broken sledge-hammer; and among a

heap of bolts, clamps, and miscellaneous old iron he came upon several

iron wedges such as are used for breaking hard ground and rock. With

these they hurried back to the waterfall. Lighting the candle again,

Jack, now in complete possession of his faculties, saw that the ledge on

which his father and Count Walewski stood was at the base of a cavern.

By the feeble glimmer he drove two of the wedges into the floor of the

passage. Then he quickly attached one end of the chain to them and

lowered the other end. In this Mr. Brown made a loop, which he tested.

"The Count first," he shouted.

The poor old nobleman, who was ten years his elder, and older than his

years through the sufferings he had endured, sat in the loop and clung

to the chain with his thin feeble hands. Hi Lo coiled the chain round

the wedges to prevent an accident, and Jack, steadily hauling on the

chain, brought the Count--a very light weight--to the edge of the

precipice. Then he firmly secured the chain to the wedges, and, his

hands being now free, lifted the Pole over the brink. The old man,

broken down by his terrible experiences and exhausted from lack of food,

was at first helpless; but when he had recovered from the terror of his

ascent, all three hauled on the chain, and succeeded in drawing Mr.

Brown up.

"Thank God!" he said, as he gripped Jack's hand.