Brown of Moukden: A Story of the Russo-Japanese War

CHAPTER VI

In Full Cry

In Chinatown—A Deal in Horseflesh—North and by East—A Korean Host—Across the Line—Buriats—Father Mayenube—Gabriele—A Shot—Hard Pressed—In Hiding—Suggestio Falsi

Jack's business in Vladivostok was now completed.He had secured the last of his father's property; bills representing several thousands of pounds were in the safe hands of Captain Fraser, soon to be confided to the Hong-Kong and Shanghai Bank.So far his task had been unexpectedly easy; his difficulties, he felt, were now to begin.During the long journey from Harbin he had spent hours endeavouring to think out a plan to adopt if his secret visit to Vladivostok proved successful.By hook or crook he must get back to Moukden and learn the result of the compradore's enquiries; the question was, how?The return journey would be attended by many difficulties; even if he should reach Moukden in safety it would only be to find himself encompassed by danger.Yet he saw no other chance of tracing his father, and whatever the risks and perils, he felt that his duty called him to face them.

The first thing, then, was to make his way back to Moukden.To return by the railway was out of the question.He dared not go openly, and he knew no one in Vladivostok whom he could trust to negotiate for a clandestine passage.His only course was to slip away, gain the Manchurian frontier, and cross the Shan-yan-alin range of mountains—a long and difficult journey at the best, and in the present circumstances hazardous in the extreme.If he evaded the Russians in and around Vladivostok he would still be exposed to capture by Chinese bandits, to say nothing of the tenfold risks as he neared his journey's end.

His difficulties were intensified by the desperately short notice at which he must now quit Vladivostok. Sowinski, furious at being outwitted in the matter of the bills, would be goaded to madness by his detention on board the Waverley, and as Captain Fraser would probably consider it prudent to put him ashore at no great distance, it might not be long before he telephoned to head-quarters and thus raised the hue and cry in Vladivostok itself.To the natives Jack might easily pass for a Russian; carefully made up, he might, with his smattering of Chinese, be taken by the Russians for a native.But there was no time for such preparations; and a Russian policeman on the hunt for an Englishman, with the Pole's description of him, must be an exceptionally incompetent member of his class if he failed to recognize the fugitive.Speed was thus the first essential.

Hurrying up from the shore he made up his mind what to do.Fortunately he was in the Chinese quarter of the town; it was the part of prudence to avoid the Russian settlement on the hill.He remembered a Chinese horse-dealer with whom Mr. Brown had done business when he lived in the town years before.The Chinese had altered less than the official city, and he thought he could find his way to the merchant's house.Taking his bearings, he walked rapidly through several streets, and found to his delight that his recollection had not failed him.The horse-dealer was at home; he did not recognize Jack, who was a boy of eleven when his transactions with Mr. Brown had taken place; but he well remembered the English merchant.And when he learnt that Jack wished to purchase a pony he rubbed his hands together and led him at once to the stables to view the stock.They were a weedy lot, like most of the native animals.Jack was careful to show no haste or eagerness; he looked them over critically, rejected one after another in spite of all the flowery things the Chinaman found to say in their favour, and finally refused to buy.As he expected, the merchant then managed to find a better beast—a beautiful little Transbaikal pony, sturdy, well-made, and evidently full of mettle.Jack could not have wished for a better animal; but, experienced in the ways of Chinese business men, he gave no sign of his approval.The merchant quoted a price; Jack hemmed, hesitated—he knew better than to close at once; and then offered half.Eager as he was to get away, he patiently chaffered for nearly an hour; then, when the Chinaman was beginning to think he had lost his customer, Jack suddenly closed with the last offer, and the pony became his at two-thirds of the price first asked.The purchase of a saddle did not take so long; and when he rode off, both dealer and customer were equally pleased.

In the street Jack stopped a young Chinese boy and sent him to a purveyor's shop for a small supply of portable food.The messenger returned with some dried fish and stale cakes of potato-rice, all he could procure.With this tied behind his saddle Jack set off.It was an anxious moment when he passed a brown-coated Cossack policeman, and a little farther on he gave a jump when a squadron of Cossacks swung round the corner of the street.But they rode on without giving him more than a casual glance.Not daring to hasten, he slowly made his way through the city and out into the country.It was still only eleven o'clock; he had nine or ten hours of daylight before him, and though the pony was somewhat soft for want of exercise, it was no doubt good for thirty miles at a pinch.

Vladivostok stands at the end of a narrow peninsula, with the Amur Bay running for several miles into the land on the west, and the Ussuri Bay on the east.To gain the Manchurian frontier Jack would have to ride northwards, cross the railway at the head of the Amur Bay or beyond, and then turn to the south-west.It was obviously unsafe for him to ride parallel with the railway line, for his escape, if discovered, would no doubt be telegraphed ahead, and the road would be watched, especially in the neighbourhood of the stations.His best course, therefore, would be to strike up eastwards towards the head of the Ussuri Bay, away from his ultimate destination, and trust to luck to find a hill-path leading back that would enable him to cross the line somewhere between the head of the Amur Bay and the garrison town of Nikolskoye.His way led through the plantation where he had made his toilet early that morning, then to the right towards the hills.

Though Vladivostok itself has sprung up with marvellous rapidity, the country is as yet sparsely peopled.At one time the town was closely surrounded by magnificent woods; but the axe of the lumberman has been busy, and the same work of deforesting that has robbed the town of picturesqueness is now being pursued inland.One of the few people Jack met along the unfrequented road he had chosen was a Russian colonist riding behind a cart laden with pine logs and driven by a coolie.Jack threw him a friendly "Good morning!"as he passed, and received a feeling "Very hot, barin" in return.It was indeed hot; the almost naked Korean labourers in the fields were streaming with sweat; and Jack was glad to halt at a little brook to refresh himself and his beast.

After riding for some three hours, and covering, as he guessed, about eighteen miles, almost entirely uphill, he saw the sea below him on the right, and the far coast-line running to all appearance due south. This must be Ussuri Bay. He had evidently come far enough east; it was time to change his course to the north-west. Swinging round, he had not ridden far before he came to a small farm, the house surrounded, like all Chinese isolated country buildings, with a mud wall. His pony required food, and though he felt some misgivings he thought this too good an opportunity to be neglected. He rode up. The owner, he found, was a Korean; Jack did not speak Korean; but by the help of Chinese and pidgin Russian he succeeded in making the man understand what he wanted. He then asked how far it was to Nikolskoye, and learning that it was thirty versts, roughly twenty miles, he decided to give his pony a good rest and start again about six o'clock, so that darkness would have fallen by the time he came to the neighbourhood of the railway. Having seen that the animal was rubbed down and provided with a good feed of hay, he joined the farmer in a game of wei-ch'i, a difficult variant of chess, and with this and a slow laborious conversation, in the course of which his host expounded his hazy ideas of the war, he managed to get through the hot afternoon.

Soon after six he set off again.The way was mainly downhill now, and easier riding.About nine o'clock he saw in the gloaming a little settlement ahead, and beyond it the hexagonal water-tower and timbered store-house of the typical Siberian railway-station, but on a small scale.The path he was following led direct to the hamlet, and the sight of several small knots of people at that hour of the evening showed that a train would shortly be passing; the peasants have not yet lost their curiosity about the iron horse.He thought it well to avoid observation by leaving the track—road it could not be called—and striking across a bean-field.Making a wide sweep he came to the railway some three versts north of the station.He rode very cautiously as he approached the line, tied his pony to a tree, and scouted ahead to make sure that the line rifle guard, whose hut might be expected a few versts beyond, was not in sight.Suddenly he heard the distant rumble of a train—the night train for Harbin.In a moment he saw that the passage of the train would give him an opportunity of crossing the line unobserved.He went back to his pony, led it as near as he dared to the embankment, and waited.

The engine came snorting along at a fair pace, the fire throwing a glow upon the darkling sky.The train clattered by.Immediately after the last carriage had passed, Jack mounted the embankment, dragging his pony, crossed the single line, and descended on the other side.

With a lighter heart he got into the saddle again, and rode his excellent little steed across the fields in the hope of ere long striking a road.Pursuit would be difficult in the darkness; the greatest danger was to be expected with daylight, and it was very necessary that he should put as many miles as possible between himself and the railway before dawn.His course must be mainly south-west; the nearest town of any size was Hun-chun, some sixty miles in that direction; but having a vague idea that the Russians had erected a fort there, he had already made up his mind to avoid that town itself.Four or five hundred miles and countless perils lay between him and Moukden; but with the hopefulness of youth he rode confidently on.Danger and difficulty were only incentives to caution; if he anticipated them, it was merely that, being prepared, he might be the more ready to grapple with and overcome them.Ever present in his mind was the belief that his father's fate hung upon the success of his enterprise.

Coming by and by to a rough track between the fields, he followed it until past midnight.Then, feeling that his pony could do no more, and being unable in the darkness to guide himself by the little compass he wore on his watch-chain, he left the track, rode into a plantation to the right, off-saddled, and, hitching the bridle to a tree, threw himself on the ground and fell asleep.

During the short hours of darkness his slumbers were disturbed by dreams. Sowinski, Orloff, Monsieur Brin, the Chinese horse-dealer—all figured in a strange phantasmagoria.Monsieur Brin had lost his pass, and was shedding tears because he could not tear the red brassard from his arm, when Jack awoke with a start.Looking at his watch he found it was five o'clock.He must be up and away.He ate the last of his food; the pony had already made a meal of the shoots of creeping plants; then, with the instinct born of his fugitive condition, Jack approached the edge of the plantation to spy out the country.Before him, not many yards away, was a narrow river; behind—he gave a great start, for little more than half a mile distant he saw a troop of Russian horsemen trotting smartly along the road towards him.They might be going, of course, to Possiet Bay, or Novo Kiewsk, or the Korean frontier.But he noticed at a second glance that the leading man was bending low in his saddle, as though following a trail.He distinguished their uniform now; they were Buriats, Mongols by race and Buddhists by religion, hard riders, excellent scouts, the most reckless and daring of the Russian cavalry.Without a moment's hesitation he went back to his pony, snatched from the ground the saddle that had formed his pillow, threw it over the animal's back, and, tightening the girths with hands that shook in spite of himself, he plunged with the pony into the thickest part of the plantation.

At seven o'clock that morning, in a neatly-thatched, white-washed brick cottage, surrounded by a luxuriant and well-kept garden, in the hill-country above the Chuan, a little group sat at breakfast.The room was plain but spotlessly clean.The wooden floors shone; the white plastered walls were covered with coloured lithographs representing the seven stations of the Cross; the little windows were hung with curtains of Chinese muslin.A narrow shelf of books occupied one corner, a stove another; and the table in the centre was spread with a snow-white cloth, dishes of fruit, and home-made bread.

At the table three persons were seated.One was a tall man of fine presence, with clear-cut features, soft brown eyes, long white hair and beard.He wore the loose white tunic and pantaloons of a Chinaman, but the cross that hung by a cord round his neck was not Chinese.Jean Mayenobe was a Frenchman, a priest, one of those devoted missionaries who cut themselves off from home and kindred to live a life of self-denial, peril, and humble Christian service in remote unfriendly corners of the globe.

His companions were a woman and a girl.The former was plain-featured and plainly dressed, with placid expression and humble mien.The latter seemed strangely out of place in her surroundings.She was young, apparently of some seventeen years.Her features were beautiful, with a dignity and a look of self-command rare in one of her age.Her complexion was ruddy brown; her bright hair, gathered in a knot behind, rebelled against the black riband that bound it, and fell behind her ears in crispy waves.Before her on the table was a samovar, and she had just handed a cup of tea to the missionary.

"Father," she said in French, "I am so tired of waiting.I am beginning to think that permission will never come.But why should it be refused?It is not as if I were seeking some benefit.In appearance I lose, not gain."

"True, my child, you have nothing personally to gain.I have said before, it is not every daughter who would come thousands of miles and suffer hardship in order to bear her father company in exile and imprisonment.And such exile!The little I know of Sakhalin is frightful.It gives me pain to think of your knowing even so much."

"I am not afraid.And if the treatment of prisoners in Sakhalin is so bad, that is all the more reason why I should be at my father's side, to help and comfort him a little.Why do they refuse to let me go?"

"Probably they have forgotten all about you.The war occupies them completely.And I repeat, if you have patience your father may come to you.I have no belief that the Russians will win in this terrible war.I heard but a little while ago from a brother priest near the scene of operations at Hai-cheng, who has studied the combatants, that he is convinced of the ultimate success of the Japanese.If they are victorious they will probably demand that Sakhalin shall be restored to them, and it will no longer be a place for Russian prisoners.Rest in the Lord, my child; wait patiently for Him, and He will give thee thy heart's desire."

Gabriele Walewska was silent.Father Mayenobe sank into a reverie.The elderly woman looked sympathetically at her mistress, laid her hand on hers, and murmured a few words in Polish, to which the girl responded with a grateful smile.The sound of a distant shot coming through the open window shook the missionary from his musing.

"Russian officers out snipe-shooting again, I suppose," he said."It reminds me I must go, my child.That poor Korean convert of mine is at the point of death, I fear.I must go to him.I may be absent all day."

"We shall be quite happy, father.I shall pick the last of your strawberries to-day, and make some of your favourite tartlets for supper."

"You will spoil me," said the priest with a smile."Dominus vobiscum."

When the missionary had gone, Gabriele left the Korean servants to clear the table, and, accompanied by her old nurse, went out into the garden with a light wicker basket.As she did so she scanned the surrounding country for signs of the shooting party.The mission station was at the summit of a low hill, and below it, towards the east, stretched a tract of sparse woodland, alternating with cultivated fields.A stream bathed the foot of the hill, and wound away to join the Hun-Chuan, its course traceable by the thickness of the wooded belt and the more vivid green of the fields.

While the girl was still picking the ripe red berries she heard another shot, this time closer at hand.She rose, and out of pure curiosity searching the landscape she saw, about two miles away, a band of horsemen galloping through a field of kowliang, already so well grown that the stalks rose almost to the horses' heads.There were some thirty or forty of the riders, at present little more than specks in the distance.It struck her as rather a large hunting party, and she wondered what they were chasing, big game being unknown in the neighbourhood, and the time of year unusual for such sport.As she stood looking, the horsemen left the field and disappeared into the wooded belt bordering the stream.

Expecting them to come again into sight a little higher up, Gabriele remained at the same spot.It occurred to her that one of them might be bringing the written permission she desired, and had taken advantage of his errand to organize a hunt.Suddenly she was startled to see a figure on horseback emerge from the copse but a few yards below her.It was a young man, a European; he was swaying in his saddle; and she noticed with feminine quickness that one arm was supported in a sling—a handkerchief looped round his neck.The next moment the rider caught sight of her; his eyes seemed to her to speak the language of despair.He swayed still more heavily, and was on the point of falling from his horse when Gabriele sprang down the slope and caught him.Calling to her nurse and a Korean man-servant near at hand, with their help she lifted him from the saddle and loosened his shirt-collar, then sent the Korean for water.

Jack was dazed at first, all but swooning.

"Thank you!"he said in Russian."I was almost done, I think.But please help me to mount again.I must ride on."

"Impossible, gospodin!"she said."You are hurt, I see; the injury must be seen to."

"It is good of you, but my arm must wait.Please help me to mount my pony."

His wounded arm, his urgent manner, recalled to Gabriele the shots she had heard, the band of horsemen she had seen galloping in the distance.

"You are in danger?"she said quickly."Is it not so?"

"Yes.There are Buriats behind me; they are close on my heels.Indeed"—he smiled wanly—"it is your duty, as a Russian, I suppose, to give me up."

"I am not a Russian," she exclaimed."And if I were, I should not lightly give up a fugitive to the Russian police.You can go no farther; what can I do?There is so little time."

For a few seconds she appeared to be considering.Her brow was knit; she looked at him anxiously.Fully trusting her, he made no further effort to continue his flight, for which, indeed, he was manifestly unfit.Half-reclining on his pony's neck, he waited, panting.

Then she spoke rapidly to the Korean.

"Take the pony, unsaddle him, and turn him loose in the kowliang yonder.Saddle the Father's pony, ride a few yards in the stream, then gallop past the edge of the copse, through the hemp field, up to Boulder Hill.If you are followed by horsemen, throw them off the scent.Don't let them see you closely.Return after dark, but make sure the Buriats are not here before you come in."

An unregenerate Korean would probably have hesitated, but this man had been for some time under Father Mayenobe's training, and in a few minutes he had brought out the pony and cantered away.Meanwhile Gabriele, asking Jack to lean upon her arm, had led him into the copse to a large beech, the lowest branch of which sprang from the trunk about twelve feet from the ground.Asking him to remain there, she ran off with the fleetness of a doe, and soon returned with a light ladder.Setting this against the tree, she assisted Jack to mount; when he reached the fork he saw that the interior of the trunk was hollow.Then she pulled up the ladder, lowered it into the hollow space, and helped Jack to descend.Drawing up the ladder again, she let it down outside, ran down, and carried it swiftly back to the house, leaving Jack inside the trunk, where he stood upright, supporting himself with his uninjured arm.

Scarcely five minutes had passed since his first appearance.The Buriats had not yet come in sight; they had clearly been checked by the fugitive's sudden divergence from his previous line of flight, and nonplussed by his precaution in riding for some distance through the stream.But in another five minutes half a dozen horsemen, with a handsome young Russian lieutenant at their head, drew rein in front of the house.Gabriele was unconcernedly shelling peas at the window of the little dining-room.

The officer was evidently surprised to see a young European lady.With heightened colour he bent over his saddle and addressed her in Russian.

"Have you seen a man on horseback in (he neighbourhood, Mademoiselle?"

Gabriele looked up, with a puzzled expression.

"Monsieur parle-t-il français?"she said.

"Oui, Mademoiselle," returned the officer, then repeating his question in French.

"Yes," she replied."A few minutes ago a man galloped from the stream, past the copse, and rode auay along the side of the hill."

"Merci bien, Mademoiselle," said the lieutenant, translating the information for his men.

They at once began to hunt for the tracks, and in a few moments spied the hoof-marks of a galloping horse.One of them discharged his rifle to bring up the rest of the troop, who had scattered over the face of the country, endeavouring to pick up the trail of the fugitive.Some were already galloping off in the direction indicated by Gabriele.Soon the rest of the Buriats came riding by in twos and threes, until the whole band was in full cry up the hillside.

Gabriele remained at the window shelling peas until she was sure that the last horseman had passed.Then she took a bottle of home-grown wine from the missionary's store, filled a cup and gave it to her old nurse to carry, and returned with the ladder to the tree.

"It is I," she said as she approached."I am bringing you wine."

Mounting into the tree, she handed down the cup.Jack drained it at a draught.

"You are suffering?"said the girl.

"Not much.It is a flesh wound; I have lost some blood, and was faint.I am better now."

"You must remain in the tree.The danger is not yet past; but have patience.I dare not stay longer; they will come back soon.Hope on."

CHAPTER VII

A Daughter of Poland

Suppressio Veri—The Keys—At Fault—A Polish Patriot—A Daughter's Love—A Common Sorrow—A French Mission—A Council of War—From Canton—A Surprise Visit—Hide and Seek—Ladislas Streleszki

All was silent for nearly an hour.Slowly the minutes passed.Jack felt he had never been so wretchedly uncomfortable.His legs ached; his arm throbbed with pain; there was not room in his hiding-place to sit; the stuffiness of his prison and the attentions of innumerable insects so tortured him that he could hardly refrain from crying out to be released.Eagerly he listened for the return of the tall strong girl whose quick wit had thrown the Buriats off his track.When would she come again?At last, after a period of waiting that seemed ten times as long as it really was, he fancied he heard her footsteps.He listened; yes, it was certainly someone approaching; his long imprisonment was ended.But just as the footsteps, now distinctly audible, neared the tree, his ears caught the heavy thud of horses galloping, and a few moments afterwards an angry voice saying in French:

"The man you saw, Mademoiselle, is not the man we are searching for.My sergeant, who is following him up, sends me word that he got a clear view of him as he breasted the hill.The dress is different, the horse is different——"

He broke off as if expecting an explanation.

"How unfortunate, Monsieur!"exclaimed Gabriele in a tone of concern."I fear you must have come a long distance out of your way."

"That is as it may be, Mademoiselle," replied the lieutenant, somewhat nettled."Perhaps not so far either, for we tracked our man to within a few hundred yards of your house."He paused a moment, then added suspiciously: "What was he like, the man you saw galloping?"

"What was he like?"she repeated reflectively."I think he was about your height; but then you are mounted, and so was he, and it is so difficult to judge when a man is mounted, is it not, Monsieur?And then he was going so fast; in a flash he was by; there was his back disappearing into the copse.It was a broad back; yes, certainly a broad back; and he was hitting his pony; yes, I remember that clearly, poor thing!and it was going so fast, too."

All this was said with the most artless simplicity, and Jack was amused, though his heart was beating hard with apprehension.

"But, Mademoiselle, what was he like?"repeated the officer, finding some difficulty in repressing his anger.

"The man I saw, Monsieur, or the man you saw, or the man your sergeant saw?There are so many—they confuse me."

"The man you saw.Come, Mademoiselle, we are wasting time.Was he a white man, or a Chinaman, or what?"

"Oh, his colour!Really, I cannot say.You see, Monsieur, the sun was in my eyes.I saw his back plainly, a broad back; but he was riding fast, and hitting his pony; yes, poor thing!he was hitting it very hard."

The lieutenant hesitated; Jack held his breath.

"You will pardon me, Mademoiselle, if I ask you to let me search your house."

"Not my house, Monsieur.It belongs to Father Mayenobe."

"Peste!"he exclaimed as he dismounted."This house, whosesoever it is.The man gave us the slip in this neighbourhood, and my orders are to capture him."

"Certainly search, Monsieur.Father Mayenobe is away from home, or I am sure he would receive you as the occasion demands.The house is open to you.Perhaps a few of you would enter at a time?"

The frowning officer glanced at her, unable to decide whether she was mocking him.But her face was perfectly grave.

"Certainly, Mademoiselle," he replied a little uneasily."Two will be sufficient; and with your permission I will accompany them.Doubtless," he added, as by an afterthought, "it will prove a mere form."

"I suppose it is quite right, Monsieur.I know nothing about these things.Perhaps I ought to say no until Father Mayenobe returns.But then I couldn't prevent you, could I?So you had better go in and do your duty.Let me see, you will want the keys."She took a bunch from her pocket."There are very few.This is the key of the larder."

She innocently handed him the bunch, indicating the one she had mentioned.

"Only the larder is locked," she added."The natives, you are aware, Monsieur, will overeat if one is not careful."

The young officer, looking very much ashamed of himself, took the bunch, and having no answer ready, moved towards the house.

"Will you show us the house, Mademoiselle?"

"Oh no, Monsieur!that would be to countenance your intrusion.I cannot be expected to do that."

The conversation had been carried on throughout within a few feet of Jack.In spite of his wound, his uncomfortable position, and the danger of discovery, he found himself shaking with silent laughter, imagining the play of expression on the faces of Gabriele and her victim.

The lieutenant with two of his men went into the house.There was silence for a while, broken only by the champing of the Buriats' ponies and the rattle of accoutrements, the men sitting their steeds mute and motionless.Then the voice of the officer could be heard interrogating the old nurse, who merely shook her head to every question.She knew nothing but Polish, and the officer's Russian was as incomprehensible to her as his French.After a few minutes he returned.

"Accept my apologies and my thanks, Mademoiselle," he said, as he handed her the keys."We must pursue our chase elsewhere.Bonjour!"

"Bonjour, Monsieur!"

The troop rode away, taking a different course.Gabriele's lips curved in a smile as she watched them.The officer glanced back just before riding out of sight.She was walking slowly towards the house.

Half an hour afterwards the missionary returned.

"Father," said Gabriele, "I have played the good Samaritan since you have been away."

She explained to him rapidly what had occurred.

"My daughter," he said gently, "I cannot blame you, but you acted rashly, very rashly indeed."

"What would you have done, Father?"she asked archly.

"Just what you did, my dear," he replied with twinkling eyes."But we must be careful.The Russians look askance at our missions as it is; they only want a pretext to expel us."

"And the poor young man is all the time in the tree!He must be nearly dead with fatigue."

"But we cannot release him yet.Some of the Russians may return this way from their chase of Min-chin.I hope they will not shoot the poor fellow by mistake."

Jack waited, feeling more and more exhausted, and wondering how long his irksome durance was to last.By and by he again heard horses galloping.The Buriat sergeant and one of his men had returned from their fruitless chase.Min-chin, the Korean servant, had outridden them, and they had lost trace of him.They pulled up at the missionary's house to ask the whereabouts of the remainder of the troop, then they rode on.Watching them out of sight, and waiting for some time to assure himself that danger was past, Father Mayenobe carried the ladder to the tree, and soon Jack, pale, worn, and hungry, lay in the priest's own bed.The father, like most of the French missionaries in China, knew something of medicine and surgery; he examined Jack's wound, dressed and bound up his arm, and said that he was not to think of getting up for several days.It was in fact nearly a week before he was allowed to leave the bed, and the missionary saw that watch was kept night and day to guard against a surprise visit from the Russians.

During this period of enforced seclusion Father Mayenobe learnt Jack's story.Though it made him feel more than ever the gravity of his position if his guest should be discovered, it did not abate by a jot his determination to do what he could for him.Indeed, his sympathy for Jack was enhanced by a certain similarity between his circumstances and Gabriele's.He told Jack her story.Her father was a large land-owner, the descendant of a great Polish family, a man of noble character, greatly beloved of his tenants and respected by his peers.Like every true Pole he was a strong patriot, and had been a member of one of the secret associations that have for their object the restoration of Polish liberties.Some six years before, the society had been betrayed by one of its members; Count Walewski, with several of his compatriots, was arrested and sent without trial into exile; and as a deterrent to other Poles who might contemplate revolt, the place selected for his punishment was the bleak barren island of Sakhalin, the farthest eastern limit of the Russian empire.There was special cruelty and indignity involved in this choice, for the island was reserved as a rule for murderers and the lowest class of criminals; and his friends in Poland were aghast when they heard to what a living death he had been condemned.

At the time of the count's arrest and banishment, his daughter Gabriele was only eleven years of age.Her father's estates being confiscated, and she a motherless child, she was adopted by her paternal aunt, an unmarried lady of ample means, who took her to her home in Paris, educated her, and treated her with a mother's care.But as the girl grew older and learned to understand more fully the hopelessness of her father's fate, she resolved at all costs to share his exile, and to do what lay in her power to alleviate and sweeten his terrible lot.Her aunt, fearful of allowing a young girl to undertake a mission so terrible, and being too infirm to accompany her, did all that she could to turn her from her purpose.But with increasing years the girl's determination became ever stronger.She grew up quickly into a thoughtful strong-willed maiden, full of patriotic ardour, of passionate resentment against the Russian government, and of an overflowing love for the father whose affection she remembered so well, and whose noble qualities she had not been too young to appreciate.While grateful for all the kindness her aunt had showered upon her, she was possessed by an overmastering sense of duty to her father.At last, when she was nearly seventeen, but in looks and mind older than her years, she threatened to set forth without assistance if her aunt refused her assent and help.Having no alternative the poor lady yielded, only stipulating that Gabriele's old nurse should accompany her.For some months they vainly tried to get permission from St.Petersburg for the girl to join her father.In the case of ordinary criminals no difficulty was usually made; it was clear that, as happens so often in Russia, the political offence was to be visited more heavily than the worst of crimes.Then she started without permission, hoping to obtain the necessary authorization at Vladivostok.She was provided with letters of introduction to a Polish family in Siberia, and one to Father Mayenobe, whose sister had been a teacher at the pension Gabriele had attended in Paris.But the outbreak of the war had so much disorganized things that the Polish friends were not to be found.She arrived in Vladivostok; there her request for permission to go to Sakhalin had been referred by one official to another, shelved, and finally ignored.Then, friendless and despairing, she had written to the missionary asking his advice.He had already heard of her from his sister.Riding at once into Vladivostok he endeavoured to get the required permission; but the governor and officials had something more important to consider than the romantic impulses of a Polish school-girl, and they politely shunted all his representations.At his suggestion Gabriele and her nurse had returned with him to his little mission station in the hills, where they had since remained, hoping that in course of time they would gain their object.

When Jack was well enough to leave his bedroom and share the simple life of the missionary and his household, it was apparent that the two young people were drawn together by the common circumstances of their fate.From the first moment Jack had felt a strong admiration for the girl whose resourcefulness had saved him from capture; while Gabriele regarded his position as even worse than her own, for she knew at any rate where her father was.They had many long conversations together; the girl put her own sorrows into the background, and entered heartily into Jack's perplexities and plans.Father Mayenobe often joined them in talking things over, and soon won Jack's admiration for his character, and respect for his wise counsel.

Jack had opportunities of seeing something and learning more of his new friend's mission work.Jean Mayenobe had been a favourite pupil of Monsieur Venault, the young nobleman who gave up his career as a courtier of Louis XVIII, and devoted his whole fortune and forty-two years of his life to his labour of love in Manchuria.A great part of a French missionary's work consists in relieving the poor and sick and caring for orphans.He does little actual preaching of the Gospel; he conducts service in a small church or oratory attached to his house, but converts are made chiefly through the agency of native Christians, and through the training of orphan children from tender years.The priest dresses and fares little better than the poorest of his flock, and is never absent from his charge, fulfilling with absolute literalness the Divine command.

One day a Korean youth in training for the priesthood came in with a message from the Sister in charge of the orphanage at Almazovsk.He remained for several days in the house.Observing his manly open countenance and his air of energy and enthusiasm, so much in contrast to the average Korean's flabby effeminacy, Jack understood what an influence for good the Christian missionary can wield.

The talk in the little mission-house turned again and again upon the mystery of Mr. Brown's fate.

Father Mayenobe confessed that he was unable to make a likely guess as to the merchant's whereabouts.

"There are so many places in Siberia to which he may have been sent.Sakhalin, you suggest?Sakhalin is little used now for political prisoners, although, as in Count Walewski's case, some few are still sent there."

"How am I to find out?It is the uncertainty that is so terrible."

"I can think of no safe means.If the Russians are determined to keep his whereabouts secret——"

"That is itself an admission that they are in the wrong," interrupted Gabriele.

"It may be.I was going to say that if that is their determination it will be very difficult to trace him, and the only likely course would be to follow up enquiries along the railway."

"That is almost hopeless in present circumstances.The war has disorganized everything.Besides, how am I to get into Moukden again?"

"Why attempt it?Why not try to gain the coast and make for home, and trust to diplomatic representations at St.Petersburg?"

"No, no, father, I certainly disagree with you," cried Gabriele."You know how slowly diplomacy works.Think of it; Monsieur Brown may pass months, perhaps years, in the most terrible uncertainty and suspense.No; if I were in his place I would do as he means to do.Oh, I wish I were a man!"

"But think of the danger!If he were to go as a European, he would be set upon by Chinese in the out-of-the-way parts through which he must pass.In the towns the English and the French are respected when other Europeans are not, but in the country parts all alike are foreign devils, of less account than pigs.If he got safely within the Russian lines he would probably be arrested as a spy and shot.His only chance is to go as a Chinaman."

"As a Chinaman?"

"Yes, disguised to the best of our ability."

Gabriele looked dubiously at Jack, as though questioning whether any disguise would serve.

"What do you say yourself, Monsieur Brown?"asked the missionary.

"I must risk it, father.I have been long enough in China to know the difficulties and dangers in my way; I don't underrate them, I assure you.But anything is better than this harrowing uncertainty.I could not remain idle; I feel I must do something to clear up the mystery, even though I should be venturing on a forlorn hope."

"Well, my son, I will not dissuade you.Fortune favours the brave, they say.You are determined to go; God go with you!But we must think of how it is to be done."

"I must go as a Chinaman, that is certain.It had better be as a southern Chinaman.Mademoiselle perhaps does not know that the spoken language of the north and south are so unlike that natives of the one can only communicate with the other by written characters or by pidgin English.I can't write Chinese, and if I pretend to be quite illiterate (as indeed I am from the Chinese point of view) I may hope to pass muster.I can speak pidgin English.We had a Canton servant in Shanghai with whom I spoke nothing else, and we use it still with the servants in Moukden."

"But there is a greater difficulty—the difficulty of feature.You would pass better in Canton as a Manchu, than as a Cantonese in Manchuria."

"I can only risk it.A little saffron and henna——"

"And a pigtail, Monsieur Brown?—will you have to wear a pigtail?"said Gabriele.

"Yes, unluckily," said Jack with a rueful smile."My own hair won't suffice.But false pigtails are common enough in China.I shall ask your help with that, Mademoiselle."

"It would amuse me—if it were not so terribly serious."

"You will go as a Chinaman, then," said the priest."But you must have a story to tell on the way if you are questioned: have you thought of that?"

"Yes.Suppose I give out that I am the servant of a Moukden mandarin, returning from a special mission to Hun-chun, hinting perhaps at anti-Russian intrigue?"

Father Mayenobe stroked his beard.

"It is inevitable," he said."For you this is a state of war, and in war the first principle is to deceive the enemy.Still, I do not like your venture.The more I think of it, the more heavy do the odds appear against success."

"Father, do not let us go into that again," pleaded Gabriele."Can you suggest any better plan for Monsieur Brown?"

"I confess I cannot.Well, let it be so, then.I will do all in my power to help you, my son."

A fortnight passed away.The wet season had begun, and though the rainfall was not so continuous as is commonly the case, the streams were swelled to overflowing and the rough tracks rendered impassable.The mission station, being on a hillside, suffered less than huts on the lower ground.During the unfavourable weather much anxious care was given to Jack's preparations.The costume was got ready in every detail; Gabriele with her own hands plaited the pigtail and wadded the loose tunic and pantaloons.At last all was in readiness, and Jack only awaited a fine day to set off.

One afternoon, when the sun was hot, raising a thick vapour from the sodden fields, Min-chin came running into the house with the news that a party of Buriats were riding up the hill.It happened that Father Mayenobe had taken advantage of the change of weather to visit some of his little flock a few miles off.Without a moment's delay Jack hastened to the hollow tree, and was safe inside by the time the horsemen rode up.They surrounded the house, and the officer, an older man than the lieutenant whom Gabriele had discomfited, alighted at the door and called for the priest.Gabriele appeared.It was evident from the officer's manner that he had heard of her.

"Mademoiselle," he said in French, "you will please give me a plain answer.A stranger has been seen in and about this house.Who is he?"

"Oh!you mean the catechumen from Almazovsk?"

The captain looked hard at her.

"Come, Mademoiselle, where is the man?"

"The catechumen?He is gone.He went three days ago, all through the rain.He would not remain, though Father Mayenobe pressed him to wait in hope of finer weather.You seem to doubt me," added the girl."The house has been already searched once, in Father Mayenobe's absence; I assure you there is nobody in it but our servants; if you will not accept my assurance you had better search again."

She moved away, and began to occupy herself with simple household matters, completely ignoring the Russians.The captain did not go shamefacedly about his work as the lieutenant had done; he searched the little house thoroughly, ransacking every hole and corner.The task did not take him long; he found nothing.Coming out again, he beckoned to a man in civilian costume whom Gabriele had not previously noticed.As he rode forward, she started; but in an instant recovered herself.He spoke a few words to the captain; then the latter, with a curt word of farewell to the girl, gave his men the order to ride away.Gabriele did not like his look; he had seemed too easily satisfied, and consulted with the civilian; and she sent two of the servants to keep watch at the only convenient approaches to the settlement.Her precaution was justified.Two or three hours later the party rode back at a gallop.The alarm was given by one of the sentinels, and Jack had time to get back into the serviceable beech before they arrived.A second search was made, this also fruitless; then the horsemen finally departed, convinced against their will that they had come once more on a false scent.

When Jack left his hiding-place he saw by the expression of Gabriele's face that she had something to tell him.A red spot burned on each cheek, and her eyes were blazing.

"How dare he!How dare he!"she exclaimed."Oh, if I could have killed him!It was Ladislas Streleszki, the traitor, the villain, the man who betrayed my father.He was our steward; we did not know for a long time who had done that foul deed; but when my father was arrested Streleszki disappeared, and it was many months before we understood."

"Do you mean, Mademoiselle, that he is now a Russian officer?"

"No, no; but when they came the second time he was with them."

"Did he not recognize you?"

"No; it is six years since he saw me, and I have changed very much.I was afraid he might; I thought perhaps a chance word from one of the officers in Vladivostok through whom my applications have passed, had brought him here to persecute me.But it cannot be so; he hardly looked at me.I knew him at once; he has altered little; his hair is turning grey; but I could never mistake him; one eyelid droops and——"

"Indeed!"cried Jack with a start."Is it his left eyelid?"

"Yes.Oh, why do you ask?"

"Sowinski, my father's enemy, has the same defect.Did you hear him speak, Mademoiselle?"

"Yes; his voice is gruff and coarse."

"Then Streleszki and Sowinski are the same man.Good heavens, we have indeed had a narrow escape!It would have been all up with me if I had been found, and I fear your fate would have been sealed too.I am to blame for staying here so long.I must not bring you into danger again.I will go to-day."

CHAPTER VIII

A Custom of Cathay

The Forbidden Mountain—Two from Canton—Clutching at Straws—Ipsos Custodes—A Question of Dollars—The Yamen—The Majesty of the Law—Judge and Jury—The Cage—Torture—Mr. Wang—Benevolence and Aid

"Hai-yah!"

"Ph'ho!"

"Fan-yun!"

"Fan-kwei!"

"Look at his eyes!How big!Round as the moon.See how they goggle and glare!"

"Yah!Ugly beast!His nose!Look at it!Like the beak of a hawk."

"And his hair!Ch'hoy!Like the fleece of a sheep."

"And his clothes!Ragged as a quail's tail."

"No doubt of it, he is a foreign devil, ugly pig."

"Why still alive?Kill him at once, say I.Foreign devils are dangerous to keep.One come, thousands follow.Kill at once; if we had done that with the Russians, no more trouble.He will bring ill-luck on the village.What luck have we had since the Russians came digging into the Hill of a Thousand Perfumes?Who can say how many demons they let loose?"

"Yah!Who has found ginseng since then, who?Nothing but ill-luck now.An Pow dead, strong as he was; Sun Soo drowned in the river; all our oxen carried off by Ah Lum and his Chunchuses.Hai!hai!And this foreign devil will make things worse.Why did they not chop off his head at once?"

To this conversation, carried on within a few feet of him, Jack listened in a somewhat apathetic spirit.He was utterly dejected, worn out, humiliated.He lay in a large wooden cage near the headman's house in the village of Tang-ho-kou in the Long White Mountains.It was a secluded spot, in a district supposed to be sacred to the emperor's ancestors, where it was sacrilege even for a Chinaman to tread.The inhabitants were an exclusive community, ruled by a guild, owning only nominal allegiance to the emperor, and essentially a self-governed republic.They were unmolested, for government is lax in Manchuria, and the Long White Mountains are far from the capital and difficult ground to police; theoretically the guildsmen went in danger of their heads, practically they were monarch of all they surveyed.

A group of the villagers was collected on this July evening about the cage, discussing the foreign prisoner, interrupting their conversation to snarl at him.

"It is true; his head ought to be chopped off, but they were afraid."

"Afraid of what?"

"Of what might be done to them.The illustrious viceroy at Moukden is very strict.Even a foreign devil may not be killed without leave.Why?Because if one is killed, there is trouble.The kings of the foreign devils are angry, and many good Chinese heads have to fall.They have sent to ask leave to behead the barbarian: better still, to slice him.He fought like a hill tiger when they caught him, and two men even now lie wounded."

"How did they catch him?"

"A Canton man, mafoo to his excellency General Ping at Moukden, overtook him riding in the hills.He was making a bird's noise with his lips; that was suspicious.But the Canton man was wary.He spoke to him as a friend, and rode alongside.Where did he come from?Thus asked the Canton man.The barbarian shook his head and answered in pidgin, the tongue of the foreign devil in the south.Yah!That was his ruin.Our Canton friend also speaks pidgin.'You come from Canton?'says he.'Yes.''What part?Where did you live?Do you know this place or that?What is your business?'Those were his questions; a shrewd fellow, the Canton man.He left him at the next village; then followed with six strong men.They got ahead of him, hid in a copse by the roadside, and when the foreign devil came up, rushed out upon him.They were seven; but it was a hard fight.Ch'hoy!These barbarians are in league with a thousand demons; that is why they are so fierce and strong.But they got him at last, and brought him here; worse luck!he shall suffer for it yet."

The crowd drew nearer to their helpless prisoner, stared at him, jeered, cast stones and offal, and, worked up by the teller of the story, were only kept from tearing him to pieces by the guard and the bars of the cage.Exposed without shelter to the broiling sun, Jack was dizzy and faint.His clothes had been torn to tatters in the struggle, his pigtail wrenched from his head.He had had no food for many hours, and, what was worse, no water.

He had been able to catch the gist of what the chief speaker in the crowd had said.How stupid of him to whistle—a thing a Chinaman never does!How unlucky that he had met a man from Canton!The dialects of the north and south differ so much that by professing to be a Southerner he had come so far on his journey undetected; but in conversation with a Cantonese his accent had inevitably betrayed him.And now he knew that he could expect no mercy.A European carries his life in his hands in China whenever he ventures alone out of the beaten track.In Manchuria just then, with the natives embittered by the wanton destruction of their towns and villages, the chances of a captive being spared were infinitesimal.Only fear of the mandarins had apparently caused them to hold their hands in his case; but Jack had little reason to suppose that the mandarins would interfere to protect him.No order would be issued; but the villagers would receive a hint to do as they pleased; and Jack well knew what their pleasure would be.In the unlikely event of diplomatic pressure being afterwards brought to bear, the mandarins could still repudiate responsibility, and the villagers would suffer; several, probably the most innocent, would lose their heads.But Jack knew that he had placed himself outside the protection of the British flag.Neither the mandarins nor the villagers had anything to fear.

The sun went down; the village watchman beat his wooden gong; and the group gradually dispersed.Only the guard was left.Parched with thirst, Jack ventured to address him, asking for a cup of water.The man, with more humanity than the most, after some hesitation acceded.He was generous, and brought also a mess of rice.Greatly refreshed by the meal, scanty though it was, Jack felt his spirits rising; with more of hope he began to canvass the possibilities in his favour.But he had to admit that they were slight.There was just one ray of light, dim indeed; but a pin-point glimmer is precious in the dark.He had heard the villagers mention the brigand Ah Lum, the chief of the Chunchuses, who had levied upon their oxen.This was the chief whom Wang Shih had left Moukden to join.If Jack could only communicate with Wang Shih there might still be a chance for him.

He began a whispered conversation with his guard, and learnt that, a few days before, Ah Lum's band was known to be encamped in the hills some twenty miles to the south-west.It was resting and recruiting its strength after a severe brush with a force of Cossacks, who had almost succeeded in cutting it to pieces during a raid on the railway.

"Do you know Wang Shih?"

"No; Ah Lum has several lieutenants.His band numbers nearly eight hundred; there were more than a thousand before the fight with the Russians."

"You know what a dollar is?"

"It is worth many strings of cash."

"Well, if you will take word to Mr. Wang about me, I will give you fifty dollars."

"Where will you get them from?"asked the man suspiciously."Were you not searched, and everything taken from you?"

"True, I was searched; but the foreign devil has ways of getting money that the Chinaman does not understand.It is a small thing I ask you to do.The reward is great; fifty dollars, hundreds of strings of cash.You will never get such a chance again."

True to the oriental instinct for haggling, the man argued and discussed for some time before he at last agreed to Jack's proposition.

"You must make haste," said Jack."If the messenger to the mandarin returns before you, I shall be killed and you will get no money."

The man at once explained that it was impossible for him to leave the village; he must find a messenger.

"Very well.He is to find Wang Shih and say that Jack Brown from Moukden is in peril of death.You can say the name?"

"Chack Blown," said the man.

"That will do.Now, when can you send your man?"

The guard said that he would be shortly relieved; then he would lose no time.In a few minutes a man came to take his place, and Jack, with mingled hopes and fears, settled himself in a corner of the cage, to sleep if possible.Half an hour later the guard returned with the welcome news that a messenger had started, after bargaining for twenty of the fifty dollars, and would travel all night on foot, for he had no horse, and to hire one would awaken suspicion.

"But," added the guard, "he is a trusty man, much respected, and a great hater of foreign devils, like all good Chinamen.If he had had his way the honourable foreign devil would have been executed this afternoon."

"Then how comes it," asked Jack, "that he is willing to go as messenger?"

The guide looked puzzled.

"Surely the honourable barbarian understands?Did I not explain that I promised Mr. Fu twenty dollars?"

Even in his misery Jack could not forbear a smile.His messenger was doubtless the man who had led the chorus of threats and insults a few hours before.The man's convictions were no doubt still the same; but the prospect of a few dollars had completely divorced precept from practice.

Then Jack reflected that the enterprise was a poor chance at the best.There was little likelihood of the man finding Wang Shih in time, and if he found him, it was uncertain whether his sense of gratitude was sufficiently keen to bring him to the rescue.Yet, in spite of all, Jack's impatient eager thought followed the messenger, as though hope could give him winged feet.

He spent a miserable night.In that hill country even the summer nights are cold; and his clothes having been well-nigh torn from his back, he had scant protection.He slept but little, lying awake for hours listening to the mice and rats scampering around the cage, and to the long-drawn melancholy howls of the village dogs.

Soon after dawn he heard a great commotion in the village.His pulse beat high; he hoped that Wang Shih had arrived.But when his friendly guardian came to resume duty, his heart sank, for he learnt that the headman's messenger to the local mandarin had returned, bringing word that the barbarian should be suitably dealt with by the guild.The mandarin had evidently washed his hands of the matter; the guard had no doubt that when the headman was ready Jack would be taken before him, and he must expect no mercy.The people had never ceased to grumble at the delay in executing him; and nothing could be hoped of the headman, for he was a native of Harbin, and bore a bitter grudge against the Russians, who in constructing their railway had cut through his family graveyard, and in defiling the bones of his ancestors had done him the worst injury a Chinaman can suffer.Jack was to have no breakfast; his captors were so sure of his fate that they thought it would be a mere waste to feed him.

An hour passed—a terrible hour of suspense.The villagers began to gather round the cage, and their looks of gleeful and malicious satisfaction struck Jack cold.All at once they broke into loud shouting as a posse of armed yamen-runners forced their way through.Jack was taken out of the cage, and, surrounded by the runners and followed by the jabbering crowd, was marched to the headman's house.He there found himself in the presence of a dignified Chinaman, a glossy black moustache encircling his mouth and chin, his long finger-nails denoting that he did not condescend to menial work.He was in fact a prosperous farmer, who, besides possessing large estates (to which he had no title) in the Forbidden Country, carried on an extensive trade in ginseng, a plant to which extraordinary medicinal virtues are attributed by the Chinese, and so valuable that a single root will sometimes fetch as much as £15 in the Peking market.The headman, feeling the importance of the occasion, had got himself up in imitation of a magistrate, wearing a round silk buttoned cap and a blue tunic.

He had evidently made a study of the procedure in a mandarin's yamen.He was the only man seated at a long table; at each end stood a scribe with a dirty book, which might or might not have been a book of law, outspread before him; at his right hand stood a man with a lighted pipe, from which during the proceedings the headman took occasional whiffs; in front stood a group of runners in weird costumes, wearing black cloth caps with red tassels.From the sour expression on the Chinaman's face Jack knew that he was already judged and condemned; but he held his head high, and gazed unflinchingly on the stern-visaged Chinaman.

It is proper for a prisoner to take his trial on his knees, and one of the runners approached Jack and sharply bade him kneel.He refused.Two other men came up with threatening gestures, and laid hands on him to force him down.He resisted; he had the rooted European objection to kowtow to an Asiatic.With too much good sense to indulge himself in heroics, he yet recalled at this moment by a freak of memory the lines written on the heroic Private Moyse of the Buffs.His back stiffened; there was the making of a pretty wrestling match; but the headman, mindful of the stout fight when the prisoner was arrested, and desiring that the proceedings should be conducted with decorum, ordered his men to desist.Then he began his interrogatory.

"You are an Russian?"

"No, an Englishman."

"Where have you been living?"

"In Moukden."

"What have you been doing there?"

"I lived with my father."

"Who is he?"

"He is a merchant."

"What is his name?"

"He is known as Mr. Brown of Moukden."

"What did he trade in?"

"In many things.He supplied stores of all kinds."

"To the Russians?"

"Yes."

"Assisting them to build the iron road that is the ruin of Manchuria?"

"I believe your august emperor gave the Russians permission."

"Do not dare to mention the Son of Heaven.Do not dare, I say, you foreign devil!Where is your father now?"

"I do not know.He was arrested by the Russians."

"Why?"

"They accused him of giving information to the Japanese."

"Did he give information?"

"No."

"Ch'hoy!Then clearly he was in league with the Russians.He, too, is worthy of death.What brought you into the Shan-yan-alin mountains?"

"I am trying to find my father.I was on my way to Moukden."

"Do you know that the Ch'ang-pai-shan is sacred to the emperor?Nobody is allowed to tread these hills, on pain of death."

"I am in your honour's august company."

The headman winced and blinked.That was a home-thrust.He grew angry.

"Enough!You are a foreign devil.By your own confession you have been in league with the Russians, assisting them in their impious work, disturbing the feng-shui in the most sacred city of the virtuous Son of Heaven.You are found in insolent disguise within the limits of the Forbidden Mountains; you resisted lawful arrest, to the severe injury of two of my officers.It is clear that you are a vile example of the outer barbarians who are scheming to drive the Manchu from his immemorial lands, defiling the graves of our fathers, and bringing our sons to shame.You are not fit to live; every one of your offences is punishable with death; in their sum you are lightly touched by my sentence upon you, that you suffer the ling-ch'ih, and then be beheaded.Confess your crimes."

Jack had answered the man's questions briefly and calmly, and listened with unmoved countenance to his speech.The decision was only what he had expected.The worst was to come.He knew that by the laws and customs of China he could not be executed until he had acknowledged the justice of the sentence and made open confession of his crime; he knew also that, failing to confess voluntarily, he would be tortured by all the most fiendish methods devised by Chinese ingenuity until confession was extorted from his lacerated, half-inanimate frame.The end would be the same; for a moment, in his helplessness and despair, he thought it would perhaps be better to acquiesce at once and get it over.But then pride of race stepped in.Could he, innocent as he felt himself to be, act a lie by even formally acquiescing in the sentence?He did not know how far his fortitude would enable him to bear the tortures in store; but he would not allow the mere prospect to cow him.He had paused but a moment.

"I have nothing to confess," he said.

The headman gave a grunt of satisfaction.

"Put him in the cage," he said.

Jack's blood ran cold in spite of himself.The word used by his judge was not the name of the cage in which he had already been confined, but meant an instrument of torture.Amid the exultant hoots of the crowd of natives, who spat on the ground as he passed, he was hauled from the presence and taken to a yard near by.In the centre of it stood a bamboo cage somewhat more than five feet high.Its top consisted of two movable slabs of wood which, when brought together, left a hole large enough to encircle a man's neck, but too small for his head to pass through.The height of the cage was so adjusted, that when the prisoner was inside with his head protruding from the top he could only avoid being hung by the neck so long as his feet rested on a brick.By and by that would be removed; he might defer strangulation for a short time by standing on tiptoe, but that would soon become too painful.Jack had never seen the instrument in use, but he had heard of it, and he quailed at the imagination of the torture he was to endure.

His arms were bound together; he was locked into the cage; his head was enclosed; and the mob jeered and yelled as, the brick being knocked away after a few minutes, he instinctively raised himself on his toes to ease the pressure on his neck.How long could he endure it?he wondered.Had the messenger failed to find Wang Shih?Had some perverse fate removed the Chunchuse band at this moment of dire peril?Humanly speaking, his salvation depended on Wang Shih, and on him alone: was his last hope to prove vain?Should he now yield, confess, and spare himself further torture?Already he was suffering intense pain; he gained momentary relief for his feet by drawing up his legs, a movement which brought his whole weight upon his neck; but that was endurable only for a few seconds.He closed his eyes to shut out the sight of the yelling mob; pressed his lips together lest a moan should escape him: "I will never give in, never give in."he said to himself; "pray God it may not be long."

The pain became excruciating; he no longer saw or heard the yelling fiends gloating over every spasm of his tortured body; he was fast sinking into unconsciousness, and the headman, fearful of losing his victim, was about to give the order for his temporary release, when suddenly his ears caught the sound of galloping horses.The noise around him lulled; he heard loud shouts in the distance, and drawing ever nearer.Then the crowd scattered like chaff, and through their midst rode a brawny figure brandishing a riding-whip of bamboo.Dashing through the amazed throng at the head of thirty shouting bandits he leapt from his horse, sprang to the cage, tore away the catch holding the two panels together, and Jack fell, an unconscious heap, to the bottom of the cage.

The first alarm being now passed, the villagers raised a hubbub.They clustered about the new-comers, protesting with all their might that the prisoner was merely a foreign devil, an impious pig.But Wang Shih cleared a space with his whip; then, springing to the saddle again, he raised his voice in a shout that dominated and silenced the clamour of the mob.

"Hai-yah!What are you doing, men of Tang-ho-kou?Is this foreigner a Russian that you treat him thus?A fine thing truly!You skulk in your fangtzes, afraid to come out with the honourable Ah Lum and me and fight the Russians, and yet you are bold enough to catch a solitary man, a friend of the Chinaman, and to misuse him thus because he is alone!Know you not that he is an enemy of the Russians?They have imprisoned his father; it is reverence for his father that brings him here.Is filial piety so little esteemed in Tang-ho-kou to-day?Ch'hoy!I see your headman aping a lordly mandarin; let him listen.I say you are lucky I do not burn your village and execute a dozen of you as you were about to execute the stranger.But I will be merciful.I will take from you a contribution of five thousand taels for my chief; and your headman—ch'hoy!he shall stand for half an hour in the cage.That shall suffice.But beware how you offend again.Learn to distinguish your friends from your enemies—an Englishman from the Russians whom the dwarfs of Japan are helping us to drive back to the frozen north.Take heed of what I say—I, Wang Shih, the worthless servant of his excellency Ah Lum, the virtuous commander of many honourable brigands."

This speech made an impression upon the crowd.The headman was beginning to slink away, but Wang Shih noticed the movement and sent one of his men after him.In spite of his protests he was dragged to the cage, from which Jack, now fully conscious, had been removed; he was fastened in it, and compelled to tiptoe as his erstwhile prisoner had done.But after some minutes Jack, with a vivid remembrance of his own sufferings, interceded for the wretched man, and Wang Shih released him, bidding him collect from the villagers the tribute he had demanded.The presence of the thirty well-armed Chunchuses was a powerful spur to haste, and within half an hour the amount was raised.Meanwhile Jack's neck had been bathed, and his muscles were beginning to recover from the strain to which they had been put.He declared that he was well enough to ride away with his deliverers.He had first to pay the guard the fifty dollars agreed upon.Not wishing to disclose the hiding-place in the soles of his boots where he kept his notes, he borrowed from Wang Shih the necessary sum in bar silver.Then, mounted upon a horse borrowed from the headman's own stables, he rode with the brigands from the village.

CHAPTER IX

Ah Lum

Ishmaels—The Chief—Fair Words—Wise Saws—Ah Fu's Tutors—An Honorary Appointment—Chopping Maxims—A Deputation—Hunting the Boar—A Forest Monarch—Charging Home—The Knife—A Close Call

The Chunchuse camp, Jack learnt as he rode, was some thirty miles distant in the hills.It had been shifted; it was always shifting; that was why the intervention of Wang Shih had been so nearly too late.

Jack was somewhat amused when he reflected on the strange company in which he found himself.He had heard a good deal about these redoubtable bandits, but never till this day had he seen any of them.Their bands were, he knew, very miscellaneous in their composition.Escaped prisoners, whether guilty, or innocent like Wang Shih, frequently sought refuge with one or other of the brigand chiefs.Men who had been ruined in business, or were too indolent for regular work; men possessed of grievances against the mandarins, or by a sheer lust of adventure and lawlessness; helped to swell their numbers; and Mr. Brown had once remarked that they reminded him of the motley band that gathered about David in the cave Adullam: "Every one that was in distress, and every one that was in debt, and every one that was discontented".

The name Chunchuse means "red beard", and was originally applied by the natives to any foreigner.Since the bandits were almost all clean-shaven, like the majority of Chinamen, Jack could only conjecture that they were styled "red beards" from some fancied resemblance of their predatory ways to the methods of the hated foreigners.They were held in terror by all the law-abiding inhabitants, and the machinery of the Chinese government was totally unable to keep them down.Since the coming of the Russians they had grown in numbers and in power.Knowing every inch of the country they were able to wage an effective guerrilla warfare against the invaders, often surprising scouting parties of Siberian riflemen or Cossacks, raiding isolated camps, damaging the railways, and capturing convoys.

Jack was interested in taking stock of his strange companions.They were tall strapping fellows, powerfully built, with muscular and athletic frames, and they included men of every race known in Manchuria.Their costumes differed as greatly as the men themselves.Some were clad in the usual garb of Chinamen; others had black cloth jackets with brass buttons, tight-fitting trousers, and long riding-boots reaching to the knees.Their heads were covered with knotted handkerchiefs of red, black, or yellow cotton, beneath which their pigtails were coiled up out of sight.Each carried a rifle and a revolver stuck in his leather belt.

On the way to the camp Wang Shih gave Jack a few particulars about the band, in which he had already risen to a high position.Ah Lum, the chief, had been for many years notorious for the daring with which he would swoop with a few men on rich merchants travelling through the country, even though they might be escorted by Chinese soldiers.But since the outbreak of the war such sources of gain had ceased, and he had gradually collected a very large following for the purpose of conducting irregular operations against his country's despoilers.All were magnificent horsemen; the Russians had in vain endeavoured to hunt them down; and the very rifles they carried were the spoil of successful raids.

After a ride of about five hours through the hills, Wang Shih's party reached the Chunchuse camp.It was a strange mixture of shelters, many of them huts built of the stalks of kowliang, yet arranged, as Jack noticed, in a certain order.Conspicuous in the middle of the camp was a large tent, in which, as they approached, Jack recognized the Russian service pattern.This too was evidently part of the spoil of a raid.

At the outskirts of the camp Wang Shih dismissed his men, proceeding alone with Jack to the tent.It was the head-quarters of the chief.There was no sign of state, no sentinel at the entrance; Wang Shih rode up unquestioned, and unceremoniously shouted into the tent for Mr. Ah.If Jack had expected to see the typical brigand of romance he must have been disappointed.Ah Lum was the shortest member of the band, a wiry figure with a slight stoop.His appearance was that of a university professor rather than a warrior.He was apparently between forty and fifty years of age, with an intelligent and thoughtful cast of countenance, enhanced by a pair of horn spectacles over which he looked searchingly when Jack was introduced to him.Ah Lum was, in fact, a man of considerable education and even learning.He had taken the highest honours in the examinations for the successive degrees of Cultivated Talent, Uplifted Literary Man, and Exalted Bookworm; and the poems he composed when competing for a place in the Board of Civil Office were acknowledged as superior to anything recently written in the Mandarin language.But his success on this occasion awoke a bitter jealousy in the breast of a "same-year-man" who had kept pace with him throughout his career until this last promotion.The disappointed candidate adopted a characteristically Chinese mode of wreaking vengeance.He committed suicide on Ah Lum's door-step.According to Chinese belief Ah Lum would not only be haunted ever after by his rival's spirit, but would also have to clear himself before the mandarin's court of a charge of murder.Unluckily the mandarin was an enemy of Ah Lum; his price for a favourable judgment was more than the Exalted Bookworm could offer; and the latter, seeing that his condemnation was certain, discreetly vacated his desk at the Board of Civil Office and betook himself to the mountains.

Jack only learnt all this gradually.His first impression of Ah Lum as a spectacled, courteous, polished savant left him wondering how such a man had succeeded in imposing his authority on the hard-living, hard-faring, reckless set of outlaws who composed his band.That he had some personal force of character was a foregone conclusion, for his position could depend on nothing else.He received Jack very kindly, and, having Heard his story from Wang Shih, promised to do all he could to help him.

"Mr. Wang," he said, bowing to his lieutenant, "does me the honour to be my friend.Has he not rendered me great services?Surely it becomes me to serve his friends when my insignificant capabilities permit.Meanwhile deign, sir, to regard all our contemptible possessions as your own, and excuse our numberless shortcomings.Where good-will is the cook, the dish is already seasoned."

He paused, as though expecting a comment on the proverb.

"Quite so," said Jack, feeling that he ought to say something.

The chief proceeded at once to warn him of the danger of pursuing further his attempt to enter Moukden in disguise.If he tried to pass as a Canton man he might at any moment meet a real Cantonese, as had already happened to his cost; and, besides, the Cantonese were not loved in Manchuria.As a Manchu, on the other hand, he would be apt to betray himself in endless little ways.However, if he were bent on it, Ah Lum would do what he could to secure him good treatment.Meanwhile, after what he had gone through, a few days' rest in camp would do him no harm.

"Haste is the parent of delay," he said; "whereas if one has a mind to beat a stone, the stone will in due time have a hole in it."

Again he paused, like an actor waiting for the gallery's applause to his tag.

"A very sound maxim," said Jack, thinking it well to humour this singular moralist.

The chief concluded with an offer of hospitality so cordial, that Jack, anxious as he was to pursue his mission, could not well decline it.

Wang Shih, Jack found, was third in command.His enormous strength, allied to a bull-dog courage, had enabled him to force his way to the front in a community where those qualities were esteemed above all others.That they were not the only titles to respect was proved by the position of the chief; and the longer Jack stayed in the camp the more he was impressed by the ease and firmness with which Ah Lum swayed his band.

The chief had a son, a boy of twelve, who from the first took a great liking to Jack.Ah Fu was a bright boy, vivacious for a Chinese; and Ah Lum loved him with even more than the usual Chinaman's devotion.He doted on the child.He never tired of talking about him to Jack.

"If," he said, "a man has much money, but no child, he cannot be reckoned rich: if he has children, but no money, he cannot be reckoned poor.And I am blessed in my son: he is dutiful, respectful, voracious of knowledge.'A bad son', says the Sage, 'is as a dunning creditor; but a good son as the repayment of a long-standing debt'."

At great pains he had kidnapped two graduates for the express purpose of having Ah Fu carefully trained in the elements of Chinese culture.Himself a man of education, he set the highest value on learning."Weeds are the only harvest of an untilled field," he would say."Though your sons be well disposed, yet if they be not duly instructed, what can you expect of them but ignorance?"In addition to his daily instruction in the philosophers and poets, the boy went through all kinds of physical exercises—practising with the bow and the rifle, riding a spirited little pony, learning fearless horsemanship from the best rider in the band; and the Chunchuses rival the Cossacks in the superb management of their steeds.Before Jack had been a day in the camp he was requested by the chief to teach his son English.He agreed, though he thought that in the short time he was to spend with them not much could be done.Ah Lum was very pressing in the matter.Jack, he was sure, had all the learning of the west (this tickled Jack; how the fourth-form master at Sherborne would have roared!)The learning of the east Ah Lum himself could get for the boy.In addition to the kidnapped graduates he had his eye on an astronomer of distinction at Kirin, and at Tieling there lived a very learned man, skilled in the casting of horoscopes.But he had naturally few opportunities of providing European instruction."True doctrine cannot injure the true scholar," he said."An ounce of wisdom is worth a world of gold."He was particularly anxious that Ah Fu should lack nothing in education through his father's outlawed condition.Himself a poet, he set much store by poetry; and having learnt from Jack that the most popular English poet was Tennyson, he made it a special point that the boy should from the first learn some of his poems. Jack was amused; he did not tell the chief that poetry was not so highly esteemed in England as in China; but happening to know a few odds and ends of Tennyson's verse, he got Ah Fu to repeat them after him until the boy could recite them faultlessly.Jack had his doubts whether the poems thus recited would have been recognized by an Englishman, but that was nothing to the point.

After a week, when he felt his strength thoroughly recruited, Jack spoke of continuing his journey.But Ah Lum, in his politest manner, urged excellent reasons why he should remain a little longer.It had been raining almost continuously since his arrival; the streams were in flood; the rivers were not fordable.Moreover, a large body of Russian troops was moving between the camp and Moukden; and Chinamen were being narrowly questioned and examined under suspicion of being Japanese spies in disguise.Day after day passed; every hint of Jack's that he wished to be off was met by some new excuse enforced by maxims, and turned by a question as to how Ah Fu was getting on with his poetry.At last Jack grew uneasy and suspicious; it appeared as if Ah Lum intended to keep him as an additional tutor, unpaid.He began to think of taking French leave, but was restrained by several considerations: the fact that he owed his life to the brigands; the danger lest his disappearance should cause a quarrel between Wang Shih and the chief; the hope that he might find the Chunchuses useful in prosecuting his search; and the risk of recapture, for he knew that the country people would certainly give him up to the chief if they caught him.

He abandoned therefore the idea of flight, resolving to stay on with what patience he could muster, and hoping to obtain his end by mild persistence.But his courteous and repeated applications were met by still more courteous and equally firm refusals—not direct refusals, but regrets that on one pretext or another the "Ingoua superior man" could not safely leave the camp.Ah Lum's stock of proverbs and maxims was again drawn upon."Though powerful drugs be nauseous to the taste, they are beneficial to the stomach.So, candid advice may be unpleasant to the ear, but it is profitable for the conduct.The carpenter makes the cangue that he himself may be doomed to wear."

"Exactly."

There was a want of conviction in Jack's stereotyped reply.He was growing tired of these eternal copy-book headings, which seemed to him often the merest platitudes—tired of expressing the assent which his sententious host always looked for.He asked Wang Shih to expostulate with the chief; but when the Chinaman ventured to suggest that the young Englishman's dutiful regard for his father ought to be respected and his errand furthered, he got a good snubbing for his pains.

"It is easy to convince a wise man," said Ah Lum with a snap; "but to reason with fools, that is a difficult undertaking.You cannot turn a somersault in an oyster-shell."

Greatly daring, Wang Shih cited a maxim very pertinent, he thought, to the case.

"True, honourable sir; but is it not written: 'Of a hundred virtues, filial piety is the best'?"

"No doubt," retorted Ah Lum, still more snappishly."But remember that if a man has good desires, heaven will assuredly grant them."

And Jack had to kick his heels, and drum poetry into Ah Fu, thinking disrespectfully of proverbial philosophy.

Thus three weeks passed.During this period the band grew steadily stronger.Jack reckoned that it now numbered at least eleven hundred.The rains having ceased, the camp was moved some twenty miles to the north-west, not in a direct line to Moukden, but nearer to that city.To Jack this was a crumb of comfort; but there were disadvantages in the change, for with the finer weather and the removal to somewhat lower ground, the midges and mosquitoes became more lively and troublesome, and he spent many a hot hour of pain and smart.

Another fortnight went by.The Chunchuses had been inactive so far as brigandage was concerned, and, except that they did no work, they might have been nothing but a peaceful mountain tribe.But one day a deputation came to the chief from a village lying in the midst of a woody and well-cultivated valley a few miles from the camp.They announced that their plantations of young bamboos were being devastated by a herd of wild boars with which they were unable to cope, and they had been deputed to beg the Chunchuse chief to come to their assistance.Ah Lum was never unwilling to please the country people when he saw a chance of gaining a substantial advantage."Let no man," he would say, "despise the snake that has no horns, for who can say that it may not become a dragon?"Food was running short, and but for the deputation it was probable that some fine night the village would have been raided and plundered.But the request for assistance opened the way for a deal; Ah Lum consented to organize a battue in return for a large supply of food and fodder; and after half a day had been spent in haggling, the deputation returned, promising to send in the quantity first demanded.

The chief was exceedingly pleased.

"Do not rashly provoke quarrels, but let concord and good understanding prevail among neighbours.Seeing an opportunity to make a bargain, one should think of righteousness."

Jack welcomed the impending hunt as a pleasant change, and appeared to gratify the chief when he asked to be allowed to join in it.As a diversion from the sugared sweetness of Tennyson, he bethought himself to teach Ah Fu Fielding's fine song "A-hunting we will go"; and when the boy learnt the meaning of the words, he was all afire to share in the chase.Ah Lum was pleased with his spirit; but being unwilling that his only son should run any risk, he at first declined his request.The boy persisted, pointing out that he was already a good shot, and asking what was the good of his learning poems of hunting if he was not allowed to express in action the ardour thus fostered.This argument appealed to the chief's sense of the fitness of things; he would have agreed with Socrates that action was the end of heroic poetry; he yielded, stipulating, however, that throughout the hunt the boy should remain at his side.

Jack soon found that the hunt was not to be conducted on the lines of pig-sticking in India.He remembered the vivid account of such an adventure given him by a Behar planter whom he had once met on board a steamer between Shanghai and Newchang.Nor were the animals to be caught in artfully-contrived pits, as is the custom in Manchuria.The chief was ignorant of the Indian method, and was possessed of too strong a sporting instinct to be content with the work of a trapper; it was to be a real hunt, as he understood it.The cover in which the boars were known to lurk was about a square mile in extent.Ah Lum intended to take advantage of the large force at his disposal and arrange for beaters to drive the animals to a comparatively open space, at the end of which he and a select few would take up their positions and shoot down the boars as they emerged from cover.This seemed likely to be a safe way of effecting the desired object; and though not sport in the British sense, it would at any rate make some demand on their nerve and their marksmanship.

The important day came.On a bright fresh morning, soon after the sun had gilded the hilltops, when the air was clear and a cool breeze tempered the summer heat, Ah Lum, accompanied by seven of his best marksmen and by Ah Fu and Jack, rode down to skirt the base of the hill and gain the northern side of the clearing to which the boars were to be driven.Jack had been provided with a rifle and a long knife; his pupil rode at his side, armed with a carbine; and very proudly the boy bore himself.At the foot of the hill the party were met by some of the villagers, come to guide them to their destination.When they reached the spot they found that the clearing was about a furlong across, with thin plantations behind them and on either side, and in front a mass of dense, almost impenetrable scrub interspersed with trees.

The party of ten took up their position in line facing the scrub, standing a few feet apart; Ah Lum was in the centre, with the boy on his left, and Jack one place farther in the same direction.Jack felt that if the Manchurian boar was anything like the Indian specimen of which his planter friend had told him, the party might have a lively time should two or three of the beasts break cover at the same moment, especially if they should charge down through the plantations on left and right.The Chunchuses, however, were evidently secure in their numbers and the stopping power of their military rifles.

The beaters, nearly a thousand strong, had been sent to their allotted positions earlier in the morning.They formed a rough semicircle more than two miles in length.When all was ready, the chief sent a horseman to the farthest point with orders to begin the beat.The clang of a gong soon rang out in the still morning air; immediately the sound was taken up all along the arc; drums, gongs, rattles, shrill yells combined to form a pandemonium of noise.Flocks of birds clattered out of the tree-tops and flew in consternation over the country; hares and rabbits darted out of the underwood as the beaters closed in; a fox or two, even a wolf, came padding out, stopped at the edge, gave a glance at the line of men, and disappeared on either side.All these passed unmolested; the ten stood in silent expectation, ready to bring their weapons to the shoulder.

Suddenly from the centre of the scrub pounded with lowered tusks a large boar.He had advanced some yards into the open before he was aware of the ten human figures ranged opposite to him.Then, swerving heavily to the left, he trotted towards the plantation.At the same moment two shots rang out as one; the chief and his son had fired together, the others waiting in courtesy.Ah Lum, for all his spectacles, his poetry, and his sentences, was an excellent shot; the boar fell within a yard of the trees; the chief's bullet had penetrated his brain.

Hardly had the smoke cleared away when two other boars appeared at different parts of the scrub.Eight rifles flashed; the boar to the right fell; but the other, unhurt, instead of making towards safety in the plantation, dashed straight across the open.As by a miracle it survived a volley from the whole party of ten, and had come within twenty yards of them before it was struck mortally and rolled over.The hunters, their attention fixed on the gallant beast that had just succumbed, did not notice that he was followed at a few yards by a huge tusker, the glare of whose red eyes sent a thrill through one at least of the party.Dashing at headlong speed through the plantation almost in a line with the hunters, the boar came on unswervingly, heedless of a scattering fire.The hunters impeded each other; Ah Lum and the men on his right could hardly fire as they stood without hitting their companions.There was a moment's hesitation; then the chief, with a cry to his boy to run, stepped calmly to the front, preparing to fire at a range of only a few yards.But one of his men on the left, in a nervous anxiety born of the emergency, rushed forward, and, stumbling against his leader, spoilt his aim.The shot flew wide.The unfortunate man paid dearly for his clumsiness.In another moment the boar was among the party, making frantic rushes, ripping and tearing with his formidable tusks, his bloodshot eyes glaring with the concentrated fury which only a wounded boar can express.Several shots were fired, but the beast's movements were so rapid that they either missed him, or, hitting him at a non-fatal spot, served only still further to infuriate him.The inexperienced hunters, indeed, were in greater danger than the boar from each other's firearms. They hesitated in confusion, moving this way and that to avoid each other; then, in a sudden panic, several of them took to their heels and made for the shelter of the trees.

But Ah Fu stood his ground, as though fascinated.His father and Jack perceived at the same moment that the boar in desperate and vengeful rage was heading straight for the boy, who held his carbine at the slant, looking on as at some fearful thrilling spectacle.Ah Lum and Jack, separated from the boy in their movements for securing good aim, sprang to his assistance.But before they could reach his side the beast was upon him.Awake to his danger, the little fellow raised his carbine to his shoulder and fired almost point-blank; but the Russian service bullet has no stopping power to check a wild boar in full career; the boy was toppled over, receiving a gash in the leg from the mighty tusk.Then the animal wheeled in his tracks to pursue his vengeance.Jack's rifle was empty; even if it had been loaded he could hardly have fired without running the risk of hitting the boy.The chief was still a few yards away, he, too, rendered helpless by the same appalling danger.Jack saw that in an instant his little pupil, now gamely struggling to his feet, must be gored to death.Dropping his rifle, he drew his knife, and flung himself upon the blinded, maddened brute, driving the weapon between its shoulders.So great was his impetus that he stumbled full across the boar, which, intent upon its purpose, struggled on a foot or two, staggering under the blow, but making light of Jack's weight.Even as Jack was wondering whether his stroke had failed, the beast uttered a long squealing grunt, fell on its knees, then rolled over stone-dead within a few inches of Ah Fu.

The chief caught the boy in his arms and held him in a warm embrace; the runaway Chunchuses, no more boars being visible, came dropping back from the plantations; and Jack, his coat covered with blood, rose panting from the back of the victim.

CHAPTER X

The Hired Man

Gratitude—On Humanity—A Broken Thread—The Hill Country—Nearing Moukden—The Compradore—News at Last—Sowinski's Address—Burnt Offerings—A Little Black Box—Toitshe!—Pidgin—Excellence—Herr Schwab—Photographabbaratus

After the rescue of Ah Fu, Jack stood in a new relationship to Ah Lum.The boy was the apple of the chief's eye; nothing was too good for his deliverer.When the party reached camp after the memorable adventure, Ah Lum paraded his whole band, and, his voice broken by unwonted emotion, proclaimed the Englishman his friend.In all such moments of ceremony the literary man, the university graduate, appeared through the brigand chief.After reciting the heroic deed in the flowery language a scholarly Chinaman always has at command, he continued:

"Forgetfulness of a favour received is a sure sign of a bad heart.Let me speak in a similitude.A man is on a long journey; his money is all spent; he is destitute, far from home, without friends, and perishing from want.To him comes a stranger whose goodness of heart leads him to present the wanderer with a few hundred cash, thereby preserving his life.Should he afterwards see this man, his benefactor, ought he not to make some expression of gratitude?It is a common saying, if we receive from others a favour like a drop of water, the return should be as an overflowing fountain.How much more when a man snatches from death a male child!Does not the Sage say: 'The three greatest misfortunes in life are: in youth to bury one's father; at the middle age to lose one's wife; and, being old, to have no son'?Heaven has already afflicted me with the first and the second of these tribulations; the honourable foreigner by his magnanimous courage has spared me the last.It is a true saying, 'The brave act like tigers, not like mice'.Some of you, to the shame of your ancestors, acted like mice; the Ingoua leapt forth like a tiger and saved my pearl from the snout.He is my friend; whosoever does him a service does a greater service to me.As the Poet says:

"'The Spring that feeds the Mountain Rill

Helps the great River to grow greater still'."

 

Making allowances for the chief's surcharged emotion, Jack felt that there could be no longer any obstacle to his departure.Ah Lum, indeed, was torn between two impulses.He wished to keep by his side the youth who had shown that he could not only teach English poetry, but display courage and readiness in a moment of danger.He wished also to show his gratitude practically, and knew that he could do so in no more acceptable way than by furthering Jack's search for his father.After a night of indecision his generosity prevailed; he called Jack into his tent, and promised, if he still wished to go, to do all that he could to help him.But he pointed out that it would be very dangerous for him to venture into Moukden.There were both the Chinese and the Russians to reckon with.As for the former, he could furnish Jack with a pass which would probably secure him from molestation; but if it were found upon him by the Russians, it would in itself be sufficient to hang him.Jack, however, felt that there was little chance of tracing his father except by beginning at Moukden and working along the railway, and he once more expressed his unalterable determination to face whatever risks this course might involve.

Ah Lum then settled down to a serious discussion of ways and means.He agreed that Jack's best plan would be to try his luck again as a Chinaman; but not this time as a Cantonese; there were too many Cantonese about.It would be better to pass as a native of one of the interior provinces, such as Sz-chuen.The dialect was not likely to be known to anyone in Moukden, so that the matter of speech would not be a difficulty.He might be supposed to have come down the Yang-tse-kiang on river boats, and to have drifted to Manchuria with an Ingoua; the Ingoua, as every Chinaman knew, were great travellers; this would explain his knowledge of pidgin English.

The chief spoke with great simplicity and earnestness; evidently he was sincerely anxious on Jack's behalf.It was only at the end of the conversation that he reverted to his academic manner.

"Prudence," he reminded Jack, "is what is most necessary to be cultivated by the young.Your path will be beset with perils; a chance word may be your undoing.When you converse in the road, remember there are men in the grass.For myself, I am old enough to be your father; this and my affection must be my excuse for offering words of advice.What says the proverb?'In a melon-patch, do not stoop down to arrange your shoes; under a plum-tree, do not lift your hand to adjust your cap.'"

Jack knew from experience that, being fairly mounted on his hobby, the chief could not easily be stopped, and settled himself to listen in patience.

"There are three things mainly to strive for: filial piety, that is the most important; integrity; and humanity.Let us take the last first.Humanity is among the greatest of the virtues.If a man wish to attain the excellence of superior beings, let him cultivate the attributes of humanity.They include benevolence, charity, clemency——"

At this moment a voice was heard at the entrance: "The august decree is fulfilled."

The curtain was parted, and there entered the chief's second in command, a big ferocious-looking fellow, holding up to Jack's horrified gaze two ghastly blood-stained human heads.Ah Lum looked at the hideous objects with unmoved countenance.

"That is well," he said."Affix them on poles, and set them in the centre of the camp, with this scroll in large characters from the poet P'an T'ang-she'n:

"'Virtue is best; hold Knavery in dread;

A Thief gains nothing if he lose his Head.'"

 

The incident interrupted the chief's homily before his first heading was developed.The flow of his ideas seemed broken, for on the departure of his lieutenant he turned the conversation into another channel.

Jack afterwards learnt that the unfortunate wretches decapitated were two members of the band who had stolen fowls from a farmer.Since robbery was a principal reason of the Chunchuses' existence, Jack was amazed at such an offence meeting with so terrible a punishment, until he heard that the farmer thus robbed had purchased immunity from Ah Lum by a gift of fodder, and the chief was inexorably merciless to any who were guilty, or who made him appear guilty, of a breach of faith.Jack was now convinced, if he had not been before, that Ah Lum was no mere spectacled pedant.

One fine morning Jack set off on his long journey to Moukden.His appearance was indistinguishable from that of a well-to-do Manchu.Every detail of his costume was correct, from the round black hat and glossy pigtail to the cloth boots with white felt soles.He was mounted on a good pony, and accompanied by a trusty Chunchuse.Ah Fu shed tears at parting; Ah Lum and Wang Shih were undisguisedly sorry to lose him, and the former indeed declared his willingness at any time to welcome him back, and even to give him a command in his band.Jack thanked him warmly, pressed his closed fists to his breast in Chinese salutation, and rode away.

It was nearly a thousand li—more than 300 miles—from the camp to Moukden; not as the crow flies, for in that country of forest, mountain, and river a straight course is impossible.The traveller has to proceed by pack roads, to ford streams deep and swift, to ascend and descend rugged forest-clad slopes; and if his journey is timed in the rainy season he suffers inconveniences and perils without number.It was fortunate for Jack that the rains were not so persistent and continuous this year as is sometimes the case.He was delayed at one or two stages of his journey by thunder-storms and swollen rivers; but, thanks to his guide, who knew the country perfectly, he was able to cover an average of about twenty-five miles a day.At another time nothing would have delighted him more than to take things easily, for he passed through some of the most magnificent scenery in the world, a country teeming with game of all kinds, and dotted at out-of-the-way spots with interesting monuments.But, determined to reach Moukden as soon as possible, he was not to be allured by the cry of pheasants or the trails of the tiger and the deer.

Furthermore, unequipped for such travelling as attracts the globe-trotter, he found the inevitable discomforts of the route somewhat trying to his patience.On fine days he was plagued for hours at a time by myriads of midges, which swarmed about his head, biting with fiendish ferocity.But his own sufferings were slight in comparison with his pony's.From sunrise to sunset huge gadflies infested the poor animal, settling upon its tough hide, and piercing it till the beast was streaming with blood.Jack spent the greater part of the day in smashing the terrible insects with his whip, slaying hundreds and still leaving hundreds unslain.The nights also were times of torment.Putting up at some inn, he had to pass the hours in a crowded room, sealed up to prevent the ingress of midges, filled with smoke and the sickening odours of stewed pork and rancid vegetables.He slept on the k'ang, sometimes wedged in among a crowd of natives by no means too clean, never knowing but that he might have the dangerous company of an adder before the morning.He had to put up with such food as the inn afforded, mostly Chinese pork and salted eggs, with an occasional bonne bouche in the way of a trout when there happened to be Korean fishermen in the neighbourhood.But night by night he rejoiced in the completion of another good stage of his journey; and, thanks to his prudence and the clever management of his guide, he aroused no suspicions, and was accepted as a native, morose and uncompanionable indeed, but excused as being a wanderer from a distant province.

At length, on the fourteenth day after leaving the Chunchuse camp, the two travellers reached a village some twelve miles from Moukden.They were squatting at dinner in an inn when a detachment of Cossacks rode up, in the course of a foraging expedition.Jack felt a little anxious as they entered, but to them he was a mere Chinaman like the rest; he escaped notice, yet was relieved when they rode off in the direction of Moukden.When they were well on their way he suggested to his guide that it would be good policy to follow hard on their heels; entering the city in their wake he might hope to pass without attracting special attention.

It was late in the day, near the time for the closing of the gates, when the Cossacks approached the city.To Jack's disappointment, instead of entering they rode off to the north-west, in the direction of the railway.He thought it advisable to put up in a little hamlet some two miles from the walls and wait till morning.There was sure to be a considerable crowd of country people awaiting the opening of the gates, and in the crush he was likely to pass unrecognized.Early in the morning, therefore, he took leave of the Chunchuse and turned his pony's head towards Moukden.Though outwardly calm, he had many an inward tremor as he joined the crowd of people—labourers, farmers with carts loaded with beans, drovers with black pigs, women with fowls and geese slung round their necks—a miscellaneous throng, all too intent on their business, however, to give more than a passing glance to a rider hardly distinguishable from themselves.

The gates were thrown open, and Jack passed through with the rest, feeling tolerably secure now that he was at last within the walls.Turning off from the main road, he made his way by narrow and tortuous alleys to the street where the compradore lived in his cottage at the foot of Mr. Brown's garden.The man was smoking at the door, and his son Hi Lo was playing at knuckle-stones on the ground near him.Jack reined up and dismounted, saying nothing at first in order to test the efficacy of his disguise.The compradore looked up, but did not recognize him.The boy was quicker.At the first glance he jumped up, ran to his father, and whispered in his ear.The man started, kowtowed, then, looking hurriedly and anxiously around and up and down the street, invited Jack to enter.When the door was shut he expressed his delight at seeing his young master once more.He had heard from his brother at Harbin of the successful stratagem by which Jack had managed to start for Vladivostok, but, knowing what risks the journey involved, he had ever since been fearful lest some harm should have befallen him.

"I have had some narrow escapes," said Jack, "but here I am, you see, safe and sound.I'll tell you all about it by and by; but first tell me, Mr. Hi, have you discovered anything about my father?"

The compradore's face fell as he related the result of his enquiries.A Chinaman once in Mr. Brown's employment had been working at the railway-station at Shuang-miao-tzü, about half-way between Moukden and Harbin, when, on a siding in an open truck, among a crowd of malefactors in chains, he had been amazed to recognize his former master.The truck had remained there for two days; the man had tried to get speech with Mr. Brown, but in vain.By questioning and comparing notes Jack came to the conclusion that this was the very truck he had seen from the window of the train on his way to Harbin.His blood boiled at the recollection of the miserable wretches and the thought that his father was among them; he felt an insane desire to rush off at once and confront General Bekovitch with the discovery; but he knew how fatal such a step would be; and after an explosion of wrath which he could not control, and at which Hi An looked on with every mark of sympathy, he regained his composure, and, recognizing that there was no hope save in patience, settled down to discuss his future course of action.He knew full well that an unlucky accident might at any time put an end to his quest and perhaps his life, and resolved that so far as in him lay he would not fail through lack of caution.

After the first moment of relief and happiness at seeing Jack again, the compradore showed himself seriously concerned for his young master's safety.If he were detected by the Russians he ran the risk of being shot as a spy.His disguise was perfect; Moukden was probably the last place where his enemies would expect to find him; but while the Russians were in possession there would always be found Chinamen ready to curry favour with them, and earn a little cash.After some discussion it was arranged that the compradore should give out that Jack was a distant relative from Sz-chuen, and Hi An himself suggested that he should feign illness for a time until his future movements could be carefully thought out.

"I shall want a name," said Jack with a smile."What can you call me?"

"Sin Foo, master.I had a nephew of that name; he is dead, poor boy; it is a good name."

"Very well.Now we must make further enquiries along the line to see what has become of that truck.I have plenty of money; the flour we expected came safely to Vladivostok, and I sold it.You have friends you can employ?"

"Yes.But it will take a long time."

"Of course.I wish I could go up the line myself.Is it impossible?"

"You must not think of it, master.If it were known that questions were being asked about an Englishman arrested by the Russians, suspicion would be awakened, and what could you say if you were caught?No, leave it to my countrymen; they will know exactly how to enquire, without seeming too curious.As for you, it is best to remain in Moukden, and wait until we get more news."

"I'm afraid you are right.Well, let it be so for the present.Tell me, is Sowinski in the city?"

"Yes, he is living in your father's house."

At that Jack fired up again.Red with anger he strode up and down the room, itching to do something, yet feeling all the time his helplessness.Then he checked himself with a laugh.

"I'll never do for a Chinaman," he said, "if I show temper so easily.You must teach me to fix my face, Mr. Hi."

"Yes, master," said the compradore seriously."I will buy a little image of Buddha, and put it in a corner of the room.If you look at it for two hours every day your face will be as calm as a still pool."

The compradore's house was very small, and before a week was out Jack was terribly sick of being cooped up in it from morning till night.Only after dark, when the quarter was quiet—and that was at a very late hour, for when Chinamen start playing fan-tan it becomes a trial of endurance—only then did the compradore think it safe for his guest to issue forth for a breath of air.The proximity of Sowinski was itself a danger.Moreover, his acquaintances, among them Sowinski's Chinese servants, were becoming curious.It was impossible to harbour a stranger long in secret; for a couple of days the story of a sick cousin passed muster, but the compradore had omitted to state the nature of the illness, and his friends began to enquire whether they might not be allowed to see the sick man and join Hi An himself in the charms and exorcisms proper to cure him.Thus pushed into a corner, the worthy man drank in their sight the ashes of burnt yellow paper, and whispered that he feared his relative was sickening for a fever; it would not be safe to admit visitors.He was about to sacrifice to the divinities on the sick man's behalf; and, taking his courage in both hands, he invited a number of his friends to accompany him.

Jack rolled with laughter when he afterwards learnt what had happened.His amusement was all the greater because the compradore was so obviously ill at ease lest he should have incurred the displeasure of the divinities by sacrificing for a man who was not ill.Professing to be not quite sure of the disease, he had gone first to the roadside shrine of his Excellency the Small-Pox and burnt incense there; then to the Honourable Divinity the Plague; finally, to make short work of it and cover all imaginable complaints, he had proceeded to the deity known as Mr. Imperfect-In-Every-Part-Of-His-Body, a hideous idol with sore eyes, hare-lip, and ulcerated legs.Convinced now that the travelled relative must be in a desperately bad state, the inquisitive neighbours gave a wide berth to Hi An, and no longer desired to cross his threshold.

But when a week had passed, Jack, finding his inactivity intolerable, came to the conclusion that it would really be safer if he moved about a little.The neighbourhood would expect to be invited either to his funeral or to a feast in celebration of his recovery, and the talk that would ensue when neither event happened might develop danger both for himself and for his host.One evening the compradore, on returning home, chanced to mention that during the day he had been asked by a foreign war-correspondent if he could recommend a servant.The stranger already had a capable mafoo, or groom, but this man had absolutely refused to carry or have anything to do with a little black box on which his master set great store, and the foreigner had met with the same refusal from every native to whom he applied.Hi An himself was somewhat amused at the situation.Having served Mr. Brown for so many years, and in so many different places, including the southern treaty ports, he was well aware that the black box was a harmless photographic camera: had not Master Jack himself possessed one in Shanghai?But the Moukden natives, not yet accustomed to the kodak of the globe-trotter, were convinced that the mysterious box was choke-full of little black devils impatiently waiting for any confiding Chinaman simple enough to be lured within their influence.The correspondent, being somewhat stout and far from active, was loth to carry the camera himself, and had almost resigned himself to the dead-lock.

"Poor fellow!"said Jack, laughing."How did you come across him, Mr. Hi?"

The compradore explained that the correspondent appeared to be a business connection of Mr. Brown's, for he had tried to find the merchant when he arrived in Moukden some weeks before, and was greatly disappointed and distressed when he learnt what had happened.

"How should I suit?"said Jack, as an idea struck him.

"Ch'hoy!"exclaimed the compradore."Master a servant?"

"Why not?I should be able to move about then; as the servant of a European I should run less risk of being suspected either by Russians or Chinese than if I were a masterless man; and I might—the chance is small, but still it is a chance—I might come upon some trace of my father if attached to a foreign correspondent, whose duties will surely take him from place to place."

"But, master, a servant!And to a foreigner; not even a Yinkelis or a Melican man, but a Toitsche!Ch'hoy!"

There was a world of contempt in the Chinaman's tone.To the average Chinaman all "foreign devils" are alike; only those whose business brings them into relations with Europeans recognize degrees.

"I know you don't like the Germans; but what does it matter, Mr. Hi?A German is less likely to see through my disguise than an Englishman.Besides, of a hundred virtues, filial piety is the best.You know the maxim?"

The compradore scratched his head.He found these ideas difficult to reconcile.But after some further talk he yielded, and promised to go to the correspondent early next morning and offer the services of Sin Foo, a young man whose honesty and industry he could guarantee.

A little before noon next day he returned.The correspondent was delighted with the prospect of engaging a suitable man, but must see the candidate first.He was living with a number of other correspondents at the Green Dragon Hotel, and wished to see Sin Foo at once.

"Is Monsieur Brin there?"asked Jack instantly.

"No, master.He went to Harbin a week ago.He was very sad."

"Lucky for me!Then we'll go at once, Mr. Hi."

The neighbours had already been prepared to see Hi An's relative out-of-doors at last; the application to Mr. Imperfect-In-Every-Part-Of-His-Body had been abundantly successful.Most of them were engaged in their usual occupations at that time of day, and Jack attracted little notice as he walked through the streets at Hi An's side.At the hotel he was presented to a short, corpulent German, wearing gold spectacles and a battered wide-awake, and smoking a huge pipe.

"He belongey Sin Foo," said Hi An.

Jack made the kowtow in the most approved style.The German looked him up and down.

"So!"he said."You been servant before?"

"Suttingly," replied Jack, remembering his fagging days at school.

"So!You strong?"

"My plenty stlong, masta!"

"Not afraid of little box?"

"No fea'!My cally littee box this-side, that-side, allo-side, all-same."

"Goot!You are shust ze man I seek.Now to fix ze so imbortant business of vages.Business are business.Vat you say to ten yen—ach!I zink still I am in Japan: vat say you to ten dollar per mensem—ze monce?"

"Allo-lightee—" began Jack, but the compradore interposed.

"Ch'hoy!Ten piecee dollar!Ph'ho!My hab catchee Sin Foo—one piecee first-chop man; he numpa one boy; my fetchee he this-side; no can makee pidgin so-fashion for littee bittee cash.Sin Foo, come wailo chop-chop; folin genelum no savvy pidgin China-side fashion."

The compradore's intervention showed Jack that he must needs exercise every care if he was to play his part properly.To have accepted the German's first offer without bargaining would have betrayed him to any travelled man.After an hour's discussion an arrangement was concluded between the stranger and Hi An.Sin Foo was to have nothing else to do but to take charge of the photographic apparatus.The terms agreed upon were so high that the German declared that he must dismiss his mafoo and engage a cheaper man.Whereupon the compradore suggested Hi Lo to fill the place, and Jack regarded the opportunity as almost a special providence, for he had been dreading the discomforts and dangers that might arise from enforced companionship with a Chinese mafoo.With Hi Lo for a fellow-servant, however, he need fear neither danger nor discomfort, and he was pleased when the German accepted the boy, but at ridiculously low wages.

Jack was to enter upon his duties at once.As soon as the compradore had gone to fetch Hi Lo, the German took the opportunity to explain who and what he was.

"I cannot shpeak your bidgin talk," he said."You understan' blain English, boy?"

"My savvy littee bit Yinkelis; my tly understan' masta—he talkee Yinkelis first-chop."

"Ver' vell.Now you call me Excellenz; you can say zat?"

"No, not a bit of it."

The phrase slipped out before Jack could check it. Luckily the German was not aware of the lapsus linguae

"Zat is not bolite English; you should say, 'No, sir, I am sorry, or I regret, zat I cannot say Excellenz.'Vell, can you call me 'mein Herr-r-r'?"

"He no belongey lightee China-side.My no can talkee so-fashion.China boy tly; he say 'mine hell'."

"Ach!" grunted the German. "Zat vill nefer do, not at all. But I cannot vaste ze time to egsblain. You must zen call me—master. Ver' vell. Now, my name is Schwab—Hildebrand Schwab." Jack suddenly remembered the letter his father had shown him on the day before the arrest; this, then, was the representative of Schlagintwert & Co. and correspondent of the Illustrirte Vaterland und Colonien"And remember zis," continued Schwab."If you meet any man vat vant Birmingham screw, Manchester soft goots, Viltshire bacon, or hair-oil, superfine, you vill let me know at vunce—at vunce.Ven ze var is ofer I shall do goot business in all zose zinks—ja, and many more.It is only in var zat I am gorresbondent; in beace I rebresent ze solid firma Schlagintwert Gombany of Düsseldorf.You understan'?"

"Allo lightee, Herr."

"Ver' goot, ver' goot inteed.You say it not so bad.Now I tell you ozer zink.I haf come at great egsbense from San Francisco to take photographs of ze scenes of var.I am already some veeks here, vaiting, vaiting, for bermission to go to ze front.You understan'?At last it come.I haf it now in my pockett.How do I get it?Ach!it vas qvite simble.Ven I am tired of vaiting, I go to Herr Oberst Pesteech, bresscensor, and I say: 'Your servant, noble sir; Hildebrand Schwab.Entweder you give me ze bermission to see zis var business, or I vire to our Kaiser who is in Berlin.At Berlin, and viz ze Kaiser, business are business.'Zat is ze vay I shpeak.So I return to my hotel: siehe da!ze bermission is already zere.Zat vere business.Ver' vell.Now I tell you vat ve do.To-morrow ve go to ze front, vere ze var is.You vill haf ze camera; you vill assist me to make my photographs.I vill learn you how.And give notice, boy, zat I am not bermitted to photograph ze bositions of ze Russian army; nor Russian troops on ze march; nor Russian troops in action, egzept I get anozer bermission from ze Russian general.Vat is zat for a kind of bermission I do not say.Zerefore you vill take photographs ven I tell you, and no ozer time.You understan'?"

"Savvy allo masta talkee; my tinkey velly nice."

"So; come zen viz me; I vill learn you ze—ze—ze control of ze photographabbaratus."

CHAPTER XI

War-Look-See

Schwab is Shocked—Snapshots—The Coming Battle—To Liao-yang—Schwab's Opportunity—Carpe Diem—Suobensius—Shimose—Last Wishes—Stackelberg—Something Accomplished—Rhapsody—Two-Piece Pony

That night Jack shared a tiny room with Hi Lo.The boy had become accustomed to see his master in Chinese dress, but the situation was entirely changed now that he had to regard him as an equal and address him as Sin Foo.Jack impressed on the little fellow that everything depended on his caution—Jack's own safety, and the prosecution of his quest; and Hi Lo showed a quite painful anxiety to behave with discretion and yet with naturalness.

Next day Schwab spent several hours in explaining to Jack, not too lucidly, the working of the camera; the development of the negatives he reserved for himself.Then he prepared to sally forth to make a few experiments.An American correspondent, standing with his hands in his pockets at the door of the little Chinese hotel, observed Jack as he passed.

"Hello, Schwab!"he shouted."Caught a Tartar at last, eh?"

"Yes, Mr. Vanzant—if zat is not a shoke.Zis man is not afraid—he gif sign of modicum of intelligence; I zink he vill do."

"I guess he will do for your camera; well, so long!"

Walking out of the city, Schwab set Jack to take photographs of a few prominent objects—the Temple of Earth beyond the eastern gate, the Tomb of Wen-Hsiang, the statesman who rose from being a table-boy to the highest official appointments, Dr. Christie's Hospital, where the little Scots doctor had dispensed the blessings of Western surgery and medicine to thousands of grateful patients.Schwab was delighted with Sin Foo's rapid progress; it amazed him.

"Truly I zink ze Manchu is not such a fool as he look," he said.

"My plenty muchee glad masta likee Sin Fool," said Jack gravely.

"Ach!You do so vell zat to-morrow ve go to take var pictures.Zere vill soon be a great battle; ze Russians shall at last do goot business."

In the afternoon they went up to the railway-station to see if seats could be booked in next morning's train, Jack carrying the camera in case anything of interest should offer.The station was crowded.For many days troops had been passing towards the south; the platform was now thronged with soldiers, surgeons, nurses, camp-followers.Schwab was amazed, his German sense of discipline was shocked, to see colonels walking arm in arm with lieutenants; still more when he noticed a placard stuck up in the buffet, signed by General Sakharoff, threatening with dire punishment any officer who should presume to criticise his superiors or their conduct of the operations.He was disgusted also to observe, in a siding, a superb dining-room car in which a company of officers and ladies were eating and drinking with a light-hearted gaiety that ill matched the occasion, if the rumours of the stupendous battle approaching were well founded.

"You, Sin Foo," said Schwab, "I tell you zis; zat is not var. Zat is not ze vay ve Gairmans shall behave ourselves ven ve go to invade England; zen you vill see var zat is var. You understan'?"

Seeing little probability of obtaining a seat in the train, Schwab decided to return to the hotel and journey south on ponies.

As they left the station a number of Russian soldiers who had just marched in were lying dead-beat in a sort of trench parallel with a siding.A troop train was being slowly made up, doubtless to convey these and other men southward to the front.Schwab stood contemplating them for a moment.Then he turned to Jack.

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

"Allo lightee, masta," replied Jack, wondering at the German's choice of a subject.He was to be enlightened on that point later.

It was late in the day by the time they reached the city.Passing along the principal street, they saw a crowd of natives hurrying down a side alley uttering piercing shouts.Jack noticed that two or three of them had buckets suspended from the ends of a long bamboo pole carried on the shoulder.

"My tinkey house hab catchee fia."

"A gonflagration in Moukden!Zat vill be ver' interesting to ze abonnenten of my baber.Ve vill take it on ze hop."

Schwab led the way, his tall bulky form making a path through the crowd.A pawn-shop was ablaze.The roof had already fallen in.Siberian infantrymen were trying to keep order in the crowd—hundreds of Chinamen yelling, jostling each other, going hither and thither with their buckets, splashing through the mud.Many of them were laughing uproariously; to the Chinaman a fire is purely a spectacle, to be enjoyed without any disturbing sympathy for the victims, whose efforts to save themselves and their goods are greeted as the most enjoyable farce.Some of the crowd were waving bright-coloured flags; in the glare from the burning house it was like a scene from a country fair.Here and there Chinamen were squirting feeble and futile jets of water on the house from tiny copper pumps, like the syringes used at home for watering flowers.An old mandarin in yellow silk forced his way through the press, paying no heed to the fire, anxious only to get home without soiling his white socks.But the throng was becoming unwieldy; there was danger of the whole quarter being set ablaze; and at last a Russian captain came up with a squad of men at the request of the Chinese Viceroy himself, and set about clearing the street in a business-like way.For a few minutes the confusion seemed redoubled; the Chinamen scampered this way and that as the Russians came at the double along the street.This moment was seized by Schwab, who evidently had a keen eye for a tableau.At his bidding Jack took a snap-shot of the strange scene—a scene that would have been appropriate to the stage of a comic opera.Then he returned with his employer to the Green Dragon.The correspondents there—French, Italian, English, and American—were in the bustle of preparation for moving out next day to Liao-yang, where a big battle was expected to take place.

Jack, it must be confessed, was considerably excited at the prospect of seeing something at close quarters of this terrible war, which had brought forth so many surprises for the world.Hitherto he had seen nothing but its fringe; and of the many contradictory rumours he had heard he was not disposed to believe too much.The Russian officers with whom he had talked were divided into two classes: the partisans of Alexeieff and those of Kuropatkin.The majority pinned their faith to Kuropatkin.If he had been left alone, they said, the war would have followed an entirely different course.He would have waited patiently at Harbin until his army had been raised to overwhelming strength; then he would have taken the offensive and driven the Japanese into the sea.But his strategy had been dictated either by Alexeieff or from St.Petersburg.Worse than that, he had not been able to devote his whole energies to the proper work of a commander-in-chief.That in itself was a stupendous task for one man, afflicted with a poor staff.But the general had been compelled to attend to details of commissariat, hospital arrangements, the supply of clothes, the preparation of maps.His was a harassing struggle against corruption, incompetence, and drunkenness.Once, alighting at a railway-station to make an inspection, he found the platform strewn with intoxicated officers.With a burst of anger, unusual in a man habitually patient and calm, he ordered the wretched men to be sent on by the first train to the front.

What had been the course of the war since that memorable May day when the invading army crossed the Yalu?General Kuroki's brilliant dash was followed by several weeks of what to the outside world seemed comparative inaction.But during that period both sides were straining every nerve: the Russians to hurry forward reinforcements and complete the great fortified positions along the railway; the Japanese to perfect the arrangements for the three great armies which were, first, to cut off Port Arthur, and then to move northwards against the main Russian forces concentrating in the neighbourhood of Liao-yang.General Stackelberg having failed at Wa-fang-ho in his forlorn hope against the army investing Port Arthur, the northward movement of the Japanese was slowly resumed, the Russian right being steadily driven back along the railway with occasional half-hearted attempts to stem the Japanese advance.Meanwhile General Kuroki on the east had forced the mountain passes at Motien-ling, and General Nodzu, in command of the centre, was preparing for the attack on the Russian position at To-ma-shan that resulted in the evacuation of Hai-cheng.The beginning of August found the three Japanese armies relentlessly driving the Russian forces towards the fortified positions south of Liao-yang which General Kuropatkin had prepared as the scene of his first serious attempt to roll back the tide of invasion.

It was a warm, dry morning, the 29th of August, when Schwab, Jack, and Hi Lo, mounted on hardy ponies, hit the Green Dragon for their forty miles ride to Liao-yang.

Just before they reached the gate, Jack had an exceedingly uncomfortable moment when he noticed his father's enemy Sowinski hurrying in the opposite direction in a Pekin cart.The Pole passed without recognizing the tall figure in Chinese dress, though he gave a nod to Schwab.Jack knew that to the European all Chinamen look pretty much alike; but he did not wish to come to too close quarters with the Pole, and was glad that for a time at any rate he would run no risk of being recognized in the streets.

The rains had ceased some days before; the wind was beginning to dry the mud which in the wet season renders all traffic impossible.The other correspondents had already gone to the front, and when our riders left the mud walls of Moukden behind them they saw nobody on the road except a regiment of Cossacks marching off behind their band, and a number of Greek camp-followers going south in the hope of reaping some profit from the battle.

As they approached Liao-yang they heard the dull boom of guns in the distance.For several days the three Japanese armies under Generals Kuroki, Oku, and Nodzu had been marching through mountain passes and the valleys opening upon the Tai-tse-ho, and the Russians had been falling back on the circular line of defences which for three months they had been strengthening.As he heard the thunderous reverberations, Schwab exulted.

"So!" he exclaimed, "I haf vaited long time. At last my obbortunity haf come. Zis are business. Ze Illustrirte Vaterland und Colonien shall haf fine bictures taken egsbress by a Gairman viz native assistance on ze sbot. Famos!"

Liao-yang is a walled city lying on the direct road from Moukden to Newchang and Port Arthur, and even more picturesquely situated than the capital.Three miles north of the city flows the Tai-tse-ho, taking a northerly course by the north-east corner of the walls.The railway passes at some distance to the west, making an acute angle with the western end of the city.Southward the ground rises gradually.Here the Russians had prepared their defences; the crests of the hills were scored with several lines of trenches, the result of three months' diligent spade-work.

Schwab and his two companions, entering the city from the north, found themselves in the midst of great bustle and activity.The streets were thronged with soldiers; long lines of transport wagons were arriving; and the merchants, native and foreign, were plying a brisk trade.Schwab had some difficulty in finding a lodging; the hotel, kept by a Greek, was full; but he at length secured a small cottage near the wall at an exorbitant rental.It was evening when they arrived; Hi Lo prepared a supper consisting of tinned sausages and biscuit brought from Moukden, and pears purchased from a local fruiterer.The booming of artillery had ceased, but the city was full of noise, and Jack was amazed at the careless light-hearted mood in which the soldiers, officers and men, were preparing for the struggle.

Before seeking repose on his frowsy k'ang that night, Herr Schwab went out to prospect for a spot on which to place his camera next day.He returned in a state of exaltation.

"Zere shall be colossal combat," he said."I haf shtood on ze blatform by ze reservoir, and zere I converse viz high Russian officer, his gloves vite as snow.No more shall zere be evacuation, he tell me; ze fight shall now be to ze death.Boy, ve shall see shtubendous zinks.You are afraid?"