Chapter VI: Part 6

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

Schwab shook his head dismally.

"No, no; I haf no abbedide."

"My eat he."

Nibbling the biscuit, Jack, in a lull of the firing, ventured to leave the trench. A moment later he called to Schwab.

"My hab catchee one-piecee pictul. Japanese lunning long-side kowliang; littee littee black t'ings inside gleen stalks."

"Gott sei dank! I shall not die vizout agomblishing somezink for ze Vaterland. Ach! zere is anozer!"

There was a gentle sound overhead, like the cry of a wounded bird. An aide-de-camp crossing the hill-top fell with a groan. A bearer-party marked with the Red Cross appeared from behind the tower and swiftly bore him out of sight.

Schwab flattened himself as much as his rotund form permitted against the floor of the trench. The cannonade was resumed with redoubled fury. The din was incessant; shells whistling and shrieking; musketry crackling; the Russian batteries in their emplacements thundering as they replied to the Japanese.

Whole ranks of the Japanese were mowed down in the fields; still they pressed on. They were attempting to turn the Russian right. Reinforcements were hurried to the threatened regiments; battery answered battery; the ground trembled under the repeated shocks. The attack was repulsed, and long blood-stained tracks marked the path of the bearers as they conveyed thousands of wounded to the rear. Stackelberg had held his own.

Dusk was falling, the rain ceased, and a steaming mist rose over the ground. There was a lull in the firing. Jack stood upon the epaulement. To the left he saw a village in flames.

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

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

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

Schwab got up slowly on his knees, peered over the edge of the trench, then stood upon his feet. He was beginning to regain his spirits.

"So! Famos!" he exclaimed. "I see all ze whole fielt of battle; I see burning villages, black fielts, hundert or tousand dead men. Zis is var. Vat a--vat a"--Herr Schwab was at a loss for words--"vat a zink is var!" He threw out his chest and snuffed the smoke-laden breeze. "But I muss go and describe ze battle for my journal, illusdraded viz photographs taken by a Gairman sobjeck on ze sbot. My ancestor Hildebrand----"

They were turning to walk down the hill; a belated shrapnel shell burst within a few yards of them, peppering the ground in all directions. A splinter shaved off an inch or two of the leather cover of the camera. Schwab cut short his reminiscence by dropping flat upon the rain-soaked ground. When he arose, a pitiable object, after a short period of self-communing, without further words he hastened towards the path.

Another shell crashed upon the rocks to the left, hurling a lofty fir-tree into the ravine.

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

Scrambling down to the spot where they had left the animals, Schwab uttered a woeful cry; they had disappeared. A Siberian infantryman was passing; him the German interrogated. But the Russian shook his head; he knew no German. Jack ventured to question him in broken Russian.

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

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

Schwab lifted up his voice in bitter lamentation. It was growing dark; the ground had been made a miry swamp by the rain; there was no alternative but to tramp back through it to Liao-yang. They reached the mandarin road. Their feet sank ankle-deep in mud; at every step they almost left their boots behind. Long stretches of the road were under water. Carts were passing drawn by long teams of mules. Schwab tried to bargain for a seat, but the drivers refused to listen to him; their loads were wounded men, who at every jolt uttered heart-rending moans. Jack suggested that they should leave the road and cut across the fields to the railway; they would find the embankment easier walking. This they did, pursued, as it seemed, by the whistling bullets of the Japanese. At length, unharmed, untouched, they reached the northern gate, and, entering, made their way all bemired, weary and famished, to the cottage where Hi Lo awaited them.

*CHAPTER XII*

*The Retreat from Liao-yang*

Rifle and Bayonet--Kuroki--Schwab's Strategic Movement--The Moukden Road--At Yentai--One of the Wounded--Pawns in the Game--Our Friends the Enemy--Story and Song--Schwab Smokes

Next day dawned bright and clear. The fusillade had continued almost throughout the night, and the Japanese had made repeated assaults on the Russian trenches in the centre, only to be driven back every time with enormous slaughter. The first day's battle had no decisive result; the Japanese had failed to dislodge the Russians from any part of their line of defences. Jack was eager to go out again; his excitement had been kindled by what little he had been able to see of the opposing movements; after the first tremors, the shriek of shells and whistling of bullets had left him unmoved, and he was all afire to witness the continuation of the great struggle. But Schwab absolutely refused to budge.

"It vas not a bresentiment," he said. "It vas a bileattack. Zose shells, zeir schmell vas vorse zan Schwefelwasserstoffgas--I forget ze English name, but ze schmell is ze same; it is a schmell of eggs suberannuated. I suffer egstremely. Besides, zey haf shtole my bonies. And vat do I discover? I discover a damage in ze ubber egstremity of ze camera. Vy you tell me nozink about zis? I discover it, I say. Who done zat? Vy you bermit it? It is not business: it annoy me egstremely. I lose many dollars ven I shall gome to sell ze photographabbaratus. My gustomers vill now see it is not new. Venever I zink of it I suffer bile. I go not again to zis battle, no more does ze camera; I vait for ze next. I vill stay and cure ze bileattack. You shall see ze battle; I vill take notes ven you return."

Jack had no intention of running unnecessary risks in order that Schwab might make "copy" out of his experiences. But he made his way towards the railway-station, expecting to obtain from the embankment as good a view as was possible without venturing again on the shell-swept hills. His choice was fortunate, for it happened that the closest fighting of the day took place west of the railway. General Oku had made up his mind to force this, the weakest spot in the Russian position. While, therefore, General Nodzu in the centre was repeating the first day's bombardment, the Russian right, throughout the day, was the scene of as terrible a series of infantry attacks as the world's history has known. Time after time the Japanese advanced to storm the trenches; time after time they were mowed down by the pitiless bullets of the enemy; but again and again they returned to the charge, recking nothing of death or wounds, thinking it a privilege indeed to end their lives in their country's cause. On both sides the bayonet did its fell work; at one point a trench was captured by a company of Japanese, but their ammunition was spent, they were unsupported, and their plight being perceived from a Russian trench a hundred yards distant, they were bayoneted to a man. As the hot day wore on, the Russians were driven back against the railway embankment; streams of wounded, their cries of agony mingled with the horrid sounds of war, flowed incessantly towards Liao-yang; and when sunset put an end to the firing, the bearer-parties went about their awful work on the battle-field.

Except for the slight impression made on the right, the Russian position was intact. The Siberian regiments had held their own with splendid tenacity, and were almost recompensed for their terrible sufferings by the message of thanks from General Kuropatkin, who had witnessed their heroic resistance from his train beyond the railway-station. Jack started to return to Schwab with the impression that the force of the Japanese attack was broken, and that on the morrow the Russians would take the offensive. The day closed with a terrible rain-storm that turned the fields and roads into a quagmire. The streets of the city were thronged; soldiers, Chinamen, camp-followers, pedlars improving the occasion, all jostling one another in noisy confusion.

Standing at the door of his cottage, Schwab hailed an American correspondent who was passing just as Jack appeared.

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

"Yes; the Russians have won. It is their first victory. I am on my way to telegraph the news to New York--if I can get a wire."

"Zen I vill write my account of ze closing scenes," said Schwab to Jack. "To-morrow, if ze sun shine, you can take more pictures of ze Japanese defeat."

But half an hour later the American looked into the house on his way back to his own quarters.

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

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

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

"Himmel! Vat is ze meaning of zat?"

"Kuroki has crossed the Tai-tse-ho, and is threatening our communications. You had better clear out."

Schwab might well be amazed. During the desperate and persistent attacks on the Russian right and centre, General Kuroki had crept steadily round their left, and forced a passage at a ford twenty-five miles east of the town. The news, as conveyed to Kuropatkin, was that the Japanese general had four divisions; he had, in truth, only two; and, misled by the exaggeration, Kuropatkin had felt it necessary to detach some of the seasoned Siberian regiments from Stackelberg's command in order to reinforce the less trustworthy European corps whom Kuroki was attacking. But the American was mistaken in speaking of evacuation. The commander-in-chief had only decided to abandon his advanced position, which had always been too widely extended for effective defence, and to withdraw his forces to the inner entrenchments, forming a large arc almost encircling the town, and resting at each end on the river.

Overpowered by the terrors of "war that was real war", Schwab was goaded into feverish activity by the news of the withdrawal. His own pony was gone; so was Jack's; but Hi Lo's remained, and this the German ordered to be instantly prepared for himself. Whether the interest of the Schlagintwert Company or the safety of his own rotund skin was the more important consideration did not appear; but it is certain that, within half an hour after receiving the news of Kuropatkin's order, Schwab was riding as fast as the congested traffic would allow towards the north. He carried the precious camera and the negatives with him, leaving the tripod with Jack.

"You muss shift for yourself," said he at the moment of leaving. "You and Hi Lo muss gome on behind. I muss go qvick; it is a matter of business. Vun bony vill not carry zree, and if I do not arrive in Moukden before ze Russians zere vill be no money left to bay your vages. Take most egstreme care of ze dribod."

Jack was not ill pleased to see the back of his employer. In other circumstances he might have been amusing; as it was, he was a trial of patience.

"I think we will wait till morning," said Jack to Hi Lo. "I am not sure all is over yet. In any case the Japanese won't come into the city in the dark; the firing has stopped; and we shall see our way better by daylight."

So they stretched themselves on the k'ang and slept until the dawn. When they arose it was obvious that Schwab's flight was premature. True, the roads northward were crowded with fugitives, but they were in the main natives; the Russians held their positions; and Jack saw a fine regiment marching, not northward, but southward, in the direction of the enemy, singing the Russian national anthem with a spirit that little betokened a failing cause. But Jack felt that Schwab would expect his two servants to follow him; he would be helpless without them. The exodus from the city was already so great that it seemed best to go northwards by the pontoon bridge while it was possible. He therefore started on his way back to Moukden. Hi Lo had managed to secure a mule--Jack did not enquire how; and on this, with the boy trudging by his side, Jack crossed the river by the pontoon and gained the mandarin road.

He found himself in a scene of terrible confusion. The road was blocked with vehicles of all descriptions,--droshkies, Pekin carts, ammunition wagons, country carts with their unwieldy teams; and crowds of camp-followers and Chinese tradesmen. Drivers were shouting, soldiers cursing, women shrieking. Chinamen staggered along with poles over their shoulders, a basket slung at each end containing a child barely awake, but laughing with glee at what seemed to its innocence a novel and pleasing adventure. Women passed, bent under heavy bundles containing their household gear; carts were heaped with bits of furniture, ambulance wagons with wounded and dead; here was a soldier leading a little donkey with a battered drum upon its back, there a farmer whose clumsy cart was filled with cackling ducks and squealing pigs. Now an axle would break, and the contents of the wagon were scattered over the ground; now the wheels of one cart would become locked with those of another, and the tangled teams plunged and kicked in the mud. Then the uproar became still more furious; riders, careless of what damage they might do, pressed their horses through the throng in haste to make good their escape from the terrible shells whose coming was announced from afar. The Japanese had begun to bombard the station.

Jack saw that he had little chance of making his way through the crush. Calling to Hi Lo, he turned aside into a field of kowliang, already trampled, and rode on over the ruined crop. In the distance, on the left, he caught sight of train after train steaming northwards. Behind, dense clouds of smoke obscured the city: the Russian quarter of Liao-yang was in flames. Ever and anon a detonation shook the air, and by and by the whistle of bullets was heard; the Japanese had occupied the Shu-shan hill, and with their terrible long-range weapons were firing into the Russian settlement.

The fourteen miles from Liao-yang to Yentai took Jack six hours. It was evening when he arrived--too late to go farther; and he put up for the night in a ruined hut. Russians were massed in the town, and covered the slopes towards the mines. The Russian left wing had been driven back in this direction, and it was to reinforce the hard-pressed troops here that Kuropatkin had withdrawn Stackelberg with his Siberians. But it was too late. Next day Kuroki flung his divisions upon the Russian entrenchments. At a critical moment General Orloff, professor in a Russian military college, attacked, contrary to his instructions. The Japanese hidden in the kowliang awaited the onset, then poured in a terrible fire, which threw the first regiment, composed of raw recruits, into confusion. They broke and fled; the regiment behind, prevented by the high stalks from seeing what had happened, opened fire upon their own comrades; a third was led into the same fatal error; and the entire left wing, bewildered, disorganized, sought safety in flight. Yentai was filled with the Russian wounded; surgeons, with coats off and shirt sleeves tucked up, went about their work in the open streets; the air was filled with the screams and groans of men in agony.

Jack hurried through the town, and came again into the open country. A mile north of the town he overtook a bearded veteran crawling painfully along; he was wounded in the chest. He looked with haggard, covetous eyes on Jack's mule; his face was drawn and white; sweat was streaming from his brow. Jack stopped and sprang to the ground.

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

The man broke into sobbing exclamations of thanks. Supported by Jack on one side, by Hi Lo on the other, he rode on during the rest of that hot day. At dusk they entered a straggling village, and Jack was thinking of looking for a shelter for the night when a rough voice from a cottage cried:

"Ach, Strogoff! come here, comrade."

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

Jack led the mule to the door, and helped to carry the man into the cottage. It had been appropriated by a group of Russian soldiers who had become separated from their regiment. They received their wounded comrade with rough expressions of sympathy; and, learning from him of the Chinaman's kindness in lending his mule, they invited Jack and Hi Lo to stay with them. Jack was nothing loth. He shared his few remaining biscuits with the men, and sent Hi Lo out to buy some fruit if possible.

The boy returned with some pears and peaches, which formed a welcome addition to their black bread and cakes of buckwheat.

Sitting on the k'ang, Jack was an interested listener to the soldiers' talk. He did not understand all they said; they were simple moujiks, whose broad dialect was not easy to follow; but he picked up a good deal of their conversation.

Strogoff had to relate how he had received his wound. His story was long in the telling, punctuated by many an "Ach!" "Och!" "Eka!" "Nu!" from his comrades.

"Ach!" he concluded, "the Japanese are fine fellows, but they are too little to use the bayonet. A bigger man would have made a better job of it, and I should be dead now."

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

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

"Not if they're such fools as the generals," grunted Kedril, a big, shaggy rifleman who had lost an arm.

"True, there are some fools among them. But better be a fool than a knave, like the commissaries. Why, half the biscuits served out to us to-day were full of maggots, and my boots--look at them!--are made of paper. Do you think the Little Father knows how we are cheated?"

"No, no; the Emperor does not know, Almazoff. He would not suffer these evils if he knew them. Nu! he cannot be everywhere, like the Lord God."

"Things will be better some day. We've done our part, little pigeon. But the Emperor would not like it if he knew what lies they have told us. Why, they said the Japanese were dirty little men like monkeys; but they're cleaner than you and me, Strogoff."

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

"No, Chapkin, that's the English. They say the English walk upright in their own country, but when they go to another place of theirs called Australia they turn upside down and walk on their heads."

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

"Nu! America belongs to England, so I dare say I was right after all. Anyway, the Japanese walk on their feet like us, and they fight well. I wonder what made them so angry with us?"

"I don't know. What do we get angry about when we're at home? Perhaps the Little Father called the Emperor of Japan a sheep; if you called me a sheep I should fight you; but emperors can't fight; of course not, for they've no one to give them orders except the Lord God, and He couldn't give orders to both at once."

"But if they quarrel, why should they make us fight in thousands? It would be much better if his excellency the general and the Japanese marshal took off their coats and fought, just they two. That would be a fight worth seeing, eh, comrades?--a fight after the old style, before they did everything by machinery."

"Da! It wouldn't matter so much if they made each other's nose bleed, instead of us shooting at the little Japanese and them shooting at us. Why, think of the thousands of widows there must be in Little Russia--da! and in Japan too, for I expect they have a kind of marriage there."

"True, we haven't any quarrel with the little men; and they're not very angry either. When I was wounded in the bayonet charge, and lay on the ground, a Japanese came up and gave me a cigarette; ach! the sun was hot, and I was fanning myself with my cap, and he made me take a little paper fan he had. Here it is: I shall give it to my little Anna, dushenka! when I get home again."

"Ach! shall we ever get home again? Look at the thousands of versts we are away; and we've got to stay till we beat the Japanese! Sing us your song, Chapkin--you know, the one that always makes me cry."

The big veteran addressed took a sip from his half-empty flask of vodka, and began, in a fine baritone every note of which was charged with pathos--

"No more my eyes will see the land
Where I was born.
I suffer at my lord's command;
My limbs are torn.
Upon my roof the owl will moan;
The pigeon for her mate will yearn;
My heart with grief is broken down:
No, never more shall I return!"

The simple words brought tears to the eyes of all those rough soldiers. Kedril grunted and growled.

"Don't make us more sad. Almazoff, you're the only fellow among us who can read: read us something out of your English book; the piece about the great fight in heaven; that's the stuff for a soldier."

Almazoff took from his pocket a dirty dog-eared paper-covered book, and turned over the leaves. Having found the place, he began, in a slow sonorous chant--

"Then rose a storming fury, and such uproar as never yet had been heard in Heaven. Arms clashed on armour, a din of horrible discord; the furious wheels of brazen chariots roared with rage; dire was the noise of battle. Overhead with awesome hiss flew fiery darts in flaming volleys, and their flight covered either host with a vault of fire. Beneath this burning dome the embattled armies shocked together, with deadly onset and unquenchable rage: all Heaven resounded; and had earth been then, the whole earth had quivered to her centre. What wonder, when on both sides millions of angels fought, fierce foes, of whom the feeblest could wield the elements and arm himself with the might of all their regions!----"

Thus he read on, and through the rough prose of the Russian translation Jack caught echoes of the famous passage in _Paradise Lost_.

Far into the night the reading, story-telling, singing, went on. In the morning Jack took leave of the simple brave fellows and resumed his journey. On the way he learnt that the Russian army was in full retreat. General Kuropatkin's able dispositions had extricated his worn troops from the danger of being surrounded, and they were falling back in good order, disappointed but not disheartened, towards Moukden. Thither Jack made with all speed; and entering the city with Hi Lo by one of the south gates in the evening, he found Schwab placidly smoking his pipe at the door of the Green Dragon.

*CHAPTER XIII*

*Mr. Brown's House*

Schwab and Sowinski--Extempore--The Camera cannot Lie--Sowinski Suspicious--Shadowed--Short Notice--Run to Earth--A Hole in the Fence--Lares et Penates--The Press--Sowinski's Supper

Weeks passed. Moukden was no longer the city Jack had known. Hitherto but few Russian troops had been seen in its streets; now these were thronged from morning till night. Regimental wagons, ammunition carts, rumbled hither and thither, raising clouds of dust. Officers strolled about, buying knick-knacks of the curio dealers; war correspondents kicked their heels in the hotels; droshkies, rickshaws, troikas, flew this way and that, to the disturbance of the placid people of this ancient city.

There were already signs of winter in the streets. The seasons in Manchuria do not shade off one into another; summer heat stops, almost at one stride comes winter cold. One morning the shops in the principal streets were hung with furs--the skins of wild cats, foxes, martens, otters, sheep, raccoons; fur caps, lined coats, woollen hoods, sheepskin leggings, stockings of camel's hair. The Chinese merchants near the eastern ramparts plied a brisk trade with Russian officers, offering their customers cups of tea with true oriental politeness, and raising their prices a hundred per cent.

They had been weeks of idleness for Jack. The Japanese had occupied Yentai; the Russians had thrown up entrenchments to the south of Moukden. There was talk of their taking the offensive; but warlike operations had ceased for a time, and Schwab had been too busy developing his negatives to think about taking more photographs. Jack spent much of his time with the compradore, hoping day after day, but in vain, for news of his father. He had caused money to be forwarded to Mr. Hi Feng in Harbin for the purpose of pushing enquiries in the north, through Chinese channels, and two trusty Chinese had been sent to make investigations along the Moukden-Harbin section. The latter returned quite baffled. But Jack sent them out again; he chafed at his own helplessness: meanwhile no stone must be left unturned. Once or twice he had seen Sowinski in the streets; once he met him face to face near the palace; but the Pole passed by without giving any signs of recognition.

Schwab had become tired of the Green Dragon, and now lived in a little house which he rented from a Chinese grocer. He was waited on by Hi Lo, who shared with Jack a room looking on the street. One day Jack was standing at the window, watching the thronging traffic. He was in low spirits: he had been so hopeful when he left Father Mayenobe; was he to endure a long suspense like Gabriele Walewska, but in more pain even than she, not knowing whether his father was alive or dead? Suddenly, behind a string of carts he saw Schwab approaching in company with Sowinski. Schwab was talking eagerly. Jack knew that his employer had had several interviews with the Pole; he had probably been establishing business relations between him and Schlagintwert in anticipation of the close of the war. The two entered the house, and Jack, with a certain tingling of the nerves, betook himself to the kitchen. Presently Hi Lo came in to prepare dinner; Sowinski was dining with his master. The boy waited at table, and, coming in and out of the kitchen, he gave Jack from time to time information of what was going on. The Pole knew a little German; both he and his host knew a little English; and as they eked out their acquirements the quick-witted China boy picked up scraps of their conversation and reported them to Jack.

"He piecee Polo man talkee; say-lo what plice Melican lails? Masta he say velly cheap; he sellum evelyting cheap; he say belongey plenty pidgin what-time fightey man all wailo."

"Boy!" shouted Schwab from the other room.

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

"Masta say wantchee Sin Foo chop-chop."

Jack whistled under his breath. For a moment he thought of slipping out of the room. But Schwab knew he was there. To leave without explanation would cause trouble. It would perhaps be best to brazen it out. He had already met Sowinski several times without being recognized. Yet he regretted that he had not taken French leave the moment he saw the Pole coming. He obeyed the summons.

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

"Allo lightee, masta."

Jack went out conscious that the Pole's eyes had been fixed on him. Returning with the photographs he gave them to Schwab, and was on the point of leaving the room when the German bade him wait. Schwab unrolled the papers and spread them before his guest.

"Zere! Vat you zink of zat? Zose I took at ze battle of Liao-yang. Ach! zat, mein frient, vas a fearful time. You vere not zere? No--you are a man of beace; ve gorresbondents are men of var. Picture ze hill of Shu-shan, schrapnel burst here, zere, everyvere; ze bullet fall zick as leaves of Vallombrosa. Zat hill, mein frient, vas target for hundert fifty guns. Zere am I, at ze top, fixing ze Japanese batteries in my focus. Danger! Donnerwetter! It vas truly bandemonium. But vy am I zere? Duty, mein frient, calls me; business are business; my duty, I am baid to do it; but not enough, no, certainly not enough. Vy, I write zis mail to Duesseldorf and say I can no longer encounter such danger for ze brice. I muss haf increase of screw. Boy, fetch ze camera."

Jack laid it on the table.

"See, mein frient," continued Schwab. "Gontemblate zat hole! Schrapnel! Anozer inch, or inch and half--ach! it is all ofer viz Hildebrand Schwab. Ze var gorresbondent run colossal risk, true; but ze var gorresbondent vat is also var photographer--vy, his risk is--vat shall I say? it is schrecklich, furchtbar!"

Jack was aghast at Schwab's magnificent assurance. If he had been alone with the Pole, that would have been another matter; but to dilate upon his exploits in the presence of one who knew exactly what heroic part he had played was astounding. Jack reflected, however, that he was merely a Chinese servant, and as such of no importance.

Finding that his invention was more than equal to the strain, Schwab proceeded with even greater confidence.

"Look at zis, mein frient. Here ve haf terrible scene of carnage in a Russian trench, a whole gombany is viped out by vun shell." Herr Schwab handed his guest the photograph of soldiers sleeping in the ditch near the Moukden railway-station. "And zis--vat zink you of zis?" He picked out the snap-shot of Siberian infantry before the blazing pawn-shop. "Here, mein frient, ve see Russian infantry vat make nightattack on village near Yentai: zey set on fire house full of Japanese."

"Ver' good, ver' good," remarked the Pole with an acid smile--"for a photograph made by night."

Schwab shot a suspicious glance at his guest.

"Ja!" he said, "it is vonderful. Zese vill abbear in ze bages of my baber, ze _Illustrirte Vaterland und Colonien_, zey vill give true account, shpeaking better zan volumes of gorresbondence, of ze horrible scenes vat zeir rebresentative haf beheld at ze bost of danger."

Sowinski's attention had been flagging; perhaps his intuition had detected the artistic temperament. At any rate Jack felt that his eyes were once more fixed on the silent Chinese boy--fixed in a puzzled, scrutinizing gaze. The epic of the camera being completed, and Schwab turning the conversation once more to business, Jack took the opportunity of slipping away. Hi Lo remained in the room to replenish the glasses. When Jack's back was turned, Sowinski, as Hi Lo reported later, leant forward and asked quietly:

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

"Vich? Sin Foo? Oh! I tell you. I got him to carry ze camera. Ach! zese Chinamen! Zey are above all zinks suberstitious. Zey zink ze camera hold tousand defils; not one haf ze gourage to undertake it till I abbly to ze gompradore of a Mr. Brown, for whom I had a letter. Mr. Brown is a bad lot; he is gone, none knows vere--ze Russians haf him put out of sight for because he haf betrayed zem to ze Japanese. Perhaps you know him, mein frient? Vell, ze gompradore recommend me zis boy, Sin Foo, vat haf some intelligence and do not fear ze defils. He is of use--yes, of use; he is not afraid to follow me in ze zick of ze battle. Vere ze gombat rage, zere is Schwab and his camera. It is in ze blood. My ancestor Hildebrand Suobensius vas a great fighter--a Landsknecht. I vill tell you his history----"

Hi Lo's report made Jack uneasy. Sowinski was evidently suspicious. If his suspicions took definite form, it was scarcely likely that a man of his rancorous disposition would leave things as they were. In the dusk of the evening Jack hurried to his friend the compradore; he felt that at this critical moment he needed advice from a Chinaman of experience. When Hi An heard what had happened, he said at once that it would be madness for Jack to remain longer in Moukden. Sowinski would certainly seek a resolution of his doubts; he would in any case have Jack arrested; and being in disguise, Jack would in all probability, if arrested, meet the fate of a spy.

While they were talking, Hi Lo came in hurriedly to report that one of Sowinski's servants was hanging about Schwab's house, apparently on the watch. That clinched the matter. Jack must make himself scarce, and as speedily as possible. Where was he to go? In the confused state of the country he might easily disappear; he could become a camp-follower, or mafoo to some European. But this would have its dangers; a Chinaman, as he had already proved, would soon penetrate his disguise; with a definite purpose before him, he did not care to be the sport of chance. He might take refuge for a time with Wang Shih's people; but it was not improbable that search would be made for him there, and he did not wish to involve them in the escape of a spy. There was his friend Ah Lum; he remembered the chief's invitation, and bethought himself that the Chunchuses, moving constantly about the country, enjoyed the best opportunities of learning his father's whereabouts. His mind was made up; he would join the brigands.

But unluckily the city gates were now shut. Since the war had come nearer to the walls, the entrances had been guarded more strictly. No one was allowed to go in or out after nightfall unless he wore a uniform or had a pass. The inner wall was too high to climb over; if by any chance he could slip through the gates, traverse the suburbs, and climb the outer wall, he might be shot; if he waited till morning, he ran the risk of arrest. Yet, all things considered, it seemed better to wait. Sowinski was apparently not quite sure of his ground. Then, to ensure his escape, a pony was needed; and he would have to enquire of Ah Lum's agent in the city, from whom alone could he learn the present whereabouts of the band. Finally, he was disinclined to leave Schwab without personally informing him of his approaching departure. This was perhaps in the circumstances a small matter, but it had more weight with Jack than he was probably aware of.

Taking leave of Hi An, he set off to return to Schwab's house. Hi Lo had preceded him. As he walked he felt that he was being dogged. He did not care to assure himself by looking back; but he took the first opportunity of slipping into a side street, and hurrying to his destination by a short cut. Schwab was writing, alone.

"My velly solly, masta," said Jack, kowtowing with even more than usual humility. "My wantchee wailo."

"Vat you say? Already vant holiday? No, no, boy. You haf been viz me not yet vun monce. I do not gif holidays so soon."

"My no wantchee holiday; my wantchee wailo allo-time; no come back; hab catchee muchee plenty leason."

"Donnerwetter! Vat is zat for a kind of business? Zat is desertion; infamous! Who zen vill carry ze camera? No, I cannot let you go; no, I refuse, I vill bay you no vages."

"My velly solly. My likee masta first-chop; wantchee wailo all-same. Masta no say Sin Foo belongey tellum what-time he wantchee go. Masta no wantchee pay-lo wages? all-same; my no makee bobbely. Suttinly my wailo chop-chop."

"Ach! Zat is ever so; ze goot servant cut his shtick; ze bad servant shtick fast. Vell, if I say no, vizout doubt you vill run avay?"

"No fea'."

"Vell zen, I let you go. You haf done me vell; zat is ze truth. But business are business; you haf served me vun monce less two days. I bay you zen fifteen dollar less ze vorth of two days. Vat is zat?"

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

"Vell, I vill gif you fifteen dollar, and zay nozink about vat you owe me. Vere you go?"

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

"So! I tell you zis; if again you gome back to Moukden vile Hildebrand Schwab is var gorresbondent, he alvays gif you job."

"Masta too muchee velly kind. My tinkee Toitsche genelum numpa one chappee, galaw! My say-lo by-by, masta; so long!"

The farewell interview had taken longer than Jack anticipated. He was anxious to be gone, feeling insecure in Schwab's house. Giving the hard-earned dollars to Hi Lo, he hastened back by side streets to the compradore, with a suspicion that he was watched as he left the house by two Chinamen whom he caught sight of on the other side of the road. He peeped back at the first corner, and saw that one of the men was coming in his direction; the other had disappeared. On reaching Hi An's house he found that the man was absent; he had spoken of making enquiries of Ah Lum's agent. Jack waited rather anxiously. Twenty minutes passed, then the compradore came in very hurriedly.

"Sowinski is coming with Russian soldiers!" he gasped. "They will be here in five minutes. I found Ah Lum's man, Me Hong; he will send a guide to Hsien-chia-kou, ten miles away. You must not go near Me Hong. But how to get away!"

Jack fortunately could keep his head. He had but a few minutes to decide on a course, and he made the most of them. If he went into the street he would be at once seen; probably there were already men on the watch at each end. The only other way out was by the back. The compradore peered out; as Jack expected, he saw several figures lurking in the shade of the wall. Jack remembered that in the fence separating the compradore's garden from Mr. Brown's there was a narrow gap through which Hi Lo had been wont to creep as a short cut to the house. Between the fence and the house there was a line of shrubs about two and a half feet high. It was growing dark; if he could creep away under cover of the bushes to the hole in the fence he might gain his father's house. There he would in truth be in the enemy's country; but the attention of the watchers would probably be engrossed by the soldiers whose tramp was now heard approaching, and his own house would be the last that Sowinski would suspect as the fugitive's hiding-place. What the next step might be Jack could not imagine; the first was risky, but he saw no other. In a word he told the compradore of his intention. The man gasped; then with a rapid movement took a revolver from a shelf and pressed it into his young master's hand.

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

He slipped to the back door, dropped on all-fours, and wriggled along the ground close to the line of shrubs. He had barely started when he heard Sowinski loudly summoning Hi An to open the door. The compradore made some reply, apparently temporizing; the answer was an angry shout, followed by a soothing response from the faithful servant. Jack heard no more; in another moment he reached the gap in the fence. He wriggled through; the garden had been neglected since Mr. Brown's arrest, and the undergrowth was rank; this was fortunate, for only a few feet away he saw, leaning on the fence, the form of a Russian soldier, and a yard or two beyond him another. They were talking together, or they might have heard the rustle as Jack squeezed through the hole and made for the house.

In these few moments he had been rapidly thinking. He could not hope to hide in the house, but he might pass through it, gain the front door, and escape by the street. Naturally he was so familiar with the house that there was no danger of his going astray. But, slipping in by the back door and turning into the passage leading to the front, his hope was suddenly dashed. Three Chinamen stood at the open door, completely barring his egress. They were talking excitedly and in loud tones. Jack overheard one of them say that the Russians were arresting a supposed Chinaman, actually an Englishman who had come to spy for the Japanese, the very man who had been living in Hi An's house behind, and whose illness had given them such concern. Evidently they were servants of the Pole, stationed at the door to keep watch. The three men blocked up the doorway and stood facing the street.

Jack noiselessly slipped into the dining-room, lit by a single lamp. He felt like a fox in a hole, with dogs all round ready to snap him up if he showed his nose. He looked round the familiar room with a curious sense of aloofness. Had this been for so long his home? It was the same room, the same furniture--a table, a few chairs, engravings on the walls, the large oaken press; but a different air seemed to pervade it now. For a moment he thought of hiding in the press until dead of night, and then slipping away. He opened the door; the lock had been forced; the press was empty save for a few bottles of wine. Clearly this would not be a secure refuge; a bottle might be required at any moment. What else could he do? He could open the window--the only glass one in the house--and drop into the street; but he would certainly be seen by the men at the door or by a casual passer-by, though there were few people about at that hour of the evening. Yet no other course suggested itself, and he was moving towards the window when he heard soft footsteps in the passage outside. Quick as thought he sprang behind the open door, listening with thumping heart.

One of the servants passed by on the way to the kitchen. He had left the others at the door to keep watch while he prepared his master's supper. The cloth, Jack noticed, had been left on the table. In a minute or two the man would come into this very room, and Jack must be seen. With nerves tingling he waited, setting his lips as a plan of action was suggested to him by the emergency. Soon he heard the clink of glass. The servant was returning. He came from the kitchen carrying a tray with a glass jug, a tumbler, and a plate. He entered the room, walked to the table, and set the tray upon it. At that moment Jack stepped quietly up to him from behind, brought one arm round over his mouth to stifle any cry, and with the other held the cold barrel of his pistol to the man's temple.

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

The Chinaman, with fear in his eyes, made no sound or movement, but stood as still as his trembling limbs allowed. Still keeping the pistol pointed at the man's head, Jack quietly closed the door. Then he said:

"I will do you no injury, but your safety and mine require that you should be out of harm's way for a time. I have business with your master. Go into that press. So long as you are quiet and do what you are told, you have nothing to fear. But if you make the slightest sound, that moment will be your last. You understand me?"

He spoke very low and rapidly, but distinctly. The man nodded; there was no mistaking the grim meaning with which this tall foreigner who spoke Chinese fingered the trigger of his revolver. Crossing the room to the press, the Chinaman stepped into it, and Jack closed the door.

He wondered if he could slip out of the house before Sowinski returned. Before long the Pole must discover that the bird had flown; he would realize the hopelessness of searching the whole of Moukden at night for a man disguised as a Chinaman, and, furious as he might be, he would doubtless accept the situation for the moment, and return to his evening meal. Once more Jack was making towards the window when he heard footsteps again, this time approaching from the back of the house; not the shuffling felt soles of Chinese, but the tramp of heavy European boots. At the same moment there came from the street the clatter of several feet marching in time. Jack stepped back from the window. He heard a gruff voice, the voice of Sowinski, say in Russian:

"Sergeant, there is no more to be done. The spy has got away. Inform the sentinels at the gates. He cannot leave the city to-night; we may trap him yet. Report to General Bekovitch; I will see him in the morning. Good-night!"

The sergeant responded, and marched his squad away.

"Where is Ming Fo?" demanded Sowinski of the servants at the door. "Why is he not watching with you?"

"He is preparing your supper, master; we are keeping watch for him."

"You have seen no one pass?"

"No one."

"Very well. Go and get your supper."

Then Jack heard Sowinski's footsteps approaching the room and the two Chinamen shuffling along behind towards the kitchen. His chest heaved; the crisis was at hand.

*CHAPTER XIV*

*A Night with Sowinski*

The Persuasive Pistol--A Pass--Thorough--Captain Sinetsky--The Eastern Gate--An Empty Pistol

Jack had intended to deal with the Pole as he had dealt with his servant; but the fact of the two other Chinamen passing the door of the room close on his heels had thrown out his calculations. He could not afford to run the risk of the slightest struggle; it would certainly be heard. He had but an instant to decide on his course.

Behind the door was a chair. To this Jack tiptoed, and he had just seated himself when Sowinski opened the door. The Pole flung his hat on a chair, and moved towards the press, doubtless with the intention of getting a bottle of wine. He almost had his hand on the knob when he became aware, rather by instinct than by perception, of a movement behind him. Jack with his foot had gently swung the door to. Turning sharply round, Sowinski saw the red light of the shaded lamp reflected from the barrel of a pistol in the hand of a young Chinaman seated composedly within five feet of him. For a moment he was motionless; he was too much surprised for speech; a second glance showed him who his visitor was, and Jack, watching him keenly, saw his face go pale. He stood irresolute; the ominous pistol, not held rigidly, but moving gently from side to side, seemed to hold him spell-bound, as the swaying head of a snake fascinates a hare.

"Yes, Mr. Sowinski," said Jack quietly, though his pulse was galloping; "yes, it is I, Jack Brown. You were looking for me? Speak low, or the pistol may go off."

"You would be arrested at once," said the Pole in a hard whisper.

"Possibly, but that would not help you. You would be dead."

Sowinski ground his teeth. Rage and fear struggled for the mastery; but fear, as Jack had calculated, was the stronger. The man's eye never left the barrel.

"First, Mr. Sowinski," continued Jack, rising, and now pointing the revolver steadily at his head; "first, I wish to know where my father is."

"Your father? How should I know? Am I your father's keeper? He was deported."

"You lie!" said Jack, his voice vibrant with anger. "Come, your reply; your life depends on it."

Visibly cowed by Jack's menacing look and tone, the Pole replied sullenly:

"Well, it is true; he was taken to Harbin, to be delivered to General Kriloff."

"And where is he now?"

"I do not know. I swear that is the truth. General Bekovitch----"

"Does he know?"

"I cannot say. I do not know what message he sent to General Kriloff. I have heard nothing of your father since he went away."

"He went in chains; did you know that?"

"Yes," replied the Pole hesitatingly.

"Then where is he? You know that; you know more; a man is sent away in chains, herded with foul criminals; it is your doing; what have you done with him?"

"I don't know; may I never speak again if that is not true. He is probably in the mines."

As he said this, even the imminent pistol could not prevent Sowinski from betraying his rancorous satisfaction in a mocking curl of the lip and a half-suppressed chuckle. Yet Jack felt intuitively that in this case the man was speaking the truth; that he really did not know what had become of his victim after he had seen him safely wedged in the cattle-truck. There was scorn as well as a white heat of anger in Jack's reply.

"You infamous scoundrel! You would be justly served if I shot you where you stand, and for my own part the satisfaction would be worth the risk. But I can't kill even such vermin as you in cold blood; and if I spare you, be sure the day of reckoning is only deferred. There are a thousand Poles waiting to kill the traitor Ladislas Streleszki at sight."

The amazed and wretched man swayed as he stood; his hue turned still more ashen than before; his whole body seemed to shrink together with craven fear.

"Now, choose," continued Jack after a pause. "The pistol, or instant compliance with my demands.--Silence!" He heard the two Chinamen approach the door, and noticed a twitching of the Pole's mouth suggesting a cry for help. The impulse, if impulse it was, was immediately checked by Jack's stern command.

"Send them home."

Sowinski called to the men that they might go; he would require them no more that night.

"Now close the shutters. Thank you! I see pen, ink, and paper on yonder shelf. Seat yourself at the table and write in Russian from my dictation."

The Pole moved mechanically, under the spell of the covering revolver.

"'To Lieutenant-Colonel Gudriloff,'" dictated Jack. "'Please supply bearer, Chang Sin Foo, with a pass for the gates, and two good ponies; debit the charge to my account.' Now sign your name--your present name. That is right. Now, Mr. Sowinski, you have been so obliging that I trust you will excuse what must seem a poor return for your complaisance. But my position in your--that is to say, my father's house, being somewhat delicate, I have no alternative."

The two Chinamen having gone away, Jack no longer subdued his tone. He had the whip hand. Still keeping the revolver steadily pointed at the scowling Pole's head, he stepped to the press and, Sowinski looking on in amazement, called to the Chinese servant to come out. The man was as pale as his master; he was stricken with the very ague of fear.

"You have nothing to fear," said Jack, pitying the fellow. "Do what I tell you quickly. Tear up that cloth." He pointed to the none too clean cover on the table. "Tear it into six strips."

The man tried, but the material was too tough, or his hands too much enfeebled from fright.

"Take the knife, but remember, at the first movement in this direction I will shoot you."

With some difficulty the man did as he was bid.

"Now bind your master's legs--first round the ankles. Quick!"--as the man recoiled before the glare in Sowinski's eyes. Jack jerked up his pistol, and the trembling wretch hastened to obey. The Pole made no resistance; but if looks could have slain, both Jack and the Chinaman would have been killed on the spot.

"Now the arms," said Jack, when, under his supervision, Sowinski's legs had been securely trussed. "No, behind him--not in front: that is right. Now the knees. Now tie the wrists to the ankles. Now a gag; that fur cap will do. We are going to place your master in the press. You take the head; I will take the feet."